Chapter Twelve: Sweet Relief
Niall didn’t wait for more. He swept Willa Mae up into his arms and took her to his bed, laying her gently down on it and crawling up her body so he could plant another kiss on her. He kissed her shoulders, her chest, her breasts through the cotton of the t-shirt, then slid the hem up so he could kiss her belly button and on down to the waistband of her panties. He slid his fingers just under the band but didn’t go further, just teasing her with how close he was to her clitoris without caressing the way she wanted it.
“Niall, please,” she whispered, raising her hips against his hand. “Touch me.”
He growled, and slid his fingers further inside her panties, still without touching her where she needed it, just playing with the pubic hairs that covered her mound. She rolled her hips and he smiled against her mouth.
“See what you caused? You waited too long to ask, and now you’re too impatient to wait. If you hadn’t been so stubborn, I could have fixed this already.”
She whimpered as though she didn’t know how to answer him, and he called on all his self-control to stop himself from ravaging her without finesse. Instead, he removed his fingers from her panties — that was a trigger for both of them — and pulled her into his arms tightly, kissing her slowly and deeply, sucking her tongue, licking her lips, devouring her.
“You’re so hot, mo leannan,” he whispered against her lips. “And you set me on fire every time.”
He could hear his Scottish burr deepening as he told her how she made him feel, and there was little he could do to stop it. She drew him out, pulled every emotion from his soul, dragged his passion out to spar with hers. He was undone by his feelings as he kissed her and caressed her body. When she shuddered as he explored her breasts, he groaned and reached down to suck her nipples through the cotton of her nightgown. She reared up, presenting him with those dark orbs and he growled and placed his face between them before leaning away to yank the shirt up from the hem and pull it over her head roughly.
Her naked breasts swelled before his gaze, full and soft, falling in sweet mounds before his eyes. He pushed at them with his fingers, then released them to watch them jiggle before settling back into their places on her chest, sagging a little to the side with the weight of their lusciousness. He buried his face between them again, holding them tight against his cheeks while he played with her nipples. She moaned and called his name, begging him to do more.
He pulled away to kiss each one and then began the second phase of his seduction, sucking her nipple into his mouth, then widening the circle of licks from the tight focus of that point to her areola and out to the edges of her breast, nipping her on the way back. The love bites sent her soaring, and she wailed as he kissed and licked and suckled her.
“Oh god, Niall, please!”
“What, sweetheart? What do you want?” He strolled his tongue down to her belly button while she struggled for words to answer him.
“I…I want you to make love to me,” she said breathlessly.
He chuckled against her mound, and she hissed when he pulled on the tidy pubic hair hard enough for her to feel the sting of it.
“I am making love to you, sweetness,” he said. “But you want more than that, don’t you? Tell me what you want. Don’t be shy.” He wanted her to say the words. He needed her to show him the raw state of her need. “Tell me what else you really want, love.”
He bit her in the space between her thigh and her leg, then sucked on it until he was sure he would leave another kiss bruise. When she didn’t speak, he repeated the action on the other side, and then slid his tongue up to the root of her clit, testing the readiness of it with the tip. She groaned.
“Tell me, love.”
“Oh please, Niall, fuck me! Just fuck me!”
And still he didn’t rush to plunge his aching length into her sweet core. He reared up to kiss her, the hunger in her words driving his need higher. He wanted to savor her and to make the feelings last. He suckled her tongue even as he pushed one finger, then two, then three into the core of her, stroking over the bundle of nerves that sent her crashing into her first orgasm. He withdrew his fingers as she heaved in heavy breaths, and he kissed away the tears that slid from beneath her closed eyelids. Withdrawing his fingers, he licked them clean when she opened her eyes to look at him, and then he kissed her again so she could taste her passion on his tongue.
“You are beautiful when you fall apart, sweetheart,” he said, the ‘r’s thickening as his passion rose. “I cannot wait to see you come with me inside you.”
Sliding away from her, he shucked his boxer brief and pulled a condom from his wallet. He rolled it on with trembling hands and climbed back on top of her, laying his full length on her for a long, delicious moment, kissing her and spreading her arms above her head, entwining his fingers with hers. She kissed him back hungrily, suckling his tongue while he humped against her mound with his heavy erection. They moaned together as he hit her clitoris, and the feel of her wetness against his shaft sent his blood roaring in his ears.
“Open for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, and when she spread her legs, he slid his cock between them, rolling it over her hard clitoris, back and forth, teasing her, bringing her back to the pinnacle with him. When she was once again writhing beneath him, he raised himself to palm his cock and line it up at her entrance. A look into her eyes and he knew she was more than ready for him. He plunged in to the hilt, hearing the hiss of pain as he stroked through her tight folds to the seat of her pleasure.
He stopped moving, though it was killing him to remain still, and waited for her body to adjust to his. And while he waited, he kissed her and stroked her body and whispered of how she pleased him. Then he felt her inner muscles clamp down on him, and he leaned up to look at her.
“Ready?” he asked.
She nodded, swallowing convulsively, and he withdrew slowly, then slammed back in. She hissed, this time in pleasure, so he did it again, then again.
“Yes, oh yes!” Her approval ratcheted up his need to please her. “Oh yes, Niall, just like that!”
He sped up, thrusting into her, searching for her g-spot and stroking it when he found it, in and out, over and over until she was begging for him to make her come. Her words, her desire, her passion made his body shake as he took her up and over the brink until she screamed his name.
“Niall! Oh god, Ni-alllll!” she wailed, her inner walls contracting around him, sending him over the brink after her.
He rammed her, totally out of control, shouting out her name as he froze, his seed spilling out of him into the condom, spurt after spurt of cream. He braced himself on his forearms as he came, his whole body shaking with the force of his release. Dragging deep lungfuls of air into his body, he rolled off her and lay on his back, pulling her into his side and hugging her. He turned his head to look at her, and she was smiling at him. Reaching over, he kissed her softly.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” he said.
She nodded, the smile still on her cheeks. “Thank you. I’ll probably sleep like a log now.”
He pulled away more. “Is that all this was? A lullaby?”
Everything in him wanted it to be just a teasing comment, but he couldn’t stop the shudder of relief that swept through him when she whispered a shy “No” and reached up to cup his cheek.
“No, Niall, it was so much more.”
She averted his eyes, and her sudden and unexpected shyness warmed the place inside him that had been cold and empty until he met her. It was endearing and surprising, and told him she was as fully invested in whatever was happening between them as he was…even if neither of them was ready to admit it as yet.
“Shower?” he suggested, after he had let her doze for a few minutes.
She didn’t answer, but he didn’t want her to sleep in a wet spot on his bed. He got out of bed and scooped her up, putting her to sit on the toilet while he started the shower and set water in the tub.
“Need help with this?” he asked as he set her under the warm spray of the showerhead.
She smiled sleepily. “I think I’ve got it, thanks.” She reached for the shower gel, and he left her to it, knowing he would take her again if he went in with her. By the time she was done, the bath was almost ready.
“I thought you might like a bath to soak for a little bit.”
He could tell she hadn’t been with a man in a very long time, and after the way he had used her body, she was bound to be even a little bit sore. He needed her to be ready for him the next time he took her...because he was determined that there would be a next time.
She settled her head against the neck roll thoughtfully provided by the hotel and closed her eyes. Niall hurried through his own shower, washing himself from head to toe, and then he got into the tub behind her, drawing her body back against his own, cuddling with her as she dozed. He was wide awake, and he let himself bask in the feel of her soft body against his hard one. Every breath, every sigh, every movement went through him like an arrow of desire and affection.
Eventually as the water began to cool he roused her from her post-coital nap, and helped her to dry herself off. Then he took her back to her room and wrapped her in the sheets. Sitting on the edge of her bed, he stroked her hair, enjoying the feel of the braids against his palms.
“Get some sleep, sweetheart. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He leaned in to kiss her cheek and she turned her head, connecting their lips. He kissed her deeply then, dragging his mouth away by a great act of will and leaving her alone in her bed. His body hummed with remembered pleasure, and his heart felt as though it would explode with emotions he wasn’t ready to name. He sat for a long time in the living room in the darkness, going over their lovemaking, wanting to do it again, scolding himself for his seeming insatiable need for her. Finally, just before dawn, he went to bed, falling asleep across the end of his bed in his skivvies.
A gentle hand on his shoulder made him crack an eye open the next morning. The sun was a blinding presence in the room, and he groaned and covered his eyes. His morning wood was pressing into the mattress, and he remembered the tail-end of the dream that Willa Mae had interrupted by waking him. His flesh warmed at the memory of the way she had been riding him in his dream. He shut his eyes again, trying to calm his body before he turned over.
“I’m sorry to wake you, Niall, but we’re expected at Grannie’s for lunch, which is a couple of hours from now. I don’t know how far away it is, so I thought I’d better wake you so we can figure it out and get there on time.”
There was nothing for it now but to turn over and sit up. He hoped she wouldn’t notice his erection before he had a chance to draw the sheets over his thighs, but she was already half way to the door by the time he was upright. Then she turned back, as though she had just had a thought.
“By the way…what does ‘molayanan' mean”?
He smiled. He had wondered how long it would be before she asked the question, and was surprised that he didn’t feel even slightly concerned at how she would react when he told her.
“It is Scottish Gaelic,” he explained, “and it means ‘sweetheart’, or ‘my love’.”
He watched her face closely to see how she was taking it. Nothing registered for a long moment, and then her eyes warmed as she turned them up to his face. She didn’t say anything, but returned his smile and walked away, leaving him once again rubbing the aching warmth in the center of his chest.
They got to her grandmother’s place in good time for lunch. The old lady was polite but cautious when they were first introduced, and Niall could well imagine what she was thinking. What was a big, brawny Scotsman doing with her granddaughter in Florida? Why was he visiting with them? What were his intentions? He wished he could be forthright about what he wanted with Willa Mae, but until he had sorted that out for himself, he wasn’t about to open his mouth. God forbid he said something he might not be able to deliver on. The one thing he knew for certain was that he didn’t want to hurt the woman whose body he craved, whose laugh warmed him, whose smile soothed his soul.
He let them catch up with each other, tuning them out while he looked around the spacious community sitting room, where a few other residents were seated, chatting with each other or listening on their devices, or dozing. The room was bright and cheerful, and the fresh-cut flowers made it an even more inviting space. Soft music was being piped into it over speakers hidden in the walls. It was a circular room, something that meant no one was ever out of sight of anyone else. He liked the feeling of inclusion that the architectural design provided, plus the way the seating had been organized, gave to the space.
“So, tell me about yourself, young man.” Grandma Jamison’s surprisingly strong voice interrupted his thoughts. “Willa Mae seems reluctant to spill the beans, and I’m mighty curious about you.”
Niall blinked, looking around for Willa Mae but she wasn’t anywhere in sight. How long had he been zoned out of their conversation?
“She went to get my shawl. I’m feeling a might nippy,” Grandma Jamison said, recognizing what he was doing.
He smiled at the old woman. Although he was quite comfortable, and happy for the air conditioning that was finally drying out his sweat-dampened shirt, he supposed older folk would feel it more sharply as their bodies were frailer.
“I’m in real estate, like your granddaughter is, ma’am,” he began.
“She told me all that. That you’re a very wealthy man, that she’s helping you use your family’s home to turn a profit. That your family doesn’t want the same things you do. How do you plan to win them over to your way of thinkin’?”
He felt himself withdrawing at her direct question. Why should he have to win them over? They were family. Surely they knew he wouldn’t do anything to harm them? Why should she make it sound as though he were lacking in some key area of family leadership. He frowned. He refused to let a stranger make him feel guilty about his decisions, especially one who came from a background of love and support. Those people had no idea. Calming his features once again to show nothing of the upset she had caused by her question, Niall replied coolly,
“I don’t. I own the majority of the shares in the property, and I think it would be best for all of us if the estate began to turn a profit. I’m not prepared to keep pouring my own money into their dwelling without some input from them. I’m not a charity organizer.”
His tone had increased in sharpness, and he knew it by the way the old lady’s eyes shifted in recognition of his ire. She seemed…amused, which pissed him off. He took shallow breaths to calm his rising irritation. He didn’t wish to upset Willa Mae by upsetting her grandmother.
“And if that didn’t put me in my place, I don’t know what will,” she said when he stopped speaking. A quiet chuckle made him look her in the eye, and she nodded at him. “I’m sorry if I riled you up. It’s just my way. I’m a straight shooter. Thank you for bein’ honest.”
While Niall reeled from that unexpected response, she continued, “Willa Mae needs someone decisive, someone bold in her corner. She needs that kind of support, not some wishy-washy man looking to be a crowd pleaser. Seems like you’re just what the doctor ordered.”
He did a double take, hearing everything she said but unable to process its meaning. Or perhaps it would be fairer to say he refused to process it, because what she was implying wasn’t true…was it?
“I’ve been waiting for my baby to find someone to love for a very long time, your lordship.”
His eyes snapped to her face again, but she wasn’t teasing, as her granddaughter would have done.
“I’m not your lordship most of the time, ma’am. Niall is fine.”
She smiled at him and nodded again. “Another thing I like about you. You’re not even a little bit pretentious. I’m sure you know that your title is more than just a name, but you don’t make it get to your head. Somethin’ else my girl needs…a strong man who understands what priorities are, and will help her keep it together when she gets too fussy behind her eyelids.”
Niall chuckled at her quaint way of speaking. Not knowing how to respond to that, either, he said, “Thank you, ma’am” just as Willa Mae appeared. His eyes flitted to her, and suddenly no one else existed. She was wearing skinny jeans and a strapless tube top that made her breasts pop out, and showed her bottom to advantage…his advantage. Her lips were juicy beneath their coating of color, her cheekbones high and defined. Her long braids hung in elegant stillness over her shoulders.
Grandma Jamison cleared her throat and he turned his eyes back to her just before Willa Mae got to where they were seated.
“I like that, too, young man. You keep looking at my grandchild like that, and all will be well.”
She chuckled at the rise of color in his cheeks, and Willa Mae looked questioningly between them even as she said,
“Here you go, Grannie.” She spread the shawl over her grandmother’s shoulders and added “Okay?”
“Yes, thanks, child. It’s perfect.”
She kept her eyes trained on Niall, who knew instinctively that she wasn’t just talking about the shawl. He tamped down the momentary panic that threatened to swamp him. Nothing could happen without his say so. He and Willa Mae were not in that kind of relationship. They were business associates who had become friends. That was all. He ignored the little voice in his head that yelled “Liar!” at him in mocking tones.
Thankfully, lunch was announced just then, and they spent a pleasant hour eating fairly bland food with a bunch of strangers, most of whom were clearly curious about who he was and why he was there with Willa Mae. He was sure most of them had already filled in the answers to those questions to their satisfaction. He wondered idly how many children he and Willa Mae had, based on these old folks’ calculations. A chuckle escaped him, and both women looked at him sharply.
“Sorry…just an errant thought,” he said, but refused to elaborate, despite the inquiring look in their eyes.
When it was time to leave, Grandma Jamison asked when Willa Mae was returning to New York.
“Next week, Grannie,” she said.
“Good, so you can come see me again before you go. Bring your young man with you when you do.”
She slanted a meaningful look at Niall, who willed himself not to react to her words. Her eyes twinkled, as though she knew what she had done, and when he smiled, she grinned cheekily up at him.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, your lordship.” She addressed her next words to him. “Thank you for coming today. I appreciate the gesture, and your patience with an ole lady like myself. I hope you’ll come again.”
Niall took the hand she held out to him and raised it to his lips, kissing it with old-fashioned gallantry. She beamed in delight and turned her eyes up to her granddaughter, saying as she hugged her,
“Don’t you dare let this one go.”
Then they were in the lobby waiting for the cab that he had called. Willa Mae turned to him, her eyes uncertain.
“I’m sorry about my grandmother. She gets carried away.”
Niall only smiled. “She’s quite a character, isn’t she? I like her.”
It was no more the truth. Despite their earlier misunderstanding, Grandma Jamison was the kind of woman he wished his mother was, not hiding behind pretentious titles, not looking down on anyone, accepting people for who they were, being thankful for small things, admitting when she was wrong. He wanted to be the kind of man she thought he was. He just wasn’t sure that he was.