Mack checked into his room and threw his backpack onto the bed. When he’d gotten off the airplane with his internal clock jacked up from the time changes, he’d been more concerned about catching some more Z’s as soon as he reached his room.

If not for the chance to spar with the pretty international model, he’d call foul and indulge in that siesta he so badly needed. But the beautiful redhead was too tempting to leave standing alone in the lobby for long. One of his brothers would likely bump into her and hit on her.

Mack pulled his trousers out of his pack and shook out a white button-up dress shirt. Other than the jeans he wore, a couple of pullover shirts and a casual blazer, he hadn’t packed much. Marines didn’t take anything but uniforms when they deployed. For the purpose of coming to the wedding, he’d had some of his civilian clothing mailed to him from stateside. As soon as he’d disembarked off the military aircraft at Ramstein, he’d ditched his desert camouflage uniform. He’d changed into the jeans, pullover polo shirt and jacket before taking a train to Frankfurt where he’d flown out on a commercial flight to Ireland.

The marine in him refused to allow himself to show up at the party in wrinkled clothing. He pulled the ironing board out of the closet and plugged in the iron before hopping into the shower. A few minutes later he emerged, refreshed and feeling almost human with every trace of sand completely erased from his body.

A quick run over his clothes with the iron removed the wrinkles and he dressed in black trousers, the white shirt and the dress shoes he’d pair with the tux Wyatt had rented for him to wear to the wedding.

When he was fully clad, he slipped on the blazer, shoved his wallet into his pocket and stepped out into the hallway, determined to find the brothers he hadn’t seen in over a year, then the redhead.

Avoiding the elevator, Mack found the stairs and hurried down to the lobby and the reception desk to ask about Wyatt, Ronin and Sam. Abby was due in later that night.

The lobby was crowded with a startling array of characters. Men strutted across the tile floor with dark hair, heavy brows and tattoos on their wrists and knuckles. Dressed in black suits and dark, narrow neckties, they were bulky men who looked like they bench-pressed automobiles for fun. Behind them paraded women in over-the-top, red, white, teal and purple Cinderella dresses, with wide skirts of tulle and taffeta. Low-cut necklines exposed vast amounts of bosoms and cutouts on the sides of the dresses displayed midriffs. Their makeup was garish and their hair piled high, cascading down in ringlets. Even the little girls wore the big dresses and high heels, with thick makeup and hairstyles matching the adults. The lobby looked like the set of one of the reality TV shows of a trailer trash family striking it rich.

Mack waded through the throng of people to the reception desk where a pretty young woman stood behind the counter. “Might I help ya?” she asked in that lyrical Irish accent.

“What’s going on?” Mack tipped his head toward the melee.

The woman grinned. “There’s a Travelers’ weddin’ goin’ on in the main ballroom.”

Mack frowned. “Travelers?”

“The Irish version of gypsies.” She glanced toward one of the women whose large breasts looked to be about to explode from the dress. “Quite fanciful, don’t you think?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

The receptionist gave her full attention to Mack. “How might I help you?”

“I’m looking for the Magnus brothers.”

“Mack? Is that you?” a voice said behind him.

He turned to find all three of his brothers and his parents grinning at him. They converged in a backslapping, laughing, hugging huddle.

Mack hugged his mother and shook hands with his father and then hugged him.

“Oh, honey, you look thin,” his mother said. “Don’t they feed you boys in the marines?”

Mack laughed. “Yes, Mom, they do.”

“It’s good to see you, son,” his father said. “Your mother and I need to check on the arrangements for the wedding tomorrow. You boys go, have a good time.”

“Just not too good,” his mother warned with a stern frown, softened by a smile.

“We’ll be careful,” Mack promised.

Once his parents had gone, Mack turned to his brothers.

“You old son-of-a-bitch.” Wyatt engulfed him in a bear hug. “How’s the corps treating you?”

“Good. Fortunately we were wrapping up a tour when you decided to tie the knot.”

Wyatt grinned. “Can you believe it? I’m getting married.”

Ronin clapped a hand against Wyatt’s back. “We all thought for sure Mack would be the first to cave.”

Mack shook his head. “Not me. I’m married to the corps.”

“Yeah, no offense, but the corps doesn’t make a great bedfellow,” Wyatt said. “In fact, I’m sure they aren’t too good at providing decent beds, am I right?”

“Beats the hell out of what the Army gives you.” Mack stuck out a hand, clasped Ronin’s and pulled him into a hug. “Good to see you. Crashed any helicopters lately?”

Ronin laughed. “Sorry to report, no crashes.”

“Life a little on the boring side with the 160th Night Stalkers?” Mack asked.

His pilot brother nodded. “Due for another rotation soon, if they don’t recall all our troops as planned.”

“Don’t unpack your bags yet.” Mack clapped a hand on Ronin’s shoulder. “Things are still unstable over there. I doubt we’ll pull out yet.”

“Thanks for the heads up.”

“What about you, little brother?” Mack shook hands with Sam and pulled him into a hug. “Been on any super-secret missions lately?”

“If I told you about them—”

“You’d have to kill me, right?” Mack chuckled. “Same ol’, same ol’ with the Navy SEALs.”

“No, I’m doing something different this year.”

“Oh yeah?”

“The wedding is just the beginning of my first-ever month off.”

“Month?” Mack’s brows rose. “What are you going to do for a whole month?”

Sam shrugged. “Thought I’d backpack through Europe.”

“Don’t you travel enough with the Navy?”

“Not like this.” Sam’s face split in a grin. “I want to go where people aren’t shooting at me.”

“What are you looking for? An easy day? I thought you SEALs went by the motto, the only easy day was yesterday.”

“We do. But I’ve been on one mission after another. I could use some downtime.”

“Sorry, brother.” Wyatt patted Sam’s back. “We have one more mission before you can take that break you so desperately need.”

“So, what are we calling this mission?” Mack draped an arm across Wyatt’s shoulder. “Something catchy, I hope.”

“Operation: Get Wyatt Hitched?” Sam offered.

Mack snorted. “That’s all you got?”

“Why not something like Operation: Ball and Chain?” Ronin proffered.

“Come on, guys.” Wyatt checked his watch. “It’s my wedding, not my funeral, and Fiona is great. Wait until you meet her. Even then, don’t pass judgment. I’m the one marrying her, and I love her.”

“A good thing too. I wouldn’t wear a monkey suit for just anyone.” Mack playfully punched Wyatt in the shoulder. “She better be worth it, brother.”

Wyatt nodded. “She is. Speaking of Fiona, I wonder where she is.” He glanced around the lobby at the women in bright costumes parading through. “Can you believe this circus?”

Mack laughed. “The receptionist said they’re gypsies here for their own wedding.”

Ronin elbowed Wyatt in the belly. “Is that the kind of dress Fiona’s going to wear?” He pointed to a particular woman in a bright purple dress with yards and yards of fluffy fabric floating around her.

“I hope not,” Wyatt responded.

Deirdre chose that moment to appear in the midst of the dazzling dresses and rhinestone-studded gowns. She wore a little black dress, her white coat and a cobalt-blue scarf draped over her arm, deep red hair flowing around her shoulders like a lion’s mane. Compared to the Travelers, Deirdre was understated and elegant. Every step she took was like poetry in motion. And she walked straight toward Mack.

“Beautiful.” His pulse rocketed and his groin tightened.

Wyatt chuckled. “I see you’ve met Fiona’s cousin Deirdre.”

“Holy shit, Mack,” Ronin said, “introduce me.”

Deirdre stopped beside Mack. “Ready?”

“I am. But first, my baby brothers want to meet you.” Mack turned to Wyatt. “I take it you’ve met Wyatt?”

“I have. The man who stole my cousin’s heart. Welcome to the family.” Her eyes narrowed. “If you break Fiona’s heart, I’ll come for you.”

“And hell knows no fury like an Irish woman after revenge?” Ronin stepped forward and held out his hand. “If you were my woman, I’d never break your heart.”

Mack wanted to jump between his brother and Deirdre and tell him to back off. He took a step forward, but Deirdre’s hand on his arm held him back.

Deirdre shook Ronin’s hand. “I appreciate the sentiment. But my heart’s not up for breakin’. Pleasure to meet you though.”

“Ouch.” Ronin pulled his hand back as if it had been burned. “If you change your mind…”

Her shoulders squared. “I won’t change my mind.”

Sam pushed Ronin aside. “Out of the way, loser.” He held out his hand to Deirdre and she took it. “I’m Sam. Do you have a date for tonight?”

“No.” Deirdre pulled her fingers out of his and held her hand up. “And I don’t want one. Nice to meet you, Sam.” She turned to Mack. “If you’re ready?”

Mack didn’t bother to hide his smile. “Crash, Froggy, Wyatt, I’ll see you shortly at the pub.” He hooked Deirdre’s arm and led her toward the door. He hadn’t taken two steps when she stopped, stared down at the hand on her arm and back up at Mack with her brows cocked.

He released her arm and cringed. His brothers’ laughter echoed over the Travelers’ commotion as he followed Deirdre to the door.

She wove her way confidently through the steady stream of outlandishly attired wedding guests.

Mack had it half-right when he’d pegged her for an ice queen. If not for the way she’d responded to his kiss, he’d still think of her as such. But that kiss gave him hope she wasn’t as frigid as she pretended to be.

“Are you and your brothers always so cocksure?” she asked.

“You have to be in our line of work. Who else would put themselves up for enemy target practice?”

“You have a point.” Deirdre stepped through the door of the hotel and out onto the sidewalk.

Mack followed, enjoying the way her bottom swayed in the figure-hugging black dress. Once outside, she shivered.

“You’ll need that coat.” He took it from her hands and held it for her while she slipped her arms into sleeves. “By the way, you look great.” He rested his hands on her shoulders longer than he should, the scent of her hair doing funny things to his insides. He had the urge to pull her into his arms, turn her around and kiss her like there was no tomorrow. While he hesitated, she stepped way.

Deirdre pulled the edges of her coat together and faced him. “You’re not so bad yourself, Yank.” Her gaze swept his length from the top of his head to his shiny black shoes.

Everywhere her gaze landed tingled, sending heated messages throughout his body to pool in his groin. If she continued to stare at him like that, he’d be forced to drag her against him and steal that kiss.

Drawing in a deep breath, he held out his arm. “We should be going.”

“Yes, indeed, we should.” She lifted her chin and turned, leading the way down the street. They walked to the next block and turned left. Streetlights lit the way and cars passed in a steady flow.

For a few minutes, Mack felt they could have been any couple strolling along the street, and he found himself liking it. Too much. He was only there for the weekend and he didn’t believe in love or commitment. She wasn’t in the market for a relationship, and she’d made herself pretty clear on that subject to him and his brothers.

Mack, ol’ buddy, since when did you back down from a challenge?

Despite the cold, damp air, a fire warmed inside Deirdre as she walked beside Mack. Other than the kiss, the man had been a perfect gentleman, which was beginning to irritate her. When he’d helped her into her coat, she thought for sure he’d try to pinch another kiss. She’d been ready to give the Yank a good set down, but then he’d done nothing. No kiss, no embrace. Nothing. Jazus, what was wrong with him?

Her brows tugged together. Had he been disappointed by their earlier kiss?

Deirdre shook her head. She’d never had any complaints from previous lovers about her kissing. Not that she wanted him to kiss her. She wasn’t in the market for an affair with the American. Although the thought of a weekend of sex with the muscular man did have its appeal. He’d be gone as soon as the wedding was over, and though she was a world traveler who rarely spent two nights in the same place, she wasn’t into that kind of casual relationship.

Kissing the American again would be a mistake.

Then why the hell was she thinking about it to the exclusion of all else? They had a party to arrange for Fiona and Wyatt. The focus should be on them, not on her own carnal needs. Needs she hadn’t known she had until he’d kissed her in the airport. The entire time she’d been preparing in her room, she’d gone over and over that kiss. Each time, her body grew warmer and warmer, her heart beating faster as if he was there in the room with her.

Her belly tightened and heat spread at the thought of what it might be like to make love to Mack. Would he be all about vanilla sex? Or would he like a little more action and excitement in bed? A man who spent months in the desert being shot at, always on the edge of being killed, might want stress-free sex. Or was he an adrenaline junkie bent on making sex as dangerous as his life?

“Is this the pub?” Mack asked.

Deirdre came to an abrupt halt and stared at the shingle hanging from the front of the building. Donegal Pub. Damned if it wasn’t the pub and she’d almost walked right past. “Yes, this is it.” Angry at herself for wool-gatherin’, she pushed through the door and charged in.

When the bartender spotted her, he boomed out loud, “Ms. Darcy, I was wonderin’ when you’d show yerself.”

“Well, I’m here now and I’ve brought the best man with me. The rest of the crowd will be here shortly.”

“I’ve got the room set up in the back for the womenfolk, seein’ as they’d be a might quieter.”

“Great. What about music?” she asked, peeling her coat from her shoulders.

“Paddy and Liam O’Connell are comin’ to provide traditional Irish ballads, and they also play some of the popular songs.”

“Good. Thank you, Mr. Donegal.” Deirdre hung her coat on the rack by the door.

“Call me Sean.” The rotund bartender held out a hand to Mack. “So yer one of the Magnus brothers?”

Mack gripped the older man’s hand. “I am.”

“Good to meet you, it ’tis.” The big man pulled Mack into a bear hug and pounded his back.

The door behind her opened sending in a draft of cold air and six of Deirdre’s cousins.

“Where’s the party?” one shouted, clearly already into his cups.

Sean let go of Mack and waved the group in. “If yer here for the weddin’ party, yer in the right place. What can I get for ya?”

And so the party began.

Within thirty minutes the pub was full. The other three Magnus brothers arrived. Wyatt had his arm securely looped around a woman’s slender waist.

“Fiona, meet my brother, Mack.”

The pretty redhead smiled up at him and held out her hand. “Had I known there were four good-looking Magnus brothers, I might have waited to make my choice.” She winked as she shook his hand.

“Hey.” Wyatt frowned, his arm tightening around her, pulling her flush against his body. “I saw you first.”

“I’m just kidding. You know I love you.” She leaned up on her toes to kiss Wyatt, the love shining in her eyes. “I just don’t want you to get too cocky.”

Mack laughed. “You got yourself a feisty one, brother. And a good thing. She’ll keep you humble.” He pulled Fiona into a quick bear hug. “Welcome to the family.”

Fiona and the ladies retired to the room at the rear of the pub where they toasted the bride and gave out advice. Soon music could be heard in the main room of the pub.

“Why are we stayin’ back here when there’s music on the other side?” Caitlin Mulrooney, Deirdre’s cousin from her mother’s side, shouted.

The group of women all stood at once, paraded out of the back and crammed into the outer room with the men. A loud roar of approval went up and the dancing began.

Fiona melted into Wyatt’s arms and they did a slow dance though the music was a lively Irish jig. When the music slowed to match them, Deirdre couldn’t help a sigh. They looked so in love it almost hurt to watch them together.

“Why the big sigh?” a deep voice said close to her ear. “Won’t anyone ask you to dance?”

She turned to find Mack standing beside her. “Not so far and they probably won’t, considering most of them are my cousins.”

“Would you like to dance?”

Knowing it was a mistake, she took his hand and let him lead her to a rare bare spot on the wooden floor. As soon as he pulled her into his arms, she leaned against him and the crowd around them sealed them in the embrace.

“You throw a good party,” he said, his words rumbling in his chest. “My brothers have never been to Ireland so this is a treat.”

Deirdre tipped her chin up. “Surely your military travels have taken you to foreign countries?”

“Yes, but not where we were truly welcome. It’s nice for a change not to have to look where you step or watch behind you for your enemy.”

“I can’t imagine what it is like to be in a war zone.”

“Exhilarating and scary at the same time.” He touched a finger beneath her chin. “I’m glad you ladies came out. I was considering going back to my room.”

“And miss all this?” She smiled up at him. “It would be a shame to disappoint your brother on the eve of his weddin’.”

“He doesn’t see anyone else but his bride-to-be.”

Deirdre’s glance shifted to Wyatt and Fiona, standing in the middle of the floor, barely moving to the beat of the music. “They make a lovely couple.”

“They’ve only known each other for three months. Is that long enough to know whether you’re really in love?”

“Some say you know in an instant. Others say their love grew over time.” Deirdre envied Wyatt and Fiona. She had always wondered what it would be like to be in love with a man. Her gaze rose to meet Mack’s. “Do you believe in love at first sight?”

Mack stared down at her for a long moment.

The fire in his eyes made her blood rush through her veins and her core tighten.

“I don’t know about love at first sight. You captured my attention from the moment you first stepped through the door of the terminal.”

“I did?”

“Yes. But then I pegged you as an ice queen, dressed in white, hiding behind a scarf and sunglasses, your body ramrod straight.”

Deirdre stiffened.

Mack laughed. “Just like that.” When she tried to step out of his arms, he tightened them around her. “Then I kissed you and I realized how deceiving looks can be. Beneath the outer shell was a fiery, passionate women.” His words ended in a whisper, his head lowering, his mouth sweeping down to claim hers.

As though caught in a time warp, Deirdre couldn’t move. Nor did she want to. Since he’d kissed her in the airport, she’d thought of little else. She lifted her face to his and met him, her mouth opening to accept his tongue, her own coming out to sweep across his.

It was as if the world stopped turning and time stood still. Even the music ceased to beat against her ears.

“Hey the song’s over, you two.” Ronin bumped against Mack’s shoulder. “Come on. I think we’re about to start the serious drinking, and I believe you have to get it going with a toast.”

Mack broke away from Deirdre, his dark eyes nearly black, his lips wet from hers. He shook his head and focused on the room around him. “Toast? I thought we only did that after the wedding.”

“We need more reasons to piss the night away.” Sam shoved a mug of beer into Mack’s hand and one in Deirdre’s as well.

“I didn’t think my brothers or any Irishman needed a reason to drink,” Mack grumbled. He lifted his mug toward the ceiling. “To my brother, Wyatt and his bride-to-be, Fiona. I wish you all the love your hearts can hold and long, healthy lives together.”

The mugs rose in the air to a hearty “Here, here!”

Deirdre raised her mug and drank a long, healthy swallow. She hadn’t had a whole mug of beer in the ten years she’d been working as a model. After the first swallow, she tipped the mug and drank it all.

“Hey, slow down there or you’ll be crawling under the table before the end of the night.” Mack chuckled and took the empty mug from her, setting it on the table.

“That’s the first beer I’ve had since I was a teenager.”

“I thought the Irish loved their beer. Why have you waited so long to have another?”

She snorted and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling a little buzz creeping up on her. “Do you know how many calories there are in one bottle of beer?”

“No, I don’t know, but I’m sure you do.”

“Sadly, I do—” A hiccup escaped her mouth and she clapped a hand over her lips, her cheeks heating. “Excuse me.”

“Here, have another.” Sam handed Deirdre another mug full of beer. Before she could think to say no, she was raising it in the air. “To my beautiful cousin Fiona and her fiancé Wyatt, may you both live as long as you want, and never want as long as you live!”

The roar of approval shook the rafters of the old pub.

A slow, sweet melody filled the room. Paddy O’Connell held the microphone and sang with only a guitar as accompaniment. Fiona and Wyatt came together in a tight embrace, swaying to the music.

At the sight of the couple so in love, Deirdre’s heart squeezed so tightly that breathing became difficult. She downed half the mug of beer before Mack took it from her hand and set it on the bar.

“Dance with me,” he commanded. His voice low, heated and sexy as hell, combined with the effects of the beer, made her completely powerless to resist.

The music and Mack’s arms wrapped around her. Deirdre leaned against him, resting her cheek against the side of his neck, the stubble on his chin rasping against her temple. He smelled of soap and male musk, a heady combination, more potent than the alcohol she’d consumed.

A moment later, or so it seemed, the song ended and the O’Connell brothers broke into the Irish song “Finnegan’s Wake”. The Irish guests all joined in and helped the others who didn’t know the words to sing along.

When Deirdre made a move to step out of Mack’s embrace, he slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her up against his side.

She didn’t argue or try to pull away.

As the noise swelled in the pub, Deirdre longed for the quiet.

“Wanna make a break for it?” Mack asked.

Her heart skipped a couple beats and raced to catch up. “Yes.”

Mack clapped his brother Wyatt on the back. “I’m going back to the hotel. Sleep well your last night as a bachelor.” He leaned over and kissed Fiona on the cheek. “Are you sure you know what you’re getting into?”

She nodded. “I do.”

“Did you hear that?” Sam laughed. “She’s already practicing to get the words right.” He punched Wyatt in the ribs. “You should too.”

While his brothers poked fun at Wyatt, Mack gripped Deirdre’s hand and he guided her through the crowd to the exit.

She had every chance she needed to tell Mack she wasn’t ready to leave, especially with him. The trouble was, she wanted to leave with him. And she didn’t want the night to end. Not yet. That first kiss was nothing compared to the one they’d shared during the dance. That one liquefied every bone in her body.

No man had ever inspired such a complete meltdown before. Like a cat was drawn to catnip, she couldn’t resist him and followed him willingly, frustrated at the amount of time it took to get through the crush of people in the pub.

At the door, he snagged her jacket from a hook on the wall and held it for her to slide her arms in.

When at last they spilled out into the street, she sucked in a deep breath of chilled, misty air, hoping to cool the heat building inside.

As they started toward the hotel, the mist thickened into rain.

“Come on!” Mack’s hand tightened on hers, and they ran to the end of the block and turned. The hotel was only a short distance and they ran hand-in-hand, arriving in the lobby of the hotel, wet and laughing.

Mack didn’t stop there, dragging her into the lift, closing the door before anyone else could get in with them. He punched the button for his floor and immediately pulled her into his arms, his mouth crashing down on hers.

What little breath she’d gathered after their mad dash was stolen away in his kiss. It wasn’t nearly enough. Before they reached Mack’s floor, Deirdre was pushing his jacket from his shoulders and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

Tearing her mouth away from his, she pressed a kiss to the side of his throat and to his chest through the gap in his shirt.

The elevator bell rang and the door slid open.

Deirdre grabbed his hand and ran out into the hall. “Which one?”

He pulled his key card from his pocket, kissed her hard on the lips and hurried toward a room near the end of the hall. In seconds he had the door open and they fell through, ripping at each other’s clothes.

Mack pushed her jacket off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. He unwound the scarf from her neck, tossing it to the side.

Deirdre finished unbuttoning his shirt and shoved it down his arms. She turned, presenting her back and the zipper to her dress to him. “Hurry,” she said.

His hands dropped onto her shoulders and he pulled her back against his warm front. “Are you sure?”

She nodded, afraid that if she thought too long, she’d sober up and talk herself out of making love to him.

His fingers moved to the zipper and slid it down her back to the swell of her bottom. “We can stop at the kiss,” he said.

“No, we can’t.” She stepped away from him and turned, sliding the straps of the dress off her shoulders. The garment dropped to the floor at her feet and she stepped out of it. Wearing nothing but black, lace panties and her high heels, she stood in front of him, her chest rising and falling, her breathing ragged.

When he didn’t make a move to take her into his arms, she froze, afraid she’d gone too far. Afraid he didn’t find her attractive. Afraid of this man’s rejection.

Was she insane for throwing herself at him?

Mack locked gazes with Deirdre, refusing to let his eyes feast on her luscious curves. “I thought you didn’t want the complications of a quick fling.”

“I changed my mind.”

He snapped his fingers. “Like that?” Mack shook his head, cursing himself for stalling when she was offering him her body. But the kisses they’d shared had meant more to him than he cared to admit. “If I take you to bed, will you change your mind again?”

“Not tonight,” she said.

“After tonight?”

She shook her head. “I’m not here for a relationship. You and I could never work out as a couple. Not in our two careers. I make no guarantees.”

“Good. Because I can give no guarantees.”

“Then we’re good?” She rubbed her naked arms. “Because I’m feeling fairly underdressed here.”

“Come here,” he commanded.

She complied, sliding into his arms. “Are you not going to get naked as well?” Deirdre glanced up at him, raising her brows.

The sensual invitation in her tone washed over him, making his pulse quicken and his groin tighten. “I was enjoying how soft your skin is and how sexy you look in that outfit.”

“Why ’tis nothing but a bit of silk and heels.”

“Exactly.” His hands slid across her naked back and cupped her bottom, lifting her until her legs wrapped around his waist. Then he turned and pressed her against the wall. He bent to nibble at her earlobe and to brush his lips across the pulse pounding at the base of her throat. “Promise me one thing.”

“Saints preserve us. What?” she gasped.

“No regrets.”

“The only regret I have is that you are still wearing your clothes.” She caught his face between her palms. “Undress already.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He crushed her lips with his in a swift hard kiss, spun her around and dropped her on the bed.

“Well!” she huffed.

Then with slow deliberation, he shed his shirt and unbuckled his belt.

“Now, you’ve got it right.” She reached out, pushed his hands away from his zipper and slid it down.

His cock sprang free into her palms and heat coiled deep inside of him.

“My, my, you’re a big one, are ya?”

“So I’ve been told,” he said through gritted teeth. As long as it had been since he’d had a woman, it wouldn’t take much to set him off.

Deirdre ran her hands down his length, cupped his balls and fondled them. “Well, then, let’s put this bad boy to use.” She slipped out of her panties and flung them to a corner. “Pray tell you know what to do with something this magnificent.”