Each word was a groan.
I slid him up, kept the tip in my mouth as I rolled it with my tongue and looked up his fantastic torso to his burning blue eyes.
That was mine. I gave him that.
Me.
Holding those eyes, I slid down, taking him deep.
His head fell back to the arm of my daybed and watching it, I felt a rush of wet hit between my legs.
Then I went for it, gave it, gave it good, and swallowed the evidence of the last.
I licked him clean then made my way up his body, kissing his stomach, his chest, his neck, and only when his arms closed around me did I settle, skin against skin on Mickey.
I caught his eyes and when I did, he muttered, “She’s cute, a smartass, makes great brownies and swallows.”
“Is this a stamp of approval?” I asked.
His hand slid down and clenched my behind. “Like you don’t know a man gets off on a woman who takes all of him in her mouth.”
I grinned and I could tell it was smugly.
His gaze narrowed on my mouth right before he surged up. I cried out. Then I was down, head to the pillow on the other side of the daybed and Mickey was on top of me.
“Payback,” he whispered.
And without hesitation, he commenced working his way down my body until he threw my legs over his shoulders, dipped his face to me and proved that payback Mickey Donovan style was, one hundred percent, not a bitch.
* * * * *
It was September, the weather had cooled, though not that much. But I had a fireplace in my bedroom. It was easy to light and it was romantic. So, in front of said fire, after I gave it to Mickey with my mouth and he returned the favor, we laid under my new, fluffy, soft afghan, naked and silent on my daybed, sometimes stroking but mostly just holding each other and watching the fire.
It was Wednesday after my kids left me and Cillian and Aisling were at friends’ houses, Cillian hanging, Aisling doing some school project.
This meant we had time.
It was just time that was going to end.
“When do you have to go get Cill again?” I asked.
“Eight thirty,” he answered.
I stayed as connected to him as I could and reached to the closest thing that would give me what I needed, this being his phone. I pressed the button on the bottom and saw it was just going eight.
I dropped the phone and snuggled back into him, muttering, “Half an hour.”
“Come away with me.”
My head jerked against his chest before I lifted it and looked at him. “I’m sorry?”
“Got the kids this weekend. Next weekend I don’t, and you don’t have yours. And Jimbo’s got a hunting cabin that his wife took over to make it a cabin-cabin. It doesn’t have a lot, but it’s got everything you need. Jimbo uses it when he hunts but she uses it to hang around and read while he hunts. Been there once. It’s a nice place. Not much, bed, kitchen, stereo, no TV. If he’s not usin’ it, wanna take you there.”
I didn’t care if it was filthy and decorated in dead animal heads, Mickey wanted to take me there, I wanted to go.
“Okay,” I replied.
“Like I said, it’s not much,” he said. “But it’s far away. No kids. No exes. No fire department. No old folks. Just two days, you and me.”
That sounded fabulous.
“I’d love to go, Mickey.”
He took one arm from around me and ran his knuckles down my jaw, dipping his voice to say, “It’s pretty basic, Amy. But they got heat and light, a fridge, a stove,” he tilted his head to the fire, “a fireplace.” He rubbed his thumb along my lower lip. “We can be naked the entire time and you won’t even notice where you are.”
I loved he wanted to go away with me.
I loved that he was being so sweet.
I loved how he was touching me.
I did not love all that his words were saying to me.
“You do know, although I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that filthy rich people don’t spontaneously combust when they step foot over the thresholds of such places as hunting cabins.”
His hand dropped away and his eyes narrowed on me. “Just want you to be prepared for what you’d get when you got there.”
“I kinda got what I was going to get when you said Jimbo has a hunting cabin. Since Jimbo shared that for his regular job he’s a mechanic at a local dealership, I would not expect to go to said cabin and find you having a personal valet and me having the opportunity to boss around a chef.”
His eyes stayed narrowed as he growled, “Tame the smartass, Amelia.”
“I will, Michael, when you come to terms with the fact that I have money,” I snapped.
“Think we had a drama witnessed by the residents of a nursing home that saw the end of that shit,” he returned.
“Really?” I asked my question but kept right on speaking. “Then why would you need to assure me we could be naked and I wouldn’t even know where I was?”
He clamped his mouth shut and his jaw went hard.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
He unlocked his jaw to reply, “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”
I slid myself up his chest, my pique increasing at his words. “Oh no you don’t. You’re not allowed to be sweet and lovely, offering to take me away from it all, then rescind that offer.”
“I do if you turn into a smartass and hand me shit.”
“I want to go away to a hunting cabin with you,” I told him.
“Then you shoulda just said that, not handed me shit.”
“I did,” I reminded him.
“You did then you handed me shit.”
I looked to the fire and mumbled, “Forget I said anything.”
“Amy,” he called.
“What?” I asked the fire.
“Babe, fuckin’ look at me.”
I turned squinty eyes to him. “Yes?”
“Tell me, how is it you just gave me the best blowjob of my life, capped that by takin’ my cum, I asked you to go away for a weekend with me, and I’m this pissed?” he demanded.
“How is it that you went down on me, gave me only the fourth best orgasm of my life, the first two were our first time, the third one the time on the rug by my bed, you asked me to go away with you, and I’m this pissed?” I retorted.
“Fuck,” he growled. “I don’t have enough time to fuck you properly in order to fuck that sass outta you before I gotta get my kid.”
“Then do it improperly, Mickey,” I challenged.
I barely got his name out before I was on my back, Mickey looming over me, his hands at my ankles forcing my knees bent and my legs wide, and just with that, I was breathing heavy and speeding near orgasm.
It was then, his phone rang.
We both looked down to it but only Mickey clipped, “Fuck me.”
He lowered himself between my spread legs, resting some of his weight on me, and reached a long arm out to his phone. He nabbed it, turned a heated scowl to me, something I ignored entirely, wrapped my legs around his thighs and rested my hands to his chest as he took the call and put the phone to his ear.
“Coert, swear to fuck, this better be good,” he ground down the phone.
He listened for less than a minute before he was up, seated on the daybed, and he’d arranged me straddling him.
His eyes were to the fire, but they saw no romantic fire blazing by a marvelous daybed.
They were far, far away.
I watched with some awe, and admittedly some unease, as whatever was happening far, far away began to piss Mickey off.
To extremes.
“What do I want you to do?” Mickey asked the unknown Coert, his voice low, rough and filled with such fury, I felt it vibrating all through me. “It’s cool you called me, and just sayin’, she doesn’t have the kids, they’re with me. But I’m not owin’ a favor this time. I want that bitch’s DUI on record.”
I tensed.
It wasn’t even eight thirty an
d Rhiannon was drunk driving?
And…this time?
“Yeah,” he grunted. “Yeah,” he grunted again. “Right. Thanks, Coert.”
He disconnected and tossed his phone to the afghan.
“Goddamn shit,” he muttered to the fire.
“Mickey,” I whispered.
“Goddamn fucking shit!” he roared, surging up, but planting me gently on my feet before he did something that was sweet— unbelievably sweet in the circumstances—and bent, tagging his tee and handing it to me.
He then went after his boxers as I pulled his tee over my head and when I had it on, I saw he had his boxers up and was nabbing his jeans.
“She’s done this before?” I asked carefully.
He shoved his foot in one leg, answering, “Yeah.” He shoved in the other one and tugged them up then he looked at me. “That was what happened before the thing that happened before the bender that happened when I got shot of her ass.”
“Oh, Mickey,” I said softly, wishing words were magic and I could find the right ones to make that magic work.
He started pacing.
“Maybe she’s…” I started, stopped, then tried, “Maybe all these things are happening and she’s going to hit bottom and—”
He twisted his head to face me and snarled, “She’s not doin’ that shit with my kids.”
I stood there staring at him thinking I’d never seen anyone that angry.
In all my antics, I’d made Conrad spitting mad.
But he’d never been as angry as Mickey was right then.
Somehow, in the face of his rage, I felt no fear.
I just murmured soothingly, “Of course not, honey. You wouldn’t let it.”
“Loved her,” he spat and I flinched. Not at his words, at his emotion. “Only bitch I tagged more beautiful than her is you. Lookin’ back, I knew it was gonna be her the minute I laid eyes on her. Knowin’ that, from the second I met her, treated her ass like gold. I had it to give to her, I gave it. We had it good. She gave me babies. It didn’t happen fast, her sinkin’ into the bottle. It went slow. Can you imagine, Amy, day after day, no matter how hard you held on, watchin’ someone you love slip right through your fingers?”
“No, baby,” I said gently, again feeling the bleed inside.
This time, though, I was bleeding for Mickey.
“Does she love them?” he asked suddenly.
“I’m sorry?” I asked back in confusion.
“Ash and Cill,” he bit out. “’Cause, she does, I don’t get it. She didn’t love me. Told her to get sober or get out. We fought. She swore she didn’t have a problem, told me I had a problem. Comin’ back to me and our family smellin’ like stale booze and lookin’ like shit, and I had the problem. Then she got out. That meant she chose the bottle over me. That’s not love. That the same thing with my kids?”
“I don’t know anything about addiction, Mickey, but I would guess she does, and she loved you too. But she’s not in control. The addiction is.”
“That’s weak,” he clipped.
“You’re angry,” I said softly, moving to him, getting close, but not touching him. “I know you know better. Sickness isn’t weak, and alcoholism is an illness.”
He clenched his jaw, looked away and I watched a muscle dance in his cheek.
He knew.
I took a chance and invaded his space. When he didn’t pull away, I burrowed closer, wrapping my arms tight around him and resting my cheek against his chest.
It took him a few moments, but he finally curled an arm around me, cupped the back of my head with his other hand and held my cheek against his warm skin.
“Hunting cabin is out ’cause I’m thinkin’, she doesn’t sort her shit, I’m not givin’ the kids back to her,” he said over my head.
I nodded, my cheek sliding against his chest, wondering but not asking why he’d given them back after her last escapade on Cillian’s birthday.
“And that fuckin’ sucks,” he went on.
It did but I didn’t agree verbally, I just held him tighter.
“She’s still fuckin’ me over. She can’t hold her shit together means I can’t have time with you.”
“We’ll find our times.”
He gave a noncommittal grunt before he stated, “Maybe shit’ll settle, the kids’ll be good in a coupla months and Josie and Jake’ll take ’em while we go up for a coupla days.”
I held on and replied, “That’d be good.”
I felt Mickey’s chest expand with the deep breath he took and then felt his sigh when he let it out.
His hand slid to my jaw and he tipped my head back.
When he got my gaze, he said, “Gotta have my tee so I can go get my boy.”
I nodded, rolled up on my toes and Mickey met me halfway for a lip brush.
I rolled back and he let me go. I went to get my robe, pulled off Mickey’s tee, pulled on the robe and took it back to him.
He had his boots on by the time I returned. Straightening from the daybed, he reached out as I handed him his shirt.
When he had it on, he pulled me back into his arms. I wrapped mine around him.
“You’re gonna have to store up some smartass so I can fuck it outta you,” he remarked and I smiled at the same time I tingled.
“I don’t think that’ll be difficult,” I assured him.
“For you, no,” he teased.
I grinned at him then tipped my chin down and kissed his chest over his shirt.
He cupped my head to keep my face there, and I kept it there for him, rubbing my nose against his chest then turning my head and pressing my cheek to it again.
“Sorry this fucked our night,” he said quietly.
“No night is fucked when I’m with you,” I replied.
“Christ, Amy.” This came out as a groan right before I felt his lips at the top of my hair.
We held each other for long moments before I pushed my head back, his came up, and I caught his eyes.
“You gonna be okay?”
“Got no choice, but yeah, baby. I’m always okay.”
I hoped he wasn’t lying but to do my bit (the only thing I could do), I gave him a reassuring smile and a gentle squeeze.
He dipped down and touched his mouth to mine before he let me go but grabbed my hand and walked me to the front door.
I got another lip brush before he was out the door on his, “Talk to you tomorrow, babe.”
I stood in the door and replied, “Okay, Mickey.” I watched him take five steps away from me before I called, “Mickey!”
He turned to me.
“You’re a great guy, a wonderful father, and walking away from just you, she made the worst decision of her life. Walking away from your family, it’s mean to say, but that’s just crazy.”
In the outside lights I saw his face go soft before he ordered, “Don’t be sweet and make me wanna make out with you to the point I’m fuckin’ you in your foyer when I gotta go get my boy.”
“My apologies,” I said through a smile.
“Now get outta the fuckin’ door wearin’ only that robe,” he kept ordering.
“No one can see me, Mickey.”
“Babe?” he called.
“What?” I asked.
“Get outta the fuckin’ door.”
I squinted my eyes at him and got out of the door.
But before I fully closed it, I stuck my face through and blew him a kiss.
Thus, the last look I had of Mickey was him shaking his head wearing a grin that might not have been easy, but at least I’d managed to give it to him.
* * * * *
Late the next morning, I walked into Maude’s House of Beauty and went right to the pedicure chairs.
I bent to touch cheeks with Alyssa, who was working on Josie’s toes, gave a “Hey,” got a “Yo, babe,” back and then moved to do the same with Josie.
“Careful, her fingers are still wet,” Alyssa warned.
I was careful as I gave Josie h
er greeting then lifted up the arm in the next chair and climbed into it.
“How’s Jake doing with Conner gone?” I asked Josie.
She tipped her head to the side, sadness seeping into her eyes and answered, “Amber and Ethan aren’t good. They miss their big brother. So he has his chin up for them.” She drew in a breath and lowered her voice. “But I found him in Con’s room the other day, just sitting by himself on Con’s bed. I left him to it and didn’t mention I found him there. But I know he’s melancholy.”
I nodded. Having lost my kids in my own way, I understood Jake and it didn’t thrill me that I got them back just in time to have Auden for two years before I’d be going through the same thing.
“How’s Mickey?” Alyssa asked.
I shook away my thoughts and smiled down at her. “He’s good.”
“I’m sure he’s good, havin’ a hot neighbor who puts out,” Alyssa returned (incidentally, they were my friends, I didn’t go into details—much to Alyssa’s despair—but they knew how things were progressing with Mickey and me). “But I’m not talkin’ about that. I’m talkin’ about his ex gettin’ hauled in for drunk driving,” Alyssa went on.
I stared at her in horror. “How do you know that?”
“Babe,” she replied, then threw out a hand holding the brush of a bottle of nail varnish.
I took in the salon, mumbling, “Right.”
“He’s probably used to it,” Alyssa said, turning her attention back to Josie’s toenails.
He wasn’t used to it.
I looked to Josie. “Do you know about Rhiannon?”
She looked apologetic as she answered, “I’ve never met her but Jake’s told me about her, and I’ve…heard things.”
“Small town,” I noted.
“Yes,” Josie agreed.
“If I were Mickey, I’d haul her ass in front of a judge,” Alyssa remarked.
“I don’t want to share Mickey’s business,” I told them. “But I’ll say he isn’t happy.”
“I’ll bet,” Alyssa muttered.
“Are his kids okay?” Josie asked.
“No,” I answered. “But they have Mickey so they cope.”
“Very sad,” she said softly.
“Yeah,” I agreed.
I heard my phone in my purse chiming to tell me I had a text, so I dug it out and looked at it, the pall of our conversation lifting when I saw it was Auden.