Hold Me Fast (McCullough Mountain Book 7)

  He tugged a red curl. “And I was just thinking how sexy my wife is. You look good tousled and well ridden. I like your hair wild like this.”

  “Mmm,” she hummed. “Well loved.”

  “Aye.”

  With a mischievous grin, she lifted the covers and peeked under the blankets. He tugged her hair and she turned to scowl at him. “What are you pulling my hair for?”

  “You know why, nosy. Give me a moment to get some wind back in the sail, before you go appraising the worth of the mast.”

  “Now, Frank, I’ve waited all this time, having you tell me no over and over again. I want to see my husband’s cock once and for all.”

  He shook his head and laughed. “The death of me, woman. All right. Have your way.”

  She pulled the sheets away and gasped. “This is what was poking me?”

  He smacked her bare arse. “Wench! Touch it and we’ll see who the cocky one is.”

  Slowly, she ran her fingers over his length and his hips lifted as his flesh stretched right before her eyes, thickening and darkening to what she then agreed was an impressive size. “Oh dear. Now I’ve really started something,” she teased.

  He brushed the hair away from her face and watched her, a gentle hook to his lips setting his face with a contented grin. “You better finish it.”

  She moved to lie on her back, but he caught he arm. “Where are you going, love?”

  “I was going to lay back for you.”

  His head shook slowly. “Stay there. Use your touch or your mouth.”

  “My mouth?”

  “Aye. If you kiss a man there he’ll be your slave for life.”

  She arched a brow. “But I thought you already agreed to be such when you promised to marry me.”

  He pinched her arse and she yipped. “Cheeky, woman. Are you just going to tease me or are you going to do it?”

  “I’ll do it. Quit your bellyaching. I’m just deciding how to go about kissing such a thing.”

  She leaned close and placed a small kiss at the base where his hair made a nest. This seemed to make him harder, but not necessarily bring him any pleasure. Gently gripping his length, she kissed the tip and he drew in an audible breath.

  “That’s it, love, stroke me firmly.”

  Her hand gripped him, gliding down to the root and back up to where she’d placed another kiss. She licked the tip and he hissed.

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not at all. Close your lips around me, Maureen. Let me feel the heat of your mouth.”

  She leaned over him and slowly closed her mouth over the tip, kissing and gently sucking. Her hand stroked over his length and he gathered her hair. “That’s it. Just like that.”

  His voice turned strained and when she peeked at his face, his hooded eyes were intensely set on her. She sucked harder and his chest lifted, his nostrils flaring.

  “Deeper. Take me deeper, Maureen.”

  Sliding her lips so they fit against the curve of her fingers, she glided her mouth down with her hand and he groaned, his grip tightening in her hair.

  “Mercy,” he breathed, applying pressure to the back of her neck.

  It was more like sucking than kissing. Regardless, whatever she was doing he obviously liked it. He guided her, keeping his hand buried in her hair and soon it was his moans filling the room.

  The fingers of his other hand teased the backs of her thighs as she bobbed over him, her pace quickening. It must have been quite the sight, her bare arse high in the air as she swallowed his cock, but he seemed to like it as his hand cupped her behind and squeezed hard enough to leave an imprint.

  His possessive handling unleashed some erotic part of her and suddenly she was set on her task, determined to erase his memory of any other woman that might have touched him there before.

  She was steadily working him into a frenzy when he turned the tables on her, slipping his fingers over her sex and knocking her off balance. She tried to concentrate on what she was doing, but he slid his fingers into her and her body fell into a fit of convulsions with barely a warning.

  Resting her face on his thigh she cried out as her body tensed and pleasure burst inside of her. Every muscle quivered as he derailed her thoughts and brought her to a rapid release.

  He dragged her up his body and kissed her deeply, his hold tight around her waist. Words whispered from his lips to hers in a language she didn’t understand as he rolled her to her back and filled her in one smooth thrust.

  Taking him to the hilt, she arched and cried out as he rapidly drove into her. He was relentless, needy, and sexier than sin. She clung to him as he took his pleasure, thrilled to provide such a thing for him, and realizing there was quite a bit of pleasure for the woman as well.

  The harder he thrust into her the more evident it was how gentle he’d taken her the first time. She rather enjoyed his roughness.

  In a final push, he buried himself deep and let out a guttural howl as his head tipped back. His body pulsed within hers. Trembling, he lowered himself so they were chest to chest and kissed her jaw. “I love you, my beautiful wife.”

  She panted. “I love you too.” Her head rolled to her shoulder. “Can we sleep now?”

  “Aye. For days.”

  Chapter Seven

  The closer they came to Center County the more Maureen’s elation turned to something unwelcome and frightening. Guilt, heavy and unpleasant, rested on her chest as she considered how her father might react. Chances were he was already furious. She’d left her sister’s wedding and not been home for three nights, but little did he know that wasn’t all she’d done.

  “It’ll be fine, Maureen. Don’t worry yourself sick. I’ll talk to him.”

  She’d seen how her father reacted to Frank’s reasoning. “Maybe we should go to your house first.”

  “You’ll be needin’ your things, love.”

  When he wanted to be, her husband was quite unbending. It pissed her off, but she knew he was right, and in a way, she respected him for it.

  All she could imagine was packing her belongings in a suitcase that technically belonged to her parents. With every mile it became more evident how unprepared she truly was for this moment. And though she’d done the most adult thing in her life, she never felt more like a child, her haste drastically discounting her maturity.

  When they reached her street she panicked. “I can’t do this.”

  Frank pulled over beside the large oak tree that shaded her bedroom. “Would you have us lie and say we’re not married then?” He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles. “He cannot do more than be cross with you, love. I’m your husband. I’ll not let him put you down. We made a choice and it was ours to make. Ours. I won’t let you bear the consequence alone, Maureen—ever.”

  She swallowed and nodded. “Okay.”

  He walked to her door and helped her down from the truck. Back in her sister’s bridesmaid gown, now dingy and in desperate need of laundering, she followed the path to the door. The screen door whipped open and her father stepped out, fire in his emerald eyes, as the point of his rifle aimed right at Frank. “I’ll thank you to take your hands off my daughter, boy.”

  “Jesus Christ, Dad! Put the gun away. Mum, Daddy’s drunk!”

  Her mother came rushing to the porch. “Damn it, Shamus!” She glanced apologetically at Maureen and Frank. “I thought I hid the last of his guns. Put that thing down before the cops are called by the neighbors again!”

  Her father, only a hop, a skip, and a teeny jump away from being labeled certifiably insane, cocked the rifle. “I warned you. For three days you run off and now look at you, coming home shamed.”

  “That’s enough,” Frank said calmly, his fingers tight around hers.

  “Mary, call the police and tell them that McCullough boy is trespassing on our property. I’ll ask you to leave now. Maureen, get in the house.”

  Breath sawed in and out of her lungs and something inside of her snapped. “No, Daddy. I’
m going with Frank. I just came to get my things.”

  “If you choose to live as some godless jezebel, you’ll do it on your own. I did not provide a life for a—”

  “Enough!” Frank’s eyes were dark as fury tightened his jaw. “You will not speak to my wife that way.”

  Her mother gasped and her father paled, the rifle now aiming at the lawn, as he looked Frank in the eye and wheezed, “What did you say?”

  “You can criticize me all you like, but I’ll not have you insult my wife. She’s a good, god fearing woman, and you have no right to call her such filthy things.”

  She was speechless and incredibly attracted to her husband in that moment, but then he took his defense of her honor a bit too far.

  Frank lifted his chest. “Now you apologize to her.”

  The gun rose again. “Are you telling me, you wed my daughter without my permission?”

  “Daddy, we asked—”

  “I’m not speaking to you!”

  “With all due respect, sir, I asked for your permission—”

  “And I didn’t provide it. So you went and carried on anyway, is that right?”

  “Aye,” Frank said, a bit chastened.

  “And where exactly did this wedding take place?”

  “An inn three hours east of here.”

  Her father laughed but didn’t smile. “Get off my property, you thief. Maureen, if you want into this house then you agree now to annul this sham of a union. A proper marriage is promised before God—a sacrament. I will not see what the church cannot.”

  “Shamus,” her mother whispered, but she knew her father wouldn’t bend.

  Maureen glanced at her mum. “I’m sorry you couldn’t be there. It would be my only wish, had I the chance to do it over again. But I swear to you, I would make the same choice twice. He’s my husband and I love him.”

  Her mother’s hands drifted to her lips, fisting her apron as she held back her tears. She and Frank turned and, glancing back, she noted her father’s expression showed no regret. He was a hard man and she disappointed him. Disagreeing with his stance did nothing to negate the shame disappointing her parents always instilled in her. The last thing Maureen heard before they pulled away was her mother promising her father she’d not speak to him until he made this right.

  Frank’s grip on the wheel was so tight the pink of his knuckles bled to white. He wasn’t upset with her, but rather, upset for her. Altogether it was an unfortunate situation only her father could relieve.

  The joy of matrimony was short lived as the recent turn of events repressed their elation. It was a physical battle, refusing the sobs fighting to get out, but she would not cry over her marriage. She was proud to be Frank’s wife and nothing would change that fact.

  When they reached his house she tried not to cringe. Something just wasn’t right with that home. It seemed tainted with misery as though the sun never shined where it sat. It was impossible to imagine her life there, but she was determined to make the house a home once more.

  “What the hell?” Frank frowned and marched up the rickety steps. A yellow notice was taped over the door where it met the frame. Plenty of small print filled the page, but from where she stood on the scorched brown lawn, the only words she could make out were the ones printed boldly at the bottom. Foreclosure Notice. KEEP OUT.

  Her heart sank as Frank cursed and punched the siding. Of course the house was in such ill repair it crumbled. She flinched and tried to calm him. “I’m sure this is just some misunderstanding. If we go to the bank—”

  “There’s no misunderstanding. On top of skimming every profitable cent from the lumberyard, my father was lousy at honoring his debts.” He shook his head and ripped the notice off the door, crumpling it in his fist.

  Perhaps that was true, but his father was sick. There had to be someone they could see about that. He’d come home from the war with a broken mind, the evidence in his recent suicide. Why should Frank be held responsible for his father’s inability to meet society’s standards?

  He laughed derisively. “This should amuse your father.”

  “Let me talk to my mother. She’ll talk some sense into him and we can stay there until this is figured out. I’m sure if you approach the bank and explain your father’s passing, they’ll give you a chance to square up his debt.”

  “Don’t you see, Maureen? They’re foreclosing. That’s months of payments missed. I was worried about making August’s mortgage. I don’t have the money to fix this amount of debt.”

  There had to be some way to make this right. “What about the lumberyard? Maybe you could use the property as collateral—”

  “Only a portion belongs to me. The rest of the mountain belongs to the family that owns the lake. I was hoping between Paulie and I, we could buy more acres, but that was before I realized how screwed up my father’s credit was and the company’s finances are.” He turned and paced away.

  She jumped as he suddenly kicked the crooked railing. “Fuck!” He continued to kick the broken post, knocking it loose from the floorboards and splintering the dried wood. “No good piece of shit! You didn’t take care of her! You didn’t look after me! What fucking good were you?”

  Her heart broke as his anger unleashed on a deaf ghost. Helplessly, she watched as he raged, destroying the porch steps and cursing his father’s grave. It wasn’t right for him to have to deal with the mess his father had left, not when he had been responsible since he was a young boy. Where was the justice in that?

  He drove himself into a sweat. Picking up a broken rail, he beat at the column barely supporting the awning. “You were never there for any of us and you’re still sticking it up our arse from the grave!”

  Maureen’s eyes glazed as tears for her husband blurred her vision. Her heart broke for him. How difficult it must be to be a man, when he so clearly needed to cry, but this rage was all his pride would allow. The wood snapped and he threw it to the parched lawn, slamming his hand against the column and sliding to the ground.

  Once he seemed through, she slowly approached, and rested a hand on his shoulder, squatting beside him. “It’s okay, Frank. We’ll figure it out.”

  He shook his head. “I have nothing to offer you, Maureen. I was a fool.”

  Her heart literally stuttered in her chest, his misguided sense of defeat terrifying her. Didn’t he understand her love came without condition? She didn’t need fancy things or a house to proudly be his wife. She only needed his love.

  “You listen to me, Frank McCullough. You have plenty to offer me. What use do I have for some rotted old floorboards and broken windows? This is just a shelter and we can find that anywhere. It’s love that makes a home and so long as you love me, I have a place to live in your heart. I’ll not sit here and listen to you put yourself down. Now, if you want my hand, I’m here, waiting to help you back on your feet. But beatin’ the piss out of an already hurting house isn’t going to do a damn bit of good. I know you’re angry with your father, and that’s fine, but you don’t need him and you don’t need this house to have my love.”

  She was out of breath as she scowled at him. She didn’t expect to snap at him, but it seemed the only way to get through his thick skull. She was sure the last thing he wanted was to be yelled at, but he’d gone hysterical and he’d specifically told her not to smack him again.

  He looked at her, his brow creased with confusion. “Where will we live?”

  “You know how to cut wood. Build us a house if that’s what you need. Or,” she emphasized. “You could focus on clearing up this debt and, once the bank’s no longer threatening to take your land, we can rent a small apartment together like Rosemarie and Liam.”

  “That’ll take some time.”

  She nodded. The time it would take was regrettable, but what else was there to do? She wasn’t one to give up without a fight, not on something she wanted and she’d never wanted anything as much as she desired a life with this man.

  She nodded and tried
to get a smile out of him. “I’m told I need to learn patience. This is just the chance to practice.”

  He took her hand and kissed her knuckles, his fingers cut from his outburst. “I wanted our homecoming to be different.”

  She tsked and examined his fingers. “Look at what you’ve done.”

  “I’m sorry I lost my temper,” he whispered. “All I wanted was to be enough for you, to be able to provide the beginning you deserve.”

  “If every beginning were the same easy fix, life would be boring. You are enough, Frank. Get it through your thick head.” She took a ragged breath and slowly released it. “I’ll just go back to my parents’ and ask if we can stay there.”

  He shook his head. “I can’t face your father until I make this right, love. It’s a man thing. If he doesn’t see me as a man, capable of providing for his daughter, he’ll never approve of our marriage—and it is a marriage—a sacrament. I’ll make this right.”

  “He’ll see you trying.”

  “I’d rather show him me succeeding.”

  Her heart pinched, as she understood they wouldn’t be living together and her vision blurred once more. “Where will you go?

  “I can stay with Paulie.”

  “But he’s married now and they already live with his mother.”

  “Aye. Italian Mary will be a challenge, but at least she’ll feed me well—”

  “Don’t you go lusting after some other woman’s cookin’. I don’t care how old she is. You get excited about my food and that’s it, you understand me?”

  “Sorry, love. It won’t happen again,” he quickly said. In a more serious voice he went on. “But for now I’ll stay with him in his brother’s old room. I’ll go to the bank tomorrow and see how much my father owes. So long as I can prevent them from foreclosing and get them to agree to an extension, I think I can fix this in time.”

  “You’ll come see me every day?”

  “Yes. You can come see me too, at work.”

  She smiled, not having thought of that. Perhaps she could bring him lunch so he’d know her cooking was better than that of Italian Mary’s. “I’ll do that.”