Her doubts disappeared as she felt his tongue trail down to her right hip and onto her thigh, completely bypassing where she really wanted him. She panted in frustration, but he just nipped her soft skin in response. He quickly made up for it with a kiss as he trailed just enough north that his lips found the edge of her panties.
Her body froze, and she almost stopped breathing entirely as he let go of her wrists and took hold of her knees, pushing them apart. She trembled as the cold air swept over her heated core.
“Fuck, Clare, you’re so wet,” his voice rumbled before his mouth came down on her, only her panties separating him from her. She bolted straight up at the contact, her body already being so stimulated that the simple touch of his lips made her feel ready to explode.
He didn’t let her pull away. Instead, his hands pushed her shoulders back down onto the bed as he sucked on the fabric between them, tasting her. When she was finally lying down again, trembling beneath him, his hands moved back to her knees, pushing them even farther apart as his teeth grasped the lace and pulled hard.
Clare heard a ripping sound, and was surprised to see him tossing her torn panties over his shoulder. His eyes caught hers for a moment before returning to her now bare mound. With nothing between them, he teased her nub with his tongue, licking the length of her as she moaned and lifted her hips to him.
She felt amazing as his tongue danced over her, causing her to continually buck against his mouth, wanting more; he quickly obliged. Releasing one of her hips, his fingers started at one knee and slowly trailed up her inner thigh. She shivered at the contact, her breathing turning erratic.
She had no idea what he was doing, and the anticipation was excruciating in the best way. His fingers finally found their way to her core, and he slid two digits deep inside as his mouth clamped down on her nub simultaneously. Clare screamed as he sucked and pumped with such force that she knew she was close to exploding.
As she felt herself about to go over the edge, he rotated back and forth between letting his tongue flick over her softly and sucking with ferocity. His fingers moved furiously in and out of her, and she knew she was done. She screamed again, pressing her body as close to him as she could while her climax overtook her and shook through her. He didn’t lighten up or stop until he felt her finally slump down onto the bed, breathing heavily as the room spun around her.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to walk again,” she said and gasped, panting still as she pushed herself up onto her elbows and ogled him down between her legs.
“Don’t worry, mhuirnín, I don’t need you to walk right now,” he teased, before climbing on top of her. One of his arms slipped beneath her back and pulled her up farther onto the bed with him, so that her legs weren’t hanging over the edge anymore.
She squirmed closer against him, suddenly realizing that he was completely naked against her. She hadn’t even noticed him unbutton his pants, but when she glanced down, she could see all of him.
And there was a lot of him to see.
“Rory, I’m not sure I can—” Her eyes widened as she noticed how large he was.
“Kiss me, Clare,” he instructed her instead, tapping his lips lightly.
She saw his hooded eyes, and trembled slightly as her lips met his. One hand moved behind her head as he pressed his mouth firmly against hers, parting her lips with his tongue. As his tongue found its way to hers, Clare hummed with pleasure, unable to stop her body from squirming to get as close to him as possible. After seeing how hard and enticing he was, she found her body was pulsing with a need to have him inside her, despite her fear of that exact same thing.
He pushed his knee between her legs, spreading them apart. She blushed as she realized that she was pressing her core against his thick thighs, the satiated high of a few moments ago already replaced with wanton desire again.
“Do you trust me, mhuirnín?” he paused to ask her, staring into her eyes as he pressed his manhood against her entrance. She nodded, panting and unable to form actual words as he slowly, then all at once, pushed inside her.
Her arms flew around his neck as she pressed her face into the dip between his shoulder and neck, holding on to him tightly as the intensity of his large intrusion swept over her. Luckily, the initial surprise lasted for just a moment as she found herself not only becoming accustomed to his girth, but missing him as he pulled out of her.
She clenched herself around him as he moved into her again, loving the feeling of his warm breath on her as he grunted with each thrust. Every time he left her, she tried to move with him to keep him inside of her, but his one hand gripped her hip tightly and moved her where he wanted as his other hand pressed against the bed by her head, keeping most of his weight off her.
Before she knew it, she felt the familiar pulsing building within her again, and the spasms soon overtook her as he grunted and pressed as deep as he possibly could. One hand slipped between them as he found her nub and rolled it between his fingers. She screamed in response, her back arching off the bed as her high suddenly rocketed to another level and her body pulsed and clenched around him. His eyes closed and he shook against her, leaning farther into her for a moment before collapsing on his side next to her.
Draping one of his thick arms across her, he pulled her against his chest. Her vision was spinning and she was still trying to catch her breath, but she curled into him happily. He reached over and grabbed a blanket that was pushed to the foot of the bed, pulling it over them, wrapping them tighter against each other.
“You’re amazing,” he murmured sleepily into her hair as he nuzzled against her.
“Me? That was all you.” She sighed, blissfully.
“I am pretty impressive.” He pretended to be serious, but she swatted at him playfully. Her hand rested on his arm, still draped across her, and she let her fingers trail up and down the length of it. She softly traced the edges of a bruise he must have gotten from one of the fights earlier, frowning for a moment before continuing her movement.
“If you keep doing that, we are going to have round two in a minute,” he told her, only partly teasing.
“Do what? This?” she asked playfully, leaning up to kiss his jaw softly before moving to his neck. His chest rumbled against her as a moan escaped his lips.
“Yes.”
“Guess I should stop, then.” She pulled away suddenly and smiled at him, clearly enjoying having an effect on his body. The way he responded to her made her feel powerful, something she hadn’t felt ever before.
“Don’t you dare,” he warned, rolling over on top of her and capturing her mouth with his.
“Ding, ding, ding,” she said with a giggle, between kisses. He pulled back slightly and gave her a quizzical look.
“What is that?”
“The bell to announce the start of round two.”
“What am I going to do with you, mhuirnín?” he teased.
“I can think of a few things…”
—
Rory’s arm felt heavy the next morning as he woke up, quickly realizing that he was at Clare’s apartment and her head was on his shoulder. He smiled as he studied her sleeping face, a peacefulness displayed that he hadn’t seen before. There was always a hint of worry behind her smile, but right now it was gone and he loved seeing her that way.
He looked over at her nightstand and frowned as he realized that he was late for his training session with Kane. There was nothing he wanted more than to stay in bed right now, thanks to the company he was with, but he knew he couldn’t back out of his commitments.
“Clare?” He pushed several strands of hair off her face, gently, as her eyes flickered and opened.
“Morning, beautiful.” He smiled as she came around.
“Hi.” Her voice was still sleepy as she peered up at him, curling farther into his chest as he lay on his side gazing down at her.
“I’ve got to head over to Legends to meet Kane. Want to come?”
“And get out of this warm bed?
Doesn’t sound very appealing.”
“Smart woman.” He kissed her forehead before pulling away and climbing out of bed. He could feel her eyes following him as he traipsed around the room, locating his clothes in the various places they had been strewn the night before.
“Bye, mhuirnín,” he said as he returned to her bedside, fully clothed, and kissed her again. He lingered as their lips tangled together, his hand on her cheek.
She finally broke their kiss. “See you later.”
“You better,” he teased, before he left the bedroom and located his jacket by the front door.
Slipping a hand into his pocket, he found his latest bottle of medication and pulled it out, staring at it. He peeked back at the bedroom, tucking the bottle back in his pocket before leaving the apartment. He was surprised that he hadn’t needed to take some pills before falling asleep last night, and nor had he woken up craving any.
As he walked down the stairs of Clare’s apartment building, he stretched his legs and felt the stiffness in his knee. Shockingly, it wasn’t too bad; only a slight ache reminded him of his injury. He pushed the pills deeper into his pocket, rolling the bottle around in his hand as he thought about it.
He had enjoyed the fact that there were many doctors among the members of Legends who were convinced, with some strong-arming, to write him numerous prescriptions. After all, he was the son of Seamus Kavanagh and one would be hard-pressed to find a man in Woodlawn arrogant enough to oppose the leader of the Kavanagh empire.
Rory didn’t often like to use his father’s name to call in favors, but he needed these pills. If he had to scare a few doctors, and toss around his father’s reputation of running with the Westies back in the seventies, then so be it. While the Irish Mafia had died down almost two decades ago, the few members left scattered throughout New York City carried both respect and fear for Seamus, making sure everyone else did, too.
The Seamus that Rory knew wasn’t an ex-mobster, though, or even frightening. The father he had always known was loving, but tough. He was a ruthless businessman, but generous to a fault. Rory had always admired him, hoping to emulate him one day, but mostly hoping to earn his respect. Yet here he was, fingers clutched around a small bottle of pills.
He wasn’t living up to his father’s strength and fortitude.
The legend that he had always wanted to become.
—
Rory sighed as he finally arrived back at his apartment, fiddling with his keys in the door and pushing the bottle even deeper into his jacket pocket. He knew he had to hurry to shower and change, then go train Kane, so he didn’t have any time to dwell on the mess he had made of his life. Maybe making his brother a champion fighter would finally make their father proud. Maybe that was how he would live up to the legend his father had created.
Ace ran to him, wagging his tail eagerly. Rory scratched him behind his ears, suddenly realizing that staying with Clare all night had left Ace without a trip outside for way too long.
“Shit, sorry, bud.” Ace didn’t seem to mind too much, but he was casting longing looks toward the door.
Leashing the dog, Rory turned and headed back outside for a few minutes, then, once back inside, trudged over to where he stored Ace’s food and scooped some into his dish. Satisfied to see Ace enjoying his breakfast, Rory turned and tossed his keys onto the kitchen table of his home, eyeing a bottle of whiskey sitting forgotten.
Clare’s words suddenly began playing in his mind. “I’m so tired of the constant pity party you’re always throwing yourself. As if I can’t smell the alcohol on you. As if we all can’t, every single day. You have an amazing life—why would you not want to experience it?”
Rory’s cheeks burned hot at the reminder, gluing his feet to the floor as he stood and stared down the bottle of whiskey. Feeling the pills in his pocket, he pulled out the bottle again and placed it on the table next to the whiskey. Pulling off his coat, he slung it over a chair and took a deep breath.
Finding some momentum, he turned and briskly relocated to the bedroom, pulling open his nightstand drawer and scooping up all the prescription bottles inside. There were way too many. Bringing them back out to the kitchen, he set them all on the table with the other.
He made the trip a few times around his apartment, finding more bottles of pills and alcohol in obscure locations, where he had hidden them. His kitchen table became filled to capacity as every inch of the small surface was lined with different types of bottles. When he was finished collecting, he pulled out a chair and sat in front of all the bottles and stared back at them.
Ace plodded over to him, dropping down in a pile of fur at his feet and beginning to snore in record time. Rory’s knee was now throbbing; the surprisingly dull ache from earlier had intensified, and now it was all he could concentrate on. The last time he had taken pills was before the meet last night, and they had long since worn off.
Maybe he didn’t need the drugs as much as he thought he did. Maybe the pain was mostly in his head. After all, when he had woken up, it hadn’t been as bad as it usually was. Standing up slowly, he flexed his leg, testing the level of pain. He winced instantly as pain shot up through his thigh and into his torso.
It wasn’t just in his head.
Forcing the pain out of his mind as much as possible, he paced over to the kitchen sink, reached under, and pulled out a fresh trash bag. Shaking it open, he returned to the table and scooped armfuls of alcoholic and prescription pill bottles into the bag until the surface was clear. Twisting and tying the top, he told Ace to stay there as he headed to the front door.
He was in pain. Hell, this is excruciating pain, he thought.
But he wanted to change. He wanted to be the person Clare knew he could be. He wanted to be the legend his father was. He wanted to be so many things that he couldn’t ever reach while he was still under the thumb of booze and pills.
This was it.
He was done.
Chapter 9
“Well, if it isn’t Cinderella!” Kane shouted as Rory limped into the building more than an hour late, with Ace by his side.
“Wrong fucking fairy tale, idiot,” Rory snapped back, marching right past him to the locker room. He did his best to walk straight, but his leg was vibrating with pain, which put a slight limp in his step.
Kane wasn’t finished and followed him into the room, angrily.
“Fine. Sleeping Beauty, Snow White—pick whatever pansy-ass princess you want. Point is that you are late. Again. Over an hour this time. Again!” His brother was angrier than Rory had seen him in a while.
“All right, I’m sorry. Shit, why are you so worked up?”
“You’re kidding, right? My first fight is less than two weeks away, Rory.”
“I know. You’ll be ready.” Rory finished changing and pulled a clean towel off the rack and headed back out of the locker room toward the rings.
“How will I be ready when my trainer isn’t training me? When he comes in an hour late reeking of—what is that, whiskey?”
“Good nose.” Rory tried to lighten the tension as he climbed into the ring and motioned for Kane to join him.
He knew that even though he hadn’t had a drop of alcohol since yesterday afternoon, detoxing could still make him smell like booze. Ace had followed them back out to the ring and sat by the sidelines, watching the brothers argue.
“I’m serious, Rory. This isn’t a damn joke to me.”
“Man, I know. I get it, okay? I remember before my first fight, too. Tell you what—we’ll work extra this week to prepare. Make you feel like the world spins on your damn fingertip, all right?”
“Well, okay. But that means twice a day, and no being late.” Kane was appeased for a moment. Rory just tossed him some gloves, then pulled on some of his own. He kept a blank face, trying to hide what he was really thinking.
“Ready? Okay, come at me.” Rory nodded at his brother, as he got into the guard position and prepared.
Kane charged at
him, fists up, but Rory ducked down and hooked his arm under Kane’s while pulling him into his body. Kane was knocked off balance by the move and Rory instantly had Kane’s leg and flipped him onto his back. Standing over his brother as Kane tried to find his breath, Rory offered his hand to help him back up. Despite the pain he was in, he knew he was still a pro at fighting.
“Today, I’ll show you half guards, escapes, and single-leg takedowns.”
“Fuck, which one did you just do?” Kane complained, standing and shaking it off.
“All of them.”
—
Clare eagerly opened the door to Woodlawn Rescues, the animal rescue shelter that Casey had mentioned. After that morning’s self-defense class, Clare had asked Patty all about the shelter she ran. Clare couldn’t wait to start volunteering and had headed straight there after class was over.
She had seen Rory practicing with Kane, as he always was at that hour, but hadn’t disturbed him. In truth, she felt a little awkward about having just spent the night with him. It had been a while since she had been with anyone, and she found herself worrying that maybe he hadn’t enjoyed the evening as much as she had. After all, she didn’t really know what she was doing. She hadn’t even known what she wanted when he’d asked her; no one had ever cared to find out what she liked in bed, so she didn’t know, either.
Surprisingly, Rory hadn’t even noticed her at the gym, or maybe he hadn’t been looking for her as he seemed completely caught up in sparring with his brother. She kept getting stuck on the worry that maybe this had just been a one-night stand to him. Maybe he just wanted sex, and that was it—in fact, maybe that’s what she wanted, too. Her cheeks flamed as she pictured the evening, a familiar heat settling in her once more.
“Hi.” Trying to push thoughts of last night away, Clare gave a small wave to the young woman sitting on a tall chair behind the counter in the lobby of Woodlawn Rescues.
She wasn’t paying attention, her nose buried in a thick book. Fresh-faced and innocent, she had to have been only just out of high school. Her hair was unmistakably strawberry blond, billowing down over her shoulders to her waist in large waves. When she raised her head, her light blue eyes were swollen and red, and Clare realized she was sniffling.