Mastering Maeve (19 page)

“Sometimes a lady says no when she means yes, are you sure you mean it?” he asked huskily.

“God, you’re impossible,” she laughed. Her body was responding to his touch regardless of her sense of urgency to get her meeting with her grandmother over with. He could feel the moisture between her legs, which she had parted slightly in an involuntary motion to allow his hand find her needy sex. Her nipples were already hard pink peaks, and he blew softly on them, teasing her.

“I think you mean yes,” he insisted, clasping her wrists and forcing her hands above her head. Her hips arched and her legs widened further. In one swift movement he was lying over her with his erect penis plunging easily into her wet, waiting pussy, eliciting a low moan from her lips. He gently thrust, taking his time to savour her sweetness. He loved how she just accepted him, her readiness from the spanking earlier serving to increase his desire. He fought his natural urge to dominate as he knew what she needed now was love and tenderness to fortify her for what may lie ahead. Her soft wetness around his cock made him delirious; no matter how often he fucked her without a condom, he couldn’t resist the way her cunt sucked him in, almost like a blowjob. He could feel her tightening around him as she was reaching her pinnacle. He forced his thoughts to the NFL, trying to distract himself. He hadn’t feasted on her enough yet, but her pulsating pussy was so hard to resist. He felt the tension abate as her orgasm subsided and he allowed himself to breathe easy again, and steal a nibble on her firm cherry nipples. He noticed they gave off the slightest taste that was uniquely her, but for a million dollars, he wouldn’t be able to describe it to anyone. It was just Maeve. And whatever it was, mingled with her scent it sent him into overload. His cock stiffened some more and he tried to shift his thoughts back to the football. He sneaked a sniff; she didn’t like him smelling her but it drove him wild. Her smell, her taste, her moans, everything about her was sent to drive him insane. It was no good, he couldn’t hold back, he had to shoot; his body had already tightened beyond repair. His nerve endings were electrified as he pumped his passion as deep as he could, calling her name.

“Come on, lazybones,” he heard her say as he was about to drift off into that lovely post-orgasm slumber.

“Damn, woman, can’t a man get any shuteye around here?” he grumbled affectionately. “Do you want to see Bridie on your own first or do you want me to come with?”

“Come, please, I need the moral support.” They showered and dressed quickly and went over to the living quarters in the hope they would catch her before she went on duty.

“I heard you were back,” Bridie said warily. Maeve had let her know that she and Larry had patched things up, but Larry could see all was not resolved. He felt Maeve’s hand tense in his, and he squeezed it reassuringly before letting go. He approached Bridie and hugged her, thus encouraging Maeve to follow suit.

“Good to see you, Granny, I missed you,” she started. Larry would have sworn he saw tears in both women’s eyes, but as Maeve had warned him long ago, he had seen another side to the old woman and he was no longer sure of her motives. They could be crocodile tears for all he knew.

“I missed you too, love. It’s so good to see you both. I know you don’t see this, Maeve, but all I ever wanted was the best for you, I might have gone a funny way about it, but I had my reasons.”

“I suppose I do know that deep down, but everything got so overwhelming,” Maeve replied.

“We’d like to get married here, if that’s ok with you,” Larry interrupted. Bridie’s eyes were definitely wet now and he felt quite touched by her reaction.

“Oh, God! That would be really great, thank you both,” she sniffed. Once he was satisfied that all was well, he tactfully left them both to do some talking. They had a lot to work out.

* * *

Butterflies were dancing a jig worthy of ‘Riverdance’ as Maeve waited for the doorbell to be answered. She appraised the house. A fine big authentic Georgian mansion in Dublin’s south side, worth a bloody fortune, Maeve thought. She should have made this trip years ago when she was at college in Dublin, but she didn’t have the nerve. She seemed to be standing there for such a long time. She hadn’t called ahead, so maybe there might be no one home; she almost hoped that would be the case. She was about to walk away when she saw a silhouette approach the door through the glass panel. She choked back the nauseated feeling in her throat and instantly regretted not having told Larry what she was up to. Knowing he was waiting outside after would have been a big help.

A tall, well-groomed woman in her seventies opened the door a fraction, keeping the chain on from the inside. Maeve was sorely tempted just to leg it away at that point. She took what courage she could muster in both hands and spoke up through the gap in the door.

“Mrs O’Reilly, you don’t know me. I’m Maeve; your son Declan’s daughter.”

She saw the woman stagger and blanch. She shut the door and Maeve was backing away, angry and upset when the door opened fully.

“Sorry, chain,” the woman explained quickly to stop Maeve’s retreat. “You better come in.”

Maeve followed her through the expansive hall, eying the high ceilings and coving with total appreciation. She was led into a large living room, with beautifully ornate ceiling roses and the original wooden shutters still intact. Mrs O’Reilly indicated to a chair for her to sit.

“You’ve a beautiful home here, is this where my dad grew up?” she asked.

The woman nodded her agreement, her tongue still tied. Maeve saw her appraising her appearance.

“You look a lot like him,” she remarked finally. “Now why are you here, what do you want?”

“I don’t
want
anything; my parents left me well provided for and Granny McNamara made sure I was taken care of,” Maeve answered defensively. “I just wanted to meet you, but if that’s a problem, I can leave.” She rose from her seat, picking up her bag from beside her feet.

“No—don’t go. Please. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude; you just caught me on the hop. I never thought I’d meet you. I thought about you a lot over the years. I missed Declan, but David, his father, forbade me to speak to him again. Then it was too late.” Her shoulders shook and she took in a big heaving sigh. Maeve wanted to feel compassion for her, but she too had years of resentment built up in her.

“So where is David?” Maeve asked, looking around as if afraid he might come in at any moment.

“He died last year; it’s only me and Laura left, and Laura’s family of course.”

“Laura?”

“Your aunt, your father’s sister.”

“So why didn’t she keep in touch with Dad?”

“When your father married your mother, Laura was only eight; David could easily control her. He wouldn’t tell her Declan had died until he knew the funeral was over. I really am so glad you came. Why did you?” Her voice was laced with emotion.

“I’m getting married. I wanted to know about my father’s family before I did; even things like if there is a medical history I should know about. I had nobody to tell me. It’s like half of my past is missing. He died when I was too young to realise how much I wanted to know,” Maeve replied, now also crying.

“Tea, coffee?” Mrs O’Reilly asked, then added, “or something stronger? I think I could use a sherry.”

“Sherry sounds good,” Maeve agreed.

Four hours later, Maeve emerged a much happier woman. They had spoken a lot about Declan and Mrs O’Reilly’s appetite for hearing about her lost years with her son seemed insatiable. When Maeve left, it was with a warm invitation to return with her fiancé, and Bridie, if Bridie could bear it. Maeve was promised that Laura and her family would be there next time. She was really glad to lay her bitterness to rest; nobody could change the past, but the future was in her own hands and it was nice to know she had more family out there somewhere. She wasn’t too sure how Bridie would see it though.

Chapter Fourteen

“This bloody wedding will be the death of me,” Bridie grumbled as Maeve went through the guest list for the ninety-millionth time.

Larry had long since stopped listening. As far as he was concerned, there weren’t that many he expected to travel from Texas, just his father, his sister Margaret and her family, and a few close friends. The hotel was going to be closed for the month of February, so block booking all of the rooms was no problem. Overspills could be accommodated in other local hotels and guesthouses. Maeve was trying to keep it small, but Bridie seemed hell bent on inviting every Tom, Dick, and Harry. Larry was no bloody help; when Maeve moaned, he just made silly soothing sounds that meant nothing. As far as he was concerned, that was the women’s territory.

There’d been a big row about inviting the O’Reilly clan. Bridie thought they gave up the right to that invitation years ago, but Maeve put her foot down. She wanted to start a new life on a clean slate, no bad blood. This was the one thing Larry steadfastly backed her up in; he knew it was important to her. Finally after many tears, negotiations, and subsequent to calling in the wedding tribunals committee, the guest list was whittled down to one hundred and ten, including the O’Reillys. Still bigger than Maeve had intended, but it was a damn sight better than the initial list of three hundred that Bridie had come up with.

Her dress was selected and adjusted, flowers organised, band booked. She had morning suits organised for the men, and Orla’s bridesmaid dress was in hand. Everything was coming together. Maeve was very glad that there was a manager in situ because there was no way in hell she’d have been able to organise the whole wedding rigmarole and manage the hotel. She was very glad for the distraction of the wedding though, as the closer they came to the date, the less enthused she was becoming about moving to Texas, which seemed to be the plan Larry was favouring.

Larry came back after a two-day trip away. He wouldn’t tell her what he was up to before he left, but on his return he had a smug smile that lasted for days. All he would tell her was he had business to attend to. He seemed quietly excited about something though and she had no idea what. She was sorely tempted to snoop about his stuff to see if she could find out what he was up to, but didn’t dare. When he started disappearing every time his phone rang she began to get anxious, especially as he decided to invest in an Irish cell phone on the grounds that people in Ireland needed to contact him and the costs to his U.S. phone were excessive, for them and him.

Maeve suggested he could just use hers, but he didn’t like that idea, even though he was almost always with her. All she could do was reassure herself that Larry was a trustworthy dependable man. She tried hard not to dwell on the fact that he gone from his relationship with Emily to proposing marriage to Maeve within a few short months. She just had to remember that pre-wedding jitters were perfectly natural and she was looking too deeply into it all. Which was all very well in theory, but in practice her anxiety meant it was very hard to keep her prying eyes to herself.

The week of the wedding finally arrived. The weather brought no surprises; it was cold, wet, and miserable. Larry was put on entertainment detail and was out with his family a lot. Maeve was stressed to the point of cracking and Bridie was like a cackling hen, fussing about this, that, and the other. Tensions were running very high.

“You need to calm down, Maeve,” Larry warned the morning of the rehearsals. “I know Bridie is really antagonising you, but you shouldn’t allow her to draw you in. There’s only another four days to go. I’m afraid to allow any of my friends or family anywhere near the two of you. If you don’t cut it out, I may be forced to take some action.”

“What do you mean
forced to take some action
?” Maeve snapped back. “You needn’t think I’m going to permit you to punish me for being stressed.”

“If you keep up that attitude, permission won’t come into it, miss. You’re on a slippery slope and you’re both causing discomfort for our guests. Now I expect it to stop now, or it’ll be a trip to the schoolroom, and I will carry you there if I have to.”

“Would it ever occur to you that instead of having a go at me, you could show me a little support, and maybe have a word with Granny? It’s not always me who starts it,” Maeve shouted back, tears filling her eyes.

“This is your last warning. You can’t control your grandma, I understand that, but you can control your own behaviour. And even now, instead of taking what I’m saying on board, you’re turning this into a fight too. Now I’m taking our guests out and when I return I want to see an improvement.”

Maeve really wanted to shout some more at him for being so unfair, but as he walked away, it was obvious that Larry was deadly serious and she knew not to push him. A trip to the schoolroom was not on her agenda. Things were quite bad enough as it stood. It disturbed her slightly that he was upping the ante, threatening to spank her regardless of her submission, but it did give her food for thought about how the bickering must appear to his family and friends, so she shot him off a quick text.

Sorry for being a pain. I guess I’m more stressed than I realised. M

* * *

Larry smiled as he read Maeve’s text. He’d been wanting to rein her in for a few days, but she was so highly strung because of the wedding that he was almost afraid to push her. He was beginning to lose patience with having to go through the rigmarole of convincing her to consent to every single spanking. He wanted to take a little more control over the discipline aspect of the relationship for two reasons: first because sometimes Maeve really needed to learn to manager her temper better, and second, if he was truly honest with himself, he wanted the total submission he had seen on the couple of times he had really taken her in hand; having to get her agreement first didn’t bring the same sense of mastery. And really, that’s what he wanted to be at times, her master, and for Maeve to be his willing submissive.