Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (20 page)

The last syllable barely leaves my lips before he sheaths himself deep inside of me. The impact and friction sends me arching back as I cry in delight. His bare cock begins to pump inside, twitching and pulsating in a connection beyond what I have ever experienced. No barriers, just us. Mouths fused once more, he rides me hard. His hand slides under my ass and grips firmly as he pushes deeper, almost detonating another orgasm but I stave it off, greedy for more.  I want to passionately love every last inch of his being, I want all of him. Without warning, he pulls out, forcing me to cry in protest, flips me over, and draws my ass to him, sinking in balls deep once more.

As his palms lavish my bum and he feeds himself into me harder and harder, I feel my mind float with satisfaction for a brief moment before my insides quicken and clamp down, a sudden, earth-shattering orgasm tearing through my body. My silken pussy clenches down hard, milking his own release as well as a deafening roar. The neighbors are going to be upset after this. Stilling our hips against the aftershocks rolling through each of us, we finally collapse on to the bed. Panting from the wild, animalistic sex, I draw his arm over me, not wanting him to be too far just yet. Thirty minutes easily pass before either of us can muster a word.

“Jesus, Sorcha, you make me lose my mind.” His voice clambers through the dim light.

“Yes, that was mind altering,” I muse as my fingers skim down his tattooed bicep.

“Every time with you is amazing. I can’t believe you let me in bare. Like fucking Christmas come early. Baby, being that close to you is nirvana.” He strokes my face and nibbles on my shoulder. The intimacy of his light caress is far more than sex, and it brings my overwrought emotions bubbling up. And suddenly, I remember what I said during the heated moment. My cheeks flare.

“You are blushing.”

“Sorry, I got a carried away…” Do I mention the L word? Do I want to? No, definitely not.

“You mean when you said that you loved me?” He turns my chin to gaze into my eyes.

“Tell me why you never showed or called.” I attempt to get as far as I can from it.

“Did you mean it? Do you love me, Sorcha Quinn?”

“It was a heated moment.” I brush him off.

“Fine, play that way. For one, I don’t have your number. Two, an unpleasant situation arose at one of the clubs that I had to attend to. By the time I finished, there it was five and I knew you would be asleep. The following night, I had to finish with some appointments and then was going to come over. But then I saw you with another and decided I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t keep seeing you and step aside as another played with you. No fucking way. So I backed off and gave you your space to do your thing, unable to keep the promise on the jealousy issue.”

“What do you mean, you don’t have my number? You know everything about me and have abused the ridiculously and probably illegally detailed HR records.”

“Sor, the number listed has been disconnected.”

“Oh, that’s right; I changed it a few months ago.” I suddenly feel daft.

“Daz has been spittin’ mad for the last week and a half over your sudden change in mood.”

“Yeah, heard he wanted to fire me over it.”

“No, he wanted to fuck up the bastard responsible for it. Swore up and down that only a douche bag could be the cause.”

“What? Yeah, right.” My head shakes in disbelief.

“I am serious. He has fatherly feelings for you.”

“Did you tell him you were the cause?”

“Me?” He looks confused.

“Yes, you. You know, I never asked for you to waltz into my life, shake up my priorities and what I thought to be true, make me feel things I wasn’t ready for, only to have you slip back into the shadows without another word.” As the words flow, my eyes dampen before I shift back into the sassy defense mechanism.

“Shit, baby, I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you like that. I thought I was doing the right thing.” A pained remorse shifts his handsome features as he tenderly brings his lips to mine.

“Sounds like we need to have another talk,” I mumble, a bit displeased with what needs to be done.

He groans out and throws back the covers, unhappy with that.

“Is it safe to say the unexclusive friends with benefits isn’t going to work?” I push on.

Gavin’s heavy sigh fills the room and more than answers the question. “Before you kick me out, we may as well have another go at it.” He snakes a hand under my ass and squeezes hard.

“I’m not kicking you out. I am saying we should try a form of exclusivity,” I relent and close my eyes as I curse to myself.

“No shit?” He excitedly pops up on an elbow to look me in the eye. “Sorcha, are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?” he teases.

“Does it have to have a label just yet? Can’t we agree to only fuck each other and officially forsake others for the time being?”

“God, I can’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend, high school maybe? Thirty-four years old and I now have my first adult girlfriend. Crazy. I do have to say, I am glad I waited. My girlfriend is pretty damn delectable.”

I stare at him, slack-jaw in disbelief over his admission and attempt to normalize the term girlfriend.

“Ah, pet. Don’t look at me like that. The world isn’t going to end because we are now in a relationship. I guess this means you better give me your number then?” He snickers before enveloping my blanching face with another tender kiss.

“This means you have to call when you can’t show up, fucker.” I playfully hit his shoulder, which just lights the excitement in his eyes.

“Oh, that mouth. Too dirty for such a pretty thing. I shall remedy that. I know you meant it when you said you loved me, so I will go gentle.” He purrs as he begins to make love to me once more. The soft and intimate pace deepens the content of the lax commitment I thought I had agreed to, which scares the crap out of me. Why must things change? This relationship is morphing us both. Just as I attempt to prep for a Dom/sub exchange, as that is his lifestyle, he throws me for a loop and takes me down the most exotic and intoxicating vanilla road. What am I to do with him?

Chapter 11

Sorcha

Gavin’s sleek, black Acura idles outside of my parents’ Palo Alto house.

“I wasn’t aware that the Irish celebrated turkey day.” He finally turns the ignition off and palms his keys.

“We are Irish American, and while it isn’t as big of a day for us as some, we use it as another certain day to gather for food, drink, and foul-mouthed debauchery.” I love Thanksgiving; it’s always a hoot with my family. Bre insisted that I bring Gavin, and now that he and I kissed and made up, it felt wrong not to bring my boyfriend to dinner. Especially since he clearly had nowhere else to go. “Your parents never immersed you in American culture?”

“I was born here, pet.” He aimlessly secures the cuff links on his black dress shirt.

“Really?” My lips form an ‘O’ as I freshen my lipstick in the mirror.

“Yes, parents are from London and came over here for business for about ten years, had my brother and me, then moved us back.”

“Wait, you have a brother?” I am stunned; he didn’t ever talk about his family beyond the surface stuff and had no family photos up in his place.

“Is it so hard to believe I wasn’t a test-tube baby and was raised in a bonafide, normal family?” His brows knit high.

“You rarely speak of them.” My lips freeze in a stunned ‘O.’

“Not much to say. They are an ocean away; I am going back at Christmas to see them all.” He shrugs. And there it is. He has a family that he is leaving in a few weeks to see and never mentioned it, let alone asked me to join. Yet, here I am, bending over backwards to integrate him into my life and introduce him to my family.

“Well, if there is not much to say, let’s get this over with.” I huff and get out. It doesn’t matter that there are a few things eating away at me at this point, we have to go in. As we get to the door, I stop him with a hand coming to rest on his chest. “No, I can’t do this. I can’t introduce you to my family just yet. I have essentially laid myself bare to you, opened up in ways I have never dared, and the exchange is becoming painfully and obviously unequal. You rarely open up to me, or think to include me in parts of your life. It is I that is constantly being invaded but manage to allow you all the distance you need. You are leaving for London in a few weeks and didn’t think to even mention it before now?” He opens his mouth but doesn’t get a chance to respond. The front door whips open and out comes Uncle Shamus.

“There you are, Sorcha! And wut hae wee here?” Shamus sizes up Gavin, rosy cheeks heated with drink as his large frame, hardened by years of manual labor leans, in the doorway. “Mo stór, did you finally find a mutt to bring home?” Shamus narrows his eyes into slits.

“Uncle Shamus! Give it a break, would ya?” I jump to give him a hug and in return have the life damn near squeezed out of me.

“Wut’s yer name, son?” Shamus holds out his hand to Gavin in welcome.

“Gavin, sir. It is a pleasure to meet you.” Gavin shakes his hand and allows himself to be ushered into the house and into the sea of family and friends.

“Oy! Sorcha! Conas tá tú?” My cousin Marie sweeps in looking hot to trot and she rakes her eyes up and down Gavin. “And
who
may this be?”

“You shameless cunt, that’s
my
boyfriend, Gavin.” I hug her and grin as Gavin smiles tightly, clearly not knowing how to take all of this. Marie and I used to get into a lot of trouble together until she settled down with her husband of two years now. We are the babies of the first cousins and I, of course, am the last to remain single.

“Too bad. But I must say, this is the first one you’ve brought home and you don’t disappoint!” She chuckles as my dad comes into view, causing my heart to speed up in anxiety.

“Mo chroí, who is this sorry sap you dragged along?” My dad warmly greets us. He may be a renowned medical researcher and a wickedly sharp businessman, but one would never know by his welcoming and calm demeanor. The tweed coat he favorites certainly didn’t lend to peoples initial evaluation of him. He’s a helluva scrapper too, hence where I get it from. Many people have made the mistake of taking my daddy at face value and ended up in a sorry state for it. I have always been and will always be a daddy’s girl.

“Dad! I’ve missed you!” I hug him tightly. He’s been overseas traveling with my mum for business and a wee bit of pleasure for about two months. They just got back into town in time for the holidays. “This here is Gavin. My… we are…” I wave my hand at him, trying to get the words out but fail miserably.

“Ya finally brought him to meet us all, did ya? Dad, this is Sorcha’s boyfriend though she has a hard time not tripping over the damn word.” Breonna walks in from the kitchen with the twins on her heels and my mother drying her hands on an apron right behind them. The house is packed, but everyone is waiting for my father’s assessment before they decide to jump back into their jolly mood or boot the fucker out.

My dad just stands there with his arms crossed, glaring at Gavin. A shadow of recognition seems to pass over his face momentarily before settling back into his fatherly glower. Gavin just stands there and politely smiles, waiting for the verdict. My dad finally holds out his hand to shake Gavin’s.

“Welcome, son. The name is Eugene, but you may call me Gene.” My dad takes the handshake and pulls Gavin in for an embrace and whispers something into his ear. Gavin blanches momentarily before quickly recovering. My senses are on high alert; these two must know each other somehow.

“Thank you for welcoming me into your home, sir,” Gavin replies like a good boy on his best behavior. In the presence of my family, his cocky and overbearing tendencies are gone.

“Jayhsus, Gene. Let the boy in, wud ya? Come dear, we were just about ta sit for the meal.” My mum reaches around my dad, who is still cornering Gavin in the hall and snags Gavin’s hand. She drags him towards the dining room.  “The name is Ann. I’m Sorcha’s mum as you’ve gathered. Here, sit.” My mum steers Gavin toward a chair next to my usual spot. Gavin stops short of sitting so that he can pull my seat out, which earns a grunt of approval from my mum.

The room erupts into its typical boisterous environment as everyone bustles about seating themselves amongst the various food laden tables my mum has managed to cram into the first floor. The four thousand square foot house isn’t small but suddenly feels crowded as about forty bodies scrap chairs, laugh, clink glasses in celebration, and excitedly catch up with one another. The kids can’t sit still and soon begin to run around and play as we begin to serve up our plates and pass the gravy around the table.

My mum is an amazing cook and the scents of roasted turkey, parmesan Brussel sprouts, and her famous mashed potatoes are almost enough to distract me from the way my dad can’t stop glowering. He has his studious mask on, telling me that he is assessing so much more than me simply showing up with a date. Everyone else at the table happily chats up Gavin, cordially attempting to get to know him and give him a chance. My uncle Shamus seems to be quite taken with him as they get into a heated discussion about the upcoming season of football, or soccer as it is known here.

“Gavin, is it? How long have you been datin’ my daughter?” Mum interrupts the two men as she happily pours some wine into my sister’s glass.

“Not long, what’s it been, love? About a month?” He smiles adoringly at me.

“About that. Haven’t really been keeping track.” I grab my wineglass, drain it, and hold it up for my mum to top it off. Something is off and I don’t know what but will find out soon.

“Well, I’ll be. Ne’er thought I’d see the day this one would put aside her experimentation phase and narrow in on a strapping young lad.” My mum smirks and raises her glass to us.

“Mum! Please!” I balk.

“Oh, Mum, you wouldn’t believe how painful it has been for her, though. This sod must be a catch to stick around for what she’s put him through!” Breonna chimes in, already feeling fuzzy from her drink. I turn beet red as I pass the salad to Jeff, Bre’s husband, who just shakes his head in silence.

“Now, now. Easy there, lass. Sorcha is just a smart girl who takes her time to make smart decisions,” Shamus pipes up in my defense, always having stood up for me. My dad scoffs on his mouthful of potatoes. Gavin is oddly silent yet remains well poised.

“Daddy, are you implying I am not making a smart decision?” I spit out, upset by how he has been acting, his body language telling me more than anything else.

“No, Sorcha. I just think it is a bit premature to be saluting the two of you. While I am happy to see you attempting to put away childish games, you barely know one another. Isn’t that right, Gavin?”

Gavin subtly grinds his teeth and his strong jaw flexes. I feel like my dad’s words have just punched me in the gut. Childish games? He never understood all of my decisions but never put be down for them either.

“Daddy!”

“With all due respect, sir, it may be a budding relationship but I am quite hopeful for the future.” Gavin manages.

“Alright you too. Nuff’ o’ all that. Gene, no one will ever be good enough for your Sorcha. The lad could walk on water and shit gold bricks but tha’d ne’er be enough.” Shamus grunts as he stabs the brisket with the serving fork for another slice.

“Shamus is right, mo ghrá. Go easy on the boy. Keep this up and she really will never bring another home. And then surely no grandbabes!” Mum warns my dad.

“Welcome to the family.” Breonna raises her glass to Gavin and winks.

Fuck it all to hell. This is why I never brought Calvin, my only other boyfriend, home to meet the ‘fam-dam-ly.’

Dinner continues on with relative good cheer and my father seems to mind himself. My uncle and cousins are quite taken with Gavin. Even Jeff, Breonna’s husband, joins in as my charismatic man weasels his way into the hearts of my family. And like a damn barb, will be impossible to extract without causing pain should it come to that. As the meal winds down, everyone retires around the tele for tea, drink, and dessert as Bre and I clean up. Clearing out the last from the table, I stumble in on my mum and dad arguing in Gaelic as I come to deposit the last of the dishes in the kitchen.

“Really, Daddy? Still with this? What makes you so sure he isn’t good enough for me?” I butt in, furious as I catch onto what they are saying.

“Sorcha, mo leanbh, how well do you really know the man?” my dad pleads as he sees my temper flare. Marie comes in the kitchen, carelessly humming a tune, takes one look at my face, and backs out the way she came.

“Well enough for the time being. It’s not like we came here asking for your approval to marry! Give me some fucking credit!”

“Sorcha, your mother and I have been very patient with you and have given you all the credit in the world as you have made questionable life choices and pursued your passion. We don’t come down on you for the money we pissed away on med school. We’ve even tried to open our minds to your radical ideas on dating and chose to stay out of it as it is beyond our comprehension. You have an abstract way that defies cultural norms, and that is okay. We don’t get it, but we support you. This man you’ve brought home is not someone you’ve taken the time to really get to know, and I can’t go along with this!” His trademark temper simmers as the telltale vein in his neck begins to become visible.

“Questionable life choices? Is this what you really think of me? Of him? I happen to love that man!” My rational approach has slipped as my raw emotions and protective stance over what Gavin and I are attempting roars to the surface.

“Sorcha, how can you love him? The man is criminal and you’ve known him about two seconds!” My dad throws his hands up into the air.

“What?” I am shocked. Daddy wouldn’t have said it unless he has proof.

“He hasn’t been completely honest with you I am assuming.” He sighs and runs his hands through his short grey hair.

“He’s not a criminal, Daddy.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“He used to be employed with one of my business partners that I cut because of his questionable practices. I will not go further into details. Please trust me when I tell you he is not all that he appears.”

“Excuse me, but might I defend myself?” Gavin pops his head in the door; he must have been stood there, listening to the whole mess. Daggers fly from my dad’s eyes into Gavin’s direction.

“Please, do enlighten me,” I challenge him, pissed that this is happening, pissed that he lied to me.

“The associations you are speaking of have long been severed and were originally forged when I was young and impressionable. They are not a reflection of my current person,” Gavin diplomatically states his case.

“Son, you ran with the Irish mob back in the UK. Don’t downplay it.” My dad’s hand comes down on the tile counter with a loud slap, making me jump. I’ve never personally seen him this out of sorts. He has always been gentle in regards to his girls.

“Dad, how the hell would you even know that?”

“Sorcha, now is not the time.”

“Isn’t it? I mean, I’ve had my suspicions about this one but didn’t prematurely damn him for it. You, on the other hand, are the outstanding citizen who knows a bit much for his honest position.” My mum backs away and begins to busy about the dishes. Her petite frame shivers slightly as her eyes glass over in thought.