Gettin' Lucky

Chapter Five

For two weeks my days were filled with unprecedented scores at work, while my nights with exhilarating scores on an Irishman. I’d never had such a fantastic run at both my job and in his bedroom. God help me, Conall didn’t even snore. The man slept like an angel. Though, I’d wake each morning to his body cupped around mine, a hand tossed over my stomach as if he didn’t wish me to leave.

Part of me didn’t want him to finish with the window. The throbbing parts protested loudest. But another was excited to finally be able to sleep in my own bed and not have to suffer the indignant growls of a preternaturally angry cat.

After sliding in from work, a bounce in my step, Conall grabbed both my hands and tugged me towards my once under-construction bedroom. He didn’t drape a palm over my eyes but did step in the way of the closed door. “You ready, Lass?”

Nodding my head, I shuffled on my toes causing my A-line skirt to ride up. It drew a flicker of those green eyes to my exposed lower thigh, but he shook it off. With a dramatic toss, he cracked open the door to reveal golden light shining through a crystal clear pane.

I stumbled inward, gawping at the not just brushed off but laundered and remade bed. The spic and span carpet. And, most amazing of all, the durable window revealing a beautiful garden just outside my bedroom. How had I not known it was so green out there?

“Double paned, to help with any cold drafts,” Conall spoke, his hands slotting over the exposed forearms which put all that glass in place. “Energy efficient, because they all bloody are now. Heavy-duty vinyl in the frame that shouldn’t yellow and stain the way the old ones did. And best of all…” He reached past me to unhook the pane. It slid inward, allowing the crisp scent of snow melting through the grass to waft into my bedroom. “Easy cleaning if you don’t want to bother heading out to the garden.”

“This is…beautiful, amazing. I never thought. It had to be expensive.”

“Only the best for you, Lass.” Conall smiled so brightly my stomach churned. When he told me he’d be done soon a chasm had opened in my guts. He wasn’t here forever and soon he’d find whatever he was looking for.

“Thank you,” I whispered, both my hands slotted inside his grip. “For breaking my old, shitty window and replacing it with this marvel.” I laid it on as if he’d built me a stained glass one by hand, but this was the nicest thing a near-stranger had ever done for me.

Conall’s palm scooped against my cheek, lifting my overwhelmed eyes to his. “Tá fáilte romhat,” he whispered before pulling my lips to his. Heat swirled through my body, my mouth greedily melting into his strong sway. But before our tongues could resume the familiar dance, he pulled away.

Rustling a hand through his hair, he said, “Ah, one other matter. When the men were clearing out that rotten tree, they found this.”

From his back pocket, he pulled a flask rusted and dingy. Dirt clung to the screw-cap top. I stared in confusion at it, then darted up to his eyes. Conall seemed out of sorts holding it, his gaze dancing away from mine. “Sounded as if it was buried at its roots.”

“That’s odd.” I picked up the flask from his fingers which was when it rattled. “There’s something in here.”

“So the gardeners presumed,” Conall spoke, his body lingering close to mine as I reached to unscrew the cap and solve this mystery. 

Wrapping my palm over the muddy top, I gritted my teeth for the force necessary to unleash what time and decay had sealed away. Conall’s eyes burned into the flask, no doubt his own curiosity rising, but his hands kept almost touching mine.

Suddenly, one enveloped my forearm, pausing my grunting attempt to free this treasure. I assumed he’d offer to take over, but he smiled and said, “There was one other surprise I had for you.” He leaned directly to my ear and whispered, “In the kitchen.”

“Oh?” I asked when he blew a gentle breeze against my earlobe. “That sounds…interesting.”

“I pray so. If you wouldn’t mind?” Conall jutted out his elbow to me. Trying to not feel silly, as if I were some maiden taking a dashing Duke’s arm, I wrapped my had around his forearm. Before we exited the bedroom I left the curious flask upon the dresser to be opened later.

While walking down the hall, a streak of black dashed from the linen closet to the bathroom. “Tir will never forgive me,” I sighed, trying to not think about all the surprise attacks I suffered for wounding his pride. 

“Once he slumbers upon your bed warmed by the sun, I suspect all will be forgotten,” Conall purred in my ear.

I chuckled. “You’ve never had cats, have you?”

My kitchen was nowhere near as impressive as what we’d been enjoying for the past fourteen days. Formica counters and cupboards still painted an olive green dated the place. The old wooden table broke some years back so I’d been relying upon a card one, which was where I left my purse. And, I finally noticed there was a white box sitting right beside it.

I glanced at the eight-inch sized box while asking, “No stew, then?”

Conall laughed. “Afraid not.” His arms swept around the side of my stomach, hands curling over my hip as he pressed his nose to my hair. “Though it warms my heart to know you ask for it.”

“So…” I prompted even while running my fingers through those red locks. Reaching forward, Conall slid the box into his one palm while the other remained wrapped around me. Into my hands he placed it, enraptured as I began to open the lid.

“As we already did dinner, many times over, I thought it time for…”

The heavenly aroma of chocolate and coffee hit me first, my eyes opening wide as my brain realized what I held in my hands. “Tiramisu?” I cried, staring in wonder at the gift.

The box’s sides fell apart, revealing the creamy layers of chocolate and lady fingers entwined with mascarpone and espresso. “You didn’t? You did!” In shock, I placed the treasure upon the table and rummaged for my phone.

“I thought,” Conall began, before flinching as I aimed my camera at the dessert. “What are you doing?”

“Taking a picture to commemorate the…” The nicest thing a man had ever done for me. I shook off the depressing thought and said, “The beautiful tiramisu.” That brought a warming smile to his lips, which plunged to mine for a sweet kiss. With the proof taken so I couldn’t forget, and after sending the picture to Abby, I dropped my phone on the table and turned fully to the generous man.

Hoisting the treat up in my hands, the small cardboard circle pressed to both palms. I tried to not drool or dive forward, mouth unhinged to devour it whole. “You look as if you require a fork,” Conall chuckled and, from nowhere, produced the utensil.

Well armed for the fight, I was about to pierce into the first chocolate kissed layer when I paused and looked to him. “What about you? Should we, um, share?” God, that might be the greatest test of my generosity, to only consume half of a tiramisu slice.

Conall rolled a dry laugh through his throat, his brogue dropping from an oboe solo to a bassoon. “Ah, don’t fret, Lass. I have my own…treat.”

Confusion furrowed my brow, the fork dangling just above its first cut. A palm skimmed from the side of my ribs down to my waist and flared at the hip. He began to worry his hand, fingers digging in as he kneaded from the top of my hip back towards the buttock. All the while those green eyes beamed naughty signals to my brain.

His other hand swept around my forgotten left side, its heel resting upon the bone while those fingers kept thrumming over the seam in my skirt for the crack below. Gulping, I struggled to keep the cardboard plate safe in my fingers. Conall tapped his tongue over his bottom lip as he began to inch my skirt higher. 

When the hemline reached my upper thigh, he paused and stared at the pristine fork nearly tumbling from my fingers. Leaning to me, Conall’s hot lips plunged over my mouth, his wicked tongue coaxing mine from its slumber. I moved to wrap my hand around his hair, but he leaned back.

“Eat up, Jess,” Conall breathed. Both hands dug in deep to my ass and in one quick move, the Irish lumberjack hurled me onto the table. A squeak erupted from my buzzing lips, terrified eyes darting to the ancient metal scrap. But it was holding its integrity, which was amazing in and of itself. 

My toes skimmed above the floor, the tiramisu resting in my lap. Conall stared down at me while worrying the auburn scruff on his chin. Limply, I lifted the fork, uncertain what he had planned. As I plunged the twine prongs through the silky layers, Conall took a knee.

Whipping my head up to him in shock, he spread my thighs by gliding that virile scruff back and forth over the tender skin. A pant grew in my chest, air struggling to reach my brain as I watched him kneel between my legs. Slowly, he’d drag his short beard, roughing up my inner thigh then place kisses to the tingling skin. It was the perfect balm after snapping awake my nerves.

As if he had all the time in the world, Conall’s lips and tongue swerved from almost my knee, up the trembling thigh, and higher over the pooling flesh. When he reached the crease where my stubborn panties blocked the path, he switched to the other leg. After repeating each trip, he’d pause at the center of my core and take one slow exhale right against my wetting panties.

Sweet Jesus! My legs spread wider on their own, my loins aching for him to do more than whisper above them. But he returned to torturing me into babbling submission. His wide hand curled around my ankle, easily outflanking it, while he worried a hand up my calf.

“Eat,” he spoke, green eyes darting up to me, “enjoy.” Both hands released from my legs, leaving my entire lower half quivering for what came next. I watched transfixed as he licked along the corner of his mouth and knotted both hands around my panties. 

“I intend to,” Conall announced while yanking my underwear down to my ankles.

Spearing the fork through all the layers at once, I hefted the decadent first bite towards my lips. Conall spread my thighs apart and dove tongue first into me. My tastebuds sparked from the perfect blend of chocolate and cream as my spine arced to meet the man licking me. 

“Dear god,” I cried for both experiences. His tongue swirled along my longer folds, tenderly sucking upon the delicate skin and casting ripples through my body.

“Good?” Conall mumbled between kisses against my outer labia. He placed a single sweet one right at the top of my inner core and for a brief second glanced up.

Dumbstruck, I nodded. Never had I thought to delight in eating my favorite dessert while a man ate me out.

“Good,” he said and pressed his proud smile against my c**t.

My legs rocked on the heaving table, rolling my hips to match the licks and sucks. Somehow I wiggled enough for my underwear snare to slip off an ankle. Gasping, I hauled my leg high over his shoulder. The heel bounced into those back muscles I ached to nibble on.

Conall grabbed my other slack leg and pushed it up to join the other astride his head. All the while, he maintained his rhythm, the throb from my c**t reaching so deep inside I could swear it touched my heart. I glanced down at the fork rattling against the cardboard. My fingers were trembling, one hand lashed to his head to keep myself from toppling over.

There was no way I could eat this properly.

Without a second thought, I plunged my fingers into the squishy ladyfingers and plopped the mass of creamy sweet cheese and coffee into my mouth. A laugh huffed from his lips ignited mine, creating the perfect vibration through me. Groans erupted from my throat, my head tipping back to pull in more air. Chocolate swirls tumbled from my fingers across my heaving breasts. 

I was about to shake them off when Conall surged forward. His entire hot mouth suckered around me, sucking my pearl and the hood into the wet, slippery abyss. My body pitched backward and my hand had to follow so I didn’t fall. The tiramisu was forgotten as my body hummed from the desire flooding down to my toes and up to my hair.

A whimper rolled from my lips, my heels struggling to grind myself against the unending pleasure parting from Conall’s mouth. Yes. 

Yes!

Fuzziness swarmed through my veins; the warm, transcendent plateau singing inside. I clung to it, enveloped myself in the floating freedom. Hung on with all the strength in my body. One more lick kicked off the orgasmic triumph. I whipped up fast, gasping and babbling incoherently as my body tried to collapse in on itself. As if that would preserve that perfect moment forever. 

I was dimly aware of Conall sliding back onto his ass, his hands massaging my calves. The rest of my brain was sparking more than a sweater in the dryer. Rolling my tongue around, I tried to form a sentence. When that didn’t happen, a word.

“Eep,” slipped out and I heard a chortle as the response.

“Is that your official review?” Conall laughed while staggering to his feet. He removed himself from between my thighs but didn’t pick up my lost underwear. That thought caused me to clench my toes in anticipation of more to come.

Tipping my head towards my quivering thighs, I sucked in air and tried to calm the buzzing in my head. “I’m usually more eloquent than that. But in this case…” I looked up into those impish eyes that flooded my senses with both decadent chocolate and hot c*********s. “I’d say ‘Eep’ is the best I can manage. Seeing as you probably can’t get ‘HolyFuckingShit’ past the mods.”

Conall tipped his head at my nonsense and curled his hip against the table. “Hm.” His nimble finger drew across my chest and swept up that long forgotten chocolate. Tucking it into those lips that drove me wild, he mused, “Not bad. I’m glad you left me a taste.”

We both glanced to the half-mauled tiramisu still waiting to be devoured. “That’s all your doing. If you hadn’t…distracted me so well, it’d be gone before you could blink.”

He used the fork to scoop a bite out, placed it beside his lips, and snickered, “Good to know.” After sampling the most perfect dessert on this planet, his head tilting as if he were a sommelier finding all the flavor notes, he took another forkful.

I’m certain I pouted because it was a tiramisu. And even though he bought it, and gave me an earth-shattering orgasm, I still selfishly wanted it all to myself. Conall raised the forkful up, but rather than place it to his hungry mouth, he pushed it to me. Hand cupped under to catch any crumbs, his eyes sparkled as I rolled my tongue over the fork and foisted the crumpling creamy cake into my lips.

A groan rumbled in his chest as he watched me return to lick the fork clean, reminding him he wasn’t the only one with a nimble tongue. My fingers glided around to his waistband, savoring at the bulge below. It only seemed fair to give a taste for a taste.

Just as I tugged him forward by his fly, my phone vibrated like mad. I sighed, barely glancing at the screen. Abby must have gotten my text as she sent me back a leprechaun and pot of gold emoji. Fully forgetting it, I turned back to the s*x god in my kitchen, but Conall’s eyes were on the phone.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“My best friend, being a pain,” I said with a sigh, hoping to tempt him into more dessert. But he was frowning until his forehead folded like an accordion. “She, uh, she likes to torture me with leprechaun things.”

“Why?” His tone turned unreadable in a heartbeat, arms that’d been so warm crossing his chest.

I shrugged and glanced down at my toes. “It’s a joke. Because I said I met a…sexy Irishman contractor. Abby thinks it’s funny to insist you’re a leprechaun.” God did it sound stupid coming out of my mouth. And judging by Conall’s cold glare at the phone, it went over like a lead balloon. Thanks, Abby.

“Not that I think you are,” I sputtered out fast, hoping to get this s*x train back on track. “I mean, it’s stupid. Not as if leprechauns are real. Like unicorns or Bigfoot. Though people sometimes hunt for Bigfoot and I’m babbling. Sorry.”

Conall stared at my phone even as the screen went black. He rubbed a hand up and down his forearm, his body swaying. Below his wool sweater, I caught the outline of that coin he always wore. His treasure.

“What do you know of leprechauns?” he asked.

“Uh, that they’re little with big red beards, and live under rainbows,” I threw out with a shrug. He snorted at that, which gave me a ray of hope. “And, of course, the whole pot of gold thing.”

That drew the thunderclouds back. Conall rubbed his forehead and roughed through the scruff covered in my juices. “There’s a legend in Ireland. Not so much a legend as a tale. If you find a leprechaun and steal a coin from him, it will grant you a hundred years good luck.”

I could use that, I thought glumly. Though, it was amazing how great things had been going lately. It also kept me on edge, waiting for the proverbial piano to fall on my head. 

“But,” he waved a finger in the air as if to chastise me, “after a hundred years, the coin drains all the luck from the person who has it.”

“All the luck…?” I whispered, my head swiveling back to the bedroom just patched up from an unexpected tree.

Conall breathed beside me, his green eyes so dark the gold flecks glowed. I wanted to curl inward, to wrap my arms around my body for protection from the stormy clouds rolling across his face. Suddenly, he laughed. “It’s one of those stories. Like the monkey’s paw, or a genie. Be careful what you wish for and the like.”

“Right.” I nodded at his ease of stepping past the unpleasant topic. A smile perked up my lips. “Right, that…of course. Makes sense.” Leprechauns aren’t real. 

Rising off the table, I felt my full weight sink to the kitchen floor as if I’d been floating. Hands encircled my chest, Conall pulling me to his lips. Chocolate overwhelmed his usual taste of clover and spring days. When his tongue swept across mine, all the awkwardness of the leprechaun emoji vanished. Combing through my hair, Conall’s fingers tugged just enough to bring a moan to my still hungry body.

“You know,” I whispered in his ear, “I do think new windows requires some christening.”

“Bha mi an dòchas mar sin,” he responded in that old tongue while his fresh one fluttered in my ear. Without a care, he hoisted me into the air, palms clamped to my ass. I laughed, savoring in the air as he carted me backward to my own bedroom.

His chin planted to my cleavage, Conall stared straight up at me. Aching to taste him, I curled down, one hand roughing along his scruff while our lips fell into each other. When we reached the bedroom without a ball of black fur wrapping around his ankles, I blinked in surprise. Tir was always tripping up my path.

The hands cupping into my asscheeks gave one last squeeze before opening. I slithered down his body, my breasts bounding off his rock-tight pecs. Upon landing safe and sound on my toes, Conall’s palms found refuge on my hips. His face nuzzled against my neck, my head turning from the bright window to the dresser.

“Oh right, the flask,” I sputtered, turning from his enthralling grip to the other mystery. 

“Yes,” he muttered, the hand that’d been tugging on my skirt’s zipper plying through his hair, “that flask.”

I rattled it again beside my ear as if to remind myself there was a confounding secret inside. Wringing my hand around the cap, I was about to unscrew it when I paused. Last thing I wanted to do was spit out unladylike grunts while struggling against a piece of metal.

Gulping, I glanced to the man scratching at his ear and staring out the window. “Could you open it?”

Conall glared at the flask as if it wronged him. Pulling in a breath, he shuddered and smiled. “Nah, Lass. I have faith in you.”

I didn’t, but I may as well prove my lack of grip strength. But this time, all I had to do was give a soft tug and the cap seemed to fall right off. Shaking the flask into my palm, from its crusted-over top emerged a rusted key.

“A key?” I turned the confusing thing over. There were numbers on the head. Maybe I could look them up online later.

“Do you know what it unlocks?” Conall spoke solemnly.

Snorting, my eyes boring into the teeth of the key as if that would solve the mystery, I said, “Not a clue. I suppose I’ll…”

My thought snapped to dust as I watched the sexy Irishman tug his workman shirt clear off his body. The flask, the key, and the mystery were fully forgotten as I leapt on top of him. I needed the gorgeous not-leprechaun inside of me now. The key could wait.