Irish Affair Page 5

  She wraps one leg around my waist, gently grinding herself against me. I growl as she breaks the kiss and lifts her sweater over her head, her breasts almost overflowing from her black, lacy bra. I pull away, undo her jeans, and kneel in front of her. She kicks off her boots while I tug the jeans down over her thighs and she shuffles out of them as I peel her panties low enough for me to press my mouth against her pussy.

  “Oh, fuck, yes,” she groans as I pull down her panties, turning me on even more. I lift her leg over my shoulder and lick her while she grabs hold of my hair and rocks against my face. I feel her watching me, gasping, as I run my lips along her slick opening, then plunge my tongue into her hot, wet pussy.

  I stand and lift her onto my hips, her arms and legs wrapped around me as I carry her over to the bed. I throw her down and wrestle off my pants like a man possessed, then reach over to grab a condom from the bedside drawer. Our gaze never strays as I tear it open and roll it over my hard length. She looks so perfect lying there with her legs parted, smiling, waiting for me to pleasure her.

  I kiss her roughly as I slip my cock inside her wet, inviting pussy. She gasps and moans as I thrust deeper, kissing her neck as I thrust in and out of her. She groans, and arches her back, placing her hands against the headboard. The sight of her naked body enveloping me sends me into a frenzy.

  I want her to come first, so I wrap my arms tight around her perfect body and roll us over on the seven-foot bed until she’s straddling me. I gaze into her sparkling, hooded eyes and massage her breasts, running my thumbs over her hard nipples. She throws her head back and she grinds her pussy hard against me, then I take one in my mouth and gently suck, making it even stiffer.

  “Oh, yeah,” she pants, biting her lip. “That’s nice.”

  I try to reply with a mouth full of her breast, which makes her giggle, and sends the sweetest vibrations to my cock, buried deep inside her. She leans back, grasping my shins and moves her slick pussy up and down my hard shaft. It feels fucking incredible, and it’s such a turn on to watch my dick sliding in and out of her.

  “Mmm, mmm, yeah. Right there. Oh, fuck, that feels so good,” she moans as my cock rubs against her G-spot. I think she’s close, and I massage a breast with one hand then slip the other between us and gently circle her swollen clit with my fingertips.

  “Oh…ah…ooh. Oh God! Don’t stop…Rory, I’m…I’m gonna… ”

  I try, but I can’t hold back. Watching her, hearing her orgasm building to a peak takes me to the point of no return, and I let out a loud growl, thrusting my hips upward and cursing to the heavens as I release. She cries out and flops forward, resting her head on my shoulder, her thighs locking against me, trembling as she comes hard. Her pussy spasms around my cock, half-erect, but still sliding in and out of her. We wrap our arms around each other, both breathless and exhausted. She takes her head off my shoulder and smiles at me. We kiss, deeply, passionately, stroking and touching for a long time after. I just can’t bring myself to let her go.

  Eventually, she breaks the kiss and says, “Well, you promised to change my opinion of Ireland, and you’ve succeeded. It’s a lovely place.”

  “Good, I’m glad. Tell all your friends in America to come visit the Emerald Isle. They won’t regret it.”

  I close my eyes for just a second. I’m hoping it’s not over yet, because I’d like to do this a few more times before she goes home. I’ve already planned what we’ll be doing tomorrow. I want to show her how romantic I can be. What woman could resist a picnic overlooking one of the best views in Ireland?

  * * *

  I roll over and slide my hand over the sheets searching for Amelia. I open my eyes and look around the room. It’s morning—the crack of sunlight bleeding through the blinds tells me that, but when I look, the bed next to me is empty and the sheets are cold. I glance over to the bathroom. The door is open, but it seems too quiet for her to be in there.

  I sit up and look around the room again, a sinking feeling in my stomach. All her clothes I left strewn on the floor are gone. In fact, every trace of her is gone. The only thing left are the memories in my head, and a sheet of paper on the nightstand. I reach over and snatch it up, but even before I read it, I know she’s gone.

  Rory,

  I’m sorry to leave like this.

  I have to get back home, and I thought this would be easier than making it into a big thing. I hate goodbyes. I’ve had a wonderful time with you. It’s been an amazing few days and I’m so thankful I met you.

  Amelia xx

  I stare at her note, reading her words over and over. I knew she’d have to go back home sometime, but I’m devastated. I thought we’d really hit it off, and for her to leave me like this feels like a stake driven into my heart. Sure, we’ve only known each other for a couple of days, but I think I deserve more than a few words scrawled on a piece of paper.

  I screw the note into a tight ball, tossing it across the room, then bury myself under a mountain of blankets. No denying it, I’m heartbroken at the way she’s treated me.

  This is exactly why I don’t let people in.

  Chapter Five

  Amelia

  I regret leaving Rory the way I did, even before I collect my things from the pub and take the taxi to the airport, but I know it’s too late to do anything about it now. Thankfully, Maureen wasn’t around to question me as to why I was leaving so early in the morning, and I left the money for my stay on the bar.

  I don’t think I ever told him my last name, but I wish I’d left him my number. Hell, even an email address so he could get in touch if he wanted to. The last couple of days have been two of the best of my life, but when I woke up this morning I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was avoiding reality. I had to get back to my life eventually. Having fun with Rory has been great, but I know I’m just putting off the inevitable by staying here, and it’s not like we were in love, or anything.

  Coming to Ireland was a mistake in the first place, and just because I met someone who made me feel good doesn’t fix the problem. That problem being that I do things without thinking about the consequences. I need to stop that. I’m a grown woman. I shouldn’t be throwing away everything I’ve worked so hard for to race across the world chasing some fairytale romance—especially when it never seems to work out the way I want it to.

  Nope. Going home and facing reality is the sensible thing to do. At least, that’s what I thought a few hours ago. Now, I’m not sure, and the voices in my head are having a fantastic time arguing it out. What if I’m letting something real slip through my fingers, just to prove a point to myself?

  I settle in my seat, feeling wretched at what I’ve done, and after they serve the in-flight meal, I sleep most of the long flight back. I’m grateful for the rest, because anytime I’m awake, Rory, and how I left him, is all I think about. He’s not my usual type of guy, but maybe that’s why things might have worked out. But, there’s that voice in my head again. Stop making this into anything other than what it was—a rebound, plain and simple. You had fun. The End. It’s a way to make me feel better after making a total fool of myself. In a few days, I’m sure Rory will be nothing but a distant memory, and maybe I won’t even remember his name in a week.

  * * *

  I exit the plane, collect my bags and scan the crowd of people. As I exit the baggage claim area, I look for my sister and when I spot her, I race over to her. She throws her arms around me, kissing me on the forehead, and I groan when I see the tears in her eyes. Anyone would think I’d been away for a month instead of a few days, but deep down, I’m touched she cares so much about me. God forbid either of my parents from taking time out of their busy schedules to pick me up, let alone crying when they see me—except maybe out of despair.

  “Calm down,” I laugh, shaking my head. “I’ve barely been away four days.”

  “I know, but you’ve been through a lot in that time,” she argues. “I was worried about you. I’m just glad you’re home, and I’m sorry
things didn’t go the way you’d hoped.”

  “Meh,” I shrug, making a face. “I realize now there were signs I should’ve picked up on. I never should have gone over there unannounced in the first place. I think I was still running from what happened with Jake.” I wince as I say my ex’s name. It took going halfway across the world for me to figure out my break up with Jake had cut me deeper than I’d thought.

  “But, hey, you met a nice guy, so not a total waste, right?” she says, nudging me.

  “Rory was great,” I admit with a frown.

  “But?” Clare prods. “Did you have a fight, or something?”

  “No, but I left without leaving him any way of contacting me. I feel bad for that,” I answer.

  Clare frowns back at me, looking confused. I grab one of my bags from the ground, she takes the other and I link my arm through hers, leading her toward the exit before she can question me any further—like that would stop her.

  “Why the hell would you do that?” she asks, glaring at me. “He sounded really sweet.”

  “Because I’m sick of jumping from one bad relationship to the next. What’s the point in keeping in contact with a guy who lives over 3000 miles away from here, anyway? You know me, Clare. That’s never going to end well.”

  “Fine, but you could’ve just kept him as a friend. You don’t have to be in a relationship with every guy you know.”

  “Really?” I say, frowning at her. “Do you know me at all?” I sigh. “I know. I’m being stupid and trying too hard not to fall into the same trap again. If it makes you feel any better, I do have serious regrets about not leaving him some way of getting hold of me. I’m kinda missing his jokes already.”

  “So, fix it. There must be some way you can get in contact with him. What about the hotel he was staying at? Maybe call them?” she asks.

  “I guess I could,” I say slowly, but then shake my head. “No, that won’t work. He said his boss booked it for him and I have no idea who he works for. I don’t suppose the desk will tell me either. Privacy laws and all that.”

  Suddenly, Clare’s face brightens. “Didn’t you go to his mother’s house?”

  I nod. “But that was in the middle of nowhere, like farmland all around. I didn’t even pay attention to which village it was in. Somewhere in County Wicklow is all I know.”

  “Jesus, Amelia,” she rolls her eyes. “So, you didn’t really know him. What if he’d taken you to be sold as a sex slave? You could’ve ended up in a harem in the Middle East.”

  “What? Then I wouldn’t be back here right now, would I?” I say, poking my tongue out at her. I snort at the idea of Rory selling innocent foreigners into slavery. “I felt like I could trust him.”

  “Never trust anyone,” Clare warns me. “There’s only one option left, then. You’ll have to fly back and find him.” Now she’s gone from being caring sister to totally ridiculous.

  * * *

  We head back to Clare’s apartment, and on the way, I get a call from Mom. My heart pounds as I answer it. Talking to her always makes me anxious.

  “Hey, Mom,” I say, closing my eyes. “I was just about to call you.”

  I rub my head, waiting for her disappointed tone. I’m so used to it, because it’s how every conversation with my parents seems to go, and I wasn’t expecting this one to be any different. I always have a knack of disappointing them, which they’re not afraid to make clear to me. The number of times they’ve asked me why I can’t be more like Clare makes me want to scream. It’s funny how I can be so close to Clare when they’re always comparing me to her. We’re complete opposites, but, unlike me, Clare has the support of our parents no matter what she does.

  “Amelia,” my mother sighs, like even talking to me is too much effort. “Well, I hope you’ve gotten that out of your system, once and for all.” I can almost feel her frowning through the phone. I roll my eyes at Clare, who stifles a laugh.

  “Yes, Mom. It’s all out of my system, and now I’m back and ready to resume my miserable life.”

  “Good. I assume you went begging for your job back? When do you start?”

  “No, not yet,” I wince. “I only just landed, Mom. I need a couple of days to get over this jet lag.” The truth is, I need time to figure out what I want to do. Going back to my boring old job definitely isn’t high on that list.

  “Jet lag?” she sniffs. “You’ve only been gone a few days. That’s hardly a reason to have even more time off.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ll handle it, Mom,” I say. You’d think I was twelve instead of twenty-two. “I’ll speak to you later, okay? I’m just going back to Clare’s now.”

  “Okay. Maybe your sister can talk some sense into you,” she grumbles.

  “Love you, Mom,” I sigh.

  “I love you too,” she replies, then hangs up.

  Sometimes I wonder.

  * * *

  When we get back to Clare’s, I decide to have a nap—only my nap turns into a solid eight hours of sleep. I wake up in the middle of the night, confused and in a foul mood. I stumble out into the kitchen where I find Clare has left me some dinner in the fridge. I devour it, absolutely starving, thankful that she thought of me.

  After I eat, I curl up on the couch with my laptop. I open it and check the job options in my area. As I scroll through the listings, I’m at a loss at what to do. My old job was something I dreaded going to every single day. I wanted to love going to work. Maybe this is a chance to do something I want to do, rather than something I have to do. The only problem is, I have no idea what. I scroll down and spot an ad for a photography course at a local college. My heart races at the thought. That’s it.

  I’ve always loved photography, but it was never something my parents wanted me to do when I left school, so I didn’t bother pushing it, but now, I don’t care what they think. I’ve come to realize they’re never going to accept me for who I am, no matter what I do. They’re always going to find something to complain about when it comes to me. I could do everything Clare does, and it still wouldn’t be good enough, so why bother trying to please them anymore? This is my life.

  I close my laptop and click on the television. I watch some slushy romcom about a girl who races over to London to meet a guy she’s fallen in love with. I can’t stop thinking about Rory, and this isn’t helping. Seems everything I look at reminds me of him. I wonder what he’s doing. Is he thinking about me?

  After sitting through the whole movie, I force myself to go back to bed to try and get a couple more hours of sleep. Maybe then I can get through the day without collapsing.

  * * *

  The next few days are a blur for me while I try to sort my life out and do my best not to think about Rory. Every time I think I’ve managed to move on from him, something else reminds me of him. Like today, when I went into the college to get the enrollment forms for the photography course, the guy who helped me was called Rory. My Rory was the first Rory I’d ever met, and now it seems I see his name everywhere.

  It’s like I can’t get away from him, even if I tried to.

  Chapter Six

  Rory

  Nearly two weeks have passed since my last night with Amelia. I think I’m finally getting over the fact that she just upped and left me early that morning, with no way of contacting her. I still have moments where I think about her, and wonder what she’s doing, but mostly I’ve moved on. There’s no point wallowing in misery over something that’s never going to happen.

  I knock on the door and walk into my A&R manager’s office at Music Box Records. Maxine is shouting down the phone and has a right puss on her. She called me in for a meeting today, but she wouldn’t say what it was about, other than it was urgent.

  I sit down and fidget with the fraying hem of my jeans while I wait for her to finish her phone call. She sounds like she’s in a foul mood already, and I’m not looking forward to this, since I’m sure it’s about my new album. I promised them I’d have it done last week, and last week cam
e and went. If there’s one thing about me that annoys people the most, it’s the fact that I can’t settle for anything less than perfect when it comes to my music. So, when things aren’t feeling right in the recording studio, I’ll do it again, and again until everything’s good. Problem is, that just isn’t happening lately.

  “Rory,” Maxine greets when she hangs up the phone. She stands and walks around her desk to shake my hand, and I stand and offer mine.

  “You wanted to see me?” I say, like I have no idea why. She sits back down in her chair and nods.

  “This is kind of a big deal,” she begins. She looks excited—too excited to have dragged me in about my album. “How do you feel about heading over to the US tomorrow?”

  “What?” I say, in case I heard it wrong.

  “I got a call a little while ago from a friend of mine. He’s one of the producers for the MTV Music Awards. They want you to perform.”

  “Me?” I laugh, not believing it for a second. I shake my head, waiting for her to tell me the rest of the joke. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I’m not kidding, Rory. They had Chance Rice lined up, but he’s fallen ill, and your music has been catching a lot of ears lately, so it has.”

  “Holy Mary, you’re serious, Max?” I say. “Hold on a minute. Don’t they have backup performers, all ready to go in case shite like this happens?” I ask. It would seem pretty stupid of them not to have a plan B for such a big event. Stars must fall ill or have bad throats all the time.

  “I’m sure they do, but my friend asked me if I had anyone who I felt deserved a break. I said you fitted the bill. I’d grab it with both hands, if I were you.”

  “So, they didn’t ask for me personally?” I say, trying to get the real story out of her.

  “Look, this is a huge deal for the record company, and twenty percent royalties for you,” Max replies. “My friend loves your music. He’s happy to give you the spot if you want it, so what are you waiting for?”