Free Love and Blarney by Zara Keane Page A

head.
    Hers fingers wandered to his belt. When she brushed against his groin, he groaned. “I want you so much, Jayme. I feel like I’m going to explode.”
    “I sincerely hope you do. Just hold off for a few minutes, okay?”
    She undid his jeans, one button at a time. He gasped when she stroked his hardness, straining against the confines of his underwear.
    She nibbled his lip. His breath came in staccato gasps.
    When she pulled his jeans down over his hips, he wriggled himself free from his underpants.
    “Wow.” She ran a fingertip down his silky length, careful not to graze him with her sharp nail. She sank to her knees and teased the tip with her tongue, registered his sharp intake of breath. She grew more adventurous, slowly wandering down his stiff shaft, feeling the smooth skin against her tongue. He tasted salty, masculine. She drew her tongue back up in slow, circular movements.
    “Jayme,” he gasped. “You’re torturing me.”
    “Hmm?” She pulsated her tongue around the tip of his erection, making him groan with pleasure.
    “I want you on your back,” he growled.
    “What are you going to do to get me there?” she teased.
    “You’ll find out.” In one fluid movement, he flipped her onto her back, strategically aiming her head for the pillow. She laughed out loud. It was a trick he’d perfected on their honeymoon when she’d complained she always landed between both pillows rather than on one.
    He stroked her inner thighs again, each movement sending volts of pleasure skittering across her skin. She shoved his hand higher, positioning him directly between her legs. He stroked her clit, slowly at first, in long, drawn-out circular movements.
    She gave a moue of impatience and applied pressure to his hand until he hit the right tempo. “Ah,” she sighed. “So good.”
    A few minutes later, he flipped her on her front and pulled her into a kneeling position.
    “What?” she teased. “You cruel man.”
    “I did tell you,” he whispered into her ear, “that I’d stop anytime you wanted me to. You asking me to stop?”
    His erection teased her entrance, making her gasp.
    “Hell, no. If you stop now, I’ll get my revenge.”
    His laughter reverberated against her ear. “In that case…”
    One thrust later, he was inside her. He gave her a moment to grow accustomed to his size, and then began to move. As if on cue, her hips met him thrust for thrust, each more exhilarating than its predecessor.
    The pressure inside her built to a crescendo until she was shook by a tsunami of pleasure.
    She was still getting her breath back when she felt him come.
    Afterward, they collapsed onto their pillows, spent and exhausted.
    “That was… amazing,” she said through a yawn. And then blissful sleep enveloped her.

    The next morning, Ruairí woke to find Jayme propped up on her pillow, staring at him. The sight of her flushed face and sleep-tousled hair warmed him to the core.
    “I’m still in love with you, Ruairí,” she blurted, and then turned even redder.
    He stroked her cheek, marveling at the softness of her skin. “And I’m still in love with you.”
    “So what are we going to do?” One breast peeked out from beneath the sheet. “Is your heart set on staying in Ireland?”
    “The only thing my heart is set on is staying with you. Would you consider living in Ireland for a few months? If you didn’t like it, we’d go back to New York.”
    Her brow creased. “I’ve thought about my possibilities. I could look for someone to cover my job for a few months. I’m reluctant to sell my share of the practice until we’re more certain where we want to live long-term.”
    “I understand. If I had a few months to finish overseeing the renovations, I could hire a manager to run the pub for me and go back to the States with you.”
    She touched his jaw, tickling his stubble. “You should spend your mother’s last days with her. I’d never ask you to give up that chance. I’ll have to