Irish…

I can’t stop thinking about him. I want to stop, but I can’t. It’s been months now. I should be over it, over him. But I’m not.

I’m sitting here a few day's before New Year’s Eve, waiting for my flight to Aspen to be called. I should be prepping cases in the office but instead I am going on a mini vacay, with my girls.

Irish.

He's the reason that I am even taking this last minute trip. I need to get thoughts of him out of my head. He's throwing me off my game; even though I haven't spoken to or seen him since that night.

I can’t stop thinking about him. My girls say that I got it bad...tell me what you think?

Irish…

That’s his name. His real name. Incredible.

Do you know what that sexy southern mickey fickey had the nerve to do, to say to me, when I asked him if that really was his name, ‘Irish?’

He winked at me, raised his glass in the air and said, “Since you like saying it so much, you’re ‘gonna’ love screaming it. Later…over and over, darlin’. Cheers.” Then he took a sip of his drink and walked away.

Is his ass for real?

Damn you Irish, for seeing what I had hidden in my head. The minute he opened his mouth and that southern drawl escaped his lips, my body began to stir with desire. My mind immediately conjured up naughty images of me screaming his name.

Irish…

Stay away, the warning bells were blasting in my head. 

Just a taste. Why not? Wait....No. I was not going to let that happen.

That’s what I said.

What I did.

Well……

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I guess I should start from the beginning, only I don’t know which beginning? The one where I tell you about my lousy day at the firm, where my dumb as rocks intern sent opposing council a shit load of files that they were not supposed to see, resulting in an emergency hearing and utter chaos in the office.

Or the part where I ripped her ass to shreds for her error and she went running to the managing partner, who just happens to be her best friend’s father.  So of course I get summoned to the 15 floor, where the kings of the castle reside. Well I told Mark Banks, he’s the Banks in the law firm that I work for, Banks, Weir and Hanson that Ashley is a terrible intern and will probably make an even worst attorne. If she can some how manage to pass the bar.

You know what that man had the nerve to say to me? ‘I know.’

He knows that she is a liability.

But due to the politial games that people play to get ahead, he still owed a favor to her father and this was the pay off. So there I was, stuck will the mushy brains beauty queen as my intern.

Mark is smart though. He knew all of the right buttons to push, today.

I love southern men.

He gave me one of those good ole boy smiles and the keys to his ski lodge in Aspen.

So there was the bright side to my bitchin’ about the intern so far.

He told me to take a couple of friends and enjoy the New Year, on him. He apologized for saddling me with mush for brains, stating that he had hoped that she could learn something from ‘The Wrangler’. 

I love the way he says wrangler. Wrahng-la

Ok, so I lightened up after he used the nickname that everyone calls me around the office. I’m the Wrangler, because I can argue a case like nobody’s business. It usually catches my opponents off guard because, I look so angelic and unassuming. Don’t get me wrong I’m so slouch, but we’ll get to that later.

Any who, Mark and I strategize the next steps for my case, which took the rest of the afternoon and part of my evening.  That made me late for the charity costume party that my girls and I were going to. Combined all together it put me a very pissy mood.

What a way to start my weekend, right?

Before we were done in our meeting, Mark asked me to keep Ashley busy until the end of the internship, as a favor to him.  ‘Do this favor for me, Ambi and I will owe the Wrangler big time.’ Those were his exact words.

I love to hear him drawl out my name Ahmm-Bee. I love southern men.

Ok, so having the managing partner owe you one, is not a terrible way to kick off your weekend festivities.

----------------------

It was already 10:00pm by the time I showered and my girlfriends were rushing me to get dressed. But I wanted to look good, so I was taking my sweet time. We were already late so what’s the rush, I reminded Evis and Pressley.

I know it’s my fault but hey I was working with the managing partner at the firm. Few associates can brag about that.  I told them to have another glass of Cava and chill out, it’s still early.

Pressley was picking out shoes, because I refused to wear the hooker heels Evis brought. Evis was giving me the side eye, but I didn’t care. Roman or whoever it was that she was texting incessantly, could wait.

Evis and I are friends through my home girl Pressley. Press and I grew up together in DC, where we went to the same high school and attended law school. We even work at the same firm. She became friends with Evis in undergrad. Evis is cool, but she is sneaky, there is something about her that I just can’t put my finger on.

Pressley was working hard on finger combing and fluffing up my braid out, to give me that look. You know, that just crawled out of bed from having good sex look.

Oh you don’t know that look? Truthfully neither do I. Those were her words.

Pressley is my sensitive friend. Sweet, shy, innocent, gullible and I love her for it. She is the nurturer in the group and is smart as a whip, oh and she is absolutely gorgeous. Rich, dark chocolate skin, big soft brown eyes and the thickest, darkest coiliest ringlets for hair that I’ve ever seen. Her body is tight too; but she doesn’t let anyone near it. She’s saving herself for her man. I wish her luck with that. It’s hard to find a man, when you are too shy to date. And when she did let her guard down and found someone that she was interested in dating, he ups and marries her cousin.

Yeah. Crazy huh, but that’s another story for another time.

Pressley is old money, real old money. When our people couldn't go into banks her father’s family created them. Her mother has a master’s degree in chemistry but managed to earn a PHD in spending the family fortune. Old money, older family problems. Pressley doesn’t work in the family business; it’s too political she says. I agree. I love her family to death, but that crew ain’t nothing but vultures. As my grandmother would say.

There are lots of stories hidden there.

We were getting dress for a charity costume party at ‘420 Peach’. It was supposedly, the newest, happening club in the city. Entrance, by invitation only; your party experience in the club was only as good as the type of invitation that you received.

Fortunately for us, Evis got an all access invite from the new guy who she is crazy for. Roman.  Pressley and I met him over drinks last week. He was suave with the sexiest foreign accent, I’ve ever heard. I still can’t quite figure out the origin. He seemed decent enough, given Evis’ somewhat questionable standards. No shade.

For the daughter of a federal court judge and a mayor mother, my girl loves her man to be black, white, Hispanic, sketchy, crazy, rough and rugged. Trust me the last few that we’ve encountered, well let’s just say that I kept my hands on my pistol just in case.

I know, I know, you like who you like and you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. But for Evis, well let’s just say it seems the shiftier, the better in her book.

I know of which I speak, but that’s another story for another time, as well.

Evis is the law. She knows her stuff backwards and forwards in both the US and UK versions; she can recite it in French, Spanish, Italian and Latin too, if need be. That’s why it’s always a little surprising when she shows up with a character from one of those bad street lit books. As an attorney she fully understands the repercussions of being guilty by association.

Her philosophy is, ‘Eff it. I would rather live my life, than dream about having a life.’ I get that; but still, she knows better.  Mocha colored skin, light brown eyes and ass for days, she turns heads where ever we go.  Well, we all do.

She is that friend, though. She always has a man. Evis can have anyone she wants; we’ve seen her in action. But she is most content with the men who seem to treat her as an object and not as a person.

I wonder what that’s really about.

We are all attorneys, but Evis works for our biggest competitors, Hartley Davis. She passed on working at our firm. Banks, Weir and Hanson is The Firm. It is the most prestigious firm in the southeast. We turn people away. Not the other way around. It seems a bit fishy to me that she went to work for those other guys.

No one does that. There has to be something behind that.

Maybe that’s why I have my suspicions about her. I can’t lie though; girlfriend is making things happen at her firm. She is on the fast track to partner, already.

Any who we’re supposedly dressed as Charlie’s Angels, sadly the revamped TV version, was cancelled. I liked it too. That sister was rocking her natural. Go team natural.

Dressing like street walkers was supposedly for charity and all in good fun. Except for the fact that those damn costumes left nothing to the imagination. Truthfully, our costumes are an inch left of slutty.

Evis picked them out. No shade.

A glittery bralette, boy-shorts with some sort of mini skirt that is serving absolutely no purpose. What is this?

This skirt thing was supposed to keep my goodies hidden? I can still see my ass cheeks with it on.

Come on ladies, big hair, hooker heels and feathery sequined wings?

Tell me the truth. Doesn’t that outfit sound like we could hit the stroll and make some change?

Press insisted that we wear the wings; she said that they gave an air of authenticity, to our look. I rolled my eyes at that one.  I love my girl to death, she is so sweet; naïve but sweet.

There is nothing saintly about this shit we are wearing.

---------------

Pressley drove, because she isn’t much of a drinker, and we all lived within a mile of each other. Besides, Evis was probably spending the night with Roman. She can pretend like they are just friends all she wants. She isn’t fooling anyone, pretending like he hasn’t already smashed it to smithereens.

Ok, I know that wasn’t nice, but I am still annoyed from earlier and maybe just a little jealous of Evis.

When we arrived at ‘420 Peach’ the line was ridiculous. Luckily we didn’t have to wait. Roman told us to head straight to valet and give the host our names. 10 minutes later we were headed up the VIP stair case and into the VIP lounge.

Roman was sitting in the largest roped off booth with another guy. When he saw Evis, he immediately waved us over and motioned to the security to let us in. This was a very exclusive club. Score two for Roman.

How does a foreigner have an in, to the hottest night spot in your city, when you don’t have an in yourself?

Evis was being very evasive when Press and I kept asking her questions about him, earlier. Her responses were a bit guarded. All she would offer us was that he was in the oil business, he was foreign but she would not say from which country and they met through mutual friends.

That’s it; we didn’t press for more and she didn’t offer any more. I am pretty sure that was perhaps for legal reasons.

I know, more shade right?

Roman stood up to greet us and I could fully appreciate why Evis was keeping him to herself. He was Beautiful. Smooth, rich dark skin; well over six feet tall and he took excellent care of his body. There wasn’t an ounce of fat visible on him. Roman is a real looker and the accent...it sounded like, French mixed with something else. All I know was that it was simply foreplay on the ears.

After introducing us to his friend, Said, Roman poured us a glass of our favorite. I liked him even more at that moment. He already had two bottles of Taittinger Rose’, chilled waiting for us. We sipped as Pressley and I made small talk with Said.

Said in a word was mysterious and seemed a little shy at first. But he quickly warmed up to us. His copper skin tone, cognac colored eyes and thick jet black shoulder length locks, I’m sure made him a prime source of naughty nighttime, Sheiks in the desert fantasies.

I’m sure of it. But I asked him if I could take a picture, you know for research or something.

He was from Morocco and his accent was even sexier than Roman’s. I think Pressley was feeling him, a little bit. I could tell by the way she was smiling at him, each time he spoke.

Evis was in her own little world with Roman. She seemed positively giddy. I’ve never seen her so captivated by a man before.

And I have seen her interact with many men. Ok, that’s it. I’ll leave her alone now.

I liked both Roman and Said. I think that they would be good for my friends. Both men were sophisticated without being stuffy. Gorgeous without being vain. Moneyed without being boastful. They were real cool guys.  So it came as a surprise to me when they introduced the last member of their trio. An arrogant asshole by the name of Irish.

Irish? Yes Irish….

He actually came over and sat down with us, with two tramps glued to his lap.

Ok so I don’t know them personally to be calling them tramps, but their behavior was a bit well…trampy.

Irish…..

Roman made the requisite introductions as he poured another round of champagne for us.

“Irish? Is that’s your real name?” I asked him before I could stop myself.

The puppet sitting on his right knee giggled as if the adults were speaking to her.

That shit was unreal.

“That’s what’s on my driver’s license.” He drawled smoothly.

Southern boy…yummy.

He was whispering something into dumb and dumber’s ears as he stared straight at me.  It caused them to squeal like annoying little piglets.

I’m being mean, right? I know.

His hands moved from his sides as he gently caressed each of D&D’s exposed midriff. He was still looking at me. I had to get away. 

If I was also going survive the rest of the night, I was definitely going to need something stronger than champagne to drink and keep myself entertained.

Downing the last of the champagne in my glass, I left the booth, after completely being ignored by my friends, who were chatting it up with Roman and Said.

I blazed a trail out of the VIP area, across the dance floors and to the nearest bar to get a drink, a real drink, a strong drink.

Irish……

Yep, I was going to need more than a buzz, if I had to endure that nuttiness.

Strutting over to the bar, I was hoping that I was giving off that vibe.

You know the one.

I was looking quite sexy, thank you very much.  I wanted to play. Hot single guys need only apply.

Waving over the bartender to order my drink, I was surprised when I caught that damn Irish watching me in the mirrored wall behind the bar.

What the hell was he looking at? With his sexy ass.

When I say the boy is sexy, whew.

Irish.

He has everything. He is everything. He knows it too. He’s at least 6’5” with dark blonde hair and jade green eyes. His radiant tan was a great compliment to his body that was chiseled perfection.

How do I know?

Well, his costume was a tight white t-shirt rolled up at the shoulders and blue jeans. When Evis asked him who he was supposed to be, he smiled and replied, just your average Joe. That was cute; because he knew damn well that he was anything but average.

Did I mention the size of his feet? I know that’s just an old wives tale but…did I mention the size of his hands. Each one of my ass cheeks can easily fit in each of his palms, and that is no easy feat, because I pack a punch back there. Oh yeah. I doubled checked to be sure; just in case, you never know.  I could tell by the way he was still looking at me, that Irish was game; if I was willing to deal him a hand.

But he messed up that possibility with the gnats sitting on his lap. That alone confirmed for me that he was nothing more than a man slore.

Yep, a slore. 

What’s a slore you ask? You know a person who is 50 percent slut and 50 percent whore. The worst of the worst.

What gave him a way? Well besides the fact that he was sitting with too birds on his lap and had a harem on reserve, just outside the VIP area? He also wore that smile. You know the one. It basically says ‘I can have you whenever…I want to….If, I want to.’

Yep he’s a slore.

Stop looking at him. I chided myself.

It will only make his gigantic head even bigger. Yet, I smiled at that possibility. Mmmm, my ability to make that thick swollen head of his even bigger. I quickly frowned when I realize that I’ve conjured up an image of what I think his, um, inflated male ego would look like. Yummy.

I am much too proper and reserved to utter such a nasty thought from my perfectly glossed lips. But that does not preclude me from thinking them. Either way, Irish…he’s not my type. He’s far too sexy, tall, southern, and conceited.

Who am I kidding?

As much as I hated to admit it, as soon as I saw him, I wanted to wrap my legs around his waist and beg him to fuck me with everything he had. Repeatedly.

Yes, he was just that damn gorgeous. Sadly for him he screwed up when those chits sitting in his lap, started to grind themselves on his thighs and he let them. Nasty skanks.

Irish….

I swore he must have been a mind reader or something, because I looked back over my shoulder at him and he winked at me. Asshole. He was waiting for me to look at him.

“Damn it where is that drink? It’s just Goose, sprite, and cranberry, nothing complicated. What’s taking so long?” I muttered to myself. “What kind of name is Irish anyway?”  I wondered, still waiting for my drink.

I was more than just a bit intrigued by his name. But I wasn’t about to let him know that. The smile I was sending the cute Asian guy three seats away, fell from my face, when I heard his voice near my ears.

“I suppose it comes from the same family of names as Ambi.” Irish drawled in that sweet southern twang that country boys are known for.

He heard me? When did he follow me over here? Shit!

His lyrical tone tickled my ear and nearly caused me to slip where I stood in front of the bar.

Damn those stupid hooker heels.

Irish’s big paws on my back steadied my stance as he helped me to regain my balance. The sound of his voice and the heat from his hands quickly caused my quivering hidden knot to swell with arousal.

“It’s just that, um well, it is a rather odd first name. Don’t you think? Unless of course, your family is actually Irish? But if they are not, then well…I mean it’s not something that you hear every day.” I rambled on.

What the hell am I talking about? I am a lawyer for heaven’s sake. Words are my business.

Shutting up, only to sip on my cocktail that the bartender finally placed in front of me, I waited for him to say something. But he didn’t. At least not right away.

“I’m guessing that your intention was to compliment my parent’s creativity and not to insult their intellect?” Irish asked, waving the bartender over.

I couldn’t help but laugh lightly, he had me there.

“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to insult you or your parents.” Trying to turn my body slightly so that I could look at him, he moved his hands off of my back and onto the top of the bar; essentially pinning me between his body and the bar.

My heart was banging in my chest and I felt myself tremble at the contact. Oh god, he felt incredible.

“I know what you meant, Ambi.” He replied dryly.

He was looking directly into my eyes as he spoke. Hypnotizing me. Casting his spell on me.

“Ambi…that’s an odd first name.” Tossing my craziness back at me was cute. Well played Irish, well played.

Ambi is an unusual name and no I’m not named after the bleaching cream; it’s my nickname.

“I am named after my father Ambrose. Even though I have a brother, his name is Ambrose as well. My mother wanted to name me after my father because I am older than my brother…” I was rambling on like an idiot.

Why was I so nervous? “Ambi is the remix of my real name, Ambrosine.”

“Ambrosine….” Irish tested; then whispered in my ear, “That’s almost as sexy as Irish.”

The warmth of his breath on my bare skin sent shivers through my body. I smiled at him, as he smirked at me.

Before I could come back with something witty, the bartender was there asking if I needed anything else. I turned to him and asked him to start a tab. He told me not to worry about it that Irish had already taken care of it.

I spun around to thank him, but he had already disappeared into the crowd.

Irish…

----------------------------------

On my way back to the booth, I set a goal of making new friends. For whatever reasons, Evis and Pressley seemed smitten with his Irish’s friends. I mean as far as hotties go, they were holding it down; but still they had a big red x against them because they were friends with Irish. They seemed too down to earth, while Irish came off as a conceited prick.

A sexy, conceited, prick with big hands and a boyish smile…damn you Irish.

Though he was still holding court with the crowned queens of the bimbo brigade, I occasionally caught him looking over at me. And you know what he did, every time I looked at him? He winked at me.

Really? Arrgh…What was it about this guy? I swear I wanted to stab him and lick him at the same time.

Wait, lick him? Where the hell did that come from, I don’t talk like that. I don’t even think like that. Shit, I think I just gushed a little. What’s happening to me. Damn you Irish.

Excusing myself from the booth again, I got up and headed to the ladies room. I had to get myself together. I needed a moment to compose myself.

Irish isn’t the only one with game. It may have been a while, thanks to Andre, my ex; but I was sure that I would be leaving with more than one date. I made up my mind, I was going to flirt with some of these hot guys and forget about, him. I gave myself the once over in the mirror, I was still smoking hot in my costume. I fluffed my hair and reapplied my gloss. Yep, I was on the hunt.

Just as I left the ladies room and started making my way back to the VIP area, I felt someone grab me from behind and pull me into a darken corridor. I should have been alarmed but I wasn’t. I knew exactly who it was.

It was the hands that gave him away; those big meaty paws…swoon.

Standing there in that stupid costume, I felt naked as I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. Irish just stood there staring into my chocolate eyes. I started to say something but the words died on my lips when I felt his hands meandering all over my body. My breasts heaved and my nipples tightened, when I felt his thumbs run up and down my rib cage.

I am tall for a girl. I’m 5’9” and in great shape. I ran track in high school and played volleyball in college. Which the guys loved because my ass is bigger than most, so when you put me in those little bottoms, well you get the picture.

An ex told me that it was my legs that drove him crazy; especially when they were wrapped around his waist. They are shapely without being too muscular and had great tone. I guess sacrificing an hour of sleep most mornings for my daily runs through the park, has its benefit. My stomach is flat with a slight hint of a six pack; my breasts are ok. Not too big but no itty bitties either. I am definitely fuckable and Irish was clearly in agreement. I could tell just by the way his breath hitched each time his hands and eyes discovered one of my many attributes.

“Tall, lean, toned, feminine and sexy.” Irish whispered as he kissed my shoulders.

Stop talking Irish, you’re making me wet.

His fingers traced my full lips when he tilted my face to meet his. His lips landed on mine and he quickly started sucking on their ripeness. His mouth was so freaking delicious and before long, his tongue slipped past my guard and he was feeding it to me.

Mmmm. He wanted me to taste him, to savor him, to suck him.

Wait, wait, wait….he wants me to blow his tongue? That’s so nasty, yet so damn erotic and hot at the same time.

So what did I do? Instead of being outraged at the implication of sucking him off, I open my mouth wider and began a slow blow of his tongue. Irish moaned softly and I knew exactly what he was thinking, damn if only this was his dick.

He wanted to fuck me and as much as I didn’t want to admit it to him, I wanted him to fuck me too.

No, no sappy love making for us. I wanted him to slam into me over and over until I was breathless.

What can I say, it’s been a while. A long while.  A very long while.

It had been a long while since I was pinned to the bed, taking it deep. Yes, a very long time and Irish looked like he could give it hard and long, all night; over and over.  Just the thought of it had me so wet. Whew…

My body was primed and damn it, I wanted him. I was ready for him. I could feel the tension in his body, he needed a release too.

I’m game, baby do you want to play? Pick me, please, pick me, Irish.

Irish must have sensed my thoughts, because he quickly pulled his tongue out my mouth, buried his face in my neck and whispered, “You’re such a naughty little Angel. Nice.”

“You have no idea, just how naughty I can be.” I replied, still a little breathless from the kiss.

What the hell am I saying?  What the hell am I doing? Damn this guy has me talking crazy and feeling crazy.

His hand slipped into my glitter bralette, “Do you know what I do with wannabe bad girls like you?” He asked me, tugging on my already swollen nipple. “I make them scream.”

And I did.

Not so loud that anyone could hear it, above the music playing; but loud enough for Irish to know that I liked it.

“Fuck, I can’t wait to suck on these.”  He murmured, exposing both of the twins now to his gaze; as he tested their weight.

His hands toying with my nipples felt so good. It had been so long since I had been intimate with a man, that I couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped my lips as he rolled them around his fingers.

God….I need a man. I need this man. Toys can’t ever compensate for the real thing. Just my opinion.

“You are one hot little cock tease, you know that Ambi?”

“Who’s teasing?” I asked pulling him closer into me.

My cries only got louder, when his fingers slid down my heated body to my crotch. I pushed my wetness to meet his eager fingers and shivered when he obscenely grabbed the fatness between my legs. “Fuck, you’re wet.”  Irish rasped.

Pressing his thumb against my protruding lips, he elicited yet another moan from me; and I felt myself gush right into his palm. He felt it too, because his jade eyes flew to mine and he gave me that wicked grin; you know the one.

The one a guy gives you when he knows you want it, bad. “You want me right now, don’t you, Ambi?

Cupping my heat in his big hands, “Is that what you want, angel? You want me to fuck you right here?”

Hell yes, I wanted him to, but I wasn’t about to tell him that. He’s a man whore, remember. And a respectable young lady like me would never want to be associated with a slut like him. Right?

I tried for indifference. I couldn’t let him see that he had affected me; or that I was his for the taking. “You really are full of yourself, you know that?” I deflected, running my hands up and down his solid chest.

It was like fondling a brick wall. Irish…

He knew what I was trying to do, “I think that you’d rather be full of me?”

My body jerked at his suggestion. I really needed to regain control, he was winning. Was I really going to let a stranger have sex with me in some night club?  I couldn’t think straight; he was still rubbing his thick finger against my clit. It was a good thing that I was wearing white, so no one could really see the wet spot on my costume. If I didn’t have camel toe before, I certainly did just then.

I needed to slow this down, I needed to gain control. I just needed a few seconds to get it together and cool down.

The boy had me seriously hot.

“So Irish,” I asked, “Why did your momma give you that name?” it didn’t work. He was now kissing my neck.

“Because I was born on St. Patrick’s day.” He replied, still palming my kitty. “Though, I think that the luck of the Irish is on your side tonight, baby.”

“Excuse me?” I asked, slightly irritated by his words.

“Out of all the ladies here tonight, I picked you…to fuck; until my cock begs for mercy.” He offered coolly, without one hint of jest.

Who in the hell does this guy think he is?

I didn’t know how to respond to his comment, so I attempted to push his hands off of me and latched on to his swollen balls; which were huge, by the way and whispered, “Fuck you, you simple hick…this is probably the only thing you’ve got going for you…”

Irish laughed and palmed my wetness, even harder. “Not hardly, sweetheart.”

That only brought me closer to an orgasm.

“You want to cum so bad, I can smell it.” He teased.

Damn him to hell, he was right.

He was clearly winning.

As for me, well… I did the only thing that I could do to save face. I slapped his hand away from my wetness, tucked my breasts back into my costume and walked back into the party with as much dignity as one could muster; after participating in a lewd make out session with a stranger in public.

“We’ll finish this later, Ambi.” He called after me. “I know you want to.”

He was right. I did want to finish. But I couldn’t let some stranger think that he had bested me. I am the Wrangler after all and I did have my pride.

Yep, I was walking away with my pride and now thanks to Irish, a pair of soggy panties to go along with it.

CHAPTER 2

Who was this guy?

Irish...

He was my fantasy man.

I need to stop reading so many smutty books. It’s been so long since I’ve had sex. Really good sex. Sex. Any sex. That I was ready to indulge in this madness. I wanted him. I wanted his sex all night.

I managed to push my ho session with Irish to the back of my mind as I chatted with a few associates from the legal society. That didn’t last very long. Sometimes being tall has its disadvantages. I winced at what I saw.  He had a new fan club now.

There were over a dozen groupies surrounding him now. Yep groupies, it was obvious that they were hungry for his time, his money and obviously his dick. Even the sisters were representing.

They were all looking a bit too thirsty for my taste, though. I know….don’t judge...yada yada yada. I am lawyer remember; my job is to read through the bullshit all day long and those tarts right there…. Any who….

The women were swarmed around him as if he was doling out dollar bills on to the stage. Irish was gorgeous and all, but they were all standing around hanging on his every move waiting to be the chosen one. If they only knew; he had already made his intentions known.

None of you tricks will make it through the door to meet his mama. But hey do you chic.

Trust me, I was trying my hardest not look. But it was like driving upon an accident, I just couldn’t look away. Have they no shame; come on ladies, at least play a little hard to get. You all look silly fawning all over him. He’s not taking any of you seriously. Who wants what is offered so freely or easily handed to them.

Breathe. I didn’t understand why he was affecting like this. I’ve never been this boy crazy. Why do I care about who gets to meet his mama?

You care because you are judging them by the way you think that Irish has already judged you. He did have you ready to spread ‘em a few minutes ago. I reminded myself.

Irish…

Aargh!

-----------------------------------

The party was bumping and the guys were hot enough but my mind was still stuck on our steamy interlude.  My plan for the rest of the night was simple. I was going to flirt, tease and dance with every man that showed the slightest interest in me. All while avoiding him, for the rest of the night.

Simple, right?

Physically it should have been easy; but mentally, he was getting the best of me. He was eating up all the attention from those hussies; much to my annoyance. Sipping on the last of my cocktail, hoping that it would calm my crazy, I was surprised when the VIP hostess came over with bottle service for me. Grey Goose vodka, cranberry juice and Sprite.

Irish…

I knew that his eyes were on me. I felt it. I couldn’t stop thinking about his big hands and mouth roaming all over my body. But I couldn’t look over to him. I knew that I had to play this thing with Irish coolly, but it was hard. 

Damn you Irish for turning me into one of those crazy, insecure, sniveling female clichés. I am the wrangler damn it.

I felt…jealous, maybe disappointed? I’m not sure but I knew that I didn’t like what I was feeling. This was not me.  This was not the Ambrosine Hewitt that everyone knows. No. The wrangler wouldn’t go out like this. No. It is totally out of character for me to be so needy, so wonton, so reckless.

No. This is not me. This…this…is all, Evis. Ok, last one I swear.

Could this night get any worse? First, I let Pressley talk me into wearing this stupid angel costume and now I am shaking because I want to sleep Irish? Well not sleep, but…

I want him to want me, I need him to need me, I’m begging him to beg me…I’ll stop there. Cheap Trick doesn’t want me ruining one of their greatest hits.

I sighed, looking over to my friends who were all laughing at a story that Said was weaving. I have to go, I can’t stay here. Maybe I should just call it a night. I mumble to myself.

Shake it off. I tell myself. I can’t. My whole body throbbed recalling the way Irish rolled my nipples around his fingers. I practically let some random guy screw me in public and I loved it. I’ve never felt so alive, so wanted, so desired before. If he could make me feel that way with clothes on, can you imagine…

I wanted him. Really, wanted him. Damn it. If Irish had asked me to spread my legs, just then I probably would have. He gave me such a rush letting me rub my swollen kitty against his fat fingers, wet panties and all. I was practically begging him for relief and he was oh so willing to oblige me.

I cringed and wanted to kick myself, as I thought about how desperate I must have seemed to him.

Slut.

That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst part about our encounter for me was seeing the smirk on Irish’s face, once he realized how he was affecting me. He had me hot and bothered and ready to spread ‘em. Just like those other tramps who were previously glued to his side and he loved it.

I was going to change that. I had too. I was different from those chits.

Truthfully, I was feeling a little hurt that Irish didn’t even come over to talk with me or acknowledged what we shared, though.

I looked up and I saw him staring in my direction. He seemed to have put away his toys for the evening too; he was alone now, watching me.

Thank you, I mouthed to him taking a sip from glass.

He simply smiled and mouthed cheers darlin’ and raised his in return.

Rolling my eyes at this typical good ole southern cocky charm, I was forced to acknowledge that the attraction between us was real. I felt it when Irish touched me and I saw it in his eyes each time he looked at me. It was strong and neither of us could hide from it. I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do with it, yet.

Irish. I wanted him.

--------------------------------------

Maybe this is just a case of real intense lust. I’ve read stories about it. Right here on this site. Even after all of my crazy musings I had to admit that I still wanted him. Really wanted him. Even if he thought I was hot to trot.

 What was wrong with me? Get a hold of yourself, I screamed in my head. This isn’t lady like behavior, Ambi.

“I refuse to be fodder for boy’s night out.” I declared, tossing back another drink.

“What was that?” both Evis and Pressley asked at the same time. I was surprised that either of them was even paying attention to me now, since they had been so caught up with Said and Roman.

So now these wenches want to stop cheesing with the hotties to talk to me. Get back.

I mixed and then gulped down one more cocktail, waving off their questions. I swear that I’m not an alcoholic. I’m just frazzled.

My night could still be saved. I was going to have fun and not sit back and watch my friends play with their ken dolls or sit around hoping for a guy to come holla.

I am the wrangler damn it.

I don’t get played. I do the playing. I stood up to assess the situation. It was more, akin to scoping out a victim. I’m sorry guys, but someone has to pay for Irish’s crimes tonight.

Being without a man has never really bothered me. OK sometimes it bothers me.  Tonight, for example. I was painfully reminded that as much as I think that I have it going on, I’m still sitting here alone. Honestly, I like being in a relationship. I love companionship. I love doing things and going places with my guy. I love discovering new things with my guy. I love laughing with him, touching my guy and him touching me. I missed that…I missed sex. Real sex.

Damn I’m…horny. I’m sorry. Classy women are not supposed to speak like that. Even if it’s the truth. Don’t tell anyone, but I have been daydreaming about getting smashed to bits for the past few weeks; ok months.

Ladies, take my advice and stop wasting money on sex toys. I spent two bills on a triple motor platinum jack Rabbit, it should have kept my kitty from potentially getting juiced by a stranger in a night club, right? Instead it only made me long for that thing that I want more anything right now…to be on my back screaming for Irish to…

Stop it. Stop it right there.  Don’t act like I’m the only one who has ever spent over $100 on a toy.

Through the smiles, slight touches and flirty laughs, I managed to snag my fair share of numbers, dates and dances earlier.  Now, my plan was to go full steam ahead. Search, capture, and conquer a lion tonight. A mere distraction for the rest of the evening; fodder for my girls night out, later on.

I know that’s cruel but I was on the prowl now.

I was shaken from my thoughts when, Justin, Jason or something like that, came over and claimed his dance that I promised him earlier. I forgot about that, I made many promises, too many cuties.

‘J’ was a real cutie, though. I’m talking Jared Leto from My So called Life, cute, with the same dark hair and dazzling sky blue eyes. I asked him to unclip my wings so we could really have some fun. He did so, eagerly. I guess he thought he was in there.

I smiled. Men are so simple that way. It was all for naught, though. After that naughty make out session with Irish, these other guys didn’t have a prayer in hell.

Stop saying that I needed to let it go. If Irish was interested in more, he would be the one unclipping your wings right now.

Smoothing his hands down my back, Jaime whispered, “All eyes are on you tonight.” Jaime that was his name.

“You think so?” I asked coyly; already knowing the answer.

“I know it. These legs are insane.” For good measure he stopped moving, so that his eyes could travel their entire cocoa length.

“Thank you, handsome.” He was right. I was looking very good.

Fuck you very much, Irish. Take that, take that, take that.

-----------------------------------

We danced to quite a few tunes, laughed and talked. Jaime was a real sweet heart and funny. Basically we created our own private party on the dance floor. I closed my eyes and got lost in his arms. Why didn’t I dance with him earlier? If I had, I wouldn’t have spent half the night hungry for Irish.

“I think your plan is working.” Jaime observed.

I didn’t even notice that the music had changed from the upbeat tempo to a more chill vibe, until I opened my eyes and realized that fewer people were dancing around us, now. We were dancing front to back. His front was glued to my back.

It was nice. Seriously, if I had met him before I did, Irish, this would be a completely different story.

“What do you mean?” I asked casually.

Jaime was no fool. “Irish.” He pulled me even closer to his body and then flattened his palm against my stomach. “He hasn’t taken his eyes off you, since we started dancing. Are you two together?”

“No.” And that was the truth.

“Really? Hmmm, that’s odd, especially since he seems so intent on throwing daggers at me right, now.”

I wanted to look at Irish and see for myself. But I wouldn’t. “Everyone in here can clearly see that I have something he wants.”

“Strange…we’ve only just met through mutual friends, tonight.” I replied nonchalantly; though I was beaming inside.

I placed my hands on top of Jaime’s, which still rested on my upper abs and guided it down my stomach to sit on the waist band of my costume’s skirt.

How do you like those apples, Irish? That shoe on the other foot is feeling mighty tight right about now, huh?

Jaime bit my neck and laughed. “You’re so bad, you know that?” He knew exactly what I was doing. “I’ll play along, for now.”

He spun me around and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands were now just below my waist, not quite gripping my ass but not that far away from it either.  

“You’re too good for him, Ambi.”  Jaime uttered.

I was surprised at his words. Looking into his eyes, I saw the sincerity there. Where did that come from?

“So, you know Irish?”

“Who doesn’t?” Jaime replied.

I wanted to tell him, that I didn’t. “What do you know about him?”

“Enough.” He evaded. “I know that you deserve to be more than just his trophy for the night.” Out of nowhere he planted a kiss on my lips. Lips parted soft and warm, gentle; but no tongue. Nice. But that came from left field and left me a bit baffled.

“You truly are a prize, Ambi. That man should be chasing you and not the other way around.” I was confused by his statements and asked him what he meant by that and the kiss.

I didn’t know either of these men really, so what did it matter; this wasn’t anything serious. I was just having some fun, right?

Before he could answer, Irish was there and he was visibly pissed. “Let’s go.” He barked. Jaime slipped away before either of us could say anything to him.

Let’s go? Was he talking to me? Oh so now he’s talking to me.

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s go.” He repeated firmly.

“Go?” I asked. “Go where?”

Irish meant business and was pulling me off the dance floor, through the crowded lounge area and down a flight of stairs; before I knew what was happening. He was holding onto my arm tightly and I had no idea where we were going. We were moving through the crowds with such swiftness, that I had to focus on my movements just to keep pace with his steps. Still I managed to smile at all the dirty looks those hoochies were giving me once they realize that Irish had left them all hanging for me.

Take that, take that, take that mitches.

Finally, we were standing in front of this big metal door and he pushed it open into some type of parking garage. It must have been for the VIP valet. We valeted, but not in here. The man in black told Irish, that he would bring his car around in just a few seconds; without asking for a ticket or which car was his.

“Let go of me, you’re hurting my arm.” I quipped. More for my wounded pride from being shoved off the dance floor than any real pain in my arm.

He loosened the grasp he had on my arm and I started to walk away from him. Was he jealous of Jaime?

What the hell was that about?

In two quick strides, he was practically blocking my path. “I’m sorry, angel” He reached down and softly started to rub the arm that he may have bruised.

His touch had my stomach fluttering like crazy. I watched his hands massage my burning flesh as he lifted my arm to his perfectly shaped pink lips. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

He was kissing away the pain that he caused. “I’ll make it up to you, later. I promise.” His kisses moved up my forearm and traveled up to my neck.

I swear I wanted to melt right there on the pavement.

The sound of the valet pulling up to the curb, caused us to snap out of our trance. Stroking my cheek, he whispered, “Let’s go.”

He started moving but I stood fixed where I was. He may have had me under his spell, yes. But I don’t fold that easily, pretty boy.

“Where are we going?”

“Home.” Was Irish’s easy response.

Home? I am not one of his bimbo bitches. He just can point to me and say ‘you, me, fuck, now go.’ Again, who does he think he is?

“Home? Are you asking me or are telling me?”  I questioned. He didn’t respond, he only pulled a few bills out of his pocket, tipped the valet and opened the passenger side door.

“Get in the car, Ambi.” It wasn’t a request. It was an order.

“I’m not fucking you, Irish.” I firmly declared. Righteous indignation and all.

I don’t know why I said it; knowing good and well that I wanted that more than anything. But Irish had to learn that not every chic is that chic. Come on, he only paid for bottle service.  He didn’t buy me a condo or anything.

No. If he wants me to be with me, then he is going to have to work for it. I was standing firm on this one. With my hands at my waist, legs slightly parted and my breasts heaving, so that he could see just how serious I was about not fucking him.

Irish stood to his full height with his strong arms crossed over his taut chest, but didn’t say anything. Fire was building in his green pools that never left my questioning brown eyes. He looked me up and down, then slowly stalked over to me. His ears were fire engine red, and a little steam was shooting out of them. Ok, no steam, but he was hot.

Without uttering a word Irish grabbed me around my waist. My hands gripped his shoulders for support as my breasts smacked against his body. Take me now Irish, please.

He picked me up off the side walk and didn’t stop moving until he put me down next to his awaiting car. Irish opened the car door, pulled my body into his and murmured just low enough for my ears, “I swear if you beg me to fuck you one more time, Ambi, I am going to forget that you are a lady and that my momma raised me right. I will drag that sexy little ass of yours back into that club, find the nearest darkest spot inside and slide so deep into you, I guarantee you that you’ll choke on my cock. So unless you’re game, I suggest you get in the car.”

Did he just call me sexy, again? Work it, Ambi, work it.

My eyes fluttered in surprise at his words. No one has ever spoken to me like that. So forcefully, decidedly, so boldly. My nipples tightened against his body and my kitty was now officially over heated.  His voice alone makes me want to do naughty nasty things with him.

For some reason, I wasn’t moving, though. He held the car door open, still challenging me not get in. I wasn’t sure if I should go off with him. I didn’t want him to think that I was an easy conquest.

I don’t why I cared what he thought; I just did. I know. I was sending him conflicting messages. A few minutes ago I was sure of what I wanted. Now...

He was becoming impatient as I hesitated. What was my problem?

“You know what, don’t get in.” Slamming his car door he walked away muttering something and then turned around and came back to me. His nostrils flared and there was a visible tick in his jaw. His eyes were stone cold and fixed on mine. “I don’t have a problem fucking you, right here. Right. Here. On the hood of my car; right now.….”

Was this a joke? He’s testing me, perhaps? This must have been his version of a Chipotle test?  I passed that one, also. I love Chipotle.

Was he serious? My body started tingling and then shuddered at the possibility. Searching his face for a hint of mirth, I could easily see that Irish was serious. His eyes said as much. I saw the same lust brewing in his, as I was sure quite evident in my own. My eyes slid from his, over to where the valet was standing and then back to the hood of his car. I was envisioning if we would get away with it.

Irish could smell the lust gushing from my pores and easily read the crazy in my eyes; because he asked, “You’d like that, too? Wouldn’t you?”

My body fully processed his question as my heart rate speed up. My kitty was throbbing uncontrollably. I wanted to rip off our clothes right there and tell him to do it. I’ve never had public sex before. He could get it right now, if that’s what he wanted.

Slowly I nodded yes. What can I say? I really was feenin’ for a taste of his pink meat. If he was going to put it out there, then….

Pulling me towards him, he hugged me tightly as his mouth found mine. I kissed him back urgently, ravenously, desperately. His hands began kneading my ass cheeks and I felt his heat grind against me. 

Yes, yes, yes.

Suddenly he picked me up and carried me to the front of the car. He stopped kissing me only long enough to push me back onto the hood. My back flattened against the warm metal as Irish nudged my legs apart.

His actions jolted me from my fantasies. He was for real. Irish was real. This was real. He wasn’t playing around. 

Damn. This was happening for real, like in one of those trashy stories you’ve read on Literotica. I know you peep those stories too.

“Irish, what the hell are you doing?” I cried trying to get up. But his hefty paw on my stomach, kept me glued in place.

He didn’t have to answer me. The huge bulge in the front of his jeans was all the reply I needed.

 “This is what you want, right?” he asked as his fingers traced the edge seam of my wet panties; intending to slide them to the side.

“Irish wait…” I looked over to see if the valet was watching us. He was.

The valet wasn’t shy about wanting to watch the free show that we were about to put on. He was grinning, like he’d found money on the street.

Wow. I thought that shit only happened in clips on Youporn. Hey, don’t judge me. Porn has helped me get through my drought.

“No, wait…Irish.” I pleaded as he began unbuckling his jeans and moved so that his body was on top of mine.

Get a hold of yourself damn it!

Irish…

Being horny was making me stupid and reckless. What am I doing? I asked myself. I’m an attorney with a reputation to maintain for fucks sake. Here I am laying on some guys hood, acting like a $20 ho on the stroll; for real.

Alas, common sense kicked in. “Irish. Stop. Please.”

He didnt even flinch. He was off my body within seconds. What the hell was I thinking? I was shaking. Not from fear but because I was seriously wanting to go there with him.

I lay on the hood to catch my breath, while Irish fixed his clothes.

Stupid, proper, upbringing; always rearing its ugly head when I am prepared to do something foolish. Not really, y’all. I got scared. The wrangler punked out. I’m a fraud. I guess I’m not as ride or die as I think I am.

“Stop playing games, Ambi. Just say it. Tell me what you want.” Irish muttered, tucking his shirt back into his jeans. “For an attorney you seem to have a serious problem communicating to me exactly what it is that you want from me. If you want to act like a hooker, I’ll treat you like one. But I think that we both know that’s not who you are.”

Oh no he didn’t just call me out like that.

He wasn’t looking at me. Irish had also been watching me all night long. He was perceptive enough to call me on my bullshit and I was being too arrogant to see that there was more to him, than what I thought.

Oh god, I wanted him even more.

“I’ll make this easy for you. Get in the car, so that I can drive you home or say ‘good night Irish’ and I’ll have Carlos call someone to escort you back up to your friends. Either way, I am getting in my car and leaving, no more games. Which is it going to be? ” he asked; finally looking over to me, still sprawled out on the hood of his car.

Too stunned to utter a response to his directive, I did what any other self-respecting female would have done in my situation.

I took the hand that he held out to help me off the hood of his car, got into the passenger side seat and didn’t utter a single word until he asked me for my address to put in the GPS.

Our little cat and mouse game was officially over for the night.

It was time put up or shut up.

By getting into Irish's car, I had just agreed to put out.

 

CHAPTER 3

Ok, I was really nervous about this. Sex with a stranger is taboo for me. I don’t sleep around.  Not that there is anything wrong with that. If that’s your thing, enjoy a round for me and be safe.

I mean I’m no prude or anything, but I’ve never ever had a one night stand. Maybe a three or four dates stand. Ok not even then. Like I said, I’m a relationship girl.

I’ll admit that I’ve always been curious about the experience, though. How do you navigate, I’ve just met you, let’s have sex, and never call me again? That seems a bit overwhelming to me; coupled with the voices of both my grandmother and mother warning me to keep my legs closed, it is downright scary.

Just for one night, this night though, I was going to cover my ears and throw caution to the wind. For once this single girl wants to enjoy being single, with this gorgeous man and whatever happens, happens. Right? What’s the harm? 

The harm was exactly that. How easily I was able to push all of my rational thoughts to the back of my mind with him. Irish had my thoughts in a complete jumbled, tangled mess. Like being tangled in the sheets; hot, sweaty and moaning for more. Damn it, calm down girl.

Irish adjusted the volume on the music from the steering wheel; it was then that I realized that he was driving a Bentley. I don’t notice things like that, initially. I’m not that girl, either. But damn, this was a freaking Bentley.

I studied his face for familiarity but come up with nothing. Color me curious, but he has to be earning some serious cash to be able to zoom around in a car like this. This is a custom build. Irish is too tall  to simly drive a regular car off of the showroom floor. I may not be a car freak, but I know that this is more than a quarter million dollars that we’re cruising in. Cool.

This was a first for me. Though, I’m an attorney, I am not rolling in the dough; yet. So this luxury whip has me a bit awe-struck. I’m the girl who stills putters around in the same Lexus SUV that her parents bought for her high school graduation present. I know it’s a Lexus; not exactly cheap, right? My parents insisted that I would need a car that would carry me straight through college and it did; and then straight on to this day.

My parents, I love them. My dad Ambrose, is a Provost of an HBCU and my mom, Katherine is an interior designer. I love my mom and dad; they are both smart and practical people. That’s where I got my good sense from. At least I usually have good sense. For some reason, I lost it somewhere between my townhouse’s doorstep and the club entrance, tonight.

Damn…It was dark. Really dark. I kept looking out of the window, wondering why it was so freaking dark. No moon, no stars in the sky to be seen.  Was this even the way home?  This didn’t look like the way that I take to get home, from Buckhead.

My heart started beating really fast. And then the crazy thoughts started running a marathon in my head. What if Irish was some freaking psycho into real kinky stuff? Wait, wait, wait…serial killers don’t drive uber expensive sports cars, right?

You are a lawyer damn it; you know that the average criminal is not the scary psycho cat that is always depicted in movies. He’s the nice looking husband wanting to hide assets from the wife, right before he is going to divorce or worse kill her; or the earth friendly CEO who is always trying to skirt labor laws to earn higher profits; the charming senator trying to fight his ethics violations, while repeatedly being arrested for solicitation. Ted Bundy seemed ‘normal’.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I chided myself. You’ve watched enough Criminal Minds and Dexter to know that most serial killers appear to be just as normal as you do. Duh!

I kept looking over at Irish, but he only kept his eyes on the road. He still had yet to utter a word to me since we left the parking garage at ‘420’. Now I’m really getting scared, what the hell am I doing?

I don’t know anything about this guy.  Besides the fact that one, he’s a friend of a guy, Evis has known for about a week. Ok, not a week but not really that long.

Damn it Ambi, you know that most of Evis’ friends are almost always never on the up and up. You know better! Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Two, I made out with him in public. Twice. But he cared enough about my welfare that he offered to drive me home. At least I think that he is taking me home. To my house. Where I live. So if he doesn’t kill me tonight, he can swing by tomorrow and do it.

Oh god, oh god. I chant in my head, over and over. I’m freaking out big time. Calm down Ambi, I shouted to myself. But the crazy voices in my head just kept throwing stuff out there.

What the hell was I thinking? That’s just it, I wasn’t thinking. My lonely pussy was doing all thinking for me until this moment. Why didn’t I just have a friend with benefits, like everyone else in the office?

Monday, note to self: work on finding a suitable friend with benefits partner to avoid this, from ever happening again. If I live.

Just then Irish brushed his hand along my bare thigh, causing me to jump slightly at the contact. I looked over at him. His eyes met mine. I breathed a sigh of relief. I didn’t recognize anything crazy in them. Wait, wait, wait…what the hell was I looking for?  Who am I to judge Crazy?

I was taking a stranger home for sex, too. I wanted this and not another night with my toys. Though, I had been fighting it for the better part of 2 hours, I wanted to feel Irish’s body nestled next to mine, slamming into mine, heating mine, beating mine.

My thoughts where broken when Irish, still caressing my thigh suggested, “You should text your friends to let them know that I took you home.”

OK. So that’s not your typical serial killer behavior. A serial killer wouldn’t remind you to let someone know that you left with a stranger. But damn, Irish has me thinking crazy.

I pulled my phone from my wristlet and sent the same message to both Evis and Pressley. Needless to say, they were both shocked to read that I left with Irish. They both wanted to talk, but I told them that now wasn’t the best time but I promised to give them full details tomorrow. A few seconds later, they both sent me smiley faces in return.

What the hell was I doing?  

Hopefully in a matter of minutes, Irish.

-------------------------

I was nervous when we finally arrived at the gates of my townhouse community. I handed Irish the pass key to swipe us in. He followed my directions to my unit and surprised me when he parked in front of my main door and not pulled into vacant garage spot next to my Lexus.

Irish killed the engine, unbuckled his seat belt and started to open his door.

“Why are you parking here?” I asked, “You can park inside my garage.”

“That’s not necessary.” He replied, “I am only walking you to your front door.”

“You’re not staying?”

“Nope….” Was his curt response.

This delicious fruit was in my grasp and instead of gently plucking it from the low hanging branch, I may have ended up squashing it in my grubby little fingers.

Please, please, please, angels in the heavens above; don’t let my fantasy man walk away from me.

“Why? I thought…”

“So did I; but you’re not ready to face this….this thing between us.”

Dear lord, what was he saying? In my mind I was already on my back; sweating, screaming, begging Irish for more. I started panicking.

“Yes, I am. Irish…”

“No. You’re not. You talk a good game, Ambi. But…” I cut him off.

This was going down. I didn’t want sex with the rabbit tonight. I wanted him. I needed him.

“Irish, I know that my behavior earlier was a bit odd; but I promise you that I’m usually not like that. I wasn’t sure about us earlier but now, I truly want this.”

“Listen Ambi, I am a man, not a boy. You don’t ever have to play games with me. You can tell me no and I can deal with that. But what I can’t deal with is all this back and forth. If you are who I think you are, then I know that you’re much smarter than that.” His eyes were filled with such genuineness that I regretted acting so nutty earlier.

“I know.” I whispered. “It’s just that tonight that you stirred up so many feelings in me that I didn’t know how to…”

"Ambi..."

“I am supposed to be this badass lawyer ‘the wrangler’, ok;  a serious hard ass, ball buster and man eater. You stirred something deep within me and no matter how I tried to clear my head and shake you off, you were still there. Tonight, you reminded me that most of all I am a woman. A lonely, horny woman;  who loved being caressed by your eyes, your mouth, and your hands. I usually have men tripping over themselves to get to me, but for the first time in my life, you had me drunk with lust wanting you; and as a control freak it scared me because, I’ve never surrendered to a man’s charms before now and I didn’t expect for me to yield to your prowess, so easily. When I saw you, my first thought was that I wanted to wrap my legs around your waist and succumb to your every whim. I got scared because I wanted, needed, desperately to be with you and that was way out of character for me. This was the first time that I’ve ever considered being intimate with anyone who I wasn’t in a relationship with. I…I didn’t want you to think that I was some slut who sleeps around with a guy she doesn’t even know. I don’t know why I care, what you think; but I do. I just couldn’t go out like that.”

I know, I know….that was one long rambling fest. What can I say…I was a wee bit tipsy. Ok maybe a little drunk; but I swear to you all that I am an exceptional litigator; normally. I'm just a little lust drunk.

Irish didn’t say anything. In fact, I don’t even think his eyes blinked. He just continued to stare at me; blankly.

“If any of this makes sense to you, just nod your head. I am usually more articulate than this; but alas, Irish, you have rendered me tongue tied and stuck on stupid tonight.” I yammered on. “I…”

“You made us endure this whole cat and mouse game because you had to keep it real?” Irish started. “Ambi…” Then stopped; taking in and then expelling a deep breath. Causing that barrel chest of his to expand to its maximum.

I can wait for him to crush me. I hope that he still wants to crush me. I want this so badly; I want him so badly.

“I knew it…” he chuckled to himself. “Come here.” Taking my hands off of my lap he kissed them.

“Knew what….” I asked curiously.

“I suspected that you would be high maintenance, high-strung, spoiled even. But I knew with all certainty, that you would be highly intelligent and a tad bit neurotic.” Irish teased, nibbling on my fingers. “The beautiful ones, almost always are.” He laughed.

“Irish! I’m not…” 

“Yes you are darlin’. You’re a quart short of a gallon of crazy and I think that it’s cute.” He kissed, teasingly; still laughing. “in a hot  for a crazy chick kinda way.”

“Irish! That’s not funny…stop laughing at me.” He only laughted harder. I couldn't help but join in his laughter.

"Stop it..." He eventually did stop; to look into my eyes.

For half a second I still saw some hesitation there as he stared at me. I couldn’t blame him after the emo obstacle course I made him run through tonight. But Irish, is a trooper. I know that he still wants to play; so I am going to make it easier for him.

“I may not know a whole lot about you, but I know that you aren’t a slut, Ambi.” He reassured, “Though, I have no qualms with sluts, some nights I even welcome them to…” he joked.

“Irish, don’t make laugh any more …” his grin was tickling my naughty bits.

“Laughing is good, darlin’; having fun is good; enjoying each other sexually is good. That’s what I was trying to get you to understand, it’s really not that complicated, Ambi.” he emphasized, by placing my hands on his stiffness, for good measure. “I was ready to give that to you hours ago. I told you that. I told you, I was all yours tonight. I wasn’t joking when I told you that I wanted you. And I certainly wasn’t judging you for wanting me too.” He smiled.

Damn that smile, perfect pearly white; gorgeous pink lips. Damn you Irish for making me want you even more now; than I did 10 minutes ago.

Why did he do that? Why did he say that? It only caused me to conjure up the moment when he would part my thighs and claim his prize.

“I...I.” he silenced me, to finish his thought. “We are adults, Ambi. Two very attractive people, who are drawn to each other; we should want to explore, invade, conquer and fuck each other; it’s quite natural. There is nothing wrong with that; in my mind, it’s just that simple. But it seems that’s it isn’t for you, so we’ll just  say goodnight.”

Hearing him say it, it really did sound that simple. “Is it?...that simple?”                                             

“For me, yes. For you….” Irish softened, taking my hand into his. I almost melted. “I had every intention of devouring you tonight. I still want too. But, you are not sure about this, no pressure. I’ll walk you to your door, kiss you goodnight and that will be the end of it.”

Opening his door, he stepped out into to the cool night air; it woke me up. I watched him walk around to my side of the car. Irish was right. It was that simple. We were both adults, who wanted to explore each other and there was nothing wrong with that.

He opened my door to help me out of the car, and as he held my hand he said this, “You are too passionate a woman to keep it under wraps, Ambi. Don’t ever be afraid to be who you are; soft, feminine, passionate, and strong; or live in fear of what others will think of you. It will leave you frustrated and it will drive you crazy, darlin’.”

I was frustrated and I hope that he was game to bear the brunt of all my sexual frustrations.  “Irish, I don’t want to say goodnight; don’t leave.” I blurted out. “Devour me.”

He stared down into my eyes. Slowly his arms circled my waist; his hands slid down to my ass cheeks, gripping them in his paws.

He grinned, “Now, that’s what I wanted to hear, from the moment I laid eyes on you, Ambi." I gasped when I felt his heavy paw swat my butt. "You kept me hard all night; you’re going to pay for that.”

Mmmm Irish…

------------------------------

I was a cornered female in heat about to be devoured by an alpha on the hunt. I gulped down another glass of water as Irish stood there and watched. As he watched me, it was if he could read my thoughts. My wild lust, that’s what he called it; needed to be shared. More specifically it should be shared with him, tonight. I smiled.

“I’ve been thinking about this, you, all night.” He took the empty glass out of my hands to stop me from refilling it yet, again. “Quit stalling.”

Good thinking. I hate having to stop you know what for a bathroom break. Especially, when it’s getting good. Something tells me that Irish is going to be great!

He went in for a kiss. A real kiss, deep but not demanding.  Finally. I was allowing myself to completely surrender to his charms. He sensed it too, but Irish was much too skilled a conqueror, to pounce on me before he thought that I was absolutely ready. 

 “All night? You could have fooled me earlier; with your harem and all.” Sorry. I couldn’t help myself.

Irish paused and then laughed, “That was business.”

“Sluts are your business?” I asked, running my hands up and down his chest.

He laughed harder, and then he sniffed me. “Jealousy actually smells quite nice on you.”

“Me, jealous? Never.” I rolled my eyes as I protested; weakly. Much to his amusement.

“Yes you, jealous. From the moment you saw me with those ladies.” He smirked, pulling me closer to him. “You went from hot cocoa to green in 10 seconds. It was cute.”

“People in glasses houses, Irish.” I kissed him. “That’s all I’m going to say.”

“I’ve never had anything or anyone to be jealous of.”

“Really? That’s why you lost your shit, when you saw me dancing with Jaime.”

Irish stopped nuzzling my neck and then broke out into a thunderous laugh. My eyebrow shot up at that. It wasn’t that damn funny.

“Jealous?” Irish laughed, “Of Jaime?”

“You think that I was jealous of that kid? He continued laughing, “I am here with you, now. Where is he?”

I didn’t say anything.  

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought.” He whispered, planting kisses along my shoulders.

His kisses travelled up my neck from my shoulders, meandering long my jawline until his lips were crushed against mine. Our kisses grew from light and whispery to urgent and furious. The anticipation of our tango finally moving horizontally was causing some serious heat between us. Irish leaned into my body, parted my thighs and nestled his body there. Pulling me to the edge of the counter, he was pushing me toward the brink of madness.

“I only got jealous when he kissed your sweet lips.” Irish revealed, as we came up from air. “These were mine to kiss all night.”

I smiled. No, I grinned. I knew he that he was jealous. I’m the Wrangler, Damn it! “I knew it…”

He smiled at me as his lips moved to meet mine again. His hands were gliding up and down my back; stopping intermittingly to squeeze my ass or to caress my inner thighs. He stopped to unhook my bra and toyed with breasts, telling me that touching my delicious body was making him harder. Feeling his crotch, grind against mine,  I can’t tell you how many times Irish had me on the cusps of euphoria.  It surprised me how easily we maneuvered from playfulness to full on faux fucking in minutes. I loved it.

Laughing, kissing and teasing me, he took my breath away. I found myself pulling away from his kisses to simply control my breathing.

“Tell me what you want Ambi.” Irish asked taking off of his shirt and tossing it on the back of the bar stool.

Finally, I got to see what was under that white tee. I couldn’t help but run my hands along his solid pecs. Solid marble was more like it. Rippling muscles and a splatter of light hairs completed the canvas. Damn. I wanted to do nasty naughty things just to his chest. I was reaching for his belt buckle, when he swatted my hands, “Ah, not so fast greedy. We have all night remember?”

I ignored him. I was letting go. Just like he said I should do. No more holding back for me. I kept my eyes on his, as I unbuckled his jeans. I slipped my hands into his boxers to seek out his eagerness. He didn’t stop me. He only watched me. His breath hitched when my warm hands gently massaging his stiffness.

Without even looking at it, I could feel that it was everything that I hoped it was. Thick, heavy, and pulsating. It was jumping in my hands.

“Ambi…” Irish growled, feeling my hands slide up and down his slick length. “You still have not told me what you want?”

“This….” I reiterated as I gripped his steel tighter in my hands.

I squealed, when he scooped me up off the counter and into his arms. We started kissing again urgently, breaking away only once as Irish asked, “Where is your bedroom?”

“Up the stairs and to the left.” I replied breathlessly.

I crossed my fingers and silently prayed that it was one of those times that Pressley’s OCD kicked in and worked to my advantage. We were such a hurry to leave that we were moving like a whirlwind in the bathroom and in my closet. I honestly don’t remember if Press, who is a neat freak, went on the rampage and straightened up my room before we left.

You know how it is ladies, when you didn’t plan on bringing anyone home.

Irish…

 ----------------------------------------

Irish pushed open my legs, admiring my neatly trimmed fur lined kitty. At least I think that he was admiring it. He was just staring at it.

Yes, I rock fur there. I read somewhere that men actually like peach fuzz. They find it utterly feminine and it makes your lips look fuller; which is a real turn on for them.

“Damn…Ambi.” He drawled, running his fingers along my fuzzy, moist seam. "This is one pretty pussy."

My cheeks pinked at his compliment. See, he liked it.

Staring into his bright green eyes, I was quivering just from that one stroke of his thick finger. He had me moaning and practically running from this sweet agony. But it was for naught, he wasn’t letting me go. Not now; not anymore to tonight.

He kept alternating between grabbing my sweetness in his paws and then separating my swollen lower lips. His perusal was a bit rougher than I was used to but I welcomed it. He was making me so damn wet, just from his teasing.

“You smell delicious. Sweet. Can I kiss you here?” Irish asked. Still running his fingers along my dripping slit.

I looked at him in surprise at his question but nodded yes. Yes. Irish had rendered me mute. Each time that I opened my mouth to say the words only a moan would trickle out.

Irish sank down on to his knees; his big hands caressed my thighs. Parting them, “Gorgeous…these legs are so damn sexy.” he slowly placed kisses along the length of each of my legs before placing each one over his broad shoulders.

His fingers found their way between my slick folds. “God…Ambi, that is so beautiful.” He hissed, “My favorite combination, all that pretty hot pink hidden behind that rich cocoa brown. “So beautiful; so wet.”

I arched off the bed immediately when I felt his thick fingers play in my wetness. He teased my pearl with his tongue, as he plunged his thick fingers deeper into my liquid heat.  I couldn’t help the scream that escaped my lips at his sweet invasion or the mini tremor that followed.

Irish’s eyebrow shot up as he felt my tightness suck his digits deeper into my body.“You must want me really, really, badly.”

He had no idea, how much I wanted him. No, needed him at that moment.

“I do….” I managed to breathe out. Rocking my hot, wet, pink, against his mouth and fingers.  

“You taste so damn good.” Irish groaned as his hot tongue traced my quivering nether lips.

His pleasuring me with his tongue, in essence was showing me, preparing me, for what was to come. I pushed my heat up to meet his urgency as my fingers gripped his hair. My legs tighten around his head, trapping his mouth where I wanted it the most.

I couldn’t get enough of his oral indulgence. He’s good. He’s damn good. 

“Irish…”

Sensing that I was about to explode, Irish slowly withdrew his fingers and began to tease me with his tongue. That only caused my body to spasm even more. Irish showed me no mercy as he attacked my now dripping core with such fervor, that my breathing became shallow and my body sizzled in anticipation of my orgasm.

My once soft whimpers now grew in pitch to loud pleas for release, warning him  that I was about to explode.  His hands swept up to tug on my nipples which caused me to scream out my much needed orgasm.

My body shivered from the much needed release while Irish’s mouth stayed glued between my thighs as I rode the last waves of ecstasy.

“Good cum, baby?” he murmured; raising his face soaked with my juices, from my hot spot.

“Damn good.” I uttered, damn near breathlessly; flopping down flush, onto the bed.

He had me in a trance already and he still had not yet devoured me.

Whew!

Irish.

----------

I was lying on the bed, propped up on my elbows, watching Irish fully undress.  He was so eager to get his face between my legs that he never took off his jeans.  But he called me greedy; at least he managed to kick off his boots earlier.

He knew that I was watching him undress; I think he liked it too. Of course he did. He’s a sexy freak.

Every inch of him screamed that he was all man.  It was as if he was molded from clay or carved from the finest Italian marble. The center of his body rippled with strength and masculinity; the perfect accompaniment to his massive thighs and chiseled calves. And those arms…swoon.

The sight of Irish’s incredible sculpted golden body was mesmerizing.  Heat immediately flooded my hot spot as my eyes perused every inch of his amazing profile. He clearly worked hard at taking care of his temple and I for one greatly appreciated his efforts. It should be a sin for a man to be that damn sexy.  He was absolute perfection. I am serious.

Tugging his silky boxers down by the sides, Irish slowly revealed his stiffness that had been begging for my attention all night. His now rose tinted steel stood out against his dark blonde bush. His heat slapped his rock solid belly upon its release and I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped my lips at the sound it made.

He grinned, loving my reaction to his nakedness. See. He’s an exhibitionist. Of course he is, he was about to smash me on the hood of his car. Damn he’s hot.

He was enjoying watching me, watch him. He started stroking his stiffness and cupping his hefty balls for my pleasure. My breath quicken and my body tightened as I watched his rod change from dusty rose to a pale purple; his paws gripped and tugged on his swollen flesh in response to my not so subtle moans of appreciation.

Watching him was making me so damn wet. Damn this girl is on fi-ire!

I’ve never had a lover masturbate in front of me before. Especially not for my pleasure.  Damn, where has this man been hiding?

Irish can only be best described as an absolute dream; a wet dream, my dream.

No scratch that, this man is porn. My porn. The really good porn. Not the silly flix attempting a story line and plot. No the good flix, where it’s all sex from start to finish. Like the flix starring Mike Stefano. And if you don’t know who he is…Google him!

“Your arm must be getting tired, let me do that for you.” I offered biting my lip, while my fingers found their way to my slit. I was yearning for him to touch me with that massive tool and I was quickly losing my resolve to wait for him.

“You can play with it later.” He said; slowly making his way back over to the bed, never taking his beautiful jade eyes off of me.

The look in his eyes promised that I wasn’t going to be disappointed. My fingers were brushing furiously over my protruding bud. I wished that he would just hurry up and devour me, already. 

I know, what a complete 180 from a few hours ago, right?

His eyes zeroed in on my kitty. “Right now the only thing I want, is that.”

Irish put his hands on my legs, pushed them apart and began licking the sweet stickiness that he left pooled on my thighs and the fresh drops, clinging to my drenched fingers.

“So sweet….” He murmured, between licks.

I could barely breathe, all I did was feel. Feel his tongue dragging against my heated flesh. Feel his fingers tickle my legs. Feel rivulets of pleasure gush through my body.

His thumbs parted my engorged lips as he blew on my nub.  “I could eat your honey all night.”

All right, now. I don’t know any woman who doesn’t love a man who can eat cake all night, right?

 “I want you dripping, Ambi….” He whispered, between licks and soft bites of my velvety folds. “That’s the only way I’m going to fit, darlin’.”

My head was swimming and I was feeling dizzy. “Ohhh god…” I screamed, when Irish practically swallowed my pussy whole; again.

“I…I…” Multiple orgasms had me mumbling incoherently. Yes, lawd; they do exist.

Irish…mmmm.

--------------------

Pushing me flat back onto the bed, Irish was making it very clear that I was in for a rough ride, a very rough ride. I inched closer to the headboard and spread my legs for him to see the affect that he was also having on me also. Irish stared at what I was offering him, as he rolled his condom on to cover his length.

This was it. My clitty was beating fast and furiously and I was dripping on to the sheets. No more living vicariously through Evis’ sexploits or porn. I was ready.

Let’s get it on….

Finally. Irish’s massive muscled body was hovering over me; as he teased me with his turgid tip. Up and down, back and forth, he moved. In, but only allowing me a small taste. Just from the sample, I already knew that he was delicious.

“This was where I wanted to be, the minute that I saw you tonight." He rasped in my ear. “Buried, in your sweetness. Trapped between these gorgeous legs.”

Mmmm, Irish. Keep talking.

The firmness of his body was so hot on top of me, that it was enough to ignite the eternal sensual flame that had been snuffed out in my body. This was what I missed the most about not having a man in my life. A strong, warm, body on top of me; teasing me, teaching me, crushing me.

His tip slipped through my once locked gates but he didn’t force his way in. Irish groaned at the greeting he received by my welcoming committee. “Fuck…” Irish muttered softly, “…you are so hot, wet…god you’re tight.”

My heat, snugness and nectar had been waiting to invite him in all night; though they were acting all shy earlier.  Now, they were all ready to greet him as he entered the bliss I kept hidden between my legs.

“Ambi?” Irish breathed out shakily. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Was he serious? He asked me this already? Of course I wanted to do this. That’s why he was here. That’s why we were doing our little dance earlier. That why he’s naked, with his fat tip pushed into me.

“Yes, I want you.” I panted. “You know I do.”

He kissed my lips and then adjusted himself on top of me. Pushing into me, only slightly. He stopped himself, again. “You can tell me no, right now and…”

“Irish, I want this; I want you.”

Still, he only continued to tease me with his swollen tip as his kisses dotted my hairline. My nipples grew tighter brushing against his chest hair. The friction was sending a direct message to my kitty.

Get it, get it, get it, girl.

I was so lost in the building sensation of our bodies sweetly assaulting each other, that I almost didn’t hear his question.

“How long has it been, Ambi?” I looked up at him in surprise. “How long?” he repeated.

How did he know? I was stunned that he would even care about that, at this moment.  “3…3 years.” I stuttered; lost in his emerald gaze.

The way Irish was now looking into my eyes and touching me, reveal all that I needed to know about his character. I had prejudged him; miss judged him. I almost missed out on this moment with him because I thought I knew who he was. I was wrong about him. He’s a sweetheart.

“Damn, you really are an angel.” He joked; alternating between teasing my nipples and kissing my neck. “As much as I want to, as much as I want you…we don’t have to do this tonight; if that’s what you want.” He offered, sliding slightly off my body so that his weight was not crushing me.

The fact that he was so concerned about my feelings of possible regret, his words offering to stop at this very moment, gave me more security and tenderness than any hug from a previous lover ever did.

“No…” I yelled. Much louder than was necessary. We are so doing the damn thing. “I want it, please Irish…”

“You want it, huh?” he teased;playfully nudging my legs further apart.

“Yes…” I hissed as he flexed his hips, slowly inching deeper into my wetness.

“Say it.” He commanded as his tongue met my nipples again.

“Irish...please.” I begged, surprising myself. I’ve never begged a man before. “I want you…”

“No…I want to hear you say the words.” I knew what he wanted to hear; he wasn’t going to make this easy for me.

I hesitated only for a second before I wrapped my legs around his waist, “Fuck me, Irish…” I whispered.

“Damn right, I’m going to fuck you.” In one hard thrust, he buried himself in me.

He knocked the wind out of me with that stroke. Literally. Yes, he did.  He pushed so greedily into my depths that I felt his thickness tap against my stomach. I swear, I’m not joking. Ok maybe not my stomach, but he damn sure touched something that no other man had.

It was exhilarating and I started trembling just from that initial joining of our sexes. “Perfect…” Irish moaned, repeatedly with one of my nipples still trapped in his mouth. 

Giving me time to adjust to his invasion, he didn’t move; but continued teasing me. “Ambi, this first time is for you. So I’ll try to be gentle and take it easy on you. After that, it’s all for me. I won't be gentle; I'm going to ride your pussy...hard, for the rest of the night.” He promised.

The way he drawled the words he spoke made my pearl jump and wetness flood my shallow pool even more.  Side note, who asked him to take it easy?

Pulling off my legs that were wrapped around his waist, Irish grabbed my ankles and began rocking his length into me; fucking me slowly but deep.

“Think you can handle that?” he asked, stroking deeper.

“Yes…”

“All night?”

Irish meant what he said earlier, he had picked me to be his fuck of the night. At first I was annoyed at his gall, but now. Now, he was giving it to me so good, that I was high fiving myself. He felt incredible moving in my body.

I was one lucky bitch. Go me!

“Yes, Irish. All night. Don’t stop.”  I begged. “I want to feel you pounding into me, until I pass out.”

Is that me? I never talk like that during sex. It has to be the sex spell that Irish cast on me earlier.

Irish slammed into me harder, causing me to scream. Loudly. Real loudly. I was so thankful for the first time in months that the townhouse next door was still vacant.

Tonight, I was his for the taking. He knew it too; he said as much. “I knew your pussy was going to be good, as soon as those beautiful brown legs step on to the stairs.”

He caught me off guard, with that. I smiled at him and blushed a little. His hands moved to wipe my damp strands off my face as I struggled to catch my breath. Irish slowed down his frenzied pace only to smother me with kisses.

My body was on fire from each stroke, touch, kiss, that Irish gave me; the more he offered, the more I wanted. Gripping his length as hard as I could with my inner muscles, Irish threw his head back, slamming his hips into me with everything he had.

“That’s my slutty little angel, taking all of me so sweetly.” He whispered on my lips. “Your pussy is so juicy, Ambi.”

I gushed just from his whispered words alone. I was smiling so hard…inside of course. I couldn’t let Irish know that he was still winning.

He had me pinned to the mattress but he wasn’t moving. I could feel him purposefully trying to gain some control. He wanted me to be completely satisfied before he peaked.

What an incredible considerate lover. He can get it again. And again, and again….

“Do it Irish.” I whimpered and wriggled beneath him to sate the ache that was slowly building; again.  He rocked into my wetness but with calm, unhurried strokes and buried his face into my neck.

“Let that first one go, lover.” I begged, “So that you can fuck my pussy all night… just like you promised.”

He didn’t need to hold back, just for me. It was going to be on ‘till the break of dawn.

Raising his head off of my neck and shoulders slightly, he grinned at me. Easing his weight off my body, he untangled my legs from around his waist. “Are you begging for my cum?”

I didn’t answer him. I simply clenched at his stiffness and moaned at the implication.

Irish grabbed me at my waist and pulled me so that my ass was now resting on his thighs. He parted my legs so that the right one was on the bed, but the left was hooked over his shoulder. He had me on display again for his pleasure.

Without offering another word, he began slamming into me with more demanding strokes.  The visual of watching his incredible full length disappear into my body caused me to quiver in pleasure. His thickness, I’m sure could slice me in two.

Irish…

“You want it, huh?” Irish taunted; keeping up his manic assault as I begged him for his essence. “You...greedy little cum slut.”

I don’t know why it was so important to me, for him to orgasm just then, but I needed it to happen. I guess I needed to feel it, to know that he was just as stupefied about our instant attraction as I was. I’d never experience anything so electrical, so magical before. And I certainly had never ever lost myself in a man like this. I needed to know that he was feeling this connection as much as I was.

His pace softened at my urgent pleas for his release. “I’m not ready to cum, just yet Ambi. But I want you to, over and over.” He kissed me a little rough at first, biting my mouth and then gently, caressing it with his tongue.

As I began to move in time with his rhythm, he slowly he stroked into me, “I need to know that I am giving you the best lovin’, darlin’.”

There he goes in that southern drawl that makes me so ready to…well you already know. I’m here naked with him.

“Irish…” I cried, pushing my wet slit up to meet every stroke. “…you are; you know you are.”

“I won’t stop, until you pass out Ambi; I promise.”  He vowed, pulling completely out of my body, and then slamming back in; repeatedly.

“Ohhh, god…” I cried, reeling from yet another orgasm.

“Not god...” He reminded, still grinding on top of me. “Irish.” He was a wicked one.

Irish….mmmm.

I followed his eyes and roaming hands past my breast and belly, down below my waist. I watched, then shivered as Irish parted my slicked nether lips and massaged his thick thumb up and down against my puffy pearl, over and over; until my whole body began to shake. Never in my sexual life had I ever experienced anything that mind blowing.

“Ambi...look at me.” My eyes drifted up to his beautiful face. I locked eyes with him but my thoughts were lost in the sensation of my body responding to his touch.

“I want all of it. Every drop; give it to me.” He begged sweetly. “Coat my cock with all that sweet honey, Ambi.”

“Irish...” My inner muscles flexed and spasm on his thickness; over and over.

“I know Ambi, I feel it too.” I felt Irish’s big hands spread my thighs further apart as he moved even deeper. “I feel this sweet pussy opening up to take all of me.”

“Irish…” I screamed. Though the only thing I could do was lay there and take it, as he pounded away against my sticky wet pink. This man is everything, ladies. I swear, it’s that good. He’s that good. 

“I love hearing you scream my name, Ambi. Such a good little cum slut.” Ok, so that was the second, maybe even third time that Irish called me a slut, tonight.

Normally I would have been offended if a man even thought of me that way.  But, I knew that Irish meant it in the nicest, sexiest, dirtiest way possible.

I think.

“You are aren’t you?” he asked running his fingers over my lips. “Say it.”

I’m all for a little sex talk, but I’ve never experienced it to this degree. My sex talk is pretty vanilla, ‘harder’, ‘deeper’, ‘I’m coming’ and that’s about it. For most of the guys that I’ve been with, it is about the same, ‘fuck’, ‘your pussy is good, ‘I’m about cum,’ yep that’s it. Irish’s utterings on any other ordinary day, I might find rather offensive.

I’m thinking too much, right?

“I want you to say it, Ambi.” He demanded, slamming into me without regard for my pleasure or pain. Exciting my kitty all the more. She’s not used to that; but I think we both liked it.

“Say it…” I don’t. I wasn’t sure about this; this was new to me. This sex talk seems a bit…out there for me.

“Irish…” I hesitated. But he didn’t. He pulled out of my body to tease me with his tip. “Say it…”

Ok, I am thinking too much. I should just say it. It’s just a little sex talk. And if he enjoys it and I’m enjoying him. No harm done, right? Oh and trust me ladies, I am loving this. We all need an Irish in our life.

“I’m...I'm your greedy little cum slut.” Those words fell so casually from my lips, it shocked me. I can’t believe that I said it. I never talk like that during sex. Irish was tapping into something that I didn’t think was inside of me.

Damn him to hell for unleashing my inner slut.

“Damn right you are….” Irish kissed my lips then continued his sensual assault on my body.

Thereafter, he whispered the most vulgar, foul, crude, poetry in my ears. I clawed at his back and flexed my female muscles at hearing his raunchy words. I attempted a reply each time but when I opened my mouth, I was quickly silenced by Irish’s two fingers wet with my juices.

When he felt my nails dig deep into his muscled back, he yelped but pushed into me harder. “Your pussy likes that.” He taunted. “You like me whispering those dirty little words in your ears, don’t you?”

It was a statement and not really a question. I didn’t respond verbally. I couldn’t. I didn’t have too. Irish didn’t really need a verbal confirmation that his dirty words sent fire to my already heated lady parts. My body’s response to him was all the reply that he needed. He knew he had me on the cusps of shattering into a million little pieces by whispering his hot dirty words into my ear.

I loved it. I was officially his naughty girl.

I clamped down on his steel feeling the heat rolling throughout as my body began shaking. He said that this first time was for me. But I’m the wrangler, damn it. I can’t go down like that. I wanted to fight it. I needed to fight it.

“One more time, Ambi...” Fight it. The crazy voice in my head urged.

“Irish….” I lost count of how many times, I had screamed and chanted his name. I know that this wasn’t a competition or anything but he was clearly besting me. I had to at least get back in this thing. I needed him to scream my name, damn it.

“Give me that sweet honey, one more time baby.” He’s winning.

“Your lovin’ is so damn good, Ambi.” Irish whispered on my lips as he slammed into in me. “Fuck. I want to rip this condom off to really feel you, explode in you, shoot into you, flood you…”

I’m done….

That was it for me. My eyes rolled into my head at his words. My back arched off of the bed as my inner female strength clutched tighter at his maleness, wanting, willing, hoping to feel his eruption actually coat and warm my depths.

“Come with me, Ambi.” He pleaded. I did. Hard.

It was incredible. I was boneless. I was gone. Off to that place that I’ve only read and dreamt about. I experienced Nirvana. And based on his roar in my ears, so did Irish.

He may have won this round. But, we still had the rest of the night; I'm not out of it yet. My hunger for him now was tenfold.

Mmmm, Irish….

 

CHAPTER 4

I felt like I had just finished running a 10k, in the high heat of an August afternoon. My skin was flushed and heated; sweat was dripping down the side of my face, between my breasts. I was still struggling to catch my breath as Irish got up to discard the heavy condom. I sighed, as his perfect round ass disappeared into my bathroom.

Irish…

I’ve never had sex like that before. Noisy, aggressive, loud, vigorous, sex.  Like I said before, my sex life was pretty vanilla, good but vanilla. Irish propelled in me into another sexual realm. I was hungry for more and I loved it.

Irish…he was something else.

I’ve never felt this way before, either. I didn’t understand my body’s response to Irish’s words or touches.  Where he was concerned, my body seemed to have a mind of its own. I swear that it responded to his demands of its own machinations.

Grabbing a few tissues off the bedside table I was attempting to wipe away some of my moisture, when I caught Irish watching me from the bathroom door. My body shivered in response to the storm brewing his eyes. He wasn’t done with me just yet.

He’s certainly a man of his word. Could he get any better? Hopefully I am about to find out again.

His entire body was a bright pink hue with a soft mist covering his length. He stood still as I drank in the image of his glistening sculpted form. Watching me, watch him, Irish slowly began to stroke his arduous muscle to full stiffness. It didn’t take long.

Stealthy, he moved to stand in front of me. Still stroking his member, he waited for me to make my move. He was much more intimidating up close and personal. His scarlet flared mushroom was already leaking pre-cum. My eyes also got bigger, when I realized that he was ready to go at it again.

Again; Again ladies! He definitely gets an A for endurance!

 

I licked my lips because I wanted to taste him. I almost never perform fellatio on a lover. It’s not that I don’t like doing it; but in my book, you have to prove yourself worthy of it. With me you have to earn it. But damn, Irish is too tempting to pass up, tonight; plus the man has seriously earned it.

“Do you want it?” he teased; still tugging his rigid flesh.

I knew what he was asking me, by the way that he was gripping his stiffness at the base and spreading his slit open; causing that glistening sticky pearl to emerge from its hidden place.

He was making me so hot watching him jerk himself off. His hand movements were so rough and explicit, that I quickly nodded yes and got on my knees.

“Yes, Irish. I want to taste you.” I breathed thickly.

He took my face in his hands to line up with is steel. “How do you want it? Wet and sloppy or slow and teasing?” I asked.

Pushing my mouth towards that thing that I was so hot for, he brushed his thick scarlet head across my lips, deliberately coating them with his special lip gloss.

He gently ran his hands through my damp hair; gripping it tightly when he had a handful, then whispered, “Surprise me.”

This was going to be good.

His hips rocked forward to meet my open mouth. With my hair now tangled in his hands, Irish pushed his stiff drooling rod into my hungry mouth; stuffing it full.

I gasped at the invasion; not expecting Irish to push himself so deeply into my mouth. But I am the Wrangler; I can take it. His girth was stretching my jaws to its limit; causing me to gag on his stiffness a few times. Which he seemed to love. I recovered quickly and before long, I found our rhythm and was greedily gobbling him up.

“Just like that baby, wrap those sweet lips around my cock.” He encouraged; coaxing me to take more of him.

Each time I took him deeper into my mouth, attempting to brush my nose against his curly blond bush, he would massage my face; telling me that my hot mouth was driving him crazy.

Worshiping his maleness, much to his satisfaction, Irish groaned in appreciation.  He parted his legs slightly, to steady his stance as I kept up my pace; keeping him on the brink of insanity.  Each time I felt his heavy sacks tighten in my hand; I would change up my technique. I alternated between a combination of slow teasing and fast wet kisses, strokes and licks; and of course deep throating his incredible length as much as possible.

Conferring shallow love bites all along his thick pulsating shaft and fat head, I tugged and raked my nails through his bush; then surprising him by actually munching on his thick dark blonde carpet.  

Each time I did, Irish moaned his approval. “Damn Ambi, where did you learn that?”

I grinned devilishly, “Porn…” then when right back to work; slurping and sucking him to paradise.

“Don’t stop…” he drawled. As if I could. I would take a mouthful and smile.

He was going to explode alright; but not just yet. I slowed the slurping, still looking into his eyes but only lightly stroking him with my mouth.  My hands locked around his shaft as I jerked and tugged his heavy steel; licking away the frothy essence pooled there.

That only led to him pushing deeper into my mouth. His buried hands in my hair, tugged my head back as he looked dead into my eyes as he rocked himself into my mouth. He was hooked.

If he liked that, then he was going to love what I was about to do next.  I pulled completely off of him and his eyes widen in surprise.  

“I want to wear your milk moustache, Irish.” I whispered along his throbbing shaft; moving to rest his weighty balls into my mouth.  

Irish looked down at me with fire in his eyes, but didn’t say a word. I think that I surprised him with that.

My breasts were completely slicked from perspiration and the sloppy head job that Irish loved. Slowly, I moved my hands over my wet boobs and nipples and began tugging and pulling them in unison. Pushing them up, I offered them as a sort of sacrifice to the Greek good standing before me.

I moved closer to him and pushed my breasts up to meet his stiffness. Slowly, I began rubbing my breasts against his hardness, but didn’t take him into my mouth. “They feel incredible.” He hissed as I squeezed my breasts together around him.

I had never really titty fucked anyone before and Irish provided me with the perfect specimen to try it. He was long enough, that I could squeeze him between my breasts while still being able to suck on his thick scarlet head. “Suck it, Ambi…”

With his eyes closed, he grabbed my hair tighter as his thickness practically lodged itself in the back of my throat. I felt his body go rigid and his steel swell in my mouth.  My body hummed knowing that he was going to buckle under the sweet torture of my mouth.

 “Fuck. I’m ‘gonna’ unload in your hot mouth.” He warned. Promises, promises. But then again this was Irish; so… 

True to his words, Irish couldn’t take much more; he gasped, “I’m about to explode Ambi.”

Irish…

His steaming milk blasted into my mouth, flowing down my throat; with some seeping out of the corners of my mouth. I learned early on tonight that Irish was much more than a handful; and his cum shot was so much more than a mouthful.  Much, much, more and delicious. With each lick, his mini cum shots tickled my tongue. I am now literally his greedy little cum slut.

“I’m sorry. I know that you wanted to wear it, but...” He rasped; eyes still closed, with his head tossed back. “Knowing that you swallowed and you’ll taste my milk on your tongue for days…makes my cock so damn hard, darlin’.”  

Damn if that wasn’t the nastiest thing for him to say to me at that moment. And damn it if that only made me wetter and sent an electric shock to my clitty.

Thanks to him, my inner slut now wants to come out and play.

Irish….mmmm, yummy.

**************

Irish was a beast. He was ready again. He wasn’t kidding when he said that he was going to wear my ass out tonight. But I’ll take it; again.  

I don’t recall how we got to here; I barely registered that he pulled my body up to meet his and that I was now sitting in his lap, riding his dick. My head was on his shoulders and my arms were around his neck. Just like I thought, my ass was resting quite comfortably in his palms. He made sure that none of my body parts felt neglected. Irish was a very attentive lover, using every inch of his body to bring me pleasure.

What a man, what a man, what a man, what a mighty good man. Yes, he is!

I already know that one night with him was not going to be enough. And certainly no other man or rabbit would ever be good enough for me after this; after him.

“I knew that you do could do it, Irish. As soon as I saw you tonight, I knew that you would be the stud, who would fuck me within an inch of my life.” I said, almost breathlessly; reeling from sensation caused by swollen nipples slapping against the fine hairs on his chest.

It’s my turn. I am going to drive him crazy. I inched closer to his ears, called on every erotic story that I’d ever read and began whispering some naughty poetry of my own. The clean version: I told him that I was his horny, naughty, slutty, angel; and he could use my pussy as much as he wanted; tonight. 

The dirty version, well? Let’s just say that those words are nestled between us; nosey.

Irish groaned and closed his eyes, as I tighten my legs around his waist and grounded my pussy against him. His pulse was erratic and he was breathing really hard in my ears. I began kissing his neck, loving the feel of his pulse jumping against my tongue. He enjoyed it, offering more of his neck for my light bites and nibbles.

I was riding him hard and I was determined to drain every ounce of his liquid desire out of him. Every time he attempted to regain control, I would clamp down on him and lock him inside of me. I needed to show him, that I could give, just as good as I got.

Irish…It was now my turn to turn him out.

Too my surprise he didn’t put up much of a fight. His nonverbal response to my sexy moves had me slightly confused. I thought he would have enjoyed playing this game with me. But he didn’t say anything.

I tried again for a reaction. “I want all of it, Irish...every fat, pulsating inch.” Still, nothing. He simply kept our rhythm and let me lead, as he kissed and stoked my dampen skin

I wasn’t complaining or anything. I just wanted him to come undone as I had done some many times earlier in the night.

“My pussy wants to eat every hard inch of you.”  I settled my hips against his thighs and prepared to give him the fuck of his life.  “Mmmm….my very own real life dildo.” His eyes flew open. Bingo! But not a word left his mouth.

My plan was simple; keep fucking him until he came…hard. Doable, right? Yes, if this was your average Joe. But this wasn’t just your average Joe. This was Irish.

He hissed when I rose off him slightly and started teasing just his tip with my slick center. Still, he didn’t say anything. I think he likes fucking with me….literally.

I never imagined finding a man who would find so much of his own pleasure in pleasing his woman. Irish is driving me crazy. I think he likes the idea of me using him to get off.

Irish watched me, as I continued to fuck myself up and down on his dick. “I didn’t think it was possible to ever find a man who could outperform my Jack Rabbit. But here you are.”

He was eyeing me intently, before he gave me the biggest fuck me smile. “Go ahead use me; I’m enjoying being your fuck toy….” This Irish…really is porn, yummy.

I dropped my hands from around his neck and slowly pushed him back down on to the bed. “Let’s see if you are good enough to earn your triple crown, tonight…stud.”

I called upon the sex goddesses for continued stamina, because Irish was insatiable and still hard as granite.  A Triple Crown feat should be an easy accomplishment for Irish. He’s a sexual beast. But you know that already.

Irish put his hands behind his head and smirked, “Ride me home to the winners circle, baby.” he challenged.

I began slamming my kitty up and down his heat. My wetness swallowed his entire length, and I loved the feel of his balls slapping on my ass. Irish loved it too. I reached behind me to pull on his heavy sacks to massage the molten heat that I knew was boiling within, but he grabbed my hands to stop me.

“No, no…darlin’ you’re going to ride me home to victory.” He taunted, slapping my ass; hard. “Love the way this ass feels bouncing up and down on me.”

I started grinning like an idiot. Dance! Too much booty in the pants; dance! Too much booty in the pants; dance…hell yeah and he was loving all that booty.

“Irish…” I moaned as his hands kneaded and then slapped my ass again.  “Irish, Irish….”

Irish? Shit! What the hell is his last name?

I am fucking some guy, and I don’t even know what his last name is. Forget about unleashing my inner slut.

I am a slut. Not that there is anything wrong with that. One of dearest friends is a slut. Kidding. I love Evis.

What the hell am I doing? Calm down, I tell myself. Now is not the time to start thinking rationally. Before I can unleash even more thoughts, Irish brought me back from the land of crazy. His grip on my ass was so tight, I was pretty sure that he’d leave his mark there.

“You are one hot fuck, Ambrosine.” Damn! The way he drawled my name had me melting inside. “Watching these breasts dance is hypnotic.” He teased as he ran his hands over my sweat slicked body, stopping at my breasts. The look of pure want in his eyes set my already heated core on fire.

“Harder, Irish harder…” I begged, loving the feel of our slick bodies crashing into each other.

“Harder? You can’t take it any harder, Ambi.” He taunted; pulling on my nipples. “You want to make up for 3 years in one night?” 

“Yes.” I said quietly, looking into those gorgeous green eyes of his.

He stopped slamming into my dripping snatch. “Are you trying to milk my bone, dry?” He asked with slow teasing strokes.  

“Yes….” I’ve never had this many seconds of pleasure and yes I was going to milk it of every drop. Pun intended.

“You want to drain me, baby?” he asked, alternating between slapping my ass and rubbing the burning sensation caused by his heavy hand.

“Damn. You really are my cum slut now, angel.” I whimpered silently as he flexed his hips. “You want it?”

“Yes." I moaned "My pussy wants every drop.”  I really did want it.

“My pussy…” he countered not taking his eyes off of me. He was pushing into me but attempting to hold my hips still, against his.

I slowed my movements, but never looked away from him. He didn’t blink and neither did I. Surely, I just heard wrong. From the expression that was probably etched on my face, he must have guessed what I was thinking too.

“My pussy, Ambi.” He repeated, staring me dead in my eyes with every confidence that it was the truth. “This is my sweet, hot, tight, wet pussy.”

Was he serious or was this just sex talk? I’d never experienced a guy saying that to me before; not even Andre and we were engaged. Was he claiming me? Help someone, I need to know.

I can’t explain what I felt at that moment. It was a combination of apprehension and lust. The man was a god and he knew it. He could have any woman he wanted. Yet he just declared his…lust for me? Or my kitty? I’m confused.

A part of me was cheesing, over the fact that this hot guy was so into me, that he wanted to keep my goodies for himself. But I’ve been around these pretty boy types all my life; so I knew better, than to fall under his spell.

I can’t, I won’t.

He is asking for much more than I am willing to give him. No matter how dickmitized I was just then, I knew that when he left in the morning, that was it.

Looking down into his sparkling jade eyes, though, I couldn’t help but to give Irish what he wanted, just then. I guess in a way, it was what I wanted too. I wanted it to be true. On some self-gratifying level, I really wanted to be his. 

Alas, knowing that nothing more could ever come from this night, I slowly began to roll my hips and smiled, “It’s your pussy Irish, it’s all yours.”

For tonight. That was all that I was willing to give a guy like him.

“Damn right, your pussy is mine, Ambi.” He grinned and pushed his length further into me. “I am so deep in you, that my pussy will be suffering from withdrawals, when I’m not buried deep in here.”  

Truer words have never been spoken.

His hunger for more, forced my slow grind on his lap to become wilder and more demanding as I welcomed in the first waves of paradise. Irish loved it. That confidant smile of his was practically glued to his face.

“That was a small one…” he teased, slamming into me.

One set of fingers were digging deeper into my ass, again. While the other played with my pearl. He was getting there and he wanted to take me with him; again.

“I love watching my sweet pussy ride up and down on my cock.”

His thick bone sliding in and out of me; while he kept me on the edge of another orgasm felt so good, that I wanted to scream. My juices dribbled out of me, creating a small puddle on his lap. My kitty was twitching like crazy; drooling like crazy. Irish loved it.

“Damn that’s beautiful.” He murmured, fingering my wetness.

“Irish…” I threw my head back, crying out in bliss when his paws roughly cupped my breasts. “Irish…”

“I love hearing you scream my name, Ambi; it makes me want to shoot so deep into you.” He moaned, twisting and pinching my nipples.

“Give it to me Irish, I can feel it. I want it.” My goal was to trap him underneath me and milk him of every drop. But this was Irish; he wasn’t going to make it that easy for me.

“Ambi, Ambi.” Irish groaned surging forward; he pulled me up into an embrace in the seated position before slamming me flat on to my back. Damn the boy is good. He never slipped out and didn’t’ miss a beat.

Irish is a masterful lover; he wasn’t going to be satisfied until I was. Or at the very least until I was begging for mercy or maybe until I passed out. Whichever came first?

“This is what I want, this is what I need, Ambi…cum for me.” He begged hotly. His powerful thrusts were not only just demanding; they were damn near feral.

Air left my lungs as my body crashed into the mattress. Finally. He was giving into his wild lusts. Irish’s strokes became even more powerful than before and he had this look on his face that was indescribable.

Staring into my eyes he was digging deeper into my soul. He was looking so intensely into my eyes that my heart began to flutter.

“Irish…” I clamped down on him; trapping and releasing his muscle in rhythm with his torrid thrusts.

The minute I felt him take back the dominant position and twitch inside my heat, I knew that it was going to happen. I couldn’t escape it. Nor did I want too. I tried to tell him that he’d won. He had officially bested me; I would yield to his greatness. He had roped the Wrangler.

Obligingly, I would kneel before Zod.

I opened my mouth to say the words but the only sound that came out was a soft whimper. It was too late. I began shaking uncontrollably. The heat began to rise from my toes, racing through my body. The mini explosions erupting inside my body were now slowly seeping out. I met his eyes and saw his lip curl up into that wolfish grin. He knew it was happening too.

I simply closed my eyes, let go and welcomed it.

Everything faded to black. Irish had officially fucked me until I passed out.

Irish……

 

CHAPTER 5

I don’t know how long I was out. Irish wouldn’t tell me. But he was having oh so much fun teasing me about it, though. I kept asking him, but he only smiled and told me that I could thank him later. Properly…

Irish.

I woke up to him staring at me; propped up on his elbow, eating a protein bar. I blinked a few times at him; feeling a bit disoriented. My brows crinkled in confusion because I wasn’t sure if I was dreaming or not. 

But, in a hot flash minute it all came flooding back to me. Irish grinned at me with a wicked but playful gleam in his eyes; as if he could see my mind piecing together our steamy interlude.

Damn! Hot Damn! He did that! Damn…he did that!

Irish…

….Had me fighting for air…told me to come but I was already there…‘Cause the walls start shaking
The earth was quaking…My mind was aching…And you shook me all night long… Yeah you shook me all night long.

 

Yes! Thank you AC/DC for aptly voicing what transpired between us tonight. Truly, Irish has me shook. It’s even worse than that yawl…I think, I’m sprung. No. I know I’m sprung.

He reached for the bottled water on the bedside table and handed it to me. I looked up at him in question; after gathering all of the strength that I could summon, to sit up.

“What? You’ve got to keep your fluids and energy up, darlin’. A short, um nap isn’t going to cut it; tonight.” He smirked; clearly mocking my fade to black episode.

“Why do I need to recoup my energy?” I asked. Even though, I already knew the answer. “This is the part where we are actually supposed to go to sleep.”

“Who said anything about sleeping?” he questioned; motioning me to sip. “I’m wide awake.”

He was; I peaked at his lower profile and smiled. That thing was already flying at half-staff. I think that he’s sprung too. Go me!

I took a sip of the water that he offered and almost spit it out. “Yuck. What is this?” I yelled.

“Electrolyte mix; you were probably a little dehydrated from all that alcohol. And our, um earlier activities.” he winked and told me to drink all of it.

“Well it’s your fault; all the way around.” I told him; trying to down the awful mix. Yuck; that stuff was nasty, but I was starting to feel less fatigued.

“My fault?” He asked; taking the near empty bottle from my hands. “I caused you to hit Goose and cran, hard, all night?”

“Yes.” It was his fault and I am sticking with that. “You were the one who bought me bottle service.”

“I did; but I didn’t tell you, to drink the whole damn bottle; lush.” Irish laughed at me.

“I didn’t drink the whole bottle.” I disputed; sitting straight up to set him straight. I promise. I really didn’t kill the whole bottle; he’s just making fun of me. “And I am not a lush. I was quite happy with champagne, until...

“Until, what?” He teased, poking me is my stomach. He knew exactly what. “I will take credit for the knock out, baby. But you getting slightly sloshed up a la…Karen Walker style; that’s all you, darlin’.”

“Take that back.” I demanded. He needed to apologize for such an insult. Yes, I did toss back a few; maybe more than few. But, I wasn’t as bad as that character from Will and Grace.

My demands for an apology unfortunately fell on deaf ears; Irish waved off every word that I said. But then he did the sweetest thing to silence my protest. He started tickling me. Sigh. Irish tickled, teased and kissed me in to fits of laughter. Him referring to me as Karen Walker aka Anastasia Beaverhausen while tickling me, had me rolling around in my bed, tangled in the sheets trying to evade his fingers; and laughing hysterically.

While playing around with Irish, I had to concede that my previous reasons for not indulging in a one night naughty with this hottie, seemed silly now. So were my earlier actions. Why did I fight him all night? He was right. We could have been at this, hours ago.

Our laughter and playful tickle break died down after a few minutes. I was both silent and still, when I opened my eyes from my last giggling fit to find Irish’s beautiful jade eyes stopped on me. I wanted to look away but I couldn’t. I was spellbound.

His eyes were saying so much about what he was thinking and feeling right at that moment. I saw so many emotions flickering around in them that it made me nervous. My heart was racing, fearing that those same thoughts were just as evident in my own eyes.

I watched as Irish’s now flushed body remained rigid, hovering just above mine. My heart was pounding in my chest and he was breathing heavily. The heat from his body caused my own to sizzle with anticipation. I swallowed thickly, feeling the throbbing between my legs intensify; waiting as he contemplated his next move. It was pure torture for me. I only hoped that he wanted the same thing that I did.

Irish must have sensed my trepidation because he, tenderly, reached for my face; brushing his fingers, lightly over my lips. I leaned into his warm palms as we held each other’s gaze.

We both were thinking the same thing.

I opened my mouth to say something; but was stopped when I felt his lips crushed against mine. Our initial soft sensuous kisses grew in voracity with tousling of our hot tongues. When I felt his paws on my thighs, heavy and determined; a thousand volts of electricity race through my body. Shivering from the combination of our kisses and his silky touch, my mind momentarily froze.  My heat was pulsating and wetness freely flowing. It’s not possible, I thought. Oh, but it was. My breathing became labored as I grappled with the realization that I wanted him again. No, I needed him again.

I’ve never been this aroused. My body was reacting to this man in ways that it has never done before.

My pleas for Irish to pleasure me sat wedged in my mouth; only to be freed, when his fingers skated over my slippery slit. “Irish…” I whined, into his kisses.

Irish adjusted his body, then parted my thighs a touch, to accommodate more of his big hands. Gently, he pushed one of his thick fingers into my puffy pink folds. Not pushing too deeply, he swirled it around in my pool; testing my readiness. My eyes glazed over drinking in his actions. My sticky pink got wetter from his touch and my body, tighten with arousal.  

I was more than eager to get this party started; all over again. Go Ambi, it’s your birthday.

He withdrew his glossy digit from my heat, only to pop it into his mouth. Without saying anything, Irish moved further down the bed. He pushed my bent legs apart and nestled his body there; his face was staring right at my crotch. Without any warning, he hungrily attacked my purring kitty. I screamed and squirmed happily; welcoming his sweet assault.

----------------------

We had only known each other for a few hours, yet Irish had already learned what my body responded to. What it needed. What it craved.  I had never experienced anything this intense before. I have to admit that it frightened me; immensely. But I am not going to think about that know; not when his hot tongue is doing nasty naughty things to his pussy.

Irish nudged my legs open and buried his face in my slick heat, “Delicious…” he breathed on to my throbbing pearl. “You’re still hungry for me, I can taste it.”

He was right. I was hungry for him. I wanted him again. I was more than ready for him again. Judging by the way he was licking me, I could tell that he would happily indulge in whatever I wanted.

Watching Irish’s dark blonde head of hair bob up and down, south of the border and feeling the tongue lashing that he was giving, had me gushing.

I pushed my sticky pink to meet more of his mouth. Irish easily read my silent cue. He started chewing on my swollen pussy lips and the soft nips of his teeth against my overly sensitive flesh were too much for me. His finger now digging deeper into my core sent me flying there.

I bit my lip attempting to hold off my cry; but to no avail. I screamed, “Irish...” as my juices rained down on his face.

“I got you, baby…” He breathed out; momentarily, breaking away from my dripping center, “That’s why I’m here, Ambi.” He offered and then went right back to work.

Mmmm…

Irish.

Sing it ladies-à ‘You gotta go downtown, That’s the way to my love, Take it round and round, Oooh you can’t stop ‘til you find my love, Go downtown, to taste the sweetness will be enough…’ Thank you SWV. I can now sing this song at the top of my lungs

---------------------------

 “I know that I promised to fuck you all night, Ambi; but I don’t want to hurt you.” Irish kissed my fingers, pulling me close as he gathered me up into his arms. “We went pretty hard at it earlier and I know that you’ve got to be a little bit sore.”

“No, Irish I’m…”

 “Ssshh…” he silenced.  

Moving behind me, he slipped on a condom; but did not slide into me. Opting instead to touch, squeeze and caress every inch of me. His movements, slow and deliberate were the epitome of sexy teasing. It may have even bordered on torturous foreplay.

“I want you, Irish, Inside me, please.” I begged. What? I ain’t too proud to beg. At least, not at this moment.

On our knees, I followed his lead, as he guided us into the middle of my bed. He crushed his muscular body against my back, wrapping me up in his strong arms. With his palms spread flat over the expanse of my clenching abs; Irish pulled me closer to him.

“We are only going to play around; darlin; It’ll be just as fun as the real thing.” he rasped.

He was holding me so tight, so close, to his body that I could feel his heart thumping against my back.  Oh, goddess…this man is everything that he promised to be.

Irish was unable to say anything other than a series of fucks….after I started rubbing Ms. Fat Booty all over him

“Fuck. Ambi…” Irish groaned; as he felt my ass pushing against his stiffness. “You feel incredible. You are making this hard; shit you are making me ever harder.”

Staring at our naked bodies reflected in my antique floor to ceiling gilded mirror, I will be the first to admit that we made a striking, sexy twosome.  He caught me staring at our erotic image reflected in the mirror and grinned. He is most definitely a voyeur. I attempted to avert my eyes after being caught; but neither of us could look away.

“Do you see how perfect you are, Ambi?” He whispered; sweeping my now tangled tresses over my right shoulder. His mouth descended on me, biting, licking and kissing me there; on his way up my neck to do more of the same. “You are absolutely gorgeous kiss; intelligent kiss, funny kiss, sweet kiss and that’s just the appetizer.”

I watched in the mirror as Irish’s tan hands roamed over my heated cocoa flesh. “And this body…” My breath hitched and my kitty quivered, in response to his slow and deliberate movements. Each touch was designed to elicit a desired response from me. “…this body is killer, baby.” His warm hands caressed and cupped my breasts, as he continued nibbling on my neck; pinching and tugging on my nipples to full erectness.

Murmuring that my body was so ripe and perfect for him, it was practically begging him to kiss, caress and own it as only he can; Irish parted my slick folds to tease my hardened nub. His whispered voice hot against my ear, telling me that there were still so many things that he wanted to do to my banging body set my throbbing pearl ablaze. My eyes fluttered and a soft whine slipped from my lips as he roughly played with my pearl. When he whispered one of his naughty promises to me, it sent my warm essence trickling into his hands.

Damn! He did that!

“That was so fucking sexy, darlin’;” Irish groaned. “My pussy is so damn hot; love the way you respond to me.”

“Oh, and this ass...” Irish pushed me flat on the bed, grabbed both of my butt cheeks crushing them together in his paws; positioning his thickness to slide up and down against the crushed the pair. “…should be illegal.” He drawled. “When I take you like this, Ambi…I want to be raw.”

“Aaah…” was all I could manage to get out. But my body responded accordingly. Evidenced by the watery trail his finger now traced.

His maleness had been pressing so firm against me that, I couldn’t help myself. Thrusting my ass out against his protruding flesh; I was hoping to get a similar reaction of my own. And I did. Irish smacked my ass.

“Stop teasing, baby. We are supposed to be faux fucking.” He reminded, but then started a slow grind against my cheeks. “Feeling your juicy ass rubbing on my cock, like this makes me want to…”

My head was swimming and I was having difficulty breathing. The combination of his hot muscular body pressing on my back and his smutty suggestion in my ear, turned me into one quivering mass of endless nerves.

“Irish…” Oh god….who knew that faux fucking could be this hot! I was so damn hot for him, ladies…I was melting. Drip, drip, drip.

Everywhere he touched sent me that place. Irish had me whimpering incoherently and pushing his hands to grab more of my snatch. But still, I needed more.

Tonight, Irish opened my eyes to what I’ve been missing out on. Whew! He’s not the only one drunk with lust; it’s his fault, again.

I’m insatiable. I am getting his magic stick; again.

-----------

My hands snaked up around his neck, coaxing his towering body lower so that I could cover his lips with mine. Our kisses grew in ardor within seconds. Irish kept grinding his heat against my ass; as he alternated between fingering my wet slit and fondling my boobs. We kept this up until it became painfully clear that we both needed more.

He could not get enough of me and I could not get enough of him. Any sexual inhibitions that previously resided within my guarded walls were all but gone. Maybe a few still lingered. But, I felt comfortable, safe with him. Irish’s unrelenting demands for my sexual liberation at his hands had me wide open, literally, to the idea of exploring more of own sexual desires; with him.

I slowed down our loving, so that I could turn around to see him.

My hands moved to wrap around his heated flesh. His eyes were heavy with want and I began stroking him quickly; up and down. Squeezing and releasing as he shuddered and moaned in pleasure. His steel jumping in my hands, told me that he was there.  

“Ambi, I can’t take much more of this.” His voice quivered; placing his hands over mine.

Even despite my um, earlier discomfort, my hunger for more of him didn’t wane. I knew that I wasn’t going to be satisfied fully, until we reached that place again.

One more round couldn’t hurt; right?  So can I get a refill? Can I get a re-fill?

 “Fuck me, Irish.”

I was going to be sore; but deliciously so.

***********************

Even after hours of our vigorous sex, countless orgasms and Irish’s tender caresses and kisses; I was still tight and he was still…well supersized. He wanted to be as gentle as possible, knowing that we both wanted more than was probably possible at the moment. 

My fingers dipped into the wetness seeping out between my thighs. I was more than ready; and oh, so willing. Irish watched my act of self-pleasuring; encouraging me to seek yet another released at my own hands. Watching him, watch me, had me feeling both sexy and vulnerable, under his heated gaze.

He kissed my eyes and then whispered on my lips, “You are so beautiful; so passionate, Ambi. I can’t get enough of you.”  

His steel was hot and ready as he prepared to slip his tip into me. Slowly he brushed his heat against my weeping slit; telling me that I was so sexy and so generous with my loving that I now had him lust drunk.  

“I’ll be as gentle with you as I can be. But, fuck Ambi; your pussy is so good.” Panting, between quick breaths, I was ready for him to fully enter me and so was he. “If it’s still too much, tell me and I’ll stop okay?” As if I would.

“Yes…” I ran my fingers along his damp spine, down to that sexy butt of his to give it a squeeze. Nice! Locking my legs around his waist, I prepared myself for another sweet ride from my stud.

Slowly rocking into my body, he groaned. “Being trapped between your legs is making me crazy, baby.” Go me, go me! This man is the truth!

Each thrust of his hips inched us closer to that place yet again. He was silently asking me for more; though he was chivalrous in quest. His movements were demanding but not forceful; gentle and considerate. He was fighting his urge to take me hard and fast.

“Irish…”

I leaned forward with my hands on his wet chest, for leverage as he moved in closer for a kiss. His tongue searched for mine and mine longed for his. We were momentarily lost in our fiery kiss before I pulled away. I had to stop kissing him like that. I was slowly growing addicted to his kisses. That’s not why we were here.

“Ambi, I’ve never...incredible…” he mumbled.

What was that Irish? It was now his turn to ramble on incoherently. Juicy got him crazy right about now.

Running my fingers through his thick hair, I blazed a trail of licks and kisses on every inch of his exposed flesh. He shivered each time I did; plunging just a little deeper into me. His hot steel, sure and firm rocking into me had my core dripping.

Keeping his stroke slow and steady, he managed to get out, “Thank you for welcoming me into your body.”

My lips froze on his neck at hearing that. I was speechless. No man has ever said that to me. Not even my first. I shifted my position so that I could see his face. My eyes drank in his handsome profile. This man was an enigma to me. This Irish was not at all what I was expecting. He’s throwing me off my game; all the way around.

“Thank you for sharing your body with me.” He continued, shakily, “I’ve never experienced a sexual need this intense with anyone else, before.” He confessed. “Honestly.”

No, no, no. What the hell is he doing? Now is not the time for this shit Irish; you play dirty. This was supposed to be a fuck and run type of a deal. I gave him permission to fuck and then run. Hello!

This was exactly what I was afraid of. I saw it in his eyes earlier. I recognized it because those were my exact thoughts. Irish was just brave enough to say them out loud. I have to confess though, his sweet words affected me. He was stirring up feelings that I kept hidden; they were buried on purpose.

“Irish…” I was still in a slight daze from his words and lost in the sensations of our sensual slow loving.

“Yes, Ambi. It’s me, loving my sweet pussy baby; giving you all the hot loving that you deserve.” He was rocking so slowly, so cautiously into me; taking his time, not wanting to hurt me. “Just the way your body wants it, baby; nice and slow. The last thing that I ever want to do is hurt you.”

Looking into his eyes, I could see that he was sincere. It scared me a little; but I somehow managed to keep my composure. But, I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I wasn’t expecting that.

I wasn’t expecting Irish to be this affectionate. What the hell is he doing? He’s messing this up. This is supposed to be sex. Sex. Really good sex. Damn good sex. Sex. Just sex. That’s all. He needed to leave all that other shit alone; he was losing focus of the big picture.

We are here to do it, All night long, All night, All night long.

I was determined to get us back on track and give us one last spine tingling, mind blowing, sheet drenching, tidal wave of pleasure.

I locked Irish into me and told him not to move. I kept flexing my inner feminine forces; trapping him within. Then I started tugging on my swollen nipples; hard. He loved it; he was damn near breathless.

“You feel incredible, Ambi.” He groaned; as I moved my hips to set my desired pace. “I’m trying to go slow…but you are making it so hard.” Damn right I was; and I was about to make it even harder.

I untangled my legs from his waist to spread them wide. We are going there and I am leading the way.

“I will feel even better after you blow my back out, stud.” Yes; I did just ask Irish to blow my back out. What? I read Bossip, too.

Irish’s head shot up and he hissed loudly, “Ambi….”

“Do you want me to beg? Because I will…” I challenged; fingering my bead. “I need you to fuck me Irish.”

“Don’t. Tease. Me.” Irish warned. But I felt him shudder; he liked that idea.

“Who’s teasing?” My desire to be completely consumed by him had taken over me; that and I needed to get us out of that soft place; it’s too dangerous for me.

“Ambi, I don’t want to hurt you, baby.” Raising his entire body off mine; Irish inhaled then exhaled a calming breath.

“Fuck me hard, lover; please.” I was more than ready to surrender to the call of our primal urges and give into our wild lust. “I thought I had the hottest pussy that you’ve ever had?”

“Ambi…” He looked me in the eyes, then said, “I am about five seconds away from banging you senseless; don’t tempt me baby. I’m serious.”

Hey now. The Wrangler lives for a challenge. I can’t say no to this.

I hooked my legs around his massive thighs and started thrusting my hips up, to coax more of his hot rod deeper into me. I was aching and he was shaking because we both wanted it so much. His eyes were burning with lust; though he was still trying to fight it. He wasn’t going to last much longer. I was determined.

“Fuck your slutty angel, Irish.” I begged sweetly. “I need your cum baby. Your greedy cum slut is begging for it please….” I tossed his words back at him; intending to push him to that place. It worked.

Every nerve in my body was standing on edge witnessing the look of immense carnality that flashed in Irish’s eyes. Paired with the animalistic growl rising from deep in his chest, it was my warning that I had seriously just unleashed the beast. His sexual beast. I better buckle up; I think that this is going to be a long hard ride.

When he roughly grabbed up my ankles and pushed them back to damn near meet my ears; I started squirming, inching away, just a bit. Irish wasn’t having it, though.

“No. No, no…don’t start running away now.” His strong, solid frame had me pinned down on the bed in seconds. “I warned you; Ambi.”

Irish’s warm body brushing against mine had my body tingling and left me breathless. My pulse was racing and my engorged bead was pulsating. I’ve never allowed myself to be this raw or wide open with a man; I mean this, both literally and figuratively. Tonight with Irish, though, I felt free and being with him like this, felt natural.  

Showing no mercy for his pussy whatsoever; he slammed into me, hard. My eyes met my lids as I screamed; then creamed in time with his rabid invasion. Shoving his sticky fingers into my mouth to quiet my screams, good thinking Irish; he began fucking me mercilessly.

Hot damn! Oh, yeah; the beast has been unleashed. Ladies, there aren’t enough words in the dictionary to describe this state of euphoria.

Slamming into me so ferociously, “This is what you want, right?” Irish asked, rhetorically; he knew that I could barely form words. Let alone answer, his question. “Here I was, taking it easy on this fat juicy pussy because I thought that you were a lady.”

“Irish, Irish, Irish…….” I cried out as my nails dug into his biceps.

“Ssshh; don’t try to explain.” He gritted out. “Fuck, I should have smashed this horny pussy against the wall at 420; like I wanted too. I knew that you were nothing more than cock tease.”

Slowing his strokes and angling his body, so that his stiffness rubbed against my puffy pearl; he started to tease me. “You’re no angel; Ambi.” Irish whispered, “You. Are. The. Hot. Slut. That I am going to fuck within an inch of her life.”

And he did.

I am going to pay for this later, when I can’t walk properly…but Damn! It was going to be worth it. Sweet dreams are made of this….

Feasting on the image of his body eclipsing mine and dominating me; coupled with his dirty words, forceful strokes and being pinned down against the bed, made my inner female muscles spasm and clutch at his steel.

“I…I…” I babbled; enjoying every second.

Irish drove his dick into me with such force that my eyes widen in shock. “Ahhh…” I cried out feeling his stiffness stretch my naughty bits to accommodate all of him. It sent me reeling towards another orgasm. Irish felt good; he felt really good. He felt damn good! Oh lawd.

*************

Irish was relentless in his quest to bang me senseless. He was still banging into me, just as hard as he started out. Yes, lawd. He was going, hard in the paint. He was on a mission and there was nothing I could do. Except for what I was already doing; just lying there and taking it.

Damn right, I’ll take it.

His eyes stayed on me; only darting sporadically to view his handy work.

Which was the sopping hot wet spot between our bodies.

My juices were gushing out of me with each of his powerful thrusts. Feeling my wetness drench his thickness, again caused my kitty to become very vocal; sloshing, squishing, hissing. She quit purring the minute Irish slammed into us. Whew! We were both fully aroused and resigned to the fact that Irish was seriously going to bang us senseless.  

From the way he was slamming into my body, I could feel Irish’s wave of ecstasy flirting with my own. Beads of sweat, trickled down his handsome face and on to his hard body; then dripping on to me. He was there; on the edge. His entire body was tense; and his stiffness was twitching inside me, wildly. I was sure that his smoldering potency was eagerly travelling from his taut, heavy sacs, waiting for the moment when it was able to burst free.

“I can feel it, lover.” I whimpered; feeling him fill my snatch with each deep thrust. I reached for his heavy pair; massaging them. They were already in the full, upright and locked position. “Blow it...Irish”

Through his shallow breaths, he moaned. “You fuck me so good, angel…” Continuing, to slam into me with his head thrown back; Irish was tumbling towards one hell of an orgasm.

The sound of his grunting as he jackhammered into me was such a turn on, that it was pushing me closer to that place.  He must have felt it too because he started fingering my bead. “Give it to me, baby. I need it.”  Irish was now begging me hotly, “Cum with me, Ambi. I want it baby, I want it…”

My body arched off of the bed; at hearing him beg me so passionately for my release. My kitty, hungry for his spill, sucked more of him into my body. Irish wasn’t opposed to it; he bit my shoulders when he felt my kitty hungrily eating more of his inches.

We coasted together along the edge, teetering, then soaring towards the zenith, that heard us as we sang choruses of each other names. I was singing his name at the top of my lungs. Irish cried out my name as he exploded into me. My body was vibrating under his as I felt every tremor and spasm as he shot his hot release into my wetness; triggering my own release.

Signaling that our requited lust and scorching desire for each other could only end in this rapturous ethereal event, I lay back clutching him; shaking and whimpering his name as Irish collapsed on top of me. That was a big one.

He was crushing me; finally. Feeling his body heat and heartbeat banging against my body made me shudder.

Good Morning, my neighbors. Yes. I think we may have just awoken the whole damn neighborhood. If they didn’t know before, they certainly did now. I was getting some.

--------------

What we just shared was absolute perfection. I would have sworn that I was in a dream; if it was not for the steady rhythm of our heartbeats, thumping in unison.  Irish stayed on top of me, for more than a few minutes. I tenderly stroked his back and kissed at his hairline, when I could still feel him shaking. I loved it. I stilled his movements, when he finally started to stir and tried to roll off of me. I told him that I wanted to hold him like that for a little bit longer. He mumbled something in response but relaxed back into our sort of embrace.

Shifting slightly, so that all of his weight wasn’t going to suffocate me, he wanted to know if I was ok. Irish said that he felt guilty about taking me so enthusiastically; knowing that I was probably tender from our previous coupling. He also said that he hoped that he didn’t hurt me further; or was offended by his sex talk. I reassured him that I was fine; and that his nasty sex talk, was bomb. He laughed.

This was what I wanted with him.

He laughed but was still a bit breathless, “You’re a very bad influence on me, Ambrosine.”  He was still panting; softy. “I told you that we were going to go slow, but you just had to have your own way, huh?”

No matter how slowly our sexploits started out, we both knew that we would end up groaning, bucking, and slamming into each other; loudly.

“What can I say lover? It’s your fault.” Damn we are fire together.

“My fault? Again?” he asked. Lifting up off me, slightly amused, he reached between our bodies to discard the safety net that was there.

“Yes. Your dick shouldn’t so damn delicious.”  I causally replied, reaching for him and softly stroking his still damp shaft.  

“Damn Ambi, I think that you are the one who’s trying to blow my back out.” He mused.

“Maybe….” Honestly, I’m surprised that my Townhouse was still there. I thought for sure that just burned the place down. Whew that was hot as fuck

 “No Mas, darlin’…” Irish laughed, playfully swatting my hands away; rolling completely off of me and onto his back.

“Yes, Mas.” I teased. This thing between us isn’t just heat. It’s a towering inferno.

“Fuck, Ambi. You are going to be the death of me angel.” Irish rasped as my thumb glided over his still weeping slit.

I licked the bead, sitting there. “I know…but what a way to die, right?” that was all Irish needed to hear.

“Yes.” He hissed. In five seconds, he was he was giving me more access to his big body, moaning and begging me for my mouth. “I want it, angel. You do that…the best.”  You heard it here first ladies, I am the best. TeamAmbi.com.

“You’re, Damn right.” I gloated; my mouth covering more inches of my Adonis.

What followed was a slew of profanities along with some other very colorful language; from Irish. Let’s just say that, now I got him…all the way turnt up.

Mmmm, Irish. He’s delicious.

********************

Once again we were both breathless; but sill we managed to kiss each other for what seemed like hours. I curled my body snuggly into his side; loving the feeling of being wrapped in his big warm arms. Sigh.  He said that he liked being trapped between my legs; but I loved being held captive in his arms.

There was so much fire and hunger between us; it was overwhelming for me. But it also felt magical. This level of intensity can’t be sustained beyond these four walls; can it? He can’t be real. This can’t be real. This could never be replicated with anyone else; can it? I didn’t want to think about it just then. I only wanted to just live in the moment with him and not think about what comes later.

“Shower?” I asked; though I was really too exhausted to stand.

“Yeah, sure. Just give me a few minutes.” Irish still had not fully recovered, from my brain game. I think he’s fallen and he can’t get up.

 I was grinning like a fool; on the inside of course.

I guess that I should have asked him then, what his last name was; but decided that it could wait a few more minutes, hours. In reality I would have felt like a total slut to ask him just then.

“Thank you…” I yawned. Ok, so I haven’t fully recovered either. Get up; don’t fall asleep. I kept telling myself.

“For?” he asked; as his fingers lightly traced the contours of my damp body.

I was fading quickly. Go get that shower; my mind kept screaming. But my body was non-compliant.

“Being my fantasy man…” I murmured, into his chest. I was drifting off; my eyes felt like lead.

Faintly, I felt his lips brush against my temple as he held me tighter, “I’m not a fantasy, Ambi. I’m your reality.”

Irish.

**********************************

I woke up startled. I guess I was expecting it to all be a dream. I was pleasantly surprised to find Irish, partially dressed; sitting on the chaise in front of the bay windows watching me.

I wondered how long he had been sitting there? I think this is his thing; watching me.

He didn’t say anything right away and neither did I. Those Irish green eyes were positively mesmerizing. I think that was how he put his spell on me. I couldn’t drag my eyes away from his.

I offered him a shy smile that he immediately returned; it made me less anxious about facing this part. After seeing it, I found my voice.

“I’m surprised to see that you’re still here.” I hedged. I have no idea what the protocol is on this one, should I offer him breakfast?

“I have no plans this morning. What about you?”

“I have no plans. Um…are you hungry?” I asked as I grabbed the sheet to wrap around my body.

Irish started laughing at my chaste behavior.  He purposefully got up to stand on the part of the sheet hanging off the bed. It nearly caused me to stumble. But in an instant here was there to catch me.

“You do realize that I’ve already seen you naked, right?” He asked, wrapping his arms around my waist. But not before his eyes roamed every inch of my naked body. “Every, single inch of you.”

I looked away from him so that he couldn’t see me blushing; or the shame. I was so embarrassed about my out of character behavior last night. Satisfied but embarrassed.

As if reading my mind he pulled me into chest. “I thought we cleared all of that up, last night? You have nothing to feel ashamed about, Ambi. I‘m a man and you’re a woman; what happened between us last night is our business.” He assured as his fingers traced my cheeks and lips.

“I’m not ashamed,” I quickly blurted out, looking up at him. “I just, I never…” he kissed me before I could finish my lame response.

“Get dressed and I’ll go make us breakfast? OK.”  I nod my head ok as he headed downstairs.

Irish.

-------------------

I washed up. That was ok right? I didn’t shower, because he didn’t take one and I didn’t want him to feel bad. Besides, I needed to soak in the Jacuzzi tub after he leaves. I was sore. But it was so worth it. I’ve never been sex sore before. Have you?

I sighed, thinking about how I came to be so sore. Irish did say that I would be feeling him for days. He wasn’t lying.

Before heading down stairs I checked my reflection in the mirror, my good sex hair was in full effect. Pressley would be so proud.

I was only wearing a yellow tank top and pink lounge shorts. Still, I wanted to make sure that I looked cute. Cute, for the guy who gave me the best sex of my life; who was now making me breakfast. And I’ll probably never see him again.

We said that we would enjoy the night together and go from there. Sigh. But, alas, I live in the real world and this thing we shared was a fantasy. And I know in all seriousness that there could never be anything more than last night between us.

I smiled then grimaced. Damn. Irish had ruined me for anyone else. I felt it with every step I took.

Irish.

***********

I watched as Irish stood in front of the stove, putting the finishing touches on our omelet. He seemed to be a natural in the kitchen. It was ridiculous how sexy he looked moving around my kitchen, shirtless and shoeless. His jeans were still unbutton and were resting on his hip. Damn, that broad back of his flexed with each flick of his spatula. Reminding me of what we shared the night before.

If someone had told me yesterday, that tonight you will experience the best sex of your life in a few hours I would have laughed in their face. Little did I know that not only would my lands be conquered by the Irish but I would be left in a stupor. Never in any of my fantasies and I’ve had plenty, did I ever imagine finding a lover so in tuned to my needs or my body that he could pleasure me so thoroughly, so ravenously, so lovingly.

He looked over his shoulders, just then sensing that I was in the room; relieving me of my thoughts.

“Need any help?” I asked, pointing to the stove.

“No, I’m almost done. Just sit there and look pretty for me.” He point to the breakfast bar and then went back to his omelet.

I did as I was told and sipped the coffee he poured. Not once did he ask where anything was. I noticed that there was only one place setting at the breakfast bar and casually asked him if he wasn’t staying to eat with me. I was already feeling a slight ache from our impending goodbyes.

He wanted to know if I didn’t believe in sharing with others. Smiling, he said that once the omelet was done, we were sharing our breakfast; which consisted of a Veggie omelet, toast, fruit salad and OJ. One plate and 2 forks.

Yep a girl could get used to this.

Irish…

----------------------

“That was delicious, Irish.” I complimented; after taking the last bite of my toast.

“I aim to please…” He gave me a kiss and said that I was the delicious one. He likes teasing. I like him doing it.

We sat in silence after we were done; looking at each other. It wasn’t uncomfortable silence…I just didn’t know what to say. A first for me and I think Irish as well. There really wasn’t anything left for us to say after last night. So I continued to sip more of my o.j.; even though his stare lingered on me.

“Question, why are there so many pints of frosting in the refrigerator, when there is only one box of cake mix in your cupboard?” Irish asked; breaking our silence.

I looked away sheepishly; how the hell did he noticed that. “I plead the fifth.” I laughed and he did too.

“Please tell me that you don’t eat that stuff, like it is ice cream or something?” I look past him and towards the backsplash tiles. He shook his head.

“I think that I prefer it, if you just ate the ice cream.” He kissed my mouth and removed our empty plate.

“Is that healthier?” I asked, finally glancing over to him.

Wow. He really is my fantasy man. He was now loading the dishwasher. “No, but it is the lesser of two evils.”

I smiled. He cared about my health. He is the sweetest.

“I think that means that we need to go shopping for real groceries; darlin’. And not all of this fluff stuff that you keep in your cupboards and refrigerator. Seriously, how can you live off of olives, funky cheese and champagne? At least you had some fruits and veggies in there.”

“That cheese costs $15 a pound.” I laughed.

My cupboards really are that bare; and I am a bit embarrassed that he knows it, too. I’ve been working some really long 12-15 hour days in the office lately. I have a really heavy case load and it seems that I am in the office later and later each week. Thus, making it a low priority to get out and shop for groceries; but I’ll do better from today on.

 “Yeah well, they scammed you with that one; it stinks. I can’t even think about making you a seafood or four cheese lasagna; now. I think smelling that stuff just put me off of cheese for a while.” Irish said; still cleaning up the kitchen.

My eyes and my ears perked up at that bit of information, which rolled off his tongue. “Is that an offer to make me dinner?”

“It is. But with one condition.” 

“What’s that?” I was intrigued.

“We eat upstairs on your roof top deck. The view up there is awesome.” He raved.

“You’ve been up on the deck?” I questioned, in surprise.

“Yes.” He smirked. “I’ve explored your whole house. I moved your treadmill too; it was in the wrong spot for a good work out.”

“Stalker.” I shouted, jokingly; walking over to where he stood near the sink. “I knew that you were a stalker.”

“I’m not.

“Are too.”

“I was just curious, darlin’.” he laughed hugging me to him. “You have to admit, that this is a lot of space for just one person.”

“A girl needs room to spread out.” He kissed me.

“Four, floors?” He questioned.

“Yes. Just curious huh, nosey is more like it. Thank you for moving the treadmill.” I kissed back.

“Welcome. I’m not nosey. What else was I supposed to do after you fell asleep on me, twice? Wait once, the first time you blacked out.” he teased, kissing my neck.

“Irish, you wore me out, what was I supposed to do?” I asked; toying with the fine hairs on his chest, attempting to avoid his eyes.

He wasn’t having it. Irish raised my chin so that my eyes met his, “I love hearing you say my name.” He drawled into my ear.

“Irish…” I moaned loudly as he be began rubbing his still hard morning wood against me.

“I love hearing you screaming it even more.” His mouth found its way to mine. “Damn that makes me so hard, Ambi.”

His hands slid down to my throbbing kitty before I could evade his touches. I can’t take another round. I want too. But I can’t. “No Mas, Irish.” I protested; truly meaning it this time

“Why not? You’re awake now, darlin’.” He’s still teasing me. “I know that you can’t take another round with the fighting Irish; today…” He grinned smugly.

…And down goes Frazier…Down goes Frazier. He was right. I would have thrown in the towel on this one.

But kissing is good. Kissing is definitely good; and so that’s what we did. Until his phone started buzzing; repeatedly.

It had buzzed more than a few times already while we ate breakfast; but he ignored it. This time, though, he walked over to answer it and I took the cue to give him a few minutes on the phone, alone. I walked out of the kitchen and went into my family room, to give him some privacy. This also gave me a few minutes of my own; to think.

I flopped down on the sofa and turned on the TV; but sat there replaying both the night and morning events with Irish.  He was everything that I dreamt my fantasy lover would be. He was gentle and aggressive; caring and demanding; considerate and passionate. But he wasn’t a fantasy, was real.

Truly, Irish had reignited the flames of longing that had been snuffed out years ago. But what really frightened me was that the flame that he lit was something completely different than what I thought was there.  What he touched in me had been well hidden even from, myself.

It was as if something in me had been asleep and was now wide awake. It scared me. What was I going to do with it, now? He said that my passions burned too brightly to be hidden; that it needed to be shared. I don’t think that that’s possible. The sort of dynamism that we experienced last night is too risky to be repeated. It can only lead to disastrous results for both of us.

As I sat there flipping through the channels and waiting for his goodbye, Irish surprised me yet again; when he came and sat down. Still talking on his phone, he sat on the opposite side of the sofa; but motioned me to move closer to him.

I was practically lying on top of him, breathing in his woodsy scent; loving the way that his fingers combed through my good sex hair.

Wait woodsy scent? Damn it, he showered! All points go to the veteran. Newbie zero. When did he shower?

He ended his call to ‘Chuck’, then took the remote from my hands; turning the TV off.

“Thank you for making breakfast.” I quietly stated.

“You’re welcome.” He replied kissing my temple. “I’m not keeping you from anything am I?”

“No.”

We didn’t say much after that. We laid there on the sofa; perfectly relaxed in each other arms. We enjoyed the quiet of the morning and in finding comfort in each other. The feeling of being wrapped in his arms was making me think about all that we shared the previous night. I was burning his laugh, smile, tender touches and playfulness on my brain. He made me feel so wanted and desired that I wanted to file memories of our sweet night away for the cold lonely evenings; that lay ahead for me. This experience with him was simply amazing and could never ever be topped. Sigh. How was he able to do it? How was he able to get me here? Relaxed in his arms, after just one night together.

Every once in a while I felt his soft kisses landing on me. We were both thinking the same thing that this felt natural. It felt right. It was heavenly. It really was; until our quiet time was interrupted by his buzzing phone, again. 

He reached for the phone, cursing when he saw the name of the caller. “Sorry, darlin’ but I have to take this.”

Though, I doubt either of us wanted to say it out loud. We both knew that this was it.

This was goodbye.

***************

We walked out of the kitchen and down the steps leading into my garage. I gave him the visitor code that he would need to exit the complex.

“You have my gate access code….so I hope that you are not some crazy stalker or a drug dealer; your phone was ringing quite a bit and you’re leaving rather suddenly.” I teased, as we stood on the driver’s side of his car.

Irish gave me his ‘what the fuck’ face and then laughed. “I promise you, that I am not a crazy drug dealer, but after the hotness of our love making last night, I am officially your new stalker.”

Wait, did he just say love making? He thinks that we made love? He’s confused…we had sex, Irish. Sex. Sweaty, hot, change the sheets immediately when done sex.

“Hmmm…Irish, the Sexy Stalker. Is that your WWE stage name?”

“WWE? I’m insulted. There’s nothing fake about me and you know it.” He reminded. “Besides, you’re the one they call the Wrangler. Is there something that you want to tell me?”

“Nope.” I grinned.

He pulled me in for a chaste kiss, and then said, “Why don’t you Google me, when you get a chance to put yourself as ease.”

“Oh I planned to, but there’s only one problem.” I mentioned coyly; running my fingers along his chest.

He stopped kissing me to ask, “What’s that?”

“I don’t know your last name.” I replied as nonchalantly as I could.

He burst into a fit of laugher, “I knew that you were perfect.” then kissed me again; hard. “You really have no idea, who I am, do you?” he asked with one hand on the car door.

I shrugged my shoulders and then smiled, “Of course I do. You’re Irish, the hot stud, who rocked my world last night; and stayed long enough to make me breakfast.”

“Yes. I guess I’m that, too.” Irish supposed. “My last name is Massey.”

“Irish Massey?”  I tested. “Nope doesn’t ring any bells but I like it, though.”

“I know you do darlin’. You also liked screaming it.” He winked; making me smile in shame.

“Hey, Massey one question, before I Google you?”

“What’s that?” he asked, smiling.

“Last night in the parking garage, were you really going to um…?” I couldn’t finish, so I just tapped on the hood of his car.

He folded his arms over his broad chest and with his cocky grin planted on his face, asked, “What? Was I actually going to fuck you on the hood of the Bentley?”

I nodded yes, timidly.

“Fuck, yeah.” He stated honestly; a huge grin spreading across his face and mine. “I still want to; but I’ll wait until you’re ready…Or at least until the next opportunity presents itself.”

Damn that’s slutty. He’s slutty. He’s Yummy. He’s…the Dirty White Boy, Foreigner was signing about.

…I know what's good for you all day - Are you worried what your friends see - Will it ruin your reputation lovin' me - 'cause I'm a dirty white boy - Yeah a dirty white boy - A dirty white boy 

 

Before he got into his car, he walked back over to me and kissed me again. Slowly, tenderly, lovingly.

This one last kiss and he’s gone. He has to be.

“Call me later?” he asked still holding me close.

I sighed inwardly.

He smiled that beautiful pearly white perfect smile of his; making my insides, melt, all over again.

Last night was a real high for me. For once I just want to say eff it and throw caution to the wind. I want to play his game and enjoy it; enjoy him. But that’s not who I am.

No! I’m not that girl. I know better. What good could come from a one night stand? The sex was amazing, yes. But I was not going to get caught up in the sexy pretty boy who only wants to put miles on my kitty.

No. No. No. When it’s really yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah…..

Although I already knew that in all certainty, I had no intention of ever calling or seeing him again.

I got up on my toes, looking into his brilliant jade eyes and softly kissed his lips.

“Yes.” I agreed; as he hugged me tighter.

-----------------------------

Irish and I both enjoyed last night. But this heat between us would be too much of a distraction for me; right now.

I need to remain focused on my career.

We made beautiful, passionate memories together.

And that’s all we’ll ever need...

 

Right?