Mastering Maeve (13 page)
“Oh,” she groaned. “That’s good.” He continued until he felt her stiffen in resistance.
“A night of pleasure only, so you can hold it in your memory until I come back,” he whispered as he helped her off his lap, not forgetting to unhook her bra first. He guided her to a sitting position on his knee and kissed her full on the mouth, letting his tongue dance tantalisingly on her lips. She tried to probe his mouth with her tongue.
“Not yet, take it real slow,” he said through his kiss. He continued with his tender mouthing, moving from her mouth down her neck, nibbling gently and sensually. Inhaling her scent and blowing soft warm air on her skin, teasing her still further. Kneeling on the floor between her legs, his kisses explored further to her breasts and nipples. Soft gentle sucks and flicks of his tongue, interspersed with light nips that were almost but not quite painful. Her body moved to his unspoken command, opening like a flower, giving him easy access to wherever his tongue took him until it finally took him to her swollen clit and vulva. They were treated to the same kisses and nips that her breasts had so enjoyed earlier.
“Oh, stop, Larry, I need you inside me. Please,” she begged.
“I’ll just go get a condom, or do you want to go to the bedroom?”
“Do we really need one? I’d like to feel you really inside me, I’m protected,” she urged.
“Sure?” he questioned.
“Yes, please, make love to me.” She stretched back on the seat of the sofa, opening herself to him. She felt the moisture of his hard cock mix with her own, making entry sweet and easy as her pussy stretched around him, accommodating him with comfort. It felt so natural, so good, as he pushed his way into her. Thrusts were silky, almost slippery and she giggled as he slipped out on a couple of occasions.
“You feel lovely,” he told her, “almost too good.”
“Mmm,” was her agreement. He felt almost too good too, and her vaginal muscles were tightening around him, gobbling him up, ready to come. As her breaths became pants he upped the tempo, pushing harder for as long as he could, without letting go himself. When she felt her body tighten in orgasm, he pumped hard, furiously prolonging the sensation for her. Finally his own pleasure would no longer be delayed and he spilled himself into her with a low pleasurable growl.
“Never again with a condom,” she smiled. “That was delicious.”
Chapter Nine
A morning mixed with joy and tears was the only way to describe it. When Bridie arrived, she could see that it was killing Maeve that he was leaving. They were sitting holding hands at the table when she came in. Maeve’s teary eyes threw Bridie. Was she crying because he was leaving or was it because she had refused him and there was trouble in the camp?
“Well?” she asked Larry. “Will she marry you or not?” No good morning or howdy-do-you. Straight to the point like always.
“Good morning, Granny, and how are you today?” Maeve asked pointedly, refusing to answer the verbal assault.
“Come on, out with it, are you marrying him?” Larry let go of Maeve’s hand and Bridie saw the sparkle of her ring, taking it as the answer she desperately desired. “Welcome to the family, son, now you see what I have to put up with.” Bridie embraced Maeve first, then him. “I’m so pleased for the both of you. Really, I am.”
“You know it’s not going to be easy, Granny; we have to figure out what to do.”
“Ach, ye’ll find a way. Do ye think you’re the first couple to have an international dalliance? It’s a pity you have to go so soon, Larry. Hurry back, son.”
Bridie left them to say their goodbyes in private. She was genuinely sorry to see him go. Maeve was much more manageable when he was around. Happier, Bridie supposed. Everybody needed someone to put them first, and since she had no mam or dad to give her that security, Maeve was probably lost. An old woman like her couldn’t replace that properly. And Bridie knew that tenderness was not one of her fortes; the orphanage had made sure of that. The generation gap didn’t help much either. Maybe if Maeve had been younger when she had come into Bridie’s care it might have been different, but a sulky, bratty teenager was never easy to show affection to.
Bridie had a lot of regrets now about how she had handled everything after the accident. Had she been wiser, she’d have called in some of those new-fangled what-you-may-call-its—bereavement counsellors, that was the term she was looking for—but there wasn’t much talk about them in Ireland at the time. When someone suggested a psychiatrist, sure that had been like a red rag to a bull; no granddaughter of hers needed a head doctor. And Bridie’s experience was that asking for help in this country meant that you handed the State too much power. How foolish she had been. And stubbornly independent. She couldn’t help acknowledging to herself that those were exactly the traits she was always complaining about in Maeve. Aiveen, Maeve’s mother, had them too. Maeve’s father, Declan, had been a patient man and well able for Aiveen. As Larry would be for Maeve.
Although Bridie felt she had failed Maeve in some ways, she was secretly pleased with how she had managed her over the last few months. The young lass had matured well and maybe now she’d be able to handle what was coming next month. It was hard to believe she was turning twenty-five at last. Bridie pondered what Maeve’s future might hold: America or Ireland. Whatever it was, Bridie hoped the young woman wouldn’t invest her whole life into the hotel. Although it had been a Godsend in the last few months while Maeve needed a focus, it meant long hours, hard work, and in recent years it had been pretty unprofitable. No future for the girl in it. But it would have to be Maeve’s decision now; Bridie was done with it, whatever happened.
Bridie wanted to have time to enjoy her old age. The truth was, although there
was
a loan, it hadn’t been strictly necessary. It was there partly for tax purposes, but also to teach Maeve financial responsibility. Bridie had been thinking ahead and she had her pension fund well taken care of. There were times over the last couple of months when she wondered if she was putting too much pressure on the child, but it was absolutely imperative that Maeve was prepared for what was coming, so Bridie had swallowed any self-doubts down like a bitter pill whenever they raised their ugly heads.
It was a stroke of good luck that brought Larry into their lives, just when the time was right, through an old connection rediscovered. Maeve was ready to grow up and was open to his steadiness and guidance. His maturity had rubbed off on her, but her spirit had enlivened him too, making him learn to enjoy life. They were good together. She almost hoped that he would bring Maeve to America and let her start a whole new life, even if she was to lose out on her company. Anyway, Bridie wasn’t so old that she couldn’t hop on a plane and visit, and it wasn’t like the old days where going to America was almost like a death, one visit home every few years. Sure, weren’t there the Internet and video calls and all sorts nowadays?
* * *
It was almost twenty-four hours later when Larry finally arrived at his ranch near Burke, Texas, tired, stressed, and lonely. The 100-degree heat didn’t help his humour and no sooner than he had landed, he was hankering after the 70 degrees and gentle breeze of the Galway coast. His manager was anxious to see him about some missing livestock. He had called in the law for rustling, but wanted to talk to Larry urgently. Larry felt guilty; he knew he had been neglecting his business in favour of his personal life. He was going to have to reach a decision soon, but first he needed a cold refreshing drink and a shower. He felt all the relief of the weary traveller as he drove up towards the large timber-framed house. His housekeeper had been expecting him and he was sure of an iced tea and good lunch. He’d been emailing Maeve on and off during stopovers, but already he was missing her.
Glancing over the bundle on his desk, Larry sighed at the truckload of correspondence needing to be dealt with; some urgent, some less so. Clive, his ranch manager, was pretty good and tried to deal with what he could, but some things needed Larry’s personal attention. There was also a stack of notes and memos from Clive, almost an aide memoire for himself so he wouldn’t forget to tell Larry anything. Larry knew he’d be able to thrash at least half of it, but he’d have to scan it first to see whether it was important or not. He knew he should call Clive as soon as possible, but kept deferring it. First he showered and ate, then stretched his long muscular frame back in his leather swivel office chair, put his feet up on his desk, and called his dad. Clive and the paperwork could wait.
“Hi, Dad, I’ve some great news to share…”
“Larry, congratulations, she’s a great girl.”
“What, who told you?”
“Bridie called me today; she thought you’d have let me know already. But she didn’t realise how long it took to get from Galway to here.”
“Bridie called you? Why would she do that?”
“I guess she was just doing the polite thing, I don’t know. Anyway, congratulations, son, I’m real proud of you, she is a good woman.”
“Thanks, Dad. Now we have to figure out how it’s all going to work out.”
“I messed up once. I had an Irish girl; I let her get away, because everything seemed too complicated. I was lucky enough to find your mom afterwards but it took years to find her, and I nearly missed the boat. Don’t make my mistake. Grab your opportunity with open arms.”
“I’ll try to, Dad, thanks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hit the end button with a smile and wondered briefly about his dad having a life before his mom.
Finally he could no longer put off meeting Clive and called him. He realised his reluctance to deal with business was that his heart just wasn’t in the ranch anymore. It was beyond on the golden sands of Connemara with a raven-haired beauty walking along the shore. He walked down the tree-lined avenue to meet Clive, not even aware of the vast farm around him. The enormous loblolly pine trees dwarfed Larry, providing limited shelter from the burning sun, but nothing could relieve the stifling humidity. The sound of a quad-cycle alerted him to Clive’s proximity, startling him back to reality as he approached the huge barn.
“Hi, boss, good trip?” Clive greeted him amiably, shouting above the purr of the motor. He was sun-scorched and freckled, with the hardy rugged face of a man used to working outdoors. His easy grin showed his good nature.
“As good as can be expected. Now what’s been happening here?”
“We were doing a roundup for the vet, and I noticed we were a hundred heads down. Then when I sent out searches, one of the hands—Carlos, you remember him? He took off. Hasn’t been seen since. So we called in the sheriff. Turns out Carlos Sanchez, with the social security number he was using, died two years ago.”
“Shit, so what’s happening now? What’s been done to locate him? I guess none of the other hands happened to have a photo of him on their cell phone, or hooked up with him on social media?”
“No, seems he was real careful not to get too close to anyone.”
“And the insurance guys?”
“…are stalling until they see what the sheriff comes up with. And even if they pay out, they’re arguing the value; they want to pay what we bought them for, ignoring what they’d be worth for slaughter. And you have to make a sworn statement with them first or some other such bullshit.”
Half of it went in one ear and out the other as Larry’s mind drifted off again and he struggled to pay attention.
“You’re tired; we can do this tomorrow if you want,” Clive said. “What is keeping you in Ireland? I wouldn’t have seen you as a hotel man. I thought it was just a cash investment, silent partner?”
“Just keeping an eye on my investment,” Larry answered with a smile. “I’ll have to keep close tabs on it over the next few months, so I’ll be looking to lease this place out for a while. Would you be interested?” He knew his timing could have been better with the rustling and all, but his need to get back to Maeve was urgent.
“Shit, I don’t know; I’d have to see if the numbers add up.”
“Or maybe you’d prefer to take control for a share of the profits for a while and see if that works.”
“We’ll see; got to sort this mess first. Let me think on it.”
Larry’s impatience grew over the next few weeks as the sheriff was making no headway on tracing Sanchez. Email and phone calls and even video-calls were all very well, but he really missed Maeve and it was beginning to look like he might have to prolong his absence. He’d caught up with everyone he wanted to see and had no satisfactory distractions. He couldn’t help worrying that she’d find someone closer to her own age. He wasn’t accustomed to these feelings of insecurity and a sense of doom was starting to creep in. No matter how loving and naughty her emails were, he still felt a sense of foreboding. Her birthday was around the corner and he would have sold his soul to the devil to be able to be there for it, just to get that sense of connection again.
From:
[email protected]
Subject: Parcel
Dear Larry,
How are things going over there? Any closer to getting to the bottom of it? Tell that damn sheriff to get on with it, that you have business you urgently need to see to over here (like servicing me for starters!). Missing you like mad and really wish you could be here for tomorrow. Bloody Granny (yeah, yeah, I know, I need to spank myself for the disrespect), you wouldn’t believe what she’s gone and done! She’s made a bloody appointment at the solicitors for tomorrow afternoon, so instead of spending my birthday in Galway getting pampered with Orla like I had planned, I have to sit through two hours of legal crap that’ll go way over my head. I thought we had all that sorted, but it seems I was wrong. Gah, I swear, I’ll strangle her yet!
Your parcel arrived today; it was really sweet of you to remember me. Of course the old witch won’t let me open it ‘til the morning. Why did she have to get to the post first? I hope it’s nothing naughty because no doubt she’ll stand over me like a sentinel as I open it. Thank you!
