West-End Boys (Naïve Mistakes) (2 page)

We strode past the kitchen. Conall had turned the oven off.

He eased me onto the lush white comforter on the bedroom, pressed a button so the fireplace would go on. Tonight the music would be made of the wind, our breaths, our gasps, my cries and his groans. The drums would be our skins slapping against each other; the guitar, my cries. The violins, that final release. The crescendo, the moment just before.

I lay back. Conall stood, undid the last two buttons of his dress shirt that hadn't ripped, took it off. Sweat gleamed off him, mesmerizing me and making me all the more needy. I eased my soaking panties off. My insides were clenched and tight again as if we'd only just begun. He undid his buckle. I shot forward, my mouth dripping, hungry for him. I pushed his pants and boxers down in one movement, slid my open mouth over his manhood and bobbed and kissed him.

Lion roars echoed against the wall as I handled him and pumped him and swallowed all of his size into me. He moved his pelvis. My saliva dripped on the ground. "Wait, wait!" he cried.

He pushed me back, I opened my legs, my eyes on his naked body, this Statue of Zeus in front of me. My lips parted, my tongue went dry, and he eased himself above me. "Take it off," he said, referring to my lingerie. "Take it all off."

I slid off my top. When he eased a finger inside me I stopped, trembled, melted and shuddered. "Sorry," he said. He took it out of me and I found my strength again.

Then my stockings came off, the garter, all of it. "You don't like?" I asked.

He paused, raised his eyebrows. "Does it look like I don't like?" He gestured with open palms to his hard-on. "I just want you as you are on our first time."

Our first time
... Oh, God. I went into a dream state. There could be no better first, and with no better person.

Conall laid his naked body above mine. My legs surrounded his waist, knees up at the sky, wide open, ready for him. He lifted himself up and looked at me, looked me over up and down, grinning. "You're so fucking beautiful, Leora."

I ran my hand down his muscled abs, grabbed his cocked and pulled gently once, letting the pre-come drip onto my navel. "And you," I said.

He trickled a sizzling finger down my right breast, over the taut nipple, down to my stomach.

"You ready?" he asked.

My chest tightened, my eyes closed without will. Nervous tension clutched at me for no reason. I nodded.

Conall moved his lips to my ear. "I love you," he said.

"I love you, too." My right hand went to behind his head, waiting, waiting, waiting... I felt his butt with my left hand, smooth and hard. I pushed him down toward me, hinting for him to enter me, to finally take my virginity, because this is what I wanted, who I wanted it with. No matter what happened, he would be my first. I'd decided that a long time ago.

His cock touched the inside of my nether lips, just the tip. I heard myself moan. My chin trembled. He touched the left lip below, then the right.

Then he moved back suddenly. "I hate to ruin the mood, but you have been taking the pill every day, haven't you?"

I cocked an eyebrow.

"Sorry, just checking." He lowered himself back down onto me.

There was a discernible pause in the ether of my mind. I felt all of me clench and tighten up. My eyes shot up to the ceiling. I held my breath.

I waited.

And then...he filled me.

-3-

"God, this is so beautiful," escaped the words from me.

He rode me, gently, filling me and unfilling me, rocking his body into mine so that our motions combined into one, consummating each other in the most sublime, final form that two bodies can ever accomplish.

Every thrust forced out a gasp from me. My body swayed underneath his. My hands eased themselves onto his shoulders, then his back, his hair, his nose, his lips. I felt my own lips searching for him, hunting for his moisture and passion, kissing him as we united, back and forth, back and forth.

The groans in my chest became louder, they became wails of human joy, clutching at all the pain my cells had felt in their history, sensing that this was an act of creation, of a new beginning.

And still he rode me.

My legs curled around his butt and then, instinctively, primordially, I snapped out of my reverie, and I
ground
my pelvis into him. And I rode
him
. We rode each other, ground our hips in swaying rhythm as the heat and pressure built inside us both, his groans following mine, mine following his, until they were indiscernible as separate entities, until we were one. Moaning, wailing, holding and grappling, sweat gleaming from our skins as our grips slid off each other's wet skins and the thrusts became harder, more powerful, stronger and deeper.

"Oh, God. Oh, man. Oh, my baby." My head snapped back every time he speared me.

And then I heard it, that sound I'd heard from Conall so many times before but never like this. Never as close as this. The moment just before, hanging off a cliff, teeter-tottering, ready to burst but not quite. His voice hummed, his skin shone, his manly sounds grew as his neck tensed and his brow furrowed.

"Yes, baby," I said, my mind completely focused on him.  I'd forgotten myself. Despite the burgeoning surge of emotion that was about to snap in me, I'd forgotten my own body. I'd forgotten my tensing legs, the tightness of his manhood inside me, rubbing me, scraping my tensile nerves so that they veritably
burned
with desire down below.

"Come in me, baby. Come inside me." I stroked his hair and looked at him, examined every contour of his face.

His chest muscles tensed, his eyes clenched, his jaw firmed up.

Then he opened his eyes, looked me deep in mine.

And he exploded.

I felt it deep in me, spasming, thrusting, pushing so far inside me, so far for life itself. I flinched back, swallowed once as his tip caressed the very limits of my insides. He roared, shattered the windows with his growls, climbed the Swiss Alps and cried out from the top of them.

I growled with him, joining him as my body forgot about its soul, forgot about its mind as I travelled up with him, writhing in ecstasy, feeling him impale me like there was nothing else, no one else, only us, now, together. One.

We clutched each other as we both came. I bit into his massive traps, heat swarming up in clouds to my face from our mutual friction. We rocked, we ground.

And then, together, we slowed.

He swayed in me, and I held him. Held him by his shoulders as he continued to move inside me, gently, softly. I eased my legs from his back, let him move in and out and around me. But I clutched him with my arms still, never letting go, holding him, holding him while he moved.

Our breathing became slower, but remained deep. Conall said nothing, kept his temple pressed to mine, still moving in and out of me. His left hand slid to my waist, my butt, caressed me, then to my belly button, and back up behind my shoulder. Again, now with his right hand, down to my butt-cheek.

He lifted me, lifted me
into
him as he continued to rock himself in me. I was done, satisfied. Not satisfied with a smile but with something so much deeper as if all the world had disappeared and there had only existed this boat and the ocean of our bed...and our swaying.

I felt him thrust again, thrusting
into
me as if we hadn't just completed. He thrust more. Sped up. My eyes shut, heard his breathing quicken, his manly moans deepen.

He was going again, I could feel it.

I held him, held him as he rode and began to get hard once more. His movements sizzled my fraught nerves down below. He clutched my own traps, lifted his head until my eyes met his.

And then...he
pumped
me.

-4-

It lasted minutes. The movement was so fast. His pelvis pumped in a total blur in and out of my loosened areas because I'd already come and the tightening was gone.

I saw it forming, his second orgasm, in his eyes.

I rubbed his hair as my head slammed back and forth on the pillow from his motion. And when he started coming again, so did I, caught by surprise. Slowly, then faster.

His shudders were uncontrolled, visceral, shaking and trembling inside me. My own were rapid, razor-sharp so that I whimpered and felt a momentary expulsion into the heavens as we came together for the second time, his orgasm lasting many seconds more than mine. But mine being no less beautiful as I watched him pleasure himself through me.

His seed warmed me. Our mutual moisture crawled out of me, down my inner thigh. I clutched his butt, my ankles interlocked, pushed him into me even though now, finally, he was softening. And I moved, feeling him, sensing him.

He kissed me, first on the lips, slow and gentle and wet and passionately. Then on my neck, my breasts, my right nipple, softer now, the right areola. He cupped my breast in his hand, squeezed it, buried it in his entire mouth. As he eased himself out of me, he moved down, kissed my abs, pecked my belly button, my pubis. His right hand slid between my legs, rubbed my moisture around me, massaged me gently. Then, with his hand still there, his fingers teasing the inside of me, he moved his head back up, eased himself onto my left side, and kissed me on the lips while he continued to massage me down below. Slowly, gently, in, out, around.

He kept his hand there while we kissed. I put mine around his neck, kissed him back, my eyes now completely unable to open. I smelled him, us, the room. Rubbed my nose against the curls of his chest hairs.

I rolled on top of him, straddled him, ground my pelvis and wet crotch over his own, rode him softly, sensually, worming my butt back and forth, grinding down, spreading my moisture on him. My hands were on his chest, tickling, teasing, fanning over his pecs and rubbing. I rode him slowly, deliberately. Rode him for a half an hour at least, saying nothing, smiling, my eyes mostly closed, opening only occasionally to see his own equally as shut. He smiled back, tickled and fondled my breasts, rubbed his hand against my waist, my clit... My clit again, and again, pressed a thumb inside.

I gasped quietly, bit my lip trying to control myself, smiled at him as the heat began again to flush over my skin, opening my lungs to him. Every time he touched me below I sizzled, rolled my head back, thought of him again inside me. Eventually he was hard again. And then I grabbed his cock with my hand, let my hair drop in front of my face, put him inside me.

And I
pumped
him
.

-1-

"I guess this is when people in the movies light up a smoke, right?" I said, my head resting on his right arm. We were both naked, looking up at the wooden ceiling, warm from the fires in the cabin and those that burned inside of us.

Conall shrugged. "I do believe it is."

I nestled my nose against his shoulder and neck, grazed my hand over his chest.

"It's so good to see you," I said.

He kissed my forehead.

I appreciated that he hadn't asked the idiotic question of,
So, how was your first time?

But it was all I could think of, stuck in its reverie, its absolute perfection, replaying the moment of him entering me in my mind over and over again, feeling his warmth, his throbbing hugeness pushing up against me, filling me.

"It was so much better than I'd expected," I said, half in a dream.

Conall knew what I meant, but said nothing. He pulled me closer to him, hugged me.

"It was...not like I expected at all. It was...
wow
...freaking
amazing
," I continued.

"That's how it's supposed to be," he said, his eyes on the ceiling above, his fingers twiddling my hair aimlessly.

I saw now that his mind was on something. As if he'd forgotten everything on seeing me but now life was encroaching again.

I fished. "Everything OK?"

His finger paused momentarily on my head, then continued. He cleared his throat. "Sure, um, of course it is." He got up, sat on the side of the bed. Looked out the sliding door at the dark blue mountains.

My eyes wandered to his massive back, the poem inscribed across it, thinking of how he'd said it was for me.

I let him have his peace. He'd tell me when he was ready.

My fingers moved over to his traps, trickled down his snaking muscles. He bowed his head, sighed, then turned to me and lay down, kissing me wetly and completely. We breathed together and my skin warmed once more. "I love you with everything I am. Do you know that?" he said.

I watched him for a second before answering, my hand behind his neck. I wondered what could be bothering him, what secret he was keeping from me, probably 'to keep me safe.'

"And I you," I said quietly, feeling the fear in those words. Sensing the importance of loving another so much that losing that person could mean the end of your own world.

"So how's the skiing?" he asked, changing the subject.

I paused for a second, decided I'd fight this battle later. "I hate skiing. I know every fashion store around here. I've made friends with all sorts of cheese-loving people, drank lots of Gluehwein, but don't get me out on those slopes, man. I suck at it!"

He laughed. "So do I."

"Really? I would've thought you spent endless winters here as a kid, pampered by your rich family."

"My family never pampered. But I have spent time here, mostly for business."

I remembered that he'd mentioned he'd be doing some business while we were here as well, but that he'd only be gone a few a hours a day. I saw my opportunity. "Business in the US okay?"

He sat up and looked down at me, smirked. "You're sly."

"Is it working?"

He shrugged. "Let's eat."

-2-

"Great roast," he said, sitting shirtless across from me at the kitchen island. "I didn't know you could cook." He harpooned a piece of steamed broccoli, chewed it voraciously.

I couldn't cook. I'd cooked and burned this meal four times before tonight. I wanted to do it for him and had practiced.

I sat there blankly for a while, my eyes glued to his muscled body.

"Yes?" he said.

"Yes what?" I wasn't eating, just sitting there, admiring his nudity, wondering if he was hardening up below the counter. I felt my own nipples tense. I was already wanting him again, thinking about him doing me on the island, throwing all the dishes on the ground with a crash, leaving the mess for the chalet staff the next day. Like the wine glass of earlier...

I was thinking of doing it on the plush rug in the sitting room, in the shower, on the floor of the bedroom, the bed again...

Conall was staring at me. I felt my cheeks go red.

"Sorry," I said, abashed.

"You were thinking about sex, weren't you?" He pointed at me with his fork, chewing like a hungry bull.

"Was not." I looked down at my plate, played with my food, felt my cheeks sear from his gaze.

Conall said nothing.

"It's just that..." I hesitated, "...you...made a promise." I played more with my food.

When he still said nothing, I finally looked up at him, saw his naughty-boy smirk. Each of his mischievous eyes was a clear mountain lake, deep and refreshing. He chewed, feigning ignorance for a second. Then, "Oh, I remember that promise. I remember it well." He took a sip of Merlot. "Great choice of wine, by the way."

"The lady at the wine store said it was good. '
Is French
,' she said." I curled my hand up by my ear and fluttered my eyes.

"Well," said Conall, sitting up and holding the wine-glass in a prissy manner, "if
is
French"—he did the accent beautifully—"
is muss bee perrrfict
!"

I laughed, looked down again, not worrying
too much
about Conall's promise to spend three days with me making love on my first time, but not forgetting it either. Conall and I had moved forward. I knew that sometimes promises would be broken, but I also knew that he loved me, unconditionally, and I loved him. So I didn't mind if it wouldn't run the way he'd once said, didn't mind at all.

That's not to say, however, that I didn't want it. Because, boy, I wanted it. I
really
wanted it.

"You think I didn't plan for our undisturbed time of raw, passionate sex?"

Damn
, I was so
warm
suddenly. Conall had always been easy, slow, precise. In control, deliberate. Now there was another side to him—a raw, earthy side. All man, wanting me and thinking of nothing else. One track minded.

Hot damn it turned me on.

My nether lips sighed, wetly. "Hmmmmm," I said, not even thinking the sound before it had escaped me. I tightened my legs. "Conall Williams..." I shook my head. "You have
no
idea how much you just turned me on."

He smiled. "Then I'd better eat fast."

-3-

"You were going to tell me about your trip..." I said, trying to make conversation as the room suffocated me with its heat. His chest was distracting me. I had to get this out of the way quickly.

He chewed silently for a second or two, looking down. Then, with a full mouth, he said, "Wasn't only business."

"Huh?"

He stopped chewing, sipped, looked me dead in the eyes.

It felt like someone was punching me in the chest. "Am I going to be ready for what you're about to say to me?"

He smiled, tension easing off his exquisite shoulders. "Of course, relax. It's just..." Pause. "...I had to go on down to the cop station there. NYPD."

The room started swaying.

"They wanted to question me about this Raphael guy, the day he and I had a scuffle."

My stomach sank. I was glad I was sitting or else I would've fallen. I was expecting the worst. "You're...a suspect?"

He laughed. "Course not! They just had some questions."

"So you flew all the way to the states to answer them? Couldn't you Skype or something?"

"Yes, we could've done that—"

"And how did they know about that 'scuffle'? Everybody at that frickin party was high on coke with years of reputation to lose if they called the cops!"

"Obviously not everybody—"

"Damn it—"

"Leora, calm down! There's another reason they wanted me there."

Time stopped. My hand shot to a half-full wine glass and it burned as I washed it down my throat.

"They wanted to know if I'd be willing to release some of the dirt I had on him, and on a few other cartels, both in the states and elsewhere."

"'Willing'?"

"I'm not a suspect in anything. So they can't order me to turn over any information. Besides, none of that stuff would be valid in a court of law because of how it was obtained. But they figured it might help in finding out some information about...your friend."

My 'friend.' Bianca had never been that. And yet, when someone dies, they instantly become so to others, don't they? "Bianca Henshaw was never my friend. And as horrible as it is what happened to her, she was still the one who damn-near broke my back, remember?" My spine twanged as I thought again about it. "And we warned her, repeatedly, about Raphael. She knew what she was doing. It's sad what happened to her. But she made a choice."

"I know," he said calmly, "it's just a figure of speech."

"So how much did you give them? The cops, I mean."

Conall filled his glass. "Want some more?" He gestured to my glass. I handed it to him. "As little as possible," he said.

The glass went cold in my hand. "As little as possible?"

"That's right."

"I don't get it."

"I never liked cops."

I was totally befuddled. My face showed it.

"They can do their own investigations. I'm very sorry about what happened to that girl. But nothing can change that now. My interest is you, keeping you safe. Us. Kayla as well." He gestured in the general direction of her chalet. "Until such a time as I see that it would be better to hand over my years of expensive investment into having leverage over every drug cartel in Europe and the states—better for
us
, not them—I'll hold onto it a little longer." Conall had the hint of a smile on his face.

"There's more you're not saying, isn't there?"

"Maybe."

I frowned, poked my food which was getting cold.

"I have to be sure they're clean, Leo. The cops."

"NYPD?"

"Sure. And DEA, the feds, all of them."

"You're kidding me, right?"

He shook his head. "So many cops in the world and the drug problem only gets worse. What does that say to you? As I said, the drug-war is no longer my war. Keeping us safe
is
. That's why Brad is here— How's he doing by the way?"

"He's fine. You were saying?"

"Leo, Trey is the only law-enforcement officer in the world that I trust."
Ahh, so Trey
is
the law!
"Beyond that, they can all get in line. Plenty of people want things from me. Coming from a rich family, I've had to learn to deal with them. I did tell the cops what I knew about Raphael. I'd looked at some of the dirt I had on him as well after you told me what happened. I had Trey go over it, too. There's nothing there for them. I had very little stuff on him. He was small fish, so my guys wasted little time on him.

"But these cops wanted
everything
I had. US, Europe, UK. It sounded fishy... I decided against it.

"But there was
yet another reason they called me there."

Oh, God.
My hand shot to my forehead. "What else?"

He said nothing. "These vegetables are
really
good."

I glared at him.

"They want me to consult on some of their cyber-crime cases. It's pretty cool. I get to help hack things."

It took a moment for it to sink in before I cracked up laughing. "'Pretty cool'? You sound like a teenage kid stuck in a basement somewhere."

"Yip." He smiled widely now, wiped his lips and put his plate aside. "I love that shit. But if I were indeed stuck in a basement, you'd better believe it would be state-of-the-art."

"You're gonna hack...for the cops."

"No, consult. And maybe help some of their own hackers."

"I thought you didn't trust cops."

"No, I said I don't
like
cops. I like hacking. Besides, it's not that I don't trust them. I just hate the whole philosophy of a Police State. Because that's what the USA is. Guilty until proven innocent. The UK is not far behind. I believe most cops have a good heart, they're just part of an unthinking institution that leaves little room for reason. It's all black and white. And that's bullshit. Life is not black and white. It's, well, E.L. James."

I cracked up laughing. "So you're gonna help this institution you don't like, learn how to hack."

"Sure."

"You're such a geek."

"A sexy geek."

Hell yeah, baby.
I flushed with sudden heat. "All this talk is making me warm."

"You sure it's not the wine?"

"That too."