AOIFE
WHEN I PEELED my eyelids open the following morning, it was to the hangover from hell, and a hand probing my face.
Blinking awake from the sticky intrusion, I quickly studied my surroundings to find myself twisted up in the sheets of a familiar bed, while an equally familiar toddler poked at me with his slobbery little fingers.
My body tensed for the briefest of moments, as my bleary-eyed gaze took stock of the wide-eyed child staring back at me, and the lap in which he was perched on.
Shirtless, and propped up against the wall his bed was aligned against, Joey had his head tilted sideways as he slept.
He had one hand balled into a fist at his side, while the other hand hung limply around his brother’s waist.
Protecting him even in sleep.
“Hi, Sean,” I whisper-croaked, trying to conjure up a smile for him, not an easy feat considering even my lips ached.
“E-fa,” he whispered back, and then shyly clambered back to the safety of his big brother’s arms. “O-ee.” Wrapping his small arm around Joey’s neck,
he snuggled closer, and buried his face in the curve of his brother’s neck. “O- ee.”
“You’re grand, I promise,” Joey mumbled, eyes still closed, as he tightened his arm around the little guy, and my heart squeezed tight at the sight. “Just close your eyes, Seany-boo.”
“O-ee, poos.”
Those two words had Joey practically vaulting off the bed, with his baby brother tucked under his arm.
“Fuck my life,” he muttered, stalking over to his door and one-handedly dragging the chest of drawers out of his way before unlocking and yanking the bedroom door open. “You can wipe your own ass this time,” he warned the little guy in his arms, as he disappeared into the landing. “But good job for telling me, kid.”
Frozen in place, the throbbing in my head assured me that I couldn’t move if I wanted to.
A few minutes later, Joey strolled back into his room, this time clutching a can of coke instead of a sibling.
“Morning.” His eyes danced with amusement as he closed his bedroom door behind him. “How’s the head?”
“Morning,” I croaked out hoarsely, as I made a feeble attempt to drag myself into a sitting position. “And terrible.” I blew out a pained breath and clutched my temple. “I think I’m on the way out.”
Closing the space between us, he sank down on the edge of the bed. “Nah, you’ll live,” he chuckled, thrusting the ice-cold can into my hands. “Drink.”
“I can’t,” I groaned, and then physically gagged at the concept of putting another drop of liquid inside my poor stomach. “Seriously, I think I’m dying here.”
“You’re not dying, but you are in trouble.” “Ugh,” I groaned. “Why? What did I do?”
“Smoking.” He gave me a hard look. “Not cool, Molloy.” “Yeah, okay,” I snorted. “Like you can talk.”
“I’m serious.” His green eyes were full of sincerity and concern. “I know why you did it, and it worked, but don’t ever do it again, okay?”
“Don’t worry,” I moaned. “I have no plans to.”
“Good.” Shaking his head, he reached over and cracked the can open and gently pushed it towards my face. “Now, drink up or you’ll feel worse.”
Reluctantly, I took a small sip from the can, and when it didn’t kill me, I took a bigger one.
Suddenly realizing just how parched I was, I quickly gulped down half the can, my eyes never leaving his as I drank.
Nodding his approval, Joey reached into the pocket of his grey sweatpants and withdrew a small packet of paracetamol, and from the other pocket, he produced a packet of salt and vinegar crips.
“Trust me,” he was quick to coax when I eyed him warily. “It’ll work.”
“Fine.” With a resigned sigh, I popped two painkillers and quickly drained the rest of the can before reaching for the crisps. “I thought we were going back to my place?” I mused, unable to piece the events of last night together through the hazy fog in my mind, as I munched on the crisps.
“So did I,” he agreed. “But you insisted that I take you back to my place.” “I did?”
“Yeah, you did.”
“Huh.” Swallowing down a mouthful of salt and vinegar goodness, I titled my head to the side and considered his cure, feeling my stomach settle second by second. “Sugar, salt, and paracetamol? I have to say, this is a pretty strange hair of the dog, Joe, but it’s a good one.”
“Family recipe,” was his wry response. “Perks of growing up with an alcoholic for a father, and a mother with a penchant for benzos.”
“And a messy drunk for a girlfriend,” I offered, wincing when my eyes landed on the notable sick bucket next to my side of the bed. “I’m guessing that was for me, right?”
Joey smirked and I dropped my head in my hands. “Oh god,” I groaned. “You had to clean up my puke.”
“It was the champagne,” he replied with a chuckle. “Or so you told me in
between spraying us both in chunks in that Feely lad’s car on the way home.” “I did?”
“Yeah.” He inclined his head to his t-shirt that I was sporting. “I had to put you in the shower when we got back here.”
“Oh, my sweet baby Jesus,” I wailed, mortified. “Stop laughing, Joe. It’s not funny. It’s horrifying.”
“It’s not a big deal,” he laughed, pulling my hands away from my face. “It’s not like you haven’t returned the favor a time or ten for me.” Shrugging, he added, “It was my turn to look after you.”
“That’s different.” “How?”
“Because you’re my boyfriend.”
“So? You’re my girlfriend.”
“Girlfriends are supposed to be sexy.”
“Molloy, I can assure you that you are insanely sexy.” “I am?”
“Absolutely,” he replied and then choked out another laugh. “Especially when you have champagne bubbles coming out of your nose.”
“Oh, fuck right off,” I snapped, grabbing a pillow from behind my back and smacking him over the head with it.
“I did the best I could with your hair,” he added. “But I’ve never washed hair as long as yours before, so if I screwed up, don’t hold it against me.”
My heart squeezed. “You washed my hair?”
“I sort of had to,” he replied. “You sprayed your ponytail with chunks, too.”
“Oh god.” I pulled my damp hair over my shoulder and took a sniff, instantly recognizing the shampoo scent as the one he used. “That’s quite possibly the most romantically disgusting thing anyone’s ever done for me.”
“Come on,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll make you a cuppa.”
“Isn’t that against your rules?” I reminded him, throwing the covers off and climbing out of bed. “I mean, don’t you prefer us to stay in your room when we’re here?”
“Yeah, well, that was before.”
“Before what?”
“Before last night,” he replied gruffly. “Before I opened my ears and actually listened for a change.”
“So, boys can listen,” I mused, readjusting the waistband of his boxers he clearly dressed me in last night. “I thought that was just a myth.”
“I heard you, Aoif.” Reaching for my hand, he pulled me close. “And I meant what I said about trusting you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” He nodded slowly. “This is my world. It’s fucking horrible, but I’m willing to show you, if you’re willing to stay.”
“Always, Joe,” I whispered, wrapping my arms around his waist. “Always.”
 |
BRALESS BENEATH HIS WHITE T–SHIRT, and with only his black boxers to cover my ass, I piled my hair into a make-shift bun on top of my head, and trailed downstairs with Joey, too hungover to care that I looked like something the cat dragged in.
Fully aware that much of last night’s make-up was still smeared across my face, I checked my vanity at the kitchen door, and let him walk me inside.
“Joey,” his mother said from her usual perch at the table. Her gaze flicked to me and I felt a sudden shift in her mood. “Aoife.”
“Morning.” Acknowledging his mother, Joey walked us over to the kettle, keeping my back pressed to his front as he set to work on making coffee.
The need to conceal his hard-on that was digging into my back was no doubt the reason for keeping me close.
“The two of you woke half the house up last night, making all that racket when you came in.”
“Hi, Marie,” I replied, offering her a smile, even though she did not look happy to see me. “Sorry about that.”
“Yeah,” Joey called over his shoulder, while poking me in the rib. “She’ll puke quieter next time.”
“Asshole,” I grumbled under my breath, trying and failing to stamp on his foot with my heel because the asshole had the reflexes of a cat.
“Oh,” his mother said, watching us warily from her perch. “When you didn’t bring Aoife around over Christmas, I thought you two might have gone your separate ways.”
No such luck, bitch.
“I’m afraid I’m here to stay.” I gave her an extra wide smile, as I spooned sugar into my mug. “Coffee?”
“No. Thank you.” She turned her attention to her son. “I’ve agreed to take on Betty Murphy’s cleaning shift at the hospital this afternoon. You’ll be here to watch Sean, won’t you?”
“No.”
“No?” Confusion filled her blue eyes. “What do you mean no?”
“I mean no.” Stepping around me now that his morning wood was under control, Joey moved for the fridge and grabbed the milk. “I have plans.”
“What plans?”
“Just plans, Mam,” Joey replied, pouring a dollop of milk into both of our mugs.
“With who?”
“With Aoife,” he replied, winking when he handed me the mug. My heart thudded in victory.
“Can you change your plans?” his mother pressed. “I already told Betty that I would cover her shift.”
“No, I can’t,” Joey replied slowly. “Sunday is my only day off and I’m spending it with my girlfriend.”
Ha-ha-ha-ha! Giving her a sweetly smug fuck-you smile, I leaned up on my tip-toes, and pressed a kiss to her son’s cheek.
“We need the money.”
“I don’t know what to tell ya, Mam.”
“Well, what am I supposed to do with Sean?” Joey shrugged but didn’t answer.
“Shannon is at Nanny’s getting her uniform altered, and your father has taken Ollie and Tadhg to that hurling blitz at the pavilion.”
“He’s your son,” came my boyfriend’s quiet reply. “I know that, Joey, but I need you.”
“Mam.”
“You have responsibilities.”
His nostrils flared. “I’m well aware.”
“We can stay here and mind Sean for your mam, Joe,” I decided to say, thrilled that he was trying to put me first, but knowing that his guilt would only serve as a downer on his mood for the rest of the day. “It’s not like we have anything better to do.”
“You sure?” Uncertain green eyes landed on mine. “You didn’t sign up to spending your Sunday babysitting my brother, Molloy.”
No, but I definitely signed up to be with you.
“I’m sure.” I gave him an enthusiastic nod before turning back to his mother. “We’ll watch your son.”
Joey’s mother didn’t like me, didn’t want me anywhere near any of her sons, but I had her over a rock, and she could do nothing but nod stiffly and say, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Still smiling, I caught ahold of Joey’s hand and practically dragged him out of the kitchen. “Let’s go.”
“Did you see the look on her face?” he chuckled, following me up the staircase, trying to balance both steaming mugs of coffee. “She’s raging.”
“Because she doesn’t want me in her house.” Closing his bedroom door behind us, I turned the key in the lock and prowled towards him. “Distracting her perfectly trained, busy little worker bee.”
Setting both mugs down on his windowsill, Joey turned back to me and gave me a heated look. “Call me a bee again, and I’ll have to sting ya.”
“Sounds tempting.”
Reaching for the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing, I quickly whipped it over my head and laughed when he groaned. “Fuck.”
“Come on, Joe.” Hooking my fingers into the waistband of the boxers I was wearing, I pushed the fabric down my thighs. “I have the perfect place for you to put your stinger.”
“Your mind is so messed up,” he laughed, pushing his sweats down his narrow hips. “You can make filth out of anything, Molloy.”
“You love my dirty mind.”
“You’re right. I do,” he agreed, as he closed the space between us and reached for me. “And I love your ass.” Hoisting me up, he pushed my back against his door and leaned in close. “And these lips.”
Kissing me deeply, he growled into my mouth and rocked himself against me, causing the thick head of his cock to probe my clit.
“Do it, Joe,” I encouraged, hooking my legs around his waist, as I slipped a hand between us and fisted his shaft. “Take me.”
“Have me,” he whispered against my lips, as he slowly rocked into my touch. “Put me inside you.”
Oh, Jesus.
Shivering against his lips, I tilted my pelvis, aligning my body with his, and slowly fed him into my body, breathing hard as he filled me to the point of pain. “You stretch me so good.”
“Keep talking and it’ll be over before it starts,” he warned, hips gyrating against mine, as he slowly built up a delicious rhythm that involved making minimal noise against the doorframe while making maximum impact on my body.
“You like my pussy, Joe?” “I love your pussy.”
“How much?”
“Molloy.”
“Come on, Joe. Talk to me.”
“I can’t.” Releasing a pained groan, he dropped his head on my shoulder. “She’s right downstairs.”
“So?” I breathed, pulling his face back to mine and kissing him hard. “Since when do we care about what she thinks?”
“We don’t,” he agreed, lips meeting mine for a glorious kiss, while he rocked into me. “But this is her house—”
“This is your room,” I interrupted, thrusting myself against him. “And in your room, you fuck me, Joey.”
Heat flooded his eyes.
“I’m yours,” I whispered, giving myself entirely to him. “You can have me anytime, anyplace, anywhere because you own me.”
“Jesus.”
“Every inch of me,” I breathed, chest heaving against his as our bodies collided. “So, take what’s yours.”
Releasing a feral growl, Joey claimed my lips with his and did just that.
