Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (9 page)

“No strings attached? If at any point it becomes too much, you will gracefully bow out? No jealousy if I want to go home with another?” Sex this good wasn’t going to last and the thrill of my lifestyle keeps my beast fed so that it doesn’t get bored and start distracting me from other important matters. Sex and art, my two main stress outlets.

“You are assuming that it will be just as good as last time, then?” He grins a sexy, panty dropping-smile that has me speechless.

“No answer?” I peg him to agree to my terms.

“You drive a hard bargain. I will not make promises that I cannot keep. But bowing out, I can keep that one.”

While contemplating that with another sip of liquid courage, I sneak another glance at him. He had to be over six feet tall, handsome face reminiscent of a Hemsworth brother but with a better, thicker muscular build and warm eyes that sparkle with excitement as they assess me. He knows I am considering it. Truth be told, I have been longing for him in a way I have never longed after a lover before. I simply don’t want to admit it.

My resolve evaporates with the slight brush of his hand along my bare thigh. With my motto being follow the heart’s desires, I stand, drop the robe, and head to the bed just behind the TV, which is barely separated by a Japanese room divider. Gavin quickly follows, strips, and joins me among the downy comfort and oversized pillows, no words needed.

When he leans in to claim my mouth, sparks ignite and the same urgency as before takes over as we lose ourselves to mind-blowing passion. There is no role exchange or edgy play pushing me further than I am ready to go; there is only us, stripped down and open wide for one another on a level neither of us is comfortable with. As the sun rises in the sky, I do something else I have never done, fall asleep in someone’s arms, for the entire morning.

Chapter 6

Sorcha

My alarm sounds out at two PM, pulling me out of a deep slumber to distressingly find a warm body next to me. I jump in startled fashion, waking the cause of my grief. A sexy grin creeps across his five o’clock shadow, which is perfectly paired with his bed-tousled hair. The urge to scream is stifled in my throat by the realization of his inviting presence, replaced by one to grab my camera and capture the careless way the afternoon light is dancing across his features. That is halted though as he pulls me back down into the depths of the bed.

“I startled you? That must mean you don’t let anyone spend the night,” he muses into my hair, following it with feather-light kisses down my neck.

“Never,” I sigh from parted lips.

“Never? I am your first? Well then.” He leans in and kisses me passionately, effortlessly lulling the mood back into an aroused state.

“Looks like you might have been right,” he mumbles against my mouth.

“Uh? Right…about what?” The fog his affections have planted robs me of any clear thinking abilities.

“To assume we would make it to the part where we have to worry about jealousy.” Gavin playfully bends to nip at my nipple, sending a surge of heat through my body. The sight of his glorious, naked, chiseled perfection makes me want to get down on my knees and thank the heavens. His ink ripples as his muscles move his heft down my body, bringing the unique art to life.

“Now you are the one assuming it was that good for me,” I gasp as he clamps down harder on the sensitive, peaked flesh.

Pinning my wrists together and moving them up and over my head with one large hand, the other sinks below the blankets to tease my clit as he moves to kiss me again. As his fingers continue to dance down to my rosette, I freeze. My heart suddenly pounds in my ears as I stare up and back at my unique, hand-carved mandala headboard, seeking tranquility from the fear.

“Virgin ass?”

I silently nod under his lips in reply.

“Another first. I will remedy that tonight after work,” he devilishly promises.

My stomach flips at the finality in his statement. We are to be together again, tonight, and he wants to breach my virgin ass. I am not sure how I feel about that.

“Stop over thinking it. I will take care of you, always. When it comes to sex, I will never push you farther than you can handle as your trust and safety mean more to me than anything. Do you understand?” His dominant personality peaks with frank undertones as his sincerity burns me by way of a heady, whiskey gaze. Something about him makes me trust that that is true. Come to think about it, he hasn’t set off my internal alarms at all as of yet. Even when he was breaking and entering via human resources, that held true. It was his direct approach and disregard for my privacy that pissed me off, but it never broke the trust and faith he seems to naturally command.

“Yes,” I breathe.

“Good. Let’s shower and get some food in us.” The way he says it tells me that that he is trying to be less authoritative for my benefit, but he is failing. Gavin is dominant to the core and that won’t be easily hidden.

Gavin got a bit frisky in the shower, big surprise, but the only thing that saves my chaste bum is the fact that we are out of condoms and I am beginning to feel ‘hangry.’ Both doing nothing for one another. Horny and ‘hangry?’ Watch out!

“You are on your own for food; I have plans,” I plainly inform my houseguest without much thought.

“Which are?” He penetrates me with those damn eyes, again, attempting to will the information out of me.

“Don’t,” I caution with a hand on hip. He is not allowed to get all nosy about my life because he was allowed to stay the night. It is bad enough I even allowed him to, let alone am considering letting him come back tonight to do things to me that I have never considered with anyone else. Crap, let him? Part of me is bursting with excitement over the whole damn possibility. Fuck inner goddess, he’s yanked my inner slut out, lavishing her beyond her wildest dreams and she’ll be damned if she goes back into the closet quietly.

“Fine. But if we are practicing honesty and trust with one another, would it be so hard to tell me?” He pulls out his boyish, innocent grin that simultaneously makes me want to melt and scold him for attempting to manipulate me.

Blowing out hard, I cross my arms over my barely contained chest and tap my bare foot, deep in thought. Sensing that I am on the verge of blowing up, he holds his hands up in defeat.

“Okay, forget it.” His dejection breaks my ever-lovin’ heart.

“This is sex, beyond that is unknown. Don’t forget that. Sunday afternoon, I meet my sister and friends for a meal. I do this every Sunday.” Jesus, that about gutted me. Why the hell am I compelled to let him in?

“Was that so hard?” He is restraining the patronizing tone that would typically accompany those words while hitting me with the sudden ‘boy next door’ change in his features, making it impossible to be cross.

“Yes.” I almost think I’d rather walk over fiery coals than do that again. I like my anonymity and privacy.

“Tonight then?” He pushes his luck.

I throw his coat at him as he stands in my doorway, “With bells on.” His snicker echoes in the hall as the door closes. Oh, boy.

Gavin

As I get into my car to leave her house, the radio comes on and Prince’s “Little Red Corvette” begins and I can’t help but smile to myself. How fucking perfect is that?
Baby girl, you are a fast little thing, and I am going to help remedy that
.

She has such an aversion to any form of commitment. I am going to take pleasure in peeling back her layers and savoring each one. For a sexual liberal, Sorcha is quite virginal. And I, being the sick fuck that I am, am reveling in it. What we shared last night proved what I suspected. This is a once-in-a-lifetime connection. Her mouth, her wit, and her body have lit me in ways I never knew possible. Even running the streets never gave me this kind of challenge, this kind of high. Which is probably why I’ve never cared for long-term relationships. No one has held my fancy long enough to really consider it. Good thing I like a challenge. Speaking of, that douche at the bar was definitely one of her old flings. She probably has a slew of one-nighters. Which is something I shouldn’t care about, but I do. The cowboy trying to come back around for seconds when she clearly states to all she screws that there will be none made me more determined to get back in her bed.

Now that I am back in her bed, I will get to know her better in ways no man has before. Every time I get a taste, she makes me hungrier for more. I will claim that sweet little ass of hers, and she will know exactly who she belongs to. Lord help anyone who gets in my way.

Sorcha

“Wow, you look special,” Samuel cracks as I slide into the booth and he snakes an arm around me. He looks devastatingly handsome in his Calvin Klein mock turtleneck sweater and dress pants.

“Not a lot of sleep,” I admonish, warily glancing at our friends.

“Went back to the cowboy for seconds?” He raises an eyebrow, making Ben and Molly laugh, knowing full and well what he is doing. Breonna isn’t here yet and Jade cancelled.

Backed into a corner, my honesty relents under the corner Samuel has painted me into. “Not the cowboy,” slips out between sips of hot coffee. I cling to the cup as if it could save me from their scrutiny.  Samuel knows me well, but he hasn’t considered that I might go back to another for seconds. I close my eyes and try to wish away the last few days of activities while sipping the steaming beverage in gratitude.

“No! Sor, seriously?” Samuel gasps, his dark blue eyes begging me to say something to negate the truth he is finally seeing.

“What? Who?” Ben chimes and Molly leans in, waiting for the impending bomb with wide eyes.

“I don’t know what this is! Please don’t mention it around Bre; I can’t handle that right now.” Swirling the dark liquid in my mug, I silently wish I could drowned in it right about now.

“Oh, shit. She is seeing someone! Never thought I would see the day. Sam─ quick, did hell freeze over?” Molly jokes, but Samuel isn’t in the mood for it. A sour look has taken up residence all over his pretty face.

“Tell her who,” he demands, causing me to cringe as he caresses the last syllable in warning.

“Master Gavin,” I croak in dismay. Molly hisses and draws back in confusion, her big eyes about to bulge from her head.

“How the hell…?” Molly blanches even paler than normal.

“Who is that?” Ben asks innocently, swiveling back and forth between us for answers.

“Only one of the most notoriously wild Doms at the club. I’m speechless; no idea where to go with that one.” Molly shakes her head in disbelief and nervously begins to pick at the seam of her jeans.

Replaying the events leading up to the bar scene last night, strategically leaving out the creepy, showing-up-uninvited part and most of the sex stuff, I catch them up on some of what has transpired. Who am I kidding? This is not something that should be hidden from my rat pack.

“So it isn’t─?” Molly attempts to ask me if it is serious, but I cut her off.

“No.”

“And he isn’t─?” Samuel tries to further make sense of it.

“No!” Fuck, he isn’t my boyfriend all of a sudden!

“Seeing someone four nights in a row is some sort of record for you, Sor,” Ben randomly enlightens us, almost eliciting a slow clap of irony from me.

“No shit. Here comes Breonna. Please shut it,” I hiss.

My sister walks in, takes one look at all of our faces, sits, looks me in the eye, and finally speaks.

“Who is he?” she excitedly demands, her eyes glittering in delight.

“No one.” Damn it, why do I even bother? This is why I usually just shoot truth from the hip as lying never does any good.

“Inis dom, Sorcha,” she warns.

And thus begins our ten-minute argument in Gaelic, back and forth; isolating our friends as they try to ignore our heated exchange, which is as good as attempting to ignore two battling bulls. By the end, the entire restaurant is staring.

“Gavin!” I finally relent in enragement, the first comprehensible word my friends can understand.

“Seriously, a Brit?” is all she can say as she turns her tone down as if nothing happened.

“I don’t know what he is. Probably a Heinz 57 like most Americans. And how do you get Brit from just his name? Does it really matter?” Out of all that has been said, she is hung up on that? An assumption of origination based on the crazy interworking’s of her overbearing and sometimes judgmental mind? She is crazy!

“It’s just a feeling I have, and no, it wouldn’t be a problem if he was. I’m shocked by it, that’s all,” she innocently chirps as she primly attempts to straighten up her silverware and other items littered about the table as she processes.

“No one at this table is more shocked than I am. Period. I have no idea what I am thinking. There is something more there, and I can’t seem to walk away until I give it a chance. We are not dating, we are agreeing to see each other again, and that is where it stays for now.” In an attempt to convince them, it becomes apparent that it is I who needs the convincing. This little lass is falling hard with no safety rope, and she doesn’t like the vulnerability in it one bit.

“It is perfectly normal to date someone. Why is it so painful?” She pins me with that big-sister glare.

“I don’t want to deal with the ups, downs, and in-betweens of a relationship. I don’t have time or the desire for that. Dating leads there. What is so hard to understand about that?” The resolve finally returns to my tone as my steadfast beliefs stand tall.

“Alright already, we’ve heard it a hundred times. Does he know about your commitment issues?” Bre softens her voice again despite the snark.

“Yes. And they are not issues; it’s a lifestyle choice. Just as you chose to get married and have kids, I choose to avoid all that for the time being.”

“This ought to be interesting; my money is on a week, tops,” Breonna wagers, causing the others to scoff in protest and then quickly look away from her all-seeing eye. “What? Wait, you know him? Sorcha, did you meet him Thursday night?” She is too perceptive for her own good. Lord help her husband if he ever has a midlife crisis. She is a bloodhound!

“Yeah.” My head hangs in shame.

“No way! That changes everything- less than a week.” She nods in a decisive fashion on her wager as her fingers intertwine with our grandmother’s antique, pearl necklace sitting proudly around her slender neck. I’ve always loved that necklace but continue to think it too matriarchal for my taste. She does it justice.

“What! Why would you say that?” I balk.

“Anyone as disciplined as that would expect the same from a partner. You are not capable of letting go enough to engage in that type of relationship. You’ve always been so hell-bent on your ways. Stubborn since birth!” Breonna states in a decidedly final manner.