Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
I gasped then moaned when his tongue pressed into me as his fingers kept fucking me. I closed my eyes against my own reflection and lost myself in Lorcan’s touch, in his skilled tongue, and soon in the pain-pleasure combination bursting through me as he fucked me.
We were eating the cold food on the sofa when my phone rang. It was home. I picked up. “Mum?”
“Aislinn?” said Finn’s small voice.
“Finn! Is Mum with you?”
“No. Our neighbor cooks lunch for me. But I wanted to talk to you. I miss you.” His words came out in a bad stutter, but I gathered what he said.
“I miss you too, Finn. I’ll be back soon.”
I could feel Lorcan’s eyes on me. I couldn’t really return to Dublin as Lorcan’s wife. I was expected to stay here. But I didn’t intend on being Lorcan’s wife for long. Lorcan didn’t know that though. Or maybe he did.
“I miss you so much,” Finn whispered. “Can I come visit?”
“It’s a long flight, Finn. I don’t think Mum can take off time from work that long. We’ll see each other soon. I promise.”
He told me about his last horse therapy session and then our neighbor took the phone and hung up.
I closed my eyes, feeling homesick and guilty for leaving Finn.
“Why don’t you bring Finn here? We can figure it out. It won’t take long to find a new place to live with an extra bedroom.”
I stared at Lorcan in surprise. Was he being serious?
“Ireland is his home. He should stay with Mum, and Mum won’t leave Ireland.”
“Your mother seems busy keeping her head afloat. You don’t have to work. You would have time to take care of your brother, and he could get better treatment over here. Money isn’t an issue. He’s still young. New York could be his home.”
Was Lorcan being kind? Or was this his way of keeping me in New York? Keeping me with him? “Did it for you?”
“No, but I was twenty when I came here. My roots are in Kenmare, in Ireland. Your brother is still small. Memories won’t bind him to Ireland.”
I could feel myself seriously considering his offer. I missed Finn and he missed me. I knew Lorcan was right. Mum was probably working overtime to make up for my missing money. Finn liked our neighbor, but she wasn’t family and she was old. I wanted Finn safe. But was he really safe in Dublin? Everyone who was connected to the Five-Leaf-Clover gang knew about my marriage to Lorcan by now. That meant people would find out about Mum and Finn. I wasn’t sure if Balor would make sure my mother and Finn were safe. If Finn was here, I could protect him, and for some reason I didn’t think Lorcan posed a danger for him.
It all depended on how much longer my search for Imogen would take. Weeks? Months? And once I found Imogen, would I be able to return right away? Probably not. So more time could pass. Maybe more weeks or months. What if that meant a year without Finn? He was closest to me, always had been, and I had time like Lorcan had said.
Could I really drag Finn into this?
“You should fly him over. If things don’t work out, he can return to Dublin. No harm done. I don’t care about a few thousand dollars for airfare. Even your mother can return to her old turf for all I care.”
I nodded. “I’ll talk to her, and Finn.”
Lorcan had refused to take me with him to meet with Laurence. He claimed it was to protect me, but I couldn’t help but wonder if he did it to choose which information to share with me. I hated being left on the sideline, especially since this was my sister. He didn’t care about her wellbeing.
Left to my own devices, I decided it was time for a grocery haul. When I realized that there was no way I could carry the four heavy bags by myself, I called for a cab. I didn’t have a driver’s license. I had never needed one in Dublin and lacked the money to get one. Considering the crazy traffic in New York, it was probably for the best anyway. Back at home, I got to cooking. Thanks to the newsletter of our Irish parish that I was now following, I knew about the potluck taking place this Sunday after Mass. Gulliver hadn’t spoken to me since the wedding. I couldn’t say if it was because he didn’t care enough about me or his conscience had caught up with him and he couldn’t bear to inquire about my wellbeing. I was certain that Lorcan would want to attend the Sunday service and even the potluck. He needed to be involved in the community, and I had every intention of working my way into their hearts through food. Traditional Irish cooking wasn’t my forte, because I loved experimenting with the dishes to give them a new edge. For the potluck I wanted to stick to traditions, but I wouldn’t go into this without practice, so I’d made a list of recipes to test. First, I made the apple cake and custard sauce to go with it. Then I got the oatmeal soda bread going. Last but not least, I started the two main dishes, a Dublin coddle—a recipe I’d never made before with bacon, sausages, onion and potatoes—and a cottage pie with peas and minced beef.