Padraig would have laughed if he could have spared the breath.
He lifted his hand and brought it down on her other ass cheek. He alternated two more times, watching as Emmy came to life beneath him once more. She pushed up onto her knees but kept her head against the mattress.
“I want more,” she said.
“Of the spanking? Or…?” He placed his cock back at her opening.
“That. I want that. God, please, Paddy. Take me. Hard.”
He didn’t need to be asked twice. Hell, he didn’t need to be asked the first time. He thrust in roughly, quickly, giving her no time to adjust as he gave her exactly what she wanted.
The temperature in the room grew hotter, more humid, their bodies slick with sweat as they pounded into each other as if their lives depended on it.
Reaching around her, he found her clit, stroking it, determined she was going to come with him. She got there a split second before him, coming again—for the third time—and this orgasm was stronger than all the rest. Her keening cry mingled with his groans and curses as he came so hard, it was almost painful.
“Jesus, Em! Goddammit, sweetheart. Fuck.”
Neither of them spoke as they fell down onto the mattress, the only sound in the room their labored breathing.
Padraig’s heart was racing so fast, he thought he might have a heart attack.
Emmy lay facedown, her head turned away from him, so all he could see was her mass of long blonde hair.
“Turn around, Emmy,” he said, needing to see her face, wanting to make sure she was okay, that he hadn’t been too rough.
She twisted, revealing her flushed cheeks, her bright—if tired—blue eyes, and her cat-who-ate-the-canary grin, which told him all he needed to know. Emmy scooched over until her head rested on his shoulder, her arm around his waist. He tucked her even closer as he wrapped his arm around her and placed a kiss on top of her head.
“Okay?” he asked.
“So okay.” She lifted her head and they kissed again, this one just a soft touching of lips. Crazy how it impacted him just as strongly as the longer, deeper, more passionate ones.
They lay together for several minutes, neither of them speaking. Their friendship had evolved incrementally over the past two years, until they’d reached a place where there was no such thing as awkward silence.
“You want to take a shower together before we turn in for the night?” he asked, realizing if he lay there too much longer, he’d fall asleep.
“You’re staying?” she asked.
He hadn’t considered that wasn’t an option. “Of course. Unless you want me to leave.”
She shook her head. “Oh no. I don’t want you to leave. Not at all. I was only thinking about Seamus.”
He loved that she was such an animal lover. It was something they had in common. “Half an hour before I broke up your date with Joe, I slipped out for a few minutes and took a walk to cool off. Went to my apartment and grabbed Seamus and his leash. We blew off some steam together. He’ll be okay until morning.”
“So the way you came out onto that dance floor, guns blazing, was after you blew off steam?”
“Hell yeah. If hadn’t done that, I would have walked over to Joe and started the conversation without words, just fists flying. I have to admit…I’ve never been the jealous type. But tonight, I was eaten alive with it.”
“I thought it was hot,” Emmy confessed.
“Oh yeah?”
She nodded. “Never had a guy fight for me.”
“I’m always going to fight for you, Emmy.” The moment he said the words, he knew they were true.
“I’m always going to fight for you too,” she said, her eyes brimming with happy tears. “Do you have to go into work tomorrow?”
“Nope. I’m off the rest of the weekend. Meeting with my dad, Ewan, and Keira Monday morning to discuss how the soft opening went. Figure we’ll take a day or two to fix what needs fixing and then…we’ll open. Besides, you and I have a date planned tomorrow night, remember?”
“I do. But we could just hang out here if you wanted.”
“Nope. Taking my girl out for a fancy dinner.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“A fancy dinner?”
She shook her head. “Being your girl.”
He liked the sound of that too.
“Well, if you won’t let me cook you dinner, I’ll make you breakfast in the morning then. I make a killer spinach and mushroom omelet.”
“You like to cook?”
“I love it, but I don’t do it much. Always seems like too much trouble, trying to cook for one.”
“Yeah. I get that—eating alone sucks.”
“It really does.”
“Doesn’t help that I’m not much in the kitchen. If I’m not eating at the pub, my dinners are usually cereal, soup, frozen pizza, or the yellow meal.”
She gave him a curious look. “Do I want to know what the yellow meal is?”
Padraig laughed. “Mia dubbed it that. As she got sicker, I took over more of the meal prep. Like I said, I’m not a great cook. One of our weekly standards was the yellow meal. I threw a couple prepackaged chicken cordon bleu and some tater tots on a cookie sheet in the oven and then opened a can of corn so we could say we’d eaten a vegetable. Of course, I always added a dollop of ketchup for color because I’m a professional that way.”
She laughed. “Do you promise not to judge me if I say that actually sounds pretty good?”
“I’ll make it for you one night.”
They both laughed when they heard a scratching at the door. “My cats sleep with me,” she admitted.
“That might be a problem.” She frowned briefly before he explained, “Because Seamus sleeps with me. You think Luna and Neville would be okay sharing a bed with my mutt?”
“Might make for some interesting nights,” she said, before the weight of his words sank in. “You’re planning for us to share a bed?”
“Every single night.”
“Oh. Okay. Yeah.”
He laughed at her surprised but obviously pleased response—the same one she gave earlier when he’d said he was going to make love to her. She stood up to cross the room and the second she opened the door, both cats streaked inside, jumping onto the bed. Neville—a huge Maine Coon—settled down at his feet almost instantly. Luna—the tiny Calico—prowled around him a couple of times before flopping down near his head.
Emmy returned to the bed, but she didn’t get in. “You know,” she said. “I’ve never showered with anyone before.”
All traces of tiredness he’d felt vanished in an instant as Padraig rose from the bed. “I’ll scrub your back if you scrub mine.”
She giggled. “Deal.”
8
Padraig pulled out Emmy’s chair for her, and she smiled. “Thanks.”
Her gaze traveled around the restaurant, taking in the white tablecloths, the candlelight, the soft piano music, the dim lighting.
Padraig ordered a bottle of Chardonnay from the waiter, who came to greet them as soon as they were seated.
The restaurant wasn’t overly crowded, the tables spaced out enough that she could almost believe they were the only people in the place.