Dangerous Innocence: Chapter 16

If Lorcan thought I’d sit back and watch time pass by while my sister was missing, he was mistaken.

Seamus gave me a friendly nod. I couldn’t imagine he was happy about his baby sitter duties. He was Lorcan’s second in command and he probably had better things to do than follow me around like a lost puppy. Yet when I asked him about it, he only smiled pleasantly.

“I do what Lorcan needs me to do, whatever that is.”

The moment we stepped out on the street, I realized what it meant to be Lorcan’s wife in this part of town. People greeted me or tossed curious glances my way. I was used to anonymity and always enjoyed the freedom it gave me; nobody paid attention, not to the good, and especially not to the bad. Now with everyone watching my every move, every mishap would be next week’s gossip, or worse … everything I did would eventually reach Lorcan’s ears. How could I investigate Imogen’s disappearance like that?

I needed to get rid of Seamus so I could contact Desmond. He could probably help me, but if word got to Lorcan that I’d spoken with police, things would become really uncomfortable for me. It was really risky. If Lorcan had the intention of helping me and was just waiting to see if I was worth the trouble, a meeting with police could ruin any chance of using his resources.

Seamus’ voice broke through my thoughts. “Maeve likes you. She’d like to spend more time with you.”

“I like her too. Has it been difficult for her to make friends here?”

Seamus paused, and I stopped beside him. “She’s always had her sisters as friends. Making friends outside of family is something new to her.”

“I doubt she’ll have trouble making new friends. She’s funny and kind. And she seemed to get along really well with Talulla, the seamstress.”

“She would be a good friend to you,” Seamus said then added in a tighter voice, “I know Talulla. She’s not the type of person you or Maeve should be friends with.”

“She seemed so nice.” She didn’t really. She had been reserved and cautious, but I still felt the need to defend her for an unknown reason.

“Maeve likes her too. But she likes to test the limits of our rules.”

Good to know. She was exactly the kind of person I needed. “Lorcan picked her as seamstress for our wedding, so she can’t be that bad.”

Seamus let out a bitter laugh. “Lorcan likes to keep his enemies very close. Talulla isn’t the enemy yet, but she’s a thorn in our side. I want you to be aware of that if you further your interactions with her.”

“Is Maeve allowed to see Talulla?”

“She is, and she knows to be wary. So should you. Maeve knows without a doubt where her loyalties lie, so she can draw boundaries when necessary. I think your loyalties are still a bit murky.”

I raised my eyebrows. I hadn’t expected him to be this direct, but I appreciated it. “My loyalties have to be earned.”

“Lorcan expects loyalty. From everyone around him, especially the people closest to him. Pick your battles wisely, Miss Killeen.”

“Mrs. Devaney,” I corrected, even if the reminder of my marriage to Lorcan sent a little shiver down my back. “I’d like to see Talulla now. I prefer to make up my own mind.”

Seamus gave a terse nod and led me the two blocks toward Talulla’s shop. When we stepped in, she was busy with an elderly lady who wanted an ancient fur coat repaired. It was moth eaten and sun bleached. If the poor fox could see what had become of his beautiful shiny fur, he’d probably die again. She held a Kerry Blue Terrier at the leash and he barked a warning at us.

“That’s not polite, Uggie.”

Seamus bowed his head toward the old woman.

Talulla was still inspecting the fox coat. “I’ll do my best, but the moths took their toll. It’s old.”

“It doesn’t have to outlive me, so just do what you can to make it last a few more months or maybe a year. That’s when my time’s up.”

Talulla waved her off, and Seamus clucked his tongue. “Mrs. Byrne, you’ll outlive us all.”

“Ninety is where I’m drawing the line,” the old woman said. “It’s enough. Four years without my Jack. It’s enough.”

“What about good ol’ Uggie? Won’t you try to reach one hundred for your mutt?” Seamus asked with a hint of sarcasm.

Mrs. Byrne wagged her finger at him. “Sarcasm doesn’t suit you, Seamus. I remember you and Lorcan running around Kenmare in your soggy cloth nappies.”

My eyes grew wide. Interesting. Maybe Mrs. Byrne could be another valuable source for me, if not for my search, then at least a way to better understand my husband.

I gave the woman a warm smile. There was a hint of wariness in her eyes before she offered me a polite smile. Mrs. Byrne would be a harder nut to crack. “The new Mrs. Devaney.”

She made it sound as if there had been a Mrs. Devaney before me, though maybe my own thought carousel that led to my assumption.

“Nice to meet you and Uggie.” Uggie gave me the same stiff look of his owner.

Mrs. Byrne nodded and briefly shook my hand. She was loyal to Lorcan and Seamus, or at least more loyal to them than she was to me, a complete stranger. “I knew your grandparents. Good people. Heartbroken after what your mother did, of course.”

I froze. “Are they still alive?” I asked before I could control my first impulse. Seamus shifted beside me. If he didn’t like the direction the conversation was taking, he wasn’t intervening yet.

“They used to live next door to me and my husband before we moved to Dublin and then later America.” She shook her head with a sad smile. “Your grandfather passed fifteen years ago and your grandmother died three years ago. Cancer. Sorrow destroyed her health.”

I nodded. It wasn’t difficult to guess that Mrs. Byrne hadn’t been a big fan of my mother and thus of me. Still, I had every intention to get in her good graces. She gave Talulla a quick smile, then a warmer one for Seamus before nodding tersely and leaving the shop with her grumbling dog.

“She doesn’t like me,” I said.

“She feels protective of Lorcan and the rest of us boys.”

I scoffed. “If anyone needs protection, it’s me. I’m married to Lorcan Devaney. You should know what that means.”

“I know that Lorcan holds great respect for the holy bond of matrimony. As his wife, you’re safer than everyone else, unless you break the trust Lorcan’s granting you.”

I doubted Lorcan trusted me in any way. He didn’t know me. Maybe he had tried to get to know me through Patrick but he hadn’t succeeded.

Talulla seemed disinterested in our conversation. She grabbed the fur coat and walked into the back room of her shop. I followed her, and of course Seamus did the same.

“Can’t you give me a bit of privacy?”

Seamus regarded Talulla, who was busy inspecting the coat as if the two of us weren’t worth her attention. “Remember what I said.” He turned and slipped back toward the front of the store.

“Nobody will come into my shop if the clan’s present!” Talulla shouted. “They’ll think I didn’t pay my protection!”

“You didn’t,” Seamus shouted back. “You have until tomorrow, or Ian is going to take cash from your customers in the next few weeks.”

Talulla let out a huff. Her eyes settled on me. “What are you doing here? I don’t need more Devaneys in my life.”

“I’m not a Devaney.”

“You are. On paper. In our world. In Ireland. You can’t be a Killeen and a Devaney. And Lorcan made the choice for you,” she whispered then added louder. “I’m busy. I promised Mrs. Byrne quick work.”

“Why did Mrs. Byrne move to New York? She’s an Irish lady.”

“Her husband had worked for the Devaneys since he was a teen. He was one of the best counterfeiters in Ireland, maybe all of Europe. Their son died the night Lorcan was born. Her husband saw it as a sign and swore he’d work for Lorcan once he was in business, so they packed their things and moved to New York with Lorcan ten years ago.”

“But her husband is dead. She could return to Ireland.”

“Her husband is buried here. She didn’t want his body to travel the Atlantic, and she wants to stay near his grave so she’s stuck here.”

I admired a love that deep. I’d never encountered it. Mum didn’t believe in love, nor did Imogen, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to believe in it.

Talulla sighed. “What do you want from me?”

I moved closer. “I told you, my sister is missing. I need to find her. But I can’t ask around without word getting back to Lorcan. Like you said, I’m a Devaney. People watch me.”

Talulla shook her head. “If I start asking questions about a Killeen, word will reach Lorcan too. I usually mind my own business. If I don’t, he’ll put two and two together.”

I bit my lip. She was probably right.

“Lorcan is your best bet to find your sister … if he wants you to find her.”

“What do you mean?”

Talulla shrugged. “Your sister is a Killeen. If she came here, Lorcan must have known.”

“You think he’s involved?”

“Oh, I don’t allow my thoughts to meander like that.”

“But would people know if Lorcan had been with my sister?” The thought that Lorcan might have been in the physical sense with Imogen made me feel sick. I saw firsthand what he was capable of. Maybe this was all part of a sick game.

“That would have made the rounds, I suppose. If you really want to know the gossip on the streets, you’ll have to ask Mrs. Byrne.”

“I doubt she’ll help me. She didn’t seem to like me.”

“Of course not. You didn’t give her reason to yet.”

“What can I do?”

Talulla watched me for a while before sighing. “Ok. I’ll help you. It’ll come back to bite me in the arse, I know it. Mrs. Byrne isn’t a good cook. She always has lunch at the Plough, just down the street, but its owner died and now the food’s horrendous. His son can’t cook to save his life. She’s been complaining to me about it. If you can cook, bring her a good old Irish stew. She prefers it with lamb. And a fresh loaf of soda bread. That might change the tide for you.”

I could cook. At home, I usually ventured for more exotic dishes: Indian, Thai or Turkish, but Mum and Imogen often asked for more traditional fare, so I knew I could cook a very good stew.

“Thank you.”

Talulla turned her attention back to the fur coat.

“Are you in danger? Because of the money?”

“Don’t worry. I’ll pay before they have to get nasty.”

That didn’t really reassure me, but I took my cue and left. I asked Seamus to take me to a grocer that had Irish staples and then returned home. I wanted to get started with the stew. It tasted better the next day, and I wanted to pay Mrs. Byrne a visit tomorrow. I was on pins and needles to make progress.

“Lorcan will be home soon.”

I nodded as I chopped carrots, parsnips, and potatoes. “You can leave. I’m busy cooking.”

Seamus hesitated but then a message popped up on his phone and his expression told me it was Maeve. “All right. I’ll let Lorcan know you’re alone.”

I rolled my eyes then tossed big chunks of lamb neck into the hot oil to sear it on all sides. I’d bought a big pot because I’d assumed Lorcan’s kitchen wasn’t equipped with appropriate cookware, and I’d been right. I doubted Lorcan had ever used his kitchen except to warm Flahavan’s microwavable quick oats that I found in his cupboard.

I’d just put the soda bread into the oven when the door to the apartment swung open and Lorcan stepped in, dressed in cargo pants, a wife beater and his chunky boots. The bulge in his pockets told me he was heavily armed. He stopped in the doorway, dark eyebrows climbing his forehead.

“What a sight. My wife cooking her hard-working husband a warm meal.”

He closed the door and crossed the living area toward the kitchen. He came up right behind me, his hips pressing against my butt, and watched over my shoulder as I stirred the stew.

“Smells delicious.”

“It still needs to cook another hour for the meat to be tender, and the bread’s not done either.”

I’d made enough food so Lorcan could have his fill too. I didn’t want him to grow suspicious. And maybe a full belly would make him more approachable.

“Do I get a welcome home kiss?” Lorcan murmured beside my ear. His low voice and the subtle scent of gunpowder and manly sweat spoke to the visceral part of me I hadn’t know existed before Lorcan. I pushed onto my tiptoes and pressed a quick kiss to his lips then leaned back against the counter. My eyes were drawn to the way his wifebeater hugged his muscled chest, and how the worn leather belt accentuated his narrow hips. Lorcan’s body called to me. He ran a finger down my throat to my neckline until he reached the first button of my loose blouse. He popped it open then another and pushed the fabric down my left shoulder, revealing my white bralette. The outline of my nipples was visible through the thin cotton and he cupped a nipple between his forefinger and thumb and began to tug.

“Is the stew for me?”

“Of course, it is.”

“Seamus told me you met Mairead today and it so happens that she loves her stew with lamb neck.”

“You’re right. I cooked a huge portion so I could bring some food to an old Irish lady. I thought this would be a good way to get the community’s approval.”

Lorcan chuckled and squeezed my nipple a bit harder, making me suck in a quick breath. My core clenched. I was already soaked, as if muscle memory worked down there too.

“Good girl.”

I breathed slowly in an attempt to control my body’s reaction. But when I glanced down at Lorcan’s body and saw the huge bulge in his pants, my need became a torrent. The part of me that Lorcan had awakened, that wild, lusty thing, wanted to get down on her knees, free his erection, and take him deep into my mouth. Maybe this time I’d control Lorcan with my hands and tongue and would make him a slave to his need.

One corner of Lorcan’s mouth tipped up. He didn’t stop teasing my nipple as he used his left hand to open his pants. It took him a bit to pull out his thick shaft. It bounced between us, and my core tightened with a need I despised. I still hadn’t gotten over my initial shock at how big he was.

“Come on,” Lorcan urged in a low, soft voice.

I knew what he wanted. I knew what I wanted.

“Do I need to give you orders again?” Lorcan rumbled. Despite the excited jolt my insides did at the prospect of becoming Lorcan’s lusty puppet, I knew I was on the edge of a precipice that would set the tone of our marriage. While I liked Lorcan to be in control, he needed to know that I could be at his equal, that I was someone he could rely on. I wanted him to believe the latter, even if it wasn’t true.

I gripped the base of his shaft in one hand and tugged at his wifebeater with the other. “I need you naked.”

One dark eyebrow rose in question but the eager glint in his eyes told me I was on the right path. This was a quid pro quo.

Lorcan grasped the neck of his wifebeater and tore it open, until the fabric shreds fluttered down to the floor.

I let out a stunned laugh. “I thought you didn’t like wasting money. Ripping apart your clothes is the epitome of wastefulness.”

“I need you to put my cock in your cheeky mouth.”

I put my palms against his broad chest, and sank my teeth into my lower lip. He was hot and felt so strong. This man could have been designed based on my darkest fantasies, minus his murderous tendencies.

Raking my fingers down his chest, sixpack and even pubic bone, I enjoyed his hiss when I grazed his cock with my nails.

I sank down on my knees, curled my hand around his base, and sucked Lorcan’s cock into my mouth. I relaxed my jaw as he’d instructed and managed to take a little more than half of him into my mouth.

“Quick learner and eager student, both qualities I appreciate.”

Lorcan held my hair as I established a slow, sloppy rhythm. Soon, my body was brimming with need, but I didn’t stop. I wanted to show Lorcan that I could control my body and his. Of course, he wouldn’t have it. He gripped my throat and slowly pulled his erection out of my mouth. “It’s time to stop.”

He released my throat and gripped my waist, lifting me off the ground and onto the counter. With a careless swipe, the knives, a spoon and a cutting board crashed to the ground.

The egg timer screeched and Lorcan tossed it against the wall, silencing it.

“The bread,” I said, a little breathless as Lorcan stepped between my legs. He turned off the oven without a glance, his eyes only on me.

His fat tip parted my pussy lips, and he relentlessly teased my clit. I gasped, my body quivering with need but also trepidation over having to adapt to his size again. “Lift your pretty ass a little,” he ordered.

I did. Lorcan stroked along my folds to increase my arousal before pushing between my folds. His tip nudged my entrance. The pressure mounted and I tensed even more. The sight of how big his cock looked against my pussy only increased my anxiety. Most of my pleasure evaporated remembering the pain from before.

Lorcan stroked my throat. “Relax for me.”

I wanted to, but my body fought his size. “You’re too big.”

His fingers flexed against my throat. “Your body already took me in once. You’ll do it again. You’ll take every inch of me, sweet Aislinn and you’ll enjoy it. Soon, you’ll appreciate every inch of me. A small dick is only useful the first time. After that, it’s a waste of your time.”

I snorted, my brows crinkling in amusement over his astute comment. His hold on my throat tightened slightly, and he leaned forward, his lips taking mine in a slow kiss. One arm snaked around me, palm against my butt, holding me fast as he shifted his hips and forced the first inch of his cock into me.

I exhaled sharply, but he only deepened our kiss. His hand left my throat and cupped my breast, pinching, squeezing, stroking, twirling until the intense pressure between my thighs turned to a throbbing. Lorcan began to slide in and out of my pussy, but not going any deeper. His hand fell from my breasts and gathered up my arousal on his fingers. He began to rub my clit. Soon the sensation of his shallow thrusts and the circles of his thumb on my clit brought me closer to release. My eyelids fluttered as I panted. Lorcan pushed me back until I lay on the counter. He bowed down, his lips snatching up my nipple. He didn’t stop teasing my clit until I was on the brink of release. Then, despite my huff of protest, he stopped and slid another inch into me. My lips parted, my body quivering with pain and pleasure. Lorcan rubbed my clit again until I was ready to fall again.

His lips brushed my ear. “Prepare yourself,” he warned, pinching my clit.

My body began to shake, toppling over, and Lorcan thrust into me all the way. I cried out.

And then every inch of him was inside of me, and boy was Lorcan right. For a moment I was sure I’d pass out, but then a mix of pain and building pleasure ripped through me. I cried out again, my eyes squeezing shut, overwhelmed by the sensation of being filled to the brim. I shook my head, not sure I could bear another second but also desperate for more. His tip pressed to a spot inside of me that made my toes curl with pleasure.

“Sweet Aislinn, don’t gift me your orgasms so quickly. My ego doesn’t need any boosting,” Lorcan said thickly, his lips gliding gently over my throat then suckling my nipple.

He began to thrust into me. My legs hung limply from the edge of the counter as I watched Lorcan through hooded eyes. He grasped my ankles to open me up, my heels pressing into his bicep.

I narrowed my eyes, ready for a smart comment, but Lorcan thrust upwards forcefully, driving himself even deeper. I cried out, almost coming again, even as my body ached from Lorcan’s size.

Lorcan’s muscular thighs flexed with every thrust. His cock felt like it was splitting me in two, but my body screamed for more and Lorcan gave it. He propelled his hips faster, driving his cock even deeper into me. Then, he collapsed on top of me with a guttural moan as he released into me. My own breathing ragged, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

I closed my eyes, listening to Lorcan’s heartbeat, or maybe I was feeling it. Being so close to someone blurred the lines of our bodies. It made me feel connected to Lorcan on a profound level. I felt boneless and deeply tired. Half asleep, I stroked Lorcan’s neck.

Aislinn’s breathing slowed, shallow and soft. Her fingers stroked my neck, raising goosebumps on my skin. I closed my eyes, resting my forehead on the counter. I didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to pull out of Aislinn. Being inside of her was like a homecoming and rebirth. I wasn’t sure what about Aislinn made me drunk with lust and desperate for more. I pressed a kiss to the crook between her shoulder and throat, but she didn’t react. Her fingers loosely rested on my neck. I raised my head to find her fast asleep beneath me.

I shook my head, tracing my thumb over her cheek. She was a natural beauty. I wasn’t sure if she wore makeup, but it definitely wasn’t the kind you’d notice. She was fiery and shy, innocent and wanton. She drove me crazy.

Father was sure she’d run away the moment she got the chance. I knew she would wait until she found Imogen. I never bothered chasing a woman, but I worried Aislinn might be the one to change that.

I straightened and slowly pulled out of her. My cock was tinged pink again. I paused, trying to decide if I had forgotten the condom on purpose. I wasn’t sure. I wanted children. But I wanted them to grow up in a good home. Fucking each other like horny teenagers didn’t mean we were equipped as parents.

I ran a hand through my hair. It was too soon for us, but maybe too soon was all we’d ever get. I shook my head, annoyed at my sappy thoughts. I stepped back and considered to let Aislinn sleep on the counter with her legs parted. It would make her absolutely mortified and furious once she woke.

I opted not to aggravate her and slid my arms under her legs and back, lifting her from the counter. She curled into me as I carried her into the bedroom. It was the first time she’d be in my bed. I put her down in the center and regarded her. I really loathed the idea that she’d try to run from me.

I returned to the kitchen. I wasn’t tired in the slightest. Over the years, my body had grown accustomed to a bare minimum of sleep. I was starving, though. The stew was still bubbling lightly on the stove. I lifted the glass lid and took a deep breath. My eyes slid shut, and I was transported back in time to my grandmother’s kitchen. The stew she’d prepared for me and my brothers had smelled like this. I opened my eyes, grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and dipped it into the stew. I brought it to my lips, prepared for disappointment. I had yet to taste a stew as good as my grandmother’s. The stews served in the pubs in New York were a disgrace. I still ate them because even a bad stew reminded me of home.

The moment I tasted Aislinn’s stew, my lips pulled into a nostalgic smile. I took another spoonful, not even bothering to open my eyes. I burned my tongue, but that hardly mattered.

A noise made my eyes fly open and my hand dart to the gun in my pocket.

Aislinn raised her palms. She was dressed in one of my T-shirts.

“You should sleep,” I rumbled, annoyed that she was watching me.

“And you shouldn’t eat a good stew straight from the pot. It should be savored while sitting down with a piece of bread.”

“It’s not a good stew.”

Aislinn flushed, hurt flickering across her face. I was surprised. I’d taunted and teased her a lot since we’d first met, but she never displayed any real hurt about any of my comments.

“It’s like Ireland on a spoon. It’s fucking amazing.”

She bit her lower lip, her cheeks turning red. She came toward me, bare feet, and a growing smile on her face. “The American is shining through.”

My brows furrowed.

“Fucking amazing,” she repeated with a small laugh and lightly nudged me with her hip. “Move over and sit down. I’ll fill a bowl for you.”

I backed away and sank down on a bar stool as I watched Aislinn ladle soup into a bowl. Then she bent down and took out the bread. She sliced off a big chunk and set it and the bowl down in front of me. I dug in, and every taste seemed to bring me a little closer to home.

“First, I savored you on the counter and now your soup. It can’t get any better than that,” I said with dirty laugh.

“Are you trying to get me pregnant?”

I raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look. You didn’t use a condom. I’m not stupid. You’re a cautious man. You wouldn’t forget using a condom. Children are a liability in your world, and you’d think twice before creating them.”

I leaned back, my belly warm with Aislinn’s soup. Maybe she was right. I never forgot a condom, not even in my horniest teenage days. “You’re my wife. Making babies is what marriage is for, right? Ask your uncle if you don’t believe me.”

Her hands balled into fists at her side. She shook her head and released a low breath. “People usually know each other before they marry. That way they can tell if they should have kids or not. We don’t know each other. But we need to know each other before we even consider having a child!”

“Do you really want to get to know me?” I asked. Aislinn was scared of many aspects of my personality, and for good reason.

Aislinn gave me an exasperated look. “Do you really want to have children with a woman you don’t know?”

When I’d sent our soldier to visit Patrick, I hadn’t made him only question the idiotic sod about Aislinn’s sexual endeavors. I wanted to know everything.

“I know a few things that tell me you’d be a good mother. I know you took care of your sister’s son because she didn’t want to. You were only sixteen but you didn’t hesitate to take on the full responsibility. You didn’t go to college because your family’s debts are too high. Instead, you worked as a waitress and spent every penny on your family. You still take care of little Finn, and now you’re trying to take care of your ungrateful sister.”

Aislinn remained silent.

“You could have just been a teenager. Partied, gone to college, snogged around, enjoyed yourself. Instead, you chose to become Finn’s substitute mother. Becoming a mother for a child that isn’t even your child, at such a young age, is already hard, but Finn’s not even a normal kid with his impairments.”

Aislinn’s face turned red, her eyes widening with rage. “He’s as normal as you and I. Don’t say that! I once kicked the asses of three teenage boys because they made fun of Finn’s spasms, and I don’t care who you are or what you’re capable of, I’ll kick your stupid ass too if you insult him.”

She swallowed hard, her chest heaving. People didn’t insult me, but I wasn’t angry at Aislinn’s outburst—it only confirmed what my research had revealed about her. “Can I get another ladle of soup?”

She swallowed again then nodded slowly. She took the bowl, filled it with soup then set it down in front of me.

“Sit down. I want company,” I said gruffly, and she complied.

“I’m aware of my body,” she said simply. “I’m not ovulating in the next few days, so you can’t get me pregnant.”

“Ovulating. What a sexy word.”

Her lips pinched. “It was for nothing.”

“Oh, that’s where you’re wrong. It was very pleasurable, and there will be other occasions where I can get you pregnant.”

Aislinn shook her head. “Finn wasn’t wanted. Imogen tried to want him, but he always felt that he’d been a means to an end, her ticket out of Dublin, her way to blackmail a rich guy. He’ll have to live with that burden all his life. I don’t want to have children that don’t feel wanted because we have them for the wrong reasons.”

“And what reasons would that be?”

“You want to bind me to you. My mother prevented a marriage with her pregnancy and you’re trying to salvage ours with one.”

I laughed bitterly. “Sweet Aislinn, you are bound to me. And our marriage has just begun. If you’d just stop being so stubborn, it wouldn’t need salvaging. But I think you’re scared of liking me.”