Claddagh and Chaos
Read Claddagh and Chaos Online
Authors: Cayce Poponea
Claddagh and Chaos
Copyright © 2015 Cayce Poponea
Published by Cayce’s Creations All Rights Reserved
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means; including information storage and retrieval systems-except in the case of brief excerpts or quotations embodied in review or critical writings without the expressed permission of the author.
The characters and events in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
Cover Design by
Mayhem Cover Creations
Formatting by
Champagne Formats
Other work by Cayce Poponea
Shamrocks and Secrets
Coming summer of 2015 ...
Crain’s Landing
When the end of Shamrocks and Secrets was in sight, one of my friends asked me why I chose to end it so bluntly. She told me, it was as if you just added water and poof, three kids and a dog. She wanted to know how they got there. Did they spend everyday living life to the fullest? Or did Patrick and Christi face the same harsh realities of life and come out as a stronger, healthier couple? Thus the birth of Claddagh and Chaos. So ... to my dearest friend, Gemma Warburton. This is for you. I hope you enjoy!!!
THE SOFT PATTERING OF RAINDROPS combined with the gentle, cool breeze had stirred me from my brief but much needed sleep. The feel of Christi’s warm, soft body nestled against mine was the only reminder assuring me this was all real. Even with the cool temperature of the room, the sheet she was under barely covered her lower half. I ran my index finger along the outline of her slender spine, caressing the beautiful skin that rested there.
I welcomed the rain; it ensured that my plan for my new wife wouldn’t be interrupted by a desire to enjoy the green landscape or any of the other activities the village had to offer. No, today I would keep my Christi right where she was now.
I watched as the breeze ruffled the sheer curtains that adorned the door leading out to the yard. I could hear the sound of the surf as it broke along the rocky shore, the waves crashing over and over, like a lullaby. How I wished we could stay here in our little cocoon for the rest of our lives, no one to interrupt the peace and quiet.
The desire to have her again was overwhelming. Last night was the first time we had been together since prior to the kidnapping. Once I had her in the house, I had thrown her onto the bed and taken what was mine, in turn giving her what was hers.
My hand made contact with the tip of her shoulder, caressing her shoulder blade, down her soft back, finally to the junction of her hip and the two tiny dimples that stood proud like a beacon for my pleasure. It was as I started to make my way back up her spine that the glint from the Claddagh ring on my pinky finger caught my attention. I sighed, remembering how only a day ago, I had made the promise, placing it on my finger.
When I was a boy, my father always made time for me and my sister. He would take me to ballgames or just hang out in the backyard and throw the ball around. With my sister, he would take her out to dinner and show her how men were supposed to treat her.
I could remember one time my father took me out for ice cream. Amex was at a friend’s house and so it was only da and me. I remembered seeing his Claddagh ring on his pinky finger, but I never paid much attention to it. So, sitting outside in the heat of June in Chicago watching our favorite team win , I asked my father where he had gotten that ring.
“Patrick, one day in the future, you’ll stand in front of all the family and God and make a promise to a beautiful, young girl. You’ll promise to protect her, provide for her, and most of all, love only her. But before you do that, you’ll stand in front of all the men in our family and you’ll swear an oath to always put your family first.”
I had nearly forgotten about the ring and story he shared when my father and uncles came into the room as I was dressing for the wedding yesterday. At first, I was worried my nightmare had come true and they were here to tell me she had changed her mind. The look on my father’s face was one of severity and seriousness. What happened next was something I would remember for the rest of my life.
“Patrick ...” His tone confirmed what he was about to say would change my life. “As you know, you’re about to take a vow of marriage.”
I didn’t respond. My job was to listen and listen well. Even if I was about to get married to the most perfect creature to walk the planet, I knew he would have me shot me for less than simple disrespect.
“You know that for generations, the men of this family have made a vow of our own. One we keep among the men of this family.”
Behind him stood not only my uncles, but some of my closest men, as well as men from my extended family. Matthew stood beside my father, his look as pensive. Sherman and Caleb stood tall beside him, hands in a stolid stance, faces absent of the traditional smiles.
“You were given the position as the head of this family because of your birth. You’re given the gift of being head of your family by sheer luck. Being a husband and father is an honor. One we don’t take lightly.”
I felt my heart begin to pound in my chest. I had sworn to Christi I wouldn’t have my gun on me at our wedding. I was regretting that promise.
“The shamrock you gave to Christi was a promise, but the Claddagh holds so much more.”
My memories came flooding back to me of the ring my father wore on his right pinky finger.
“I told you when you were younger this day would come. I didn’t tell you what would be expected by the men of your family and what would happen if you choose to break the vow you give to us today.”
I watched as all of the men stood behind my father, a united front; they were making their presence in the room as strong as possible. There would be no misunderstandings today.
“By accepting this ring, you accept the consequences of breaking the solemn vow you make to us; as well, to always honor her
and
your family.”
Knowing how our family worked, I didn’t have to ask what would happen if I broke this vow. Besides the obvious of losing Christi and any children we had, someone would have to hand out the ultimate punishment.
“By whose hand?” It was my only question.
“Mine,” my father spoke, clear and emotionless , as he extended his open hand with the silver Claddagh resting in his palm.
With absolute confidence, I took the ring from his hand and placed it on my pinky. The vow was now made and my fate sealed. If I ever dishonored my bride, my father would be forced to take my life. I was confident I would die a happily married old man.
“Good morning, Husband.” Christi’s raspy voice brought me back to the present. She would never know of the vow I had taken. Last night after our second round, she held my hand and it was then she noticed my ring. I told her the truth; that it was a gift from my father.
“Actually, I think it’s afternoon.”
Covering her body with mine, once again, my need for her was evident against her silky thigh. I learned early on that Christi loved it when I nibbled on the junction of her neck and shoulder. The moan that escaped her vocal cords went directly to my groin, increasing my desire for her.
Christi knew me well, also; she would grab a handful of hair at the back of my neck and tug. That, combined with her sweet moans, would send me to places I had never been. I wanted this feeling to last forever, to make every time I made love to my wife, feel like the first time.
Ignoring her attempt to pull me closer to devour her tempting neck, I pulled myself away. I watched as her confused and dare I say, pissed off face, questioned my action. I pulled the sheet away, eliciting giggles from her. I pressed her hips firmly into the mattress and moved my knees until they were nearly touching her ass cheeks; her knees fell to the side of their own accord. Christi was a beautiful creature, soft and supple, including the glistening lips of her engorged pussy. She called to me, even when she said nothing, her body shouted my name.
“You know, Christi ...” I leaned my body down, my index finger sliding through the evidence of her arousal. “ ... this is my favorite place on Earth . Here in this bed, with you wide open for me, knowing that in less than ten seconds, I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll forget your name.”
My tongue dove into her warm, pink folds. My eyes locked onto the flesh that was created for my sole enjoyment. Christi tried to lift her hips off the mattress as my tongue found its target; her erect clit that was hiding behind the skin protecting it. With the tip of my tongue, I flicked the hardened nub, freeing it from its protective covering. My lips formed a seal as my mouth began to suck. The more she moaned, the harder I sucked. I added first my index finger and then my middle finger, fucking her slowly and methodically with my wet digits. Her fingers were buried deep in my hair, pulling the short strands, causing a pain that I welcomed, encouraging me to go further, love her harder.