Once Kissed: An O'Brien Family Novel (The O'Brien Family) (10 page)

I drag her closer, letting her tongue savor every bit of me mixed with her. She hasn’t bothered to pull on panties. Her bare ass gripped in my hands is proof of that. I moan against her lips, wanting to go down on her again. But this time, she’s the one who wants to play. She tugs down my jeans, reaches inside my briefs, and takes me deep into her mouth.

My back crashes into the wall. Oh,
fuck.

The feel of her has me groaning. I’ve never been loud when I’ve messed around. But I am now. And so is Tess, the popping sound of her tightening lips throwing me over the edge.

My hands fist her hair while she digs her nails into my hips, encouraging me to pump. She works me, tapering her seal, sucking firmly, rubbing fast. But it’s not until I come that she meets my eyes again, finishing me off with those perfect lips.

This time, it’s her turn to stumble when she stands, her turn to stagger away slowly. She hits a few buttons, returning the elevator to her floor, her eyes never leaving mine.

The doors open and she steps out, smiling playfully as she wipes her mouth. “Good night, Curran,” she sings. She gives me her back, but then pauses to toss me an impish glance over her shoulder. “By the way, I like how you taste, too.”

The doors slam shut. It’s only then I remember my jeans are draped around my ankles.

It takes all the energy I have not to collapse and crawl back into my apartment. Good heavens, what did I do? I swallow hard.

Oh, yes, that.

I shut my door behind me, lock it, and slide my back against it and down to the floor.

The wood floor feels cold against my backside and a cool chill greets my spread legs.
It’s because your panties are over there,
I remind myself.

Curran didn’t notice my generic underwear. But even if he had, I don’t think he cared. I hadn’t cared. And in remembering how his tongue swirled and his lips suckled, I don’t think…wait, what’s my name again?

My head spins as I think about how I clutched him against me, how I didn’t want him to stop, and how I screamed for more. I want him. There’s no denying it now.

Even though I probably shouldn’t have him.

I wrench myself from the floor, my hot skin cooling quickly as I wander into the kitchen. I wash my hands, then open the refrigerator door to sort through what remains.

Damnit. I have just enough food to get through the weekend before the grocery clerk delivers more on Monday. If Curran hadn’t taken me out to eat, I would have gone hungry today. Although I’m typically more careful, I hadn’t rationed out my food allotment for the week appropriately.

I check the bundle of kale. Although I’ve developed a tremendous distaste for it, I’m sad to find that the edges have begun to wilt. The late nights of helping Declan this week, followed by the even later nights of studying, had demanded more calories to help me function. And kale, let me tell you, doesn’t quite cut it.

I shut the crisper tight, knowing I’ll need more food to keep going. But I don’t dare make that request now. Father’s still pissed. I don’t have to call him to know that.

Well, today he’s not alone.

The strict meal plan he concocted infuriates me. So does his notion that I’m putting on too much weight—especially knowing how badly I struggled with anorexia. Jesus, it’s not enough to buy me clothes I despise, or keep me from making friends by denying me a phone and a car, and sticking me in a place where only elderly people live. He won’t let me work to earn my own money—and he doesn’t give me any money to live on. Nothing. Not even enough to buy myself a cup of coffee.

Around Christmas, he gave me twenty dollars. It joined the almost one hundred dollars I’ve saved throughout the last two years. “What do you need with more of my money?” he asked the last time I worked up the courage to request an allowance. “I already provide you with a home, clothing, and food.”

Is this crazy—like batshit crazy? Yes. Of course it is! I doubt, though, that many people would understand why I tolerate it.

What it comes down to is fear. Fear of making him angry, which my mother always warned me against. Fear he’ll hurt me physically, like he did so many times when I was young, and frail, and helpless. Fear I’ll be homeless and alone.

To some, this fear isn’t rational. To me, it’s all I’ve ever known. That, and his severe control.

I don’t have a bank account and I don’t have any credit. He’s told me that if I get a job, he’ll cut me off and I’ll be burdened with rent and utilities I can’t afford and saddled with several hundred thousand dollars in tuition. I’ve tried to apply for academic scholarships, only to have an administrator call my father and be forced to withdraw my application.

My father has me right where he wants me, and he knows it. And every time I focus on what a tyrant he is, I become blind with anger. And yet, even my anger isn’t enough to stop me from being afraid.

This time, though, my emotions fizzle before they threaten to choke me. I shut the stainless-steel door. Curran’s kindness saved me from hunger, but his touch…now, that did a lot more.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until the phone rings and I sense my good humor fade. Father’s likely calling to inform me of my latest punishment.

“Hello?” I answer, my tone clipped.

“I take it it wasn’t as good for you as it was for me?” Curran asks on the other end.

My skin prickles with heat. “Sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

He pauses. “Another guy?”

“No!” I shake out my hand, trying to settle. “Not like that. Not like you.”

“Not like what we just did?”

I fall against my couch. “No, nothing like that.”
Ah,
and there’s my smile again.

“Good,” he says.

I think I should say something more; instead I wait for him to speak.

“So,” he says. “We messed around. Like, a lot.”

I sense the regret in his voice. “Curran, don’t,” I find myself pleading.

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t tell me that you’re sorry, or that you didn’t mean it.”
Seeing as your tongue told a different tale.

“It’s not that I didn’t like it, or didn’t want what happened, ’cause I did.”

“Then why do you sound so upset?”

“Tess, it’s my job to watch you. I don’t get paid to go down on you.”

His bluntness catches me off guard, and perhaps it does him, too. “Well, you know what I mean,” he adds.

“You
were
watching me.” I grimace when I hear him laugh. “Not during the act, but when I— What I’m trying to explain is that regardless of what occurred between us, you performed well—”

“I could tell by the way you were screaming.”

Good. Lord.
I clear my throat. “What I mean is you swept the apartment for any potential threats—”

“And then yanked off your panties like a teen trying to get laid,” he reminds me.

Curran really has a talent for stopping me in my tracks. Despite my litigation training, I can barely find my voice. “And—and you made sure I was safe—”

“Up until I tossed you on the table and spread your legs wide open.”

Perspiration builds between my breasts. “My point is, you made sure all was well before we, I mean, before you did what you did.”

“How about afterward? Did I make sure all was well after you left me in the elevator? Nope. While I was trying to pull up my pants, some psycho could have come out of your neighbor’s apartment and killed you.”

“That was my fault. You were distracted following the, ah, attention I gave you.”

“And that’s exactly my point. I’m on duty, Tess. This can’t happen again.”

In the silence that follows, I notice how cold my apartment is. As I consider what to say, I wander into my bedroom to check the thermostat. I stop dead when I see the note my father taped beside it.

Contessa,

I think you need reminding who provides you a home to reside in, and all the luxuries that come with it. Your heat has been disconnected. It will remain that way for the rest of the week to give you time to reflect on my generosity and how quickly it can abandon you.

He signed it Donald Newart II.

Damnit. It’s a wonder he didn’t disconnect all my utilities! “Are you saying you don’t want me?” I manage, the hostility directed at my father finding its way to my voice.

“No.” Curran’s tone is absolute. “I’m only saying I can’t have you when I’m on the job.”

Good to know.
“What time is your shift over?”

The allure in my voice is clear, and Curran doesn’t hesitate. “A couple of hours.”

I crumple the note with my free hand. “Well then, let’s say in a couple of hours you pay me a visit. It’s cold in my apartment. How would you like to keep me warm?”

Holy shit.

It’s the same thing I’ve said for the last couple of hours since I disconnected with Tess. I glance at the clock. Fifteen minutes till Lu arrives.

That means seventeen left until I’m back with Tess.

I hit my wipers. Five inches of snow has fallen since I brought Tess home. It’s colder than a banshee’s left nipple, and I’ve walked around the perimeter of the building at least six times. Neither the cold nor the distraction did anything to smother my growing need for her.

I shift in my seat, for all the good it does me.

Christ, I want her. Where the hell’s Lu?

“O’Brien!” Speaking of which, she pounds on the window, causing snow to fall in clumps along the glass. “You ready?”

Am I?

I flip the locks up and she slides into the passenger seat. “Hey, Lu. What’s doing?”

“About five inches of ice, snow, and asshats who can’t drive worth shit. Goddamn Floridians, shouldn’t they be down South instead of schlepping through this crap?” She takes a sip of her coffee. “How’s our girl?”

Excellent.
“No issues. No tails. No concerns. She was out for part of the day, but she’s in for the night.”

She takes another gulp. “Good. Her delicate little boobies would probably snap off if she was out in this. When was your last sweep?”

They’re not
that
small.
“Twenty minutes ago. All’s quiet as usual.”

“All right. I’ll do another sweep when you leave.”

I rub my hands. “Yeah, about that…”

She stops before she takes another sip of her coffee and narrows her eyes. I might have my cop face on, but that means nothing to Lu. I may read faces, but she teaches rookies to read them in the academy. Yeah, I don’t stand a chance against Lu’s superpowers.

“You’re not goddamn leaving, are ya, O’Brien?”

I shrug like it doesn’t mean anything. “Lu, it’s no biggie. Ever see her with anyone under seventy outside of her law classes and the DA’s office? She’s a good kid. Lonely is all. She invited me up after my shift to talk.”

“To talk?”

“That’s right.”

I’m thinking Lu’s about two seconds away from pouring coffee down my pants. “You’re already fucking her. Aren’t you, O’Brien? Jesus H. Christ. Didn’t I tell you not to fuck her?”

I meet her face, my expression hard. “I can honestly say I’m not fucking her.”
Yet.

“Goddamnit, O’Brien.” She takes another gulp of coffee and says nothing more.

“You gonna rat me out?”

“If the higher-ups ask, then yeah, I’ll tell them.” She shakes her head. “Otherwise, they don’t need to know. I’ve seen the way she looks at you—hell, I’ve seen the way you look at her. Goddamn puppy-love shit makes me want to puke.”

“Then why are you pissed? She’s a nice girl.”

She squares her jaw. “That’s why I’m pissed. She’s not a whore, kid. And you’re all sorts of messed up. Do you really think she needs this shit?”

“You sayin’ I’m not good enough for her?”

“Yup.”

“The hell I’m not!”

“Oh, yeah. How’s counseling going? Oh,” she says all dramatic-like when I don’t say anything back. “It’s not, is it? Because you ain’t going.”

“Don’t need it,” I growl.

She rolls her eyes. “Yeah. It shows.”

“Lu—”

“How you sleeping, O’Brien? Resting good, getting all eight hours?” She huffs when I don’t answer. “That’s what I thought. Joey keeping you up at night? Or didn’t it bother you when he bled all over you like a gutted cow?”

“Lu, you don’t know shit.”

“Actually I do. On account of my first year on the force, I held a six-year-old in my arms, trying to tell her to stay alive while my partner cuffed her strung-out mother, who’d stabbed her. She didn’t make it. Neither did my partner two years later when her own goddamn husband took a bat to her head.” The grip to her paper cup tightens. “I responded to that one, too. Her face was so smashed up, the cops on duty needed help identifying the body.”

“Christ,” I mutter.

“My seventh year…” She waggles her finger at me. “Now, that was a doozie. Three of our veterans run over at a parade by some dad trying to steal his own kid. Ever pick up someone’s leg off the ground when it’s no longer attached? It kind of sucks, O’Brien.”

She doesn’t say much after that. She doesn’t need to. She made her point, and that was just her first seven years on the force.

We sit there in the quiet, both of us lost in the shit we’ve been handed. “Sorry, Lu.”

She shakes her head. “Don’t be sorry. Just get some help. So when you see what you’ll see, you’ll still be in good enough shape to see it. Suicide is for pussies, O’Brien.” She looks at me then. “Don’t be a pussy.”

I flip through the pages of my criminal law journal as I hunker down in my comforter, trying to stay warm. As I highlight the passage at the bottom of the page, I hear the knock on the door I’ve been waiting for. I collect my notes and the journal and shove them beneath my bed, hurrying to slip out of my pajama bottoms before placing my glasses on top of the nightstand.

My nightshirt falls to mid-thigh. It’s white cotton and long-sleeved, and sadly the sexiest piece of clothing I own.

I cautiously walk to the door, moving as quickly as I can, given my blurry vision. Curran knocks once more just as my hand grips the knob and I turn the deadbolt. I smile when I see him standing there, but he doesn’t appear to smile back.

“What are you doing?” he asks.

I frown. “Opening the door.”

“You didn’t even ask who it was.”

“Who else would it be?” I see enough to know he’s raising his eyebrows. “Fine.” I shut the door, lock it, and wait for him to knock. “Who is it?” I ask.

“Your smokin’ studly date for the evening, ma’am.”

“In that case, you’d better check with Officer O’Brien so he can clear you.”

“You’re just a fucking riot, you know that?” he says through the door.

I laugh and fling open the door, moving aside so he can step in. “Was that better?” I tease.

He shuts the door and locks it. “Only slightly. But if you don’t know who’s there, even if he claims to be a cop, ask to see a badge, got me?”

“I understand.”

“Good.” Curran gathers me to him, his hand stroking up my arm to gently rest against my face. He leans in. I close my eyes, expecting the lustful aggression he demonstrated before—a deep kiss that demands I pull him down on top of me.

Instead his lips pass along mine until he carefully pushes his tongue in. I follow his lead, although I find myself confused by his care. But as his tongue continues to meet mine, and his thick leather jacket falls to the floor, I’m no longer worried. He plans to stay, and we have all night.

He lifts me in his arms, carrying me while his mouth explores mine with growing need. As we reach the threshold, he pulls away, angling our bodies to avoid colliding against it. The compassion behind his care makes me smile. For all his brute force, his muscles, and his training, it’s clear there’s more to Curran than brawn.

His eyes sweep the room before settling on my face. “It is cold in here,” he says. “Do you want me to turn up the heat?”

He laughs at the way that sounded, but his humor fades when he senses my unease. “My heat was turned off,” I admit, although I don’t confess why.

“You serious?” Curran scrutinizes my face. Whatever he sees hardens his stance, but he doesn’t press. “Well,” he murmurs. “I s’pose I’m going to have to work harder to keep you warm.”

My softer parts tighten from the promise in his deep timbre. He lowers me to the bed and onto the overturned covers, climbing on top of me and kissing me deep. I gasp as he rakes his groin against my panties.

I yank his sweatshirt over his head when he pushes up. He tosses it aside along with his T-shirt, then quickly relieves me of my nightshirt. I pull in my outstretched hands and cross them over my breasts, worried he might not like what he sees.

Curran lowers himself to my side, his attention and hand leaving my face to drag along my body. “I’ve been dying to see you naked again,” his husky voice whispers. “Will you let me?”

He hooks his finger into the side of my panties, lowering them to my ankles and down past my feet. I let my protective embrace linger a moment more before I gather my courage and allow my hands to fall away.

For the first time in a long while, I’m completely exposed. I hold my breath, expecting to be judged and slighted for my imperfections. Instead he lifts my hand and kisses it, his eyes never leaving mine. “
Damn,
you’re sexy,” he murmurs.

His chest rises and falls in purposeful motions, in tune with my increasing breaths. My nipples tighten as the cold envelops them, drawing Curran’s focus. As his gaze welds to mine, he reaches with his fingers and rolls one, enticing a sweet sting that causes me to pant.

“Do you have any idea how much I want you?” he asks, right before his mouth finds mine.

He grinds his body against me while he tugs off his shoes and socks. My hands get busy, too, reaching to unsnap his jeans, my body wild to feel his bare flesh against mine.

With small bites, his mouth finds its way to the base of my ear. “Tell me if you want me to stop,” he rasps. “Otherwise I won’t.”

He jerks away then, hauling me by my hips until they reach the edge of the bed. As he falls to his knees he eases my legs open, giving his large body room to work. Slow kisses travel between my thighs until they reach the perfect spot. With a wink, and an even sexier smirk, Curran dips forward, using his tongue, his mouth, and gentle nibbles to create the perfect rhythm.

It had been close to a year since I felt a man’s touch. That man was barely wanted, and did little to stir my desires. Curran just started pleasing me, and already, my heart’s threatening to detonate through my sternum.

My body involuntarily responds to his, lifting toward him in tilts that match his quickening flicks. The fingers of one hand part my folds, granting his tongue access to frolic while his other hand skims along my belly to cup and knead my breasts.

It’s then that I lose any sense of control. The sensation, the heat building, it’s almost too much. Yet instead of easing away, Curran rises, pitching my legs over his shoulders so all I can do is succumb.

My shoulders bear my weight, keeping my eyes on his and forcing my legs to fall open. In this position, Curran is free to consume me, and all I can do is watch.

I curse through my gritting teeth, trying in vain to suppress my screams and whimpers.

My efforts are wasted. From one breath to the next, my orgasm builds into a mammoth peak that collapses all at once. I fall in a heap with Curran looming over me, his erect penis parallel to his chest. He climbs on top of me, kissing me hard and reaching between us.

His silky head brushes against me, inciting his throaty moan and a sweet tease that lulls me back to the climactic edge. He adjusts his hips and slowly makes his way inside me. I open my legs wider when he seems to struggle, eager to receive him, until common sense bashes me in the skull.

I break loose from his ravishing mouth and push my hand against his chest.
“Wait.”

He freezes, then slowly pulls out, his expression riddled with confusion and his breaths pained. “You don’t want me?” he gasps.

Oh, the hell I don’t. “Do you have protection?”

His mouth falls against my neck, kissing me in a way that causes my eyes to roll back in my head. “It’s okay. I swear, I’m clean,” he promises against my ear.

I groan with frustration from having to move away from him again. “I’m clean, too. But that’s not what I mean.”

He pushes up on his forearms, understanding lighting those magnetic eyes. “You’re not on birth control?”

“No.”

“Shit.”

I stroke his face. “You don’t have anything?”

“Not with me.” He nips my chin. “I’m supposed to be on duty, remember?”

“Oh.”

I can’t tell who’s more disappointed, me or him. As I feel his waning erection slide against my thigh, I begin to think it might be him.

Uh-uh. Not in my bed, buddy.

I reach between us and tug on his bottom lip with my teeth. “We’re not done yet,” I assure him.

Curran squints when I begin to rub, allowing me to slide beneath him. This time, I’m the one who falls to my knees. This time, it’s my turn to be aggressive.

Like in the elevator, I don’t hold back, taking him deep and deeper yet.

My efforts make him vocal. And I like it. I’m in complete control to do what I please, his vulnerability to my mouth and touch surging my desires and his.

Curran stands and gathers my hair, thrusting gently, but speaking in a growl that makes it clear he enjoys the raid on his body. “You like that, baby?” he grunts.

I moan, demonstrating just how much.

He curses, growing louder when I dig my nails into his luscious backside and encourage him to pump faster and further in.

His body shakes against me with his release. I think he means to pull away, to give me some reprieve. But just then he’s mine to have, and he’s not going anywhere.

“Fuck,”
he groans when I haul him back, curling his arms around my head.

I slow as he finishes, using more gentle movements, then lift my gaze to meet his. Sweat trickles down his chest and his light skin flushes to a deep red. He clasps my elbows and helps me to my feet, searching my face as if he doesn’t know me.

But he does. No one has ever known me like Curran.