Bonus Scene
Finn
Aoife groaned into my mouth as I nudged the tip of my dick against her slit. Fuck, I felt like groaning too. Instead, I held my breath, just waiting for that delicious second when her pussy started to give way, her softness encompassing me—
Rrrrrriiiinnnggg!
Both of us tensed.
Our lips froze atop each other’s, our breath mingling until I mumbled, “Maybe they’ll go away?”
Her gaze, dazed with pleasure, cleared as whispers of amusement trickled in its stead. “The only people who visit us are family.”
“Jenn visits too,” I grumbled.
She pinched my ass. “She’s family.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so.”
Rrrrrriiiinnnggg!
“Goddammit,” I ground out, flinging myself off her, aware the bed bounced as I clambered to my feet.
Ducking down, I grabbed my bathrobe, tucked it around myself then stormed out of the bedroom, utterly pissed that—
Great.
Just fucking great.
Jacob started howling.
Of course, he did.
“I’m gonna fucking kill whoever that is,” I snarled under my breath as the buzzer sounded once more, meaning I couldn’t go to my son as one of my goddamn brothers was intent on holding down the bell until I answered.
The soft padding of Aoife’s feet against the hall floor made it known to me that she was out of bed, and relieved she’d take care of Jake while I slaughtered whichever of my brothers was cockblocking me, I slammed my hand against the intercom, and growled, “What?”
Conor’s face made an appearance in the small screen, before a bag jiggled in front of it. The paper crinkled in his grasp but I made out the logo.
“As much as I love donuts, Conor,” I snapped, “I was about to get laid. I’d prefer some of that.”
“I didn’t know husbands and wives got laid.”
I stilled. “What? You do know you’re not an only child, don’t you?”
He frowned. “Of course. I meant, don’t you make love when you’re married?”
Reaching up, I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Are you being serious right now?”
He snickered. “No.”
I looked at him. Saw he was being serious. Then sighed and released the lock on the elevator so he could come up.
“Did you bring General Tso’s chicken too?”
“Of course,” he declared, just before he went off screen. The camera switched, and I saw him in the elevator. “When don’t I bring General Tso’s chicken with me?
”
“You’re the gift that keeps on giving,” I said dryly, before I muttered, “I’m going to go and put some pants on.”
“If you have a spare bathrobe, I’ll wear one.”
“With your clothes on or off?” I joked.
“On, of course. Unless you’re okay with another man’s ballsack touching your bathrobe.”
“Ballsack?” Aoife queried, popping up behind me, Jake in her arms. She was breastfeeding him which made me want to shadow her so Conor couldn’t see either of them, but what was the point? She hadn’t hidden this over the years, and I was sure he’d seen it before, but it felt different at our home. More intimate.
Okay, I was a protective, jealous, possessive pain in the ass and didn’t want anyone, not even a brother, seeing my wife’s tits.
Of course, said wife didn’t give a shit about any of my grumbling when our kiddo needed food.
Heaving a put-upon sigh, I replied to her earlier question, “Conor wants to wear a bathrobe.”
“He does? Why?” she asked, confused. Who the fuck could blame her? What wasn’t confusing about Conor?
“I want to fit in.”
The doors opened a second later, and Aoife hummed when she spotted all the cartons of take out on the elevator floor.
“Your timing was about twenty minutes off, Conor, but you do bring treats with you whenever you visit.”
“I’m the Pied Piper of fast food.”
“Better that than rats,” she teased, rubbing the back of Jake’s head as he carried on slurping up his own version of takeout.
“Ballsacks and rats, delicious pre-dinner conversation.”
Aoife chuckled then said, “I’ll just go and finish up with little man and hopefully set him down. Be in with you shortly.”
“You okay if we start without you, Aoife?” Conor asked, huffing when I elbowed him in the side.
“No, of course she isn’t. Talk about rude.”
“What?! I’m starving.”
Aoife’s giggle set my heart alight. “Don’t be silly, Finn. I can warm it up when I get in there. Enjoy.” She leaned into me, surging onto tiptoe to give me a kiss that was far too short, and her gaze connected with mine before darting to Conor. Her slight frown told me she thought something was up, and I couldn’t blame her.
Conor looked like he hadn’t slept in eons. If I didn’t already know that he was a rich fucker, I’d think he was homeless.
Grabbing some of the bags of takeout, I shuffled into the kitchen, him at my back. As I placed them on the island, I turned to him again and asked, “Is this hobo chic?”
He blinked, peered down at himself. “Huh?”
I wafted a hand. “You look like you haven’t showered in ten days.”
He rubbed his chin. “More like twelve.”
“Gross.” I pulled a face. “It’s a wonder you don’t have flies hovering around you.”
“I bathed, Finn. Just not showered.”
“Do you have to be so goddamn pedantic?”
“I do when I’m processing.”
Unfortunately for me, Conor and I were the brothers who worked closest together for the Firm. Declan, Brennan, Aidan Jr. and Eoghan all did their thing with their respective crews, and while Conor and I had grunt workers, most of the time, we were each other’s back up. My expertise in finance and his with computers and statistics meant Aidan Sr. wouldn’t be far away from making his first legitimate billion before he croaked it.
If Conor was processing, that meant I needed to pay attention.
“Let me get this straight,” I stated as I peered at the cartons of Chinese takeout and plucked out some spring rolls. “You bathed but put the same clothes on afterward?”
“It saved time.”
“You’re such a weirdo, Conor.”
“I’m not weird. I’m particular.”
“Synonyms.” I grunted as I stuck some chopsticks into my noodles and speared them into my mouth. “I could be dick deep in my woman now, and you want to talk about strategy? We could have discussed this tomorrow.”
“I can’t talk about this over the phone.”
“Why not?” I frowned, well aware that he’d created some kind of software that, when we scanned our devices, ate up malware that might have been installed on our gear by not-so-legal law enforcement officials.
“Because I have a theory that you’re going to think is crazy.”
“I can’t deal with craziness now, Conor. Seriously. Life is batshit enough as it is, what with the fucking Sparrows—”
“What if Uncle—”
“He’s asleep!” Aoife declared in a singsong tone. “Bring on the Kung Pao, Conor. You better not have left me out.”
I shot him a warning look, and though his mouth fused together in a way that distinctly reminded me of Jacob when he was trying to have a shit, then usually managed to crap all the way up his back—how this even happened, I still didn’t want to think about—he did as I asked.
Today, I really didn’t need crazy conspiracy theories from boy wonder over there. We all cut Conor a hell of a lot of slack, but when I’d been a scant half-inch away from sliding home into my woman? Nah, now was not the time for him to come to me with random shit he’d pieced together.
Aoife arched a brow at Conor’s scrunched up face then motioned with her hands. If she knew what she was trying to make better, some crazy theory Con had about our wayward fucking uncle who was six feet under, she’d regret it.
Me too.
Because Con wouldn’t leave until he’d drunk us out of espresso pods and we’d be sitting at the kitchen island six hours later, wondering if aliens really did exist because they’d been the ones who’d kidnapped Uncle Frank.
Sheesh.
“You’ve lost weight, Aoife.”
She snorted. “Only with the O’Donnellys would that come out as an accusation, Conor.”
“What are you doing checking out my woman?” I groused, leaning over to slap him upside the head. Kid was far too used to that though, and his head was already ducked before I could reach him.
“You put weight on after Jacob. I didn’t like to see you so thin after all your troubles.”
“You make me sound like the situation in Northern Ireland.”
He hummed. “The IRA’s raising its head again. Da will be pleased.”
“Your father’s probably behind it,” I groused.
“Maybe.” Then, he speared Aoife with a glance. “Are you sick? I’m not sure Finn could cope with you being sick. He went crazy last time.”
“I did not.”
“Did too,” Conor countered with a smug smile. “You didn’t shave for ages, and made my shower hiatus look softcore.”
Aoife’s eyes contained a tender warmth that, I knew, was for me and me alone, but to Conor she murmured, “You haven’t showered? I mean, you have that whole—” She wafted her chopsticks. “Homeless vibe going on, right now, Conor, so it’d fit. No one would dream of mugging you on the subway, that’s for sure.”
I snickered. “There’s a compliment in there, I think.”
Conor grumbled, “Everyone’s a critic.”
Giving my wife the side-eye, I cast a glance over her, trying to pick up on what Conor had seen.
I hadn’t noticed those lush curves had diminished in anyway.
My brow puckered, then I groused, “Conor, you need to go home.”
“What? I just got here! And I brought food. Lots of it!”
“Yeah, but I need to see what’s changed in Aoife.”
“Can’t you just ask her?”
“No,” I snapped, prodding the air with a chopstick. “I need to make an up close and personal diagnosis about where my woman’s curves have gone.”
Conor huffed, but Aoife just chuckled. “Shut up, Finn. You’ll embarrass him.”
For a second, I wasn’t sure if she’d just sprouted horns, but then Conor and me both gaped at her, simultaneously.
“Embarrass Conor?” I almost squeaked.
“Embarrass me?” Conor rasped, sounding even more dumbfounded than me. Which was really saying something.
She shrugged. “You’re sensitive.”
I couldn’t help myself.
I exploded.
With mirth.
Laughter felt like it was bursting out of my every fucking pore as I roared my amusement at her words. I couldn’t find it in me to care that Jacob might wake up any second, not when my woman’s words were in my ears.
Something that was only compounded by Conor’s careful reasoning, “Aoife, have you heard of PornLand?”
She snorted. “Of course.”
“You know I built that site, don’t you? Nothing embarrasses me…”
Copyright Serena Akeroyd 2021
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