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“Dinner is ready, my lady, follow me,” he rasps out. I stand up and follow like the little lapdog that I am. I walk beside him. I am not sure what I am meant to say. These stairs are gorgeous though. I can imagine myself walking down these in a ball gown and being whisked away by my prince charming. I love to daydream, really. Anything is better than my reality right now.
As we get closer to the kitchen, I can smell something amazing. He walks through the kitchen to the dining room table. It’s a wooden table with grey and white plush chairs. Someone has set the table just for us two.
“I am happy to sit at the kitchen bar. I don’t wanna mess all this if it’s just us two,” I say as Cahill pulls out my chair.
“Sit doll.” That’s all he says. Fine, I will sit. I am hungry. Hopefully it’s something nice. Cahill pours us water, and then himself a whiskey on the rocks. I see a gin glass already filled with pink gin and lemonade with loads of berries. It looks amazing, better than what I make for myself.
“Thank you, Cahill.” As I take a sip, I notice it’s so cold. I love it.
“We are having vegetable soup with bread rolls for starters, roast beef for dinner, and then we will see about dessert,” Cahill informs me as I see a wee woman coming toward us with a trolley. She puts the bread on the table and then places our soup into our bowls. It smells amazing. Better than my mam's. I haven’t had soup since Christmas. We eat the soup in silence. The bowls were cleared without anyone being asked to clear them. Before I know it, the roast beef is served. A chunk of roast beef swimming in gravy with creamy mashed potatoes and all the vegetables of the day. A proper roast beef dinner, and the smell is amazing, my mouth instantly waters at the sight of it. I am not sure whether to inhale or savour it. It’s a hard choice. I watch Cahill cut into the roast beef and it falls apart in front of him, then I do the same. I take my first mouthful and let out the biggest moan, my God this is amazing. When I open my eyes, I see Cahill staring at me, like he wants to eat me.
“Sorry, it tastes amazing. Didn’t mean to do that,” I say shyly as my face grows redder and redder.
“Don’t be sorry, doll, I am just jealous of the beef. I want to make you make those sounds,” he replies with a wink. My mouth hangs open, did he just say that? Out loud?
“It's not like I didn’t hear you squeal my name while you were in your room, Soph.”
I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I try to play it cool. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Then he laughs. A full hearty belly laugh, and it’s music to my ears. I want to hear it again. He looks so much younger when he laughs. Even more attractive, if that’s humanly possible.
During dinner Cahill asks me about my blog and I fill him in on the books I have read this year so far, how I do my reviews, and posts. He thinks I would make a good marketing salesperson, that I might be able to help boost customers to his restaurants. I will look into it while I’m here. It will give me something to do. I have some ideas running through my head already. We finish up dinner, and I can’t take another bite, so we skip dessert.
Cahill walks to the living room and I follow. The log fire is lit, it casts a warm glow in the room, and it makes it look cosy. I hear country music playing, is that Sam Hunt’s “House Party”? How ironic! Cahill settles on the sofa for the legroom and kicks off his shoes and relaxes. I sit down pulling the big chunky blanket to me. It’s so comfy, just like I knew it would be.
“Where did you get this blanket? It's amazing,” I say into the blanket while I bring it up around me.
“Me mam made it. Took her a week. I have another one in my room,” he replies, looking down at the ground. I am not sure if it is the gin or not, but I shuffle closer to him and kind of invite him under the blanket with me. It is his blanket. He looks sheepish but allows me to wrap us both in it. I am a little snug against his side, resting my head on the back of the sofa when the front door swings open. I jump and Cahill puts his arm around me to settle me. All I see is a tall red-haired man walking in, he reminds me of a Viking, and he’s all smiles. He sets a bag down at the edge of the sofa.
“Ruairi, this is Sophie, Sophie this is Ruairi.” He smirks at us and just walks off up the stairs. What did I do? My face must say it.
“Ruairi just has work to do and likes to get it done before he can settle down for the night. Don’t take it personally.” I just nod and yawn. That big feed and long day has me wrecked.
“Can I go to bed now? I am so tired.” I yawn at him.
He stands up before me, lifts the blanket, the bag, and takes my hand. “Come on, lass, bedtime it is.”
I hold his hand to follow him to my room. When we reach it, he opens my door, and turns on the lights, leaves the bag on the sofa, grabs a bottle of water from the fridge, placing it on the bedside table, and turns down my bed for me. I am standing there in awe. No one has ever done anything like this for me, never mind a criminal. He puts his hand out for me, and I grab it. He pulls me in so quick I bump into his hard chest, and I gasp a little, then look up at him all wide eyed. I’m not sure what is happening, his hand is on my back, keeping me close to him, while his other hand travels up my back before he gets to my hair, then he grabs it. It makes me whimper a little. He bends down slowly, I think he is going to kiss me, I want him to kiss me. Please, kiss me, you ass. Finally, his lips brush mine, gently, like they are seeking me out, testing the waters almost. I push back a little rougher, looking for more.
“Mmm, greedy girl. Not tonight. I had to have a taste. You were teasing me all night with this outfit, those eyes, your long wavy hair, and moaning at the food my chef made. I wanted to kill my chef for making you make those sounds, when I haven’t got to. I want to make you moan on something else. Hopefully soon, doll,” he whispers against my lips.
And I am nearly dry humping him. How embarrassing, but my God does he have a way with words! Then he lets me go and steps back. I feel instantly cold. And a little confused. Why do I want him? He kidnapped me! He is a criminal, right? He turns, heading for the door.
“Night, night, doll. Don’t dream of me too much,” he says over his shoulder with a wink and closes the door.
My legs are jelly. I’m so hot and bothered all over again. I look in the bag and see Ruairi has brought me some clothes, so I grab my pyjamas, and head for a quick shower to cool me off. Once I’m showered, I grab my kindle from the bag and climb into bed determined to read and not think about Cahill. I need to read and clear my head of the fuzzy dirty thoughts, but my book doesn't help. They only add to the dirty thoughts. I imagine Cahill’s head between my legs, then I’m on my knees for him, then he places me over his lap, and spanks my little behind. I need sleep and help. I turn off the light, switch off the kindle, and snuggle down into bed with his blanket wrapped round me. It smells of him.
What a day! Let's see what tomorrow will bring. I might be able to get more answers then go home. Let's hope this is all a dream, a good but naughty weird dream.
