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"Is that all?"
He leans into my ear, murmuring, "When ya have it on, go lie on the bed and spread your legs."
Tingles race down my spine. I question, "Then what?"
He chuckles. "Then I'm going to start licking your pussy, and I dare ya not to come."
EPILOGUE
Tynan
Seven Years later
"Daddy!" my six-year-old daughter, Fallon, shrieks, flying across the room and jumping into my arms.
I slide my palm on her cheek and ask, "What's wrong, sweetie pie?"
Tears bubble in her green eyes and fall over my hand. Her lip trembles, and she claims, "Dominick keeps saying my name isn't Irish and it's for a boy!"
I hold her closer and swipe at her tears, asserting, "He's confused again. Fallon is of Irish origin. Do ya remember what it means in Irish?"
She sniffles, then glances over her shoulder toward the corner of the room at Dominick. He's in the center of the O'Connor, Marino, O'Malley, and Ivanov children, which isn't unusual. He's quite the ring leader when given the chance.
I remind my daughter, "Fallon means 'in charge' and 'leader' in Irish. And your mum and I knew it was a perfect name for ya."
"He's so mean," she whines.
"Dominick!" Devin booms and steps next to me.
The circle of children widens, and Dominick steps out of it. He feigns innocence and asks, "What's up, Dad?"
"Seems you're spreading lies again," Devin accuses, then takes Fallon out of my arms. He states, "Let's make sure everyone knows the truth, okay?"
She sniffles and lifts her chin, reminding me of Maeve. She nods, "Okay, Uncle Devin."
He leans closer to her and lowers his voice. "Ya want to have a say in his punishment?"
Fallon's eyes light up. She squares her shoulders. Her face turns serious, and she states, "He can leave the party."
"No, that's not a fair punishment," Maeve interjects behind me.
I turn, then tug her into me. She gives me her not again look, and I stop myself from chuckling. Most days, we aren't able to separate Dominick and Fallon. But whenever his cousins from Ireland visit, he claims Fallon isn't Irish enough.
"Seems like a fair one to me," Devin says.
"No. Not on your da's wedding day," Maeve insists.
"It's fair," Fallon asserts.
Devin's face hardens. "I'm with Fallon."
Maeve nudges me.
I interject, "Do ya want to ruin your granddad's party?"
Guilt fills Fallon's expression. She glances at my dad and his bride, Caterina. She's Angelo's cousin who lived in Italy. For decades, my father had a secret crush on her. Her husband died several years back, and they connected during one of his visits with Angelo. Since then, my father's been obsessed with making her his wife. And he's given Devin and me more and more authority to run New York.
"Well?" I ask.
