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“Aye, aye captain.” He winked at me before kneeling. Then his mouth was on my clit, licking and sucking while his brother fingered me.
“Oh, fuck,” I moaned. “Please…”
Kiernan removed his fingers from my pussy, and I felt the loss, but Seamus was immediately there to fill it, his tongue lapping at my entrance before he speared me with it.
“Holy—” I shrieked as Kiernan unexpectedly inserted a finger into my ass.
“What do you think, Bailey?” His heated breath brushed against my cooling skin, causing my entire body to shiver with delight. “Think you can take both of us again?”
“And again,” Seamus piped up.
I didn’t get the chance to answer before Kiernan spun me around and hauled me into his arms. “Better hold on.”
His name fell from my lips as he thrust himself inside me to the hilt. They didn’t give me time to adjust before Seamus was notched at my back entrance. “Remember, Bailey. If this gets too much, just say whiskey.”
“Okay.”
That was the last coherent word I would get out the rest of the night; I was lost between them. My beautiful Irish gods.
39
You can do this.
You can do this.
I’d been standing outside the door to his suite for a little over ten minutes, pacing frantically. I wrung my hands, slid them through my hair, buried my face in them, and kept muttering those words to myself repeatedly until it all began to meld together.
“Okay,” I breathed, stepping up to the door, fist raised to knock. “You can—”
It swung open before I had a chance to finish.
I wasn’t sure what I imagined my biological father to look like, but this sure as hell wasn’t it. He was a mountain of a man, standing just a bit taller than the twins, with beefy tatted muscles that were easily seen beneath the tight, painted-on black T-shirt. His graying black hair was cropped short, but he had a bushy salt and pepper beard. He looked like a mountain man. His eyes were the same crystal blue, with deepened edges hidden beneath bushy brows.
Jesus, I was related to the brawny paper towel man.
“Hello, Bailey.” His voice held a deep, thunderous timbre that sank into my bones.
“Hu—hi,” I stuttered out.
Kill me now.
The big man grinned, the simple action lighting up his face.
“My name is Toph Eriksen.”
I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “I’m Bailey.”
“I know.”
Insert facepalm here.
“Right…”
He chuckled warmly. “I see you got your mother’s awkwardness. She could stampede right through a sea of half-drunk bikers without a second thought, but introduce her to someone new, and she was all thumbs.”
“Can you tell me about her?” I asked. “And…you?”
A sadness crept into his features. Longing and regret. He opened the door wider and motioned for me to enter. I stepped inside, my footsteps tentative. I’d been shocked when Seamus had informed me that his father had set Toph up in one of the rooms on the guest floor. I hadn’t expected the hatchet to be buried so easily.
