Finally, it’s Eamon’s turn. Before he steps out, he grabs my face and plants a quick but hard kiss on my mouth, winks at me, and then swaggers toward his friends. He twirls his cat tail in one hand while clawing the air with the other. Next thing I know, he’s dropped into a low squat and rolled his body back up, smacking a hand on his ass. The audience eats it up, and I might actually die from laughing. He’s not only completed the task set before him, but gone above the bar to excel at it.
At the end of the costume reveal, the Irishmen take a bow to a standing ovation and loud cheering. When they make their way back to the dressing rooms, Eamon sneaks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and swinging me in a circle. I screech loudly until he sets me down. Wheeling around, I throw my arms around his neck, grinning wildly. “Oh my god, Eamon, that was amazing!”
Chuckling, he presses a kiss to my temple. “That was more fun than I thought it would be.”
I pull back, wagging my eyebrows at him. “Fun enough to be a regular costume model for me?”
“Fuck no.” He laughs. “I can’t breathe in this thing, and the makeup is making me itch.”
“Speak for yourself, Kennedy!” Rowan yells over his shoulder. “I’m going to make a killing doing this! Who needs business school?”
“You’re on your own, mate,” Teagan chimes in. “My thighs are chafing, and my eyes won’t stop watering with all this stuff on my face.”
Laughing, I rest my head on Eamon’s chest.
“Are we allowed to change now, Acushla?” he mutters against my hair. “My balls need air.”
Rowan and Teagan howl with laughter, which earns them a middle finger from Eamon. I step out of his embrace and twine our fingers together. “Yes, you’re free to change and wash the make-up off. I’ll help you.”
“Ach, I bet you’ll help him, fire sprite!” Rowan winks.
“Be nice, or I’ll have Layla use super glue on those lashes instead of the remover,” I threaten.
He puts his hands up in surrender. “No need to get scary, Grady.”
I glare at Ro playfully before following Eamon back to the dressing room, where I definitely do more than just help him out of his costume.
* * *
Eamon and I are curled up on the couch, having just hung up from the call to his Mom and sister to tell them about our engagement and desire to marry in Ireland. Rosie and Caity both squealed with delight and Rosie immediately started listing all of the venues, florists, and bakeries. We tried to tell her that we just wanted something simple and affordable, but she scoffed at us, insisting that she would pay for everything. We playfully argued for a while before convincing her that, if she really wanted to contribute, she could pay for the photographer since we cared more about preserving the memories from the day than the frills. Then I chatted with Caity for a few minutes about her recovery and therapy. She told me that everything has been going surprisingly well and she’s already able to walk with just the help of a cane. Her motor skills are still a little delayed, but overall, she’s thriving. We’ve yet to talk face-to-face, but I can already sense a bond forming. I feel like I’ve known her for years.
After saying our goodbyes, I set my phone on the coffee table then turn to Eamon. I open my mouth to say something when he suddenly cups my face in his hands and kisses me passionately, stealing my breath.
“What was that for?” I gasp.
He shrugs and kisses me again. “You’re amazing, and I love you. I love that my Mam and sister love you almost as much as I do. I love that you’re mine and I’m yours.”
I crawl over him, straddling his lap. He rests his hands on my waist while I link my arms around his neck. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, I say, “I love you too. And I love that I’m yours and you’re mine.”
He flashes a grin at me as his hands drift over my hips and down to my thighs, skimming his fingers under the hem of my sleep shorts. When I lean in to kiss him again, I slowly rock my hips over him. He growls against my mouth, slipping his fingers higher until he reaches my already damp panties.
“Already wet for me, Acushla?” he asks, pressing his thumb through the fabric against my clit.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Always.”
Kissing his way along my jaw, he flicks his tongue against the sensitive spot behind my ear. I hum my approval, arching my back as he nips and sucks on my neck. Wrenching away from him, I tear my tank top over my head, my hair a wild halo framing my face.
Eamon raises his other hand to slide his knuckles between my breasts. “God, you’re beautiful,” he says reverently.
In response, I grip the bottom of his shirt, lift it over his head, and toss it behind me. Slowly, I trail my hands over his chest, scraping my nails over his nipples. His stomach tenses in anticipation as I run my fingers down his abs to his sweatpants. Hooking a finger over the edge, I pull the elastic waistband out, then release it, letting it snap against his skin and making him grunt. Untangling myself, I sink to my knees in front of him.
“Take these off,” I order him, pulling on the fabric of his pants.
Eamon raises his hips to pull his sweats down to his knees, and I remove them the rest of the way, then quickly lean forward to run my tongue up the line separating his abs before kissing my way back down to his cock. I wrap a hand around the base and lick the underside of him slowly, preening at the growl coming from his throat. Catching his gaze, I take him into my mouth as far as I can before sucking my way back to the tip. His hands fist in my hair, and he starts slowly pumping into my mouth. The tip of my tongue massages the ridge around the head of his cock, causing his hips to buck. His moans grow louder and louder until he thrusts one last time and stills, spilling himself down my throat. I swallow it all, then give one last lazy lick up his shaft.
“Fucking hell. You’re way too good at that,” he pants in praise.
I’m practically purring as I shuck my shorts and panties and clamber back onto his lap, sinking down onto him in one smooth motion. He curses under his breath and grips my ass firmly with both hands, rocking me gently. But I don’t want gentle.
