Page 25 of Irish Legacy

The rhythm built between them. Trish matched the thrust of her hand with the press of her mouth, tongue flicking faster now. Quinn’s hips rolled in a frantic, desperate chase for the release building tight in the air. Trish stilled her hand completely for one long second, fingers buried deep, refusing to give an inch. Quinn whimpered. The sound pulled at something deep in Trish’s chest. She had spent decades behind the bar being the steady one, the one who never asked for more than what the village needed. Controlling Quinn’s pleasure like this carried a heavy power she hadn’t expected.

She started moving again, fingers stroking that sensitive spot with each thrust, thumb never leaving Quinn’s clit. The younger woman’s breaths came shorter, sharper. Tension coiled tighter in the muscles under her palms. She kept going with a steady, relentless rhythm, until Quinn’s entire body began to tremble.

Trish slid back up the bed, propping herself on one forearm just inches above Quinn’s face so she could see every flicker across that famous mouth. Her other hand never stopped working between Quinn’s thighs. The Hollywood poise had vanished. Quinn’s lips parted on a silent gasp, her blue eyes rolling back as her head tipped against the pillow. Her white-knuckled fingers gripped desperately at Trish’s shoulder. Quinn had charmed an entire wedding crowd without breaking a sweat. Watching that control completely shatter made Trish’s own arousal throb painfully against the lace of her underwear.

She slid her fingers deep one final time and stroked upward hard. Her thumb ground down with slick, relentless pressure. Quinn let out a broken, high cry right against Trish’s lips. Trish kissed her immediately, swallowing the sound as Quinn’s inner walls clamped down tight around her fingers. Violent, helpless pulses battered her hand, wave after wave that seemed to go on forever. Trish kept stroking through every single one, drawing it out until Quinn shuddered and shook beneath her.

Only when the last flutter faded into a dull, quiet ache did Trish move. She eased her fingers free, inch by wet inch, with slow, deliberate care. The slick drag of skin on skin sounded impossibly loud in the small room. Quinn let out a long, broken sigh as Trish withdrew completely, her thighs slackening on the mattress, completely spent.

Trish lifted her hand into the narrow space between their faces. The rich, heavy scent of them both coated her skin. She kept her eyes on Quinn’s dark-blue gaze as she brought her wet fingers to her lips, drawing them into her mouth and licking them clean in one quiet motion, taking in the full taste of her.

18

Trish shifted higher against the wooden headboard, dragging two pillows behind her back with the same quiet efficiency she used to stack stools at closing time. The movement pulled the long dark hair with its chestnut highlights across the black strap of her bra. Quinn’s mouth went dry. The orgasm that’d torn through her minutes ago left her legs heavy, but she swung one long, lean thigh over Trish’s lap anyway. She settled her weight down until her bare thighs bracketed Trish’s hips, the heat of skin on skin sending another spark straight up her spine.

Trish’s hands settled lightly on Quinn’s waist, not guiding, not yet. Quinn reached between their bodies, fingers trailing down the soft slope of Trish’s belly toward the scalloped waistband of her black lace underwear. Before she could hook her fingers beneath the elastic, Trish caught her wrist.

The grip wasn’t hard. It wasn’t a fight. Just a hesitation that made something in Quinn’s chest go tight.

“Quinn.” Trish’s voice came out low and rough, the accent thicker than usual. “I’m not even sure I’m wet.”

Quinn’s pulse kicked. She wanted to prove Trish wrong in the gentlest, most devastating way possible.

Quinn reached behind Trish’s back, finding the clasp of the black bra with practiced ease. One pinch and the hooks parted. She peeled the straps down Trish’s shoulders, tossing the lace aside onto the floorboards before sliding her palms down Trish’s hips to hook into the sides of underwear. Trish lifted her hips just enough for Quinn to strip them down her thighs and kick them off the edge of the mattress.

Heat replaced the hesitation in Trish’s dark eyes. Quinn sat upright, knees bracketing Trish’s hips, and took her in. Completely bare. The mature lines of Trish’s body, the soft weight of her breasts, the sharp jaw tilted just so. Stunning. There was no other word for it.

Quinn reached out and cupped the heavy, full breasts in both palms, lifting them, feeling their warmth and heft. Her thumbs brushed over the tight, dusky nipples. They pebbled instantly under her touch. Trish’s breath stilled, but she didn’t pull away. Quinn rolled the peaks between her fingers, watching the way Trish’s piercing eyes fluttered half-closed.

Without breaking eye contact, Quinn slid two fingers down between Trish’s thighs. The slick heat that met her made her grin, slow and wicked. She leaned in until their lips brushed, close enough to share breath.

“You’re dripping, Trish.”

The words came out in a whisper against Trish’s mouth. Quinn felt the older woman tremble beneath her. She didn’t wait for an answer. She dropped her hips so the slick seam of her own sex ground directly against Trish’s bare folds. The contact sent a jolt through her. Quinn rolled her pelvis in firm, deliberate circles, spreading their combined wetness with every pass. The slide built fast, hot and slippery. Trish’s fingers gripped Quinn’s shoulders, blunt nails pressing crescents into her skin.

Quinn kept the rhythm steady, hips rocking in a slow grind that dragged her clit against Trish’s with every forward roll. She kissed along Trish’s jaw, then found the sensitive hollow beneath her ear. The skin there tasted faintly of salt and the trace of whiskey from earlier. Quinn pressed open-mouthed kisses there, whispering against the warm flesh while her hips never stopped moving.

“You feel so good like this.” Quinn’s voice came out breathless.

Trish’s head tipped back against the headboard. Her chest heaved with each breath, full breasts rising and falling as she tried to match the rolling pace of Quinn’s hips. The long waves of dark hair spilled over her shoulders, brushing Quinn’s knuckles where she still held those soft breasts.

Quinn pinched a nipple lightly and felt Trish’s thighs tense beneath her. The grind grew slicker, messier. Their combined arousal coated their thighs and bellies. The wet sounds reached her every time their bodies slid together. It should have embarrassed her. Instead it only made her hungrier.

She wanted more. She wanted to be inside Trish, to feel that tight heat grip her fingers the way Trish’s steady gaze had gripped her from the first night in the pub. Quinn reached down between their bellies, breaking the grind for only a second. She slid two fingers through the drenched folds and pushed deep inside Trish in one smooth stroke.

Trish gasped, a sharp, ragged sound that echoed off the high ceilings of the rental house. The sudden fullness made her walls flutter around Quinn’s fingers. Quinn curled them upward, finding that soft, ridged spot inside and stroking it with firm, practiced pressure. She kept her hips pressed close, so every thrust of her hand rocked their clits together too.

The dual sensation made Quinn’s head spin.

Trish felt incredible around her fingers, hot and silky and so responsive after years of going without. Quinn thought there was no one more beautiful than this. The sharp jaw gone slack, the piercing eyes wide and dark, the mature body trembling under hands eighteen years younger. Trish carried the weight of a whole village on her shoulders every day. Right now she was coming undone in a stranger’s borrowed bed, and Quinn wanted to memorize every second.

Trish looked at her then. Those dark eyes went wide and completely undone. Quinn drove her fingers deeper, bearing down with her hips at the same time. Trish’s walls clamped down hard around her hand, relentless and pulsing.

A raw, broken cry tore from Trish’s throat. Her hips bucked up into Quinn’s palm as wave after wave of intense contractions rolled through her. The orgasm shook her entire body against the headboard, breasts bouncing with each shudder.

Quinn kept stroking through it, drawing it out, feeling every flutter and squeeze around her fingers. She watched Trish’s face the whole time, the way her lips parted on silent gasps, the flush that crept down her neck to her chest. Beautiful and devastating. Quinn’s own arousal throbbed in time with Trish’s release.

She started to ease her fingers free when the last tremors faded, but Trish caught her by the waist. The polite host from the pub was gone. Trish’s eyes stayed dark, pupils blown wide, her breath hot against Quinn’s throat. She kept Quinn anchored firmly in her lap, not letting her pull away even an inch.