“I am.”
A virgin. I should’ve known. She might know what she wants, but innocence clings to Brianna.
I don’t break away from her, lest she thinks I’m trying to run, but I adjust my hips, so my manhood isn’t tucked between her legs. “Then we’ll have to wait before we go any further.”
“Why?” A wide pout is accompanied by disappointed puppy dog eyes. “I want this, Mickey. I want you.”
“You don’t know how fucking badly I want to drive myself into you,” I snarl. I’d never be able to find the words to explain how much it pains me to pull away. “But your first time is going to be special. I’ll make sure of it.”
I press my lips against her neck again.
A sigh rolls through Brianna, but she accepts what I say.
“Now, be a good girl and say the words I want to hear.”
I can see the light red peeking through her makeup. She struggles to speak at first but finally gets the sentence out.
“I’m yours.”
“Mine, and mine alone.”
Chapter 6
Brianna
His and only his.
Those four words have never had a more satisfying ring to them. From the moment I set eyes on Mickey Byrne, I wanted him. Physically, emotionally, and however else he’d let me take him. But I never expected him to feel the same.
Part of me wonders if this is some long con. A way to keep tabs on my dad and make sure he pays the debt owed, but why would Mickey go through all the trouble when everyone in the neighborhood is terrified of him?
Which means his want is sincere. Happiness is hard to swallow when the only thing I’ve known through life is hardship. It’s easy to fly down a rabbit hole of self-loathing and self-doubt, unable to accept that good can come my way. I’ve lived that terrible existence for so long; it’s a challenge to believe Mickey has chosen me of all people.
And yet, he’s made it abundantly clear. Be it our intense night in the Moonshine Saloon’s staff quarters or the text he dropped this morning, saying I should be ready to go out at seven p.m. So, that’s what I did. I pulled on my best pair of black lingerie and the finest dress I have in my cupboard. A mid-thigh cocktail dress, sleek and elegant, without too many frills. I forgot it existed, having bought it on sale and hiding it in my cupboard for a special night. It still had the price tag on when I found it.
I’ve been fussing and faffing for hours. I want to look my best for Mickey and have him see me as worldly like I’m in control of my own destiny, and not just some silly virgin who can’t hold herself upright.
But as seven o’clock nears, I start regretting my decision. What if Mickey’s disappointed in this appearance I’m trying to achieve? I’m about to spend a night with my wildest fantasy, and I want it to be perfect. My heart starts thumping in my chest. There’s enough time to change, right? A pair of shorts and a tight-fitting shirt, like I, wear at the bar. That’s the outfit Mickey’s familiar with, probably the one he’s expecting.
A knock comes at the door, shattering my thoughts. It’s too late. I’ve made my decision, and I have to stick with it.
I don’t step out immediately, cracking the door open the same way I had it when Mickey first stepped into my home.
“Mr. Byrne?” Dad recoils the moment he sees the Irish bruiser in our door.
“Evening, Artie.” Mickey walks in with long, determined strides.
“Wh . . . what are you doing here?” Dad asks. “I thought we were fine until the end of the month?”
“Relax,” Mickey pats dad’s shoulder. “Go back to your seat and enjoy the evening news. I’m not here for you.”
Dad releases a deep sigh of relief. The implication of what Mickey said hasn’t dawned on him.
“Want a beer?” Dad asks.
“No,” Mickey drawls. He sounds bored with dad’s company and he just got here. I better not keep him waiting.
It isn’t hard to do, anyway. I can’t wait to be in his arms again.