Authors: Andrea Simonne
Just before midnight we go outside
into the cold winter’s night. The sky is clear and despite the lights of
Dublin, I can see the stars. We grin at each other as everyone counts down to
midnight.
Declan and I count with them…3…2…1...and
then we kiss, amidst all the hooting and hollering, all the car horns blaring.
I feel my heart in my throat as I wrap my arms around him, letting myself fall
into his kiss—into everything.
It’s a new year. A new beginning. And
I can’t remember ever being this happy.
Unfortunately the next
morning
I have a hangover—too much of the black stuff. At least we stayed at The
Clarence so I don’t have to face his family in this condition. I get up to take
a shower, hoping it’ll help. When I come out from the bathroom Declan has
ordered breakfast and our room smells like coffee and eggs. I flop on the bed
and groan.
“Feeling any better?”
“No.”
Declan fiddles with the room
service cart, asking if I want anything.
“I’m not ready for food yet. Maybe
in a couple of years.”
He brings his plate over and sits next
to me. His eyes are clear, no dark circles. He appears completely well rested.
“Aren’t you hung-over at all?”
“Of course not,” he says, digging
into his greasy eggs and sausage. Heart attack on a plate I notice.
“How is that possible? I know you
drank more than I did.”
“Years of practice. Plus, I’m
Irish.”
“Hmph.” I think back to my
twenties. Admittedly I’m a lightweight, but I thought I had years of practice
too. “So what are you saying? Your baby bottle had Guinness instead of milk?”
He smirks. “Something like that.”
After a nap I wake up to find that
Declan left me a note saying he’s gone out. Sleeping really helped and I feel
much better. I put on a bathrobe and wander over to the room service cart where
I grab some fruit, before settling in with the television remote.
I’ve just switched to a channel with
a group of cow farmers standing around speaking Irish, when I hear the key in
the door. I’m on alert, thinking it might be the maid, but happily it’s Declan.
He sweeps in as handsome as sin. The
scent of winter air clings to him mixed with the diesel smell of the city. He’s
carrying a couple of colorful shopping bags and comes over and stands next to
the bed, glancing at the television.
“Learning the mother tongue? It
does me heart good to see this, darlin’.”
“Hey, I aim to please.”
“Do you have a special interest in
dairy cows then?”
“It’s a subject near and dear to
me.”
“Is that right?” He seems mildly
curious.
“Well, yes, you see...I like
chocolate
and chocolate often has milk in it.”
“Then you’ll be pleased with the
present I have for you.”
“You have a present for me?” I sit
up on the bed, eagerly looking at the bags he’s holding. He shrugs out of his
coat and puts one bag down, but brings the other over to me. Inside there’s a
box of Butler’s Chocolates and I squeal with delight.
He watches with an amused grin. “I
take it you’re feeling better?”
“Yeth,” I say, already stuffing my
mouth with chocolate. “Wow, theeth are good!”
He reaches into the box and pops a
chocolate in his mouth.
“Is this the only present you got
me?” I ask.
Declan laughs, his blue eyes twinkle.
“Isn’t that enough?”
“Well, sure, but you have
two
shopping bags.”
He gets the other bag and then comes
back to sit on the bed beside me. “I saw this and I thought it would be fun for
both of us.”
I give him a knowing look. “What
is it? Lingerie? Fur-lined handcuffs?”
“Oh my,” Declan pretends to act
shocked, “you have such a filthy mind. You’re making me blush.”
“Yeah, right.”
He grins, handing the bag over. I
reach inside and pull out a box. Turning it around to the front I discover it’s
a travel chess board.
“Wow, this is so cool!” I say,
totally delighted. “I’ve always wanted one of these.”
“I know it isn’t the glow in the
dark dildo you were expecting, but I thought you might like this.”
“It’s fantastic—thank you.” I
climb onto him, straddling his lap. “I love it.”
He pushes under my robe to grip my
bottom. “Now this is what I call gratitude.” His hands slide further up my
bathrobe then cup my breasts. “How appreciative are you?”
“
Very
appreciative,” I say
seductively.
He pulls me in close and puts his
mouth to my ear. “Talk to me. You know what I like.”
“First...I’m going slip out of
this bathrobe.”
“That’s right,” he nods slowly. “And
then...?”
“And then I’m going to put this
chess board on the table over there.”
“Keep going.”
“And then we’re going to play
chess!”
He draws back and looks at me.
“What?”
“I want to play chess with you.”
“Right now? You can’t leave me
like this.” He motions down to the obvious erection pushing out his jeans.
“It’ll be fun to let all this
sexual energy between us simmer for a while.”
Declan studies me and then starts
to chuckle. “Damn,” he says softly, “you’re good. You’re already in strategy
mode aren’t you?”
“Who me?” I ask innocently.
“This is going to be an
interesting game.”
***
Declan allows me to be white. I
tell him we can flip for it, but he says it’s all right, that he’s feeling
generous. I hope he isn’t going to go into chivalrous mode and start thinking
he needs to help me. I hate being underestimated like that.
I decide to open with a Sicilian
Defense. It’s sometimes used at the master chess level and I’m curious to see if
he knows it. I discover that he knows it well as he immediately turns it into the
Dragon.
Glancing at him, I smile. He’s not
going to hold back or treat me like a dumb girl. He’s going to play his best
game. I should have known when he handed me my clothes and told me to get
dressed in the bathroom. At first I thought he was joking, but he wasn’t.
“I’ll just wear my bathrobe. I
don’t need to get dressed,” I tell him.
“
Yes,
you do. I’ll never be
able to concentrate with you flashing that body at me throughout the entire
game.”
“You mean like this?” I slowly pull
my robe apart, allowing him in a nice long eyeful. It turns me on to think he’d
have a hard time concentrating because of my body.
He looks me over, lingering on all
the important parts. “If you don’t get dressed, I won’t be responsible for what
happens.”
“Oh? What’s going to happen?”
He moves close to me and speaks in
a low voice. “I’m going to bend you over this table and fuck you while we’re
playing chess.”
Oh my.
“I guess I’ll go into the bathroom
and change now,” I say, trying to catch my breath.
“That would be best.”
And so our game is the real thing.
Declan is playing for blood and so am I. As the game progresses it’s clear that
he knows his way around a chess board. He’s an aggressive player, but mostly he’s
an incredible strategist. I feel like I can’t let my guard down for a second.
It’s exhilarating.
“And here I was worried that you’d
go easy on me,” I say teasingly.
“I’ve been watching you for two
years, Kate. I
know
how smart you are.”
I feel absurdly pleased by the
compliment. I don’t think any guy I’ve been with has ever complimented me on my
brain before.
Our game continues into the late
afternoon. My legs feel cramped from sitting in a chair for so long that I have
to get up and stretch. I grab my camera and take a few photos.
I’m playing a good game, but Declan
is winning. I can’t seem to outthink him. He’s always one step ahead of me. I
know I should forfeit, because there’s no way I’m going to checkmate him at
this point, but I stubbornly continue on.
It’s my turn and I contemplate my
next move. I’ve been staring at the board for five minutes. Declan raises his
eyebrow.
“I’m not giving up!”
He shrugs, but doesn’t say
anything. And that’s when I see it. He’s got me. In two moves I’ll be
checkmated.
“Darn,” I say, and knock my king
over.
Declan stretches slowly, making a
show of putting both hands behind his head. He gives me a triumphant grin.
“Don’t take it too badly. You played a damn good game. You’re the best opponent
I’ve had in ages.”
“Thank you.” And the truth is I
don’t feel bad at all. He’s right, it was a great game. “That combination with
your bishop right after you castled was a thing of beauty,” I tell him.
“You had some good moves too. Your
discovered attacks—especially the one with your queen—very nice.”
“Have you played at the tournament
level?”
“No, something much tougher—the
pub level. My da and I used to hang out at a pub near our house and I’d play
chess with him and all the other old guys. We’d go every weekend.”
“So you learned by playing chess with
your dad just like I did.”
He nods, and turns back to the
board. “We should pack this up now.” There’s a sly grin on his face. “And I
probably should have warned you Kate, but to the victor comes the spoils.”
“The spoils?”
“Yes, as in
I am
the
victor,
you
are the spoils.” His eyes scan me slowly as if deciding how
best to proceed. “Take your clothes off.”
I put my hands on my hips. “What
is it with you ordering me to strip?”
“Don’t make me tell you twice.”
“Next time I’m winning at chess,”
I grumble as I pull my t-shirt overhead.
He walks around me as I undress.
“I’ll be looking forward to that, but in the meantime you’re mine and I plan to
do...things...to you.”
I feel a sliver of excitement pulse
through me. “What sorts of things?”
“All sorts.”
I soon discover the sorts of
things he’s talking about. They involve chocolate and Declan’s imagination—which
has already won numerous gold medals in the sport of naughtiness.
“I’m going to lick chocolate off
of you here,” he tells me, brushing a truffle over my nipples, “and then here,”
he slides it down to stroke my belly. “And best of all....” I let out a soft
moan, as Declan caresses me between my legs. “Here.”
“I never knew there were so many
creative ways to use chocolate,” I breathe.
“There are,” he murmurs. “And you’re
going to experience every single one of them.”
***
Later that night, I grab my camera
and take some photos. Declan looks so handsome sprawled amidst the white bed
sheets that I can’t resist. When he grins lazily at me I feel my heart doing a
flip flop inside my chest.
“Let me see that camera.”
I hand it over and he starts
taking pictures of me too. “Hey!” I yelp and jump into bed. “I’m naked here!
You can’t take pictures!”
“That didn’t stop you from taking
them of me—now did it?” He tugs at the sheet I’ve wrapped tightly around
myself. “Come on, let’s see a little something. You’ve got nothing to be shy
about.”
I slip a leg out and let the sheet
ride up my hip.
“Give me more, Baby, more.” He
starts clicking away and I finally figure, what the hell, and let the sheet
drop away.
“Now we’re getting somewhere. I
like it. Maybe you could touch yourself a little—you know, and think of me?”
“What? I’m not doing
that
!”
Declan laughs at the incredulous expression
on my face. “I’m just trying to be creative. It’s art.”
“Yeah, right
.
Is that what
they’re calling it these days? Next thing I know you’ll be suggesting we put
them on the Internet.”
“No way. These are for my private
collection only.”
“I see.”
He lies back on the bed and puts
the camera down. “Can I ask you something?”
“Okay,” I say, wondering what it
could be. He seems serious all of a sudden.
“Why is it you never finished that
painting of me?”
I’m quiet now and I feel bad, like
I’ve broken a promise or something. “I’m not sure. I got so distracted with all
the other things going on in my life, I guess.”
He doesn’t say anything more, but
we both know I’m talking about Ben.
I think back to that evening. Back
to that magnificent kiss, and how awkward it became afterward. “You don’t know
how sorry I am about what happened that night when you kissed me. I know how
awful that was.”
Declan grows still. “Were you
sorry that I kissed you?”
“No. That’s not what I mean.”
“Because I wanted you and it felt
like you wanted me too.”
“I did.”
His jaw tightens. “Then why did
you push me away?”
I’m silent as I ponder this. “I
think I was afraid.”
“Afraid? Should I not have told
you what I was like when I was younger? I figured you could handle it, that you
knew me well enough.”
“That’s not why I was afraid.”
“It’s not?”
“No, I was afraid because....” I
trail off trying to figure out how to put this in words. How do I explain that
I was afraid because I knew if I started something with him it would be
serious. “I knew a fling wouldn’t be enough for you. You wanted something more
from me, something real.”
“And you didn’t want that?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that I’ve
been hurt before. I’ve allowed my past to make me a coward.”
He studies me for a while, thinking
this over. And then he touches me. Running his fingers over my cheeks, lips, and
then down to my chin.
“Are you still a coward, Kate?”
And as he’s waiting for my answer,
I feel ashamed. I’m ashamed to admit that I still feel scared.
“Because I’m not someone who does
things by half measures. You know that about me already.”
“I know,” I whisper.