My Killarney King: A St. Patrick's Day Curvy Woman Instalove Romance by Ava Pearl

Author:Ava Pearl [Pearl, Ava]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-03-16T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Abigail

“Hallo Hugh! How ya?” The bartender called out as we entered the pub, and pointed to a table in the back next to the stage. The entire pub is decked out in obnoxious green banners, glowing green shamrock lights, and miniature Irish flags. The city is in full party mode, and this bar is holding it's own.

“Good Mike. We’re good.” Hugh takes my hand and leads me to the two remaining seats at the table. Introductions and handshaking all around, but I can barely hear anything, never mind their names.

Hugh wraps his arm around my shoulder and leans in. His breath hot on my ear sends ironic chills down my spine.

“What’ll ye have?”

Turning my head to respond, my lips graze his cheek. “Guinness.” Out of place, and not sure what to order, I asked for the first thing I thought of, and something my brothers would approve of, in an Irish pub.

“A pint of the black stuff?” Hugh nods approvingly and I watch, fascinated, as he crosses the bar through the crowd, helps himself behind the bar, and sets to pouring my pint. I watched his hands as he slowly tips the glass and waits for the pint to settle before pouring the head. My breathing is shallow. I’m practically drooling. Over the beer, and over Hugh.

“We’re going to have some craic tonight. Have ye been to a Donegal contest before?” One of the girls at the table leans across the table towards me.

“Excuse me?”

“Donegal. Beard.” Some guy with this arm around her points to his beard and starts laughing. It’s too loud to say much more to each other.

Hugh and I sit and hold hands, sipping our beer. Watching each other. Not talking. And yet our bodies are communicating so much. With each sip of my pint, the liquid warming my body. The crowds and party-goers threaten to invade our bubble.

When the live music starts, I turn in my seat and lean back against Hugh. The fiddle, tin whistle, flute, pipes, and accordion play music that is fun and entertaining. I’m swaying side to side to the slower tunes. Hugh brushes my hair, and the collar of my coat aside to kiss the crook of my neck. One particular song comes on and Hugh sings along. Slow and deep, and I can’t catch my breath. I’m hot all over and ready to combust. If we were alone in the bar, I’d crook my leg up over his, shift my skirt up, and thrust his hand where the pulsing is leaving me wet and anxious.

The band ends with a livelier set of songs including the Wild Rover and cheers of “no Nay never.”

“Macushla,” Hugh kisses my neck again and I’m purring. I turn in my seat and face him, ready for that first amazing kiss that we have yet to have.

Hugh stands up, and pulls his green thermal top off over his head. Hot damn, he has a solid six-pack. I suck my stomach instinctively and feel the sinking feeling of despair.

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