Forever True (An Ireland Forever Short Story), page 1
Forever True
An Ireland Forever Short Story
Copyright © 2019 Rebecca Gallo
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.
Forever True is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover design by Dandelion Cover Designs
Editing by Jenny Sims, Editing 4 Indies
Formatting by Vellum
Created with Vellum
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
More Ireland Forever Stories
Acknowledgments
Also by Rebecca Gallo
About the Author
It’s a lonely washing that has no man’s shirt in it
Irish Proverb
Brigid
I am literally going to puke. Seriously. I can feel the bile churning in my stomach. And it’s all because I fucking hate planes. Traveling is a huge part of my job, and I love getting to see the world, but the moment I step onto the jetway that connects the gate to the plane, I start to go green.
A warm hand slips into mine and squeezes tight. I look over and smile nervously as I glance down at our joined hands before this one moment of comfort slips away. I should be enjoying this flight because for the first time, I’m sitting in first class. Actually, I’m sitting in a fucking suite on an airplane. It’s totally gorgeous and loaded with so many amenities that I don’t want to touch a single thing.
But I don’t think about how my seat will fold into a bed or that I will be provided with a 500-thread count duvet to keep me toasty warm during the flight from Seoul to Dublin.
And I’m certainly not thinking about the gourmet in-flight meals and premium wine list.
What I am thinking about is how for the first time, Conor Byrne and I held hands in public.
“Do you want to go over the schedule?” I ask him, hoping that this moment will last forever. Or at least for the duration of the flight.
“No. I’m absolutely shattered right now and looking forward to a nice glass of red wine and a good night’s sleep.” Conor slips his hand from mine and crosses one long leg over the other. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans with holes in the knees and an olive-green T-shirt. It’s what he normally wears, and even though I’m used to seeing some variation of it every day, he still looks sexy. The muscles he’s packed on since becoming a solo artist also help.
“Okay. How about just telling me if you want me to pop around to the shops and pick up something special to wear for the concert?”
“Birdie,” he says in a tone that tells me he’s annoyed. But in a playful way.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. No more talking shop.”
The flight attendant comes to our suite and greets us, offering us neatly wrapped packages. Her voice is sweet and musical as she talks to Conor. He orders a glass of red wine for himself and a glass of Bollinger champagne for me.
“This is pretty wild, right?” he says with a grin, holding up his package.
It amazes me that Conor still gets so excited about things like traveling first class and receiving these little complimentary luxuries. He’s one of the biggest musical acts in the world, but to me, he’s still the lad who grew up down the road from me in Dun Laoghaire.
I watch as he tears into it like a kid on Christmas morning. He pulls out a lounge set and toiletry kit, holding them both up for me to see.
“Aren’t you going to open yours, Birdie?”
“I’m just waiting for my nerves to settle, Con.”
He cocks his head to the side. “Still got those pre-flight jitters, sweetheart?”
My heart skips, and my tummy clenches with delight. I love it when he calls me sweetheart. He only does it in private, and I tell myself, soon. Soon, he’ll call me sweetheart in public.
“And in-flight jitters too! I won’t feel better until we land in Dublin!”
The attendant returns with a tray that contains our wine. “Here, this will calm some of those nerves,” he says as he hands me my glass. He tips his against mine, the two glasses making a sweet sound as they clink together.
I take a small sip. It’s cold, crisp, and tart. When the plane starts to move and taxi down the runway, I down the whole thing and reach across the console that separates our seats to take hold of Conor’s arm. I don’t give a fuck who sees us because I’m not letting go until we reach cruising altitude.
“It’s okay,” he croons, patting my hand. “I’ve got you. Nothing’s going to harm you, my sweet Brigid.”
I start to relax and lean back against the plush leather seat. Conor’s fingers make lazy strokes up and down my arm. He starts to hum a new melody. It’s sweet and slow. I can’t wait for him to add lyrics.
“You can open your eyes now, Brigid,” he whispers softly in my ear before placing a soft kiss on my cheek.
My eyes pop open not because the plane has steadily reached cruising altitude but because Conor has kissed me. In public. I look around the first class cabin and realize that we’re the only occupants. So not exactly public.
I turn in my seat to face him and slide my hand along his jaw. His eyes are crystal blue, and there’s a bit of roughness on his cheek because he hasn’t shaved in a few days. I wrap my hand around the back of his head and lean forward, placing my lips boldly against his. He’s hesitant at first and maybe a little surprised too because I respect our boundaries, but his mouth softens, and he invites me in.
I nip playfully at his bottom lip, tugging it between my teeth before releasing it and deepening the kiss. I crave these moments of connection because they only happen in private. Waiting has become an art form, but he’s opened the door with these soft touches and light kisses. I want more, and this is my first declaration of desire.
Conor
The Asian leg of the tour was grueling, so sitting in luxury, next to my favorite girl is pure heaven. I’m grateful that my Asian fans followed me after my departure from ’NTune, but they are intense and demanding, which makes this time alone with Brigid well-deserved.
Brigid is a nervous flyer, and I know pulling away from the comforting hand I first offered was a mistake. It wasn’t hard to miss the hurt in her jade green eyes, so when the plane begins to taxi, and she clamps down on my arm, I don’t pull away. I give her the comfort she needs.
The first class cabin is empty except for us and our dedicated flight attendant, who is discreet enough to leave us alone. I am tired, but I’m also craving the heat between Brigid’s legs. It’s been too long and what I need more than sleep is her.
Brigid seems to have the same idea because she leans across the console and wraps her hand around my head, holding it steady while she plants her lips on mine. The move takes me by surprise at first because Brigid has always respected the limits I’ve set. They frustrate her, but she knows that keeping our relationship private is to protect her.
Her lips are warm and welcoming; they beg me to deepen the kiss, and if it wasn’t for this stupid console between us, I’d have her on my lap with my cock out and ready. I slow the kiss to an end and press my forehead against hers.
“I think it’s time we join the Mile High Club, sweetheart.” My voice is low and needy.
She giggles softly, which is music to my ears. “I thought you were tired.”
I shake my head slowly. “I need you more, Birdie.”
I place a chaste kiss on her forehead and stand, signaling to the attendant. I let her know that we’d like our seats converted into beds, and with surprising ease and efficiency, she completes the transformation in a matter of minutes.
“Can I get you anything else?” the attendant asks in a soft voice.
“Not at this moment,” I tell her.
Brigid is sitting on the bed, waiting with what I like to call her “come fuck me” eyes. They’re big and dark, and she’s looking up at me patiently through a hooded gaze. The bed conversion isn’t ideal, but once I close the sliding doors to our suite, she’s all mine.
“Aren’t you going to change into your pajamas?” I ask innocently.
“What’s the point? You’re going to take them off anyway,” she says with a shrug of her shoulders.
After I secure the doors, I kneel on the bed and remove my T-shirt. “You’re going to have to be quiet,” I tell her as my fingers work my belt buckle free. My cock is so hard that I don’t know how long I can last until I have to be inside her.
Brigid removes her oversized T-shirt, revealing a perfect pair of tits encased in gorgeous black lace. My mouth waters at the sight of them. She’s grown into quite the woman. She’s no longer the awkward little runt who lived up the road. She’s a woman, and she’s all mine.
“I can be quiet,” she assures me as she unbuttons her jeans and pushes them down her slim hips to reveal a matching pair of black panties.
“Jesus, sweetheart,” I hiss as I unzip my jea ns and reach in to free my cock.
Brigid lays back and shimmies her jeans down her legs. Her fiery red curls spread out around her head like a halo, wearing nothing but a matching set of bra and panties. She’s quiet, and I see some hesitation in her eyes.
“Are you nervous about this?” I ask as I strip my jeans free and then stretch my body out alongside hers. My hand slides over her hip and cups her behind.
Brigid bites down on her bottom lip, dragging it slowly between her front teeth. “Maybe just a little.”
“I’ll be quick,” I tell her with a wink before leaning forward to brush my lips against hers.
Brigid shifts closer, pressing herself against my body. She drapes a leg across my hip and smiles sweetly. “Not too quick.”
Whenever Brigid and I are together, we’re completely in tune. We’ve been that way since we were kids. Somehow, we always know what the other needs, and right now, Brigid knows that I need her touch more than anything. She reaches down between our bodies and grasps my cock loosely in her hand, slowly stroking me until I’m rock hard. I hiss when her thumb brushes against the tip and spreads the first drops of precum around the head.
“God, I love it when you touch me,” I moan. She increases the pressure and pace of her hand on my cock until she’s worked me into a frenzy. My hand skids across her skin, down her hip, and dips between her thighs, spreading them slightly. Her hand falls away, and she rolls onto her back, her legs spreading even wider now. My fingers tease her through the fabric of her panties before I push them aside and plunge a finger inside her warm, wet center.
Brigid cries out instantly, and I cover her mouth with mine to swallow the sound. I keep kissing her as she cries out as my fingers pump in and out of her pussy. She writhes on the bed with need, and I want to give her everything she’s craving because I want the same thing.
“It’s not enough?” I ask her between kisses.
She shakes her head but doesn’t speak.
I add a second finger and push it inside her. “You want my cock, don’t you?”
She nods.
I pull back and pop up to my knees. When my fingers slip out of her, she whines, and I chuckle because I’ve made her hungry for more. I grasp her panties, tearing them from her body before tossing them aside. Her pussy is pink and inviting. I bend forward and swipe my tongue across her folds. She’s fucking delicious, like peaches and cream. But I have to control myself because my cock aches to be inside her.
When my tongue flicks across her clit, she jerks her hips up. I grasp them and hold her steady while I continue to devour her. This is when I can show her how much she means to me; how important she is and how grateful I am for everything that she does. She gives me so much and asks for very little in return. I use my body to worship her, to show her the hidden corners of my heart. This is when I’m completely honest about how much I love her.
“Conor,” she groans. Brigid’s voice shakes me from my thoughts, and I pause, flicking my gaze up to look at her. She looks fucking gorgeous with her lips parted and puffy, her cheeks flushed and her body glistening from sweat. “I need you.”
I nod. I’ve ignored my own needs, and my cock is aching. I need a release.
The first moment I slide into Brigid is a lesson in patience. Rarely do I get to just savor her because we are always on the go. Our default seems to be hard, quick, and dirty, but tonight, in the middle of the first class cabin, I’m going to enjoy every moment.
I start a slow rhythm that quickly gets us both heated. Take your time, I remind myself. I reach up with one hand and pull the black lace cup down to expose a perfect breast. Leaning over, I suck her nipple into my mouth. Brigid arches her back and gasps with surprise. I tease her nipple with my teeth, tugging at it before letting it pop free.
Below me, Brigid’s breath comes out in heavy pants as her hands slide into my hair, tugging at the strands. I love how responsive she is to my touch, to my mouth, to every bit of pleasure I give her.
“Oh god,” she moans when I sit up slightly and decide to pay attention to other parts of her body. My hand slips between our bodies, and I lightly stroke her clit. It drives me wild the way she cups her own breasts and tugs at her nipples.
“Such a needy thing,” I admonish her softly.
“Conor, just fuck me hard.”
That is a wish I am more than eager to grant. I use both hands to splay her legs wide and keep them pinned to the thin mattress before picking up the pace and thrusting into her with a punishing rhythm. Brigid places one hand over her mouth to stifle her cries and the other hand against the head of the bed. Our bodies move together beautifully as I drive into her over and over again before exploding deep inside her. My entire body shakes, and my heart plays a thunderous rhythm. I’ve poured every pent-up desire for this woman into her.
With a smacking kiss across her lips, I extract myself and sit at the edge of the bed. I use a few tissues and wet wipes to clean up as best I can. I turn back to her, and my heart literally skips. She’s watching me through a sleepy gaze, and a hint of a smile softens her features.
“Come lay down next to me,” she says, reaching out to me. I grab her hand and kiss the back before settling myself beside her.
You’re at a crossroads, lad, I tell myself. She deserves all of me, public and private.
Brigid
My eyes flutter open, and for a moment, I’m confused until I feel the delicious soreness between my legs. And then it all comes flooding back in a gorgeous blur of memories. I joined the Mile High Club last night, and it was brilliant! I turn on my side, hopeful that I can coax another moment of naughtiness from Conor, but he’s already awake, and despite a lack of a shower in our first class suite, he seems fresh-faced. He’s stretched out on his side of the bed with his laptop open.
“You’re working?” I ask, confused because when we boarded the plane, Conor didn’t want to discuss the concert in Dublin on St. Patrick’s Day.
“Confirming interviews with my publicist. As soon as we land, I’ll have to head to the television station. You can go to the hotel if you want,” he tells me with a smile.
“No, I should probably go to the venue and make sure everything has been delivered.”
I think it’s back to business as usual until Conor sets his laptop aside and leans over to kiss me. It’s slow and lingering; his tongue swipes lazily at the seam of my lips until I open, and it dips inside. I could kiss him like this forever.
When we break apart, his crystal blue eyes study me intensely, and there’s a small, content smile on his lips.
“What?” I ask, self-conscious. “Have I got dragon breath?”
Conor chuckles. “No, you don’t. I just like to look at you sometimes.” He starts humming the melody from earlier in the flight, and this time, he sings a few lines before he stops. “I’m still working it out my head.”
“It’s lovely,” I tell him. I excuse myself to get cleaned up in the bathroom. Though it’s still tiny, it’s much bigger than most airplanes. At least I can move around and clean all my bits. I pile my riot of red curls into a bun on top of my head and change into a clean T-shirt and black leggings. When I return to our suite, Conor is focused on work, which means I immediately switch into business mode.
We operate in tandem like this. I’m his personal assistant, wardrobe assistant, hair stylist, and makeup artist, but our motto is “divide and conquer.” The St. Patrick’s Day concert is huge and not because Conor’s opening up for Blackthorn, one of the biggest Irish bands of all time, but because it’s also at The Dublin Arena. And prior to the concert, there will be a VIP experience at Castle Glenkerry. There’s so much to do logistically, and Conor needs me to take care of that while he’s doing press.
The flight attendant checks in on us now that we’re awake. It’s a fifteen-hour flight, and there’s probably at least three or four hours left, so when my stomach rumbles from hunger instead of nausea, I order breakfast for us both.
