Quinn's Deirdre by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy Page A

staff!” Quinn’s voice grew in volume.
    “Aye, I know it well. Ye’d best be gone
before you draw attention.   I told the
woman ye’d gone and I had no notion where, but if she comes back here, she’ll
see ye with her own two eyes.”
    “Thank ye ,
Uncle Des.”
    The older man waved a slotted spoon and
shook his head. “Go on, then. I never saw neither one of ye .”
    Quinn grasped Deirdre’s hand and pulled
her up the back stairs with haste.   She
matched his rapid pace, glad to escape any media attention but worried they’d
lost their sexy mood.   As soon as he shut
the door and locked it behind them, however, Quinn stripped away his coat and
opened his arms.  
    Deirdre shed her jacket as she walked
into his embrace.   “Quinn, do you think…”
    He stopped her question with his mouth.   His urgent lips bonded with hers as heat
rippled from him into her body. Quinn kissed her with slow intensity, each
fondle of his mouth against hers brimming with passion.   He didn’t hurry but took his time with
deliberate and apparent pleasure.  
    Deirdre leaned against him and he held
her in place with one arm around her waist.   Quinn cupped the other hand behind her head, up beneath her long
hair.   His grip heightened her sense of
total security and his insistent mouth wiped away any other thought.   She forgot about April’s big mouth and the
reporter asking around as she yielded to him.
    No barriers remained between them,
nothing unresolved, and love flowed with the powerful tide of a spring
flood.   They kissed and nibbled and
tongued for a long time but as need increased, their hands roamed.   Bit by bit, they undressed, their clothing
falling to the floor in a trail leading to the bedroom.   By the time they collapsed into a tangle on
the bed, Quinn’s hands caressed her from face to feet.   He lingered at her hips and ran his fingers
up her back, evoking a series of thrills.   Deirdre touched him too, everywhere she could reach.   She worked his nipples one at a time with
thumb and forefinger until they hardened. Then Deirdre fastened her mouth over
them and suckled until he squirmed with delight.   She tickled him, tasted him, and teased her
fingertips down his belly.   Deirdre
wrapped her hand around his cock, solid and hard within her grasp.  
    “Ah, god, woman,” he moaned.
    She’d dreamed of doing it many times and
replayed old memories.   Deirdre lowered
her head and her hair fanned out across Quinn’s thighs as she took him into her
mouth.   She sucked on his cock, then moved her lips up and down. The friction, although she
kept it gentle, made him groan with wordless pleasure.    Deirdre shifted position and lowered onto
his dick.   She rode him, her pace
gentle.  
    As she rocked him, Quinn fondled her
breasts, his hands tweaking her nipples and sliding downward to rub her clit.   Sensations spread a warm, erotic contentment
through her body but as her need increased, she quickened her movements.   Within moments, she rode him hard and fast.  
    Quinn penetrated deeper within, as far
as possible and they rocked to the same intense rhythm.   They linked hands and held tight as they came
in a rush of blinding physical pleasure. Deirdre cried out at the final moment,
and Quinn reared up to quiet her with a kiss.   Explosive aftershocks radiated waves of delight as she collapsed against
his chest, spent, sated, and smiling.
    Quinn wrapped his arms around her and
she lay, content to listen to his heartbeat as his breathing slowed back to
normal.   He stroked her hand with a lazy hand
and rubbed her back with the other.   “ Mo ghra, ” he whispered. “I love ye and that ‘twas the most intense, beautiful lovin’ I’ve
ever known.”
    “I love you too,” she said and nuzzled
closer.   After a few more minutes, she
asked, “Are you cold? Do I need to move?”
    “Never,” Quinn said. “It’s a wee bit
cold, though. Stay where ye are, Deirdre, and we’ll sleep