Good Golly, its Friday again! Hard to believe but once again it's time for another piece of flash fiction from yours truly and of course with it being St. Patty's Day, I had to at least make sure it was Irish themed. Everyone have fun tonight - and be safe if you're going to indulge in green beer:D. With that being said - Enjoy a little Irish Flash based on yesterday's Sensual Thursday!
Gwen stilled as she rubbed the damp rag across the mahogany bar. It was if a cold finger had just trailed across the back of her neck – as if Flaherty’s ghost had taken an interest in her. Forget it Gwen, it’s a myth, nothing more than a tale of the drunks who come here each St. Patty’s day for green beer. There is no ghost bent on seduction so he can pass over to the other side. It’s nothing more than a yarn Old Angus told me to get my goat. She hadn’t worked at Flaherty’s Pub for long but had already been warned by the others to not believe a word out of Angus’s mouth.
She started when the lights on the main floor flickered before dimming, leaving only the lights over the bar on.
“For Pete’s Sake.” She threw down the rag in disgust. “Dammit, Carrick still hasn’t fixed that timer. Only an idiot would turn the clock back instead of ahead. This is ridiculous – now I have to finish closing up in the dark…”A squeak escaped her as a pair of cool lips pressed against the back of her exposed neck. “Easy, lass – I din’na mean to startle you.” The thick Irish brogue of a man - no, her boss - sent shivers of awareness through her.
She moved to confront him but froze at the press of his hips against hers as he pinned her to the bar. Drawing a sharp breath at the ghostly feel of a thick erection nestled against her before it disappeared, her mind whirled. She couldn’t believe it. Carrick Donnghal – the man she’d lusted after despite his being her boss was…
His tongue explored her ear. “I want you.” His palm slipped under her knit shirt to cup her bare belly. “Will you…” Strong teeth nipped at her lobe. Prickles of desire tightened her nipples.
“Ah…” Before she could form a coherent thought, she was spun around, her eyes widening at the sight in front of her. The man had sounded like Carrick, even looked a like him, but….she could see right through him. Fear made her heart leap. “The g-g-h-host…”
He stepped back, his hands at his sides, his face downcast. “Flaherty Donnghal at your service.” He shifted uncomfortably. “You either scream … and I disappear ‘til next year or…”
“Or what?” She’d never seen such heartbreaking loneliness before.
“Let me show you.” Moving close enough, he lifted a hand, allowing his fingertip to brush her cheek. As a surge of awareness washed over her, he solidified a bit with a groan. ”That’s what I need – to feel your pleasure at my touch. Each time I touch your skin, your desire brings me closer.”
“To what? Becoming human again?”
He gave her a tentative smile. “No, I’ll never be human again, lass. Your…woman’s pleasure will allow me to be at peace.” As the silence grew between them, he sighed. “But I understand if you don’na wish to. It won’t be the first time I’ve been refused in the past century.”
Studying him, she made her choice. She couldn’t allow him to suffe, and if this was what he needed…well. Her clothes fell to floor before she sprawled across the bar. “So let the touching commence.”
“Thank you for doing this, lass.” Gratitude along with hope shone from his eyes, telling her she’d made the right decision.
“It’ll be my pleasure.” She gasped as his cool hands slid over the swell of her breast.
“Yes, it will.” He whispered against her skin as he bent over her prone body…