Provocation (18+)

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43. What Bites You In The Ass

“I...” Lorelei seemed to stumble over the simple word, staring back at her mother.

Nate stayed silent, looking between Lorelei and Brigid before glancing over at Leila with a knowing look.


“It means that it’s quite possible that Nate walked in on Lorelei a few months ago having sex with another man.” Leila’s voice was plain, as if she were discussing the weather and not her daughter’s illicit affairs.

Ciaran was standing behind his wife looking torn. Believe Nate’s girlfriend? Or believe what his daughter had told him, that Nate left her to pursue another female?

“Is that true, missy?” Brigid asked, skewering her daughter with a look.

“You could ask the man she cheated on Nate with,” Leila said, interrupting. “Conley... O’- something- or- other- Irish.”

“The foreman?” Ciaran asked, looking confused.

“Big beefy dude, hands the size of ham hocks? Scary as fuck? If that’s your foreman, you have your ‘other’ man.” Leila nodded.

“You said Nate left you for another woman,” her mother said.

Lorelei sat stuttering, trying to think of a way to spin this to her favor.

She failed.

“So the paternity test wasn’t just some desperate attempt?” Ciaran still looked confused, as if Nate would place a paternity test in the way of admitting his fault in an unplanned pregnancy.

“The reason we broke up was because I found her sleeping with another man,” Nate said, confirming Leila’s story. “I had no intentions of leaving her prior to that, though I should have felt something was off with her sooner.”

Ciaran looked livid, Brigid shocked.

Lorelei was paler than ever, maybe a little green about the gills.

A nurse walked into the hall, asked them to take whatever conversation they were having to another part of the hospital. Preferably out of it altogether.

“I really have nothing more to say,” Nate said as he walked toward the waiting room. “I’ve slept little on the plane ride over and would prefer a nap over arguments about old news.”

He looked over at Lorelei as if to say, that’s right, sweetheart. You’re old fucking news.

And it hurt her. Lorelei’s armor cracked and everything that was inside spilled outward in a torrent of tears.

Tears that got further away with each step Nate and Leila took toward the entrance of the hospital.

Leila waved goodbye to the McCormicks.


The InterContinental Dublin was a 5-star luxury hotel on the south side of the city. It catered mostly to vacationers and the wealthy elite. As far as Leila was concerned, she couldn’t have cared if she was shacking up at a Motel 6 on the outskirts of some rinky-dink town in eastern Contra Costa County. She was just that tired.

With their rollings bags beside them, they entered the hotel room and pushed the luggage off to the side.

Leila immediately began to strip down to her panties and bra. She opened her suitcase enough to pull a piece of fabric from the insides and tossed it over her head. It was a t-shirt that came down to her midthigh. It was thin, and a dingy beige color. Good enough to sleep in, though. If she wanted to impress Nate, she would have just slept naked.

And she couldn’t have cared less if she was getting into bed with an A-list celebrity or the Pope. All she wanted was sleep.

“Sexy duds, sweetheart,” Nate said on a laugh. “Did you grab the first thing in your suitcase to wear or are you delirious from lack of sleep?”

“I blame everything I’ve spoken and done in the past 24 hours on my inability to sleep on planes.”

“You closed your eyes,” he told her.

“Didn’t help,” she said, collapsing onto the bed. “All I could see was the backs of my eyelids. After a while, they just looked like a reflection of my eyes.”

“Lucky eyelids,” Nate said and sat down on the bed. He was in his boxers and nothing else. If he had been more awake, he would have pounced on Leila, but he suffered from the same incapability to sleep on long flights as Leila.

“Sorry I stole your thunder,” Leila said, her eyes closed and voice hazy. “I know you would rather have told the McCormicks what a two-timing hooker their daughter was.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just that I was pissed and-”

“Lack of sleep, I get it,” he said pulling her body back to rest her back against his chest.

“You’re not mad?” she asked, crooking her neck at him to look him in the eyes.

“Not at all,” Nate said. “I would have told them sooner had I not been hellbent on getting out of the country the last time I was here.”

“Are they... aware of her deceitfulness?”

“To a point, I think,” Nate told her. “They certainly know she’s no poster girl for abstinence.”

“Unless they believe in miracles.”

“Right.” Nate blinked.

Pregnancy and all...

They were both silent, breathing in the cool air of the room and letting their minds settle.

“We have at least a week,” Nate told her. “Aiden is... he’s awesome. I remember when I was younger I thought the man was a prick.”

“I think we have Constance to thank for that.” Leila smiled. Girl fucking power, bitches.

“And Lizzie, but yeah, you’re right. He was a bit of a dick before her,” Nate said, chuckling softly. “Anyway, Aiden said the jet isn’t needed for another month and we can have it for as long as we need until then.”

“That’s kind of him.”

“Yes,” Nate said. “I was thinking that we take a week, maybe two, and see some sights. I want to take some time to head over to England, check in personally with the managers of my father’s companies, do all the touristy shit I was unable to do when I was working all the time.”

“Sounds... nice,” Leila said, punctuating it with a yawn.

“Are you good for a two-week trip with me, Baby?”

“Mhmm,” she said, sighing.

“I’ll take that as the ‘hell yes’ I was looking for.”

They slept the rest of the day and night away.

Have jetlag, folks? Just don’t sleep on the plane! You’ll pass out quicker than Rip Van fucking Winkle when you land!

After they woke up the next day, they asked the front desk to point them in the direction of the nearest place to get a decent cup of coffee. They got large to-go cups of the brew and Leila was almost tempted to ask them to make it real Irish and add some whiskey.

But that would have been pointless. She needed the caffeine boost to get through the day, not the relaxing rich taste of Jameson’s to settle her nerves.

And there were lots. Nerves that is. Until the DNA results came back, it was going to gnaw at her.

She wanted to believe Nate, and she did up to a point. There was always that slight chance that a soldier had gotten through the last line of defense and took root in Lorelei’s conniving uterus.

God, she hoped not.

They sipped their coffees and decided to head over to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. It was touristy, but not too bustling. And most people had enough respect not to shout in church.

St. Parick’s was older than any known dwelling in America, with 800 years of rich history. The two of them walked around the large building, taking in its staggering high ceilings and ancient walls.

Much to their surprise, most of the people who were docents there did this on a purely volunteer basis. They never asked for anything in return and many donors contributed in materials and fabrics to help in the upkeep of the national cathedral of Ireland.

The floors were magnificently covered in bright tile, and the room that held just the choir seemed as large as any church she had seen in America. Not that she went often. Lapsed Catholic or not, she only prayed to God when she was on her back in her bed and Nate was balls deep in her.

Hmm... that seemed kind of sacrilegious to think.

The grounds outside the cathedral were just as lovely, if not as old. Statues and a freshly maintained lawn as bright green as any Leila had ever seen were the main features, along with a modest fountain.

They distracted themselves with sights rather than the sounds of their talking. They didn’t have much to say. They were either too tired or thinking about the DNA results, but it wasn’t an unpleasant silence. More introspective. Lost in their own individual thought processes.

“Are you going to be taking me places all over Ireland to distract me?” Leila asked, walking toward the fountain in the front of the cathedral.

“And to distract myself,” Nate told her. “It’s a win-win.”

“You’ve been to Ireland before,” she stated. Not a question.

“Yes, but I didn’t see much of it,” He told her. “I was always with Lorelei and her parents, trying to get them to like me. Or at least tolerate me.”

“They seem like a difficult couple.”

“They’re... not a warm family,” Nate admitted.

“Where is the brother? Liam, right?”

“Probably off stalking some poor unsuspecting female he believes he’s in love with.”

Leila laughed.

“Sounds plausible.”

“It’s his usual M.O.” Nate said with a small grin.

“And what’s yours? Your M.O.?” she asked, grinning back.

“Don’t need one. I’m fucking adorable, wouldn’t you agree?”

Leila laughed harder.

“You wound my ego,” He told her, teasing.

“Someone’s got to shave it down once in a while. Wouldn’t want you having trouble getting through doorways now, would we?” Leila asked.

“I love how you only think of my well-being,” Nate said, scoffing playfully.

“And your cock,” she said. “Wouldn’t want to neglect that.”

Nate’s brows raised.

“Speaking of dick in front of the Lord’s home?” he asked, gesturing to the cathedral in the distance.

“It’s not like we’re inside it.”

“We’re within shouted distance of it. He can still hear you.”

“I’ll whisper it then.”

Leila cupped her mouth with her hands, whispered.

“I think about your cock. A lot,” she stage-whispered.

“Then it’s a good thing I think about your pussy, too,” he whispered back, grinning.


“I want to take you to the country tomorrow,” Nate said as they both undressed for the night.

Along with going to see St. Patrick’s, they stopped to see the Spire of Dublin, a 120-meter glorified pole in the ground. They took selfies, posted them on Facebook, laughed at the responses.

“Carl said he hopes you’re not comparing the length of your pole to this monstrosity,” Leila told him.

“So long as he doesn’t whip his pole out so we can compare lengths,” Nate said, laughing. “You’ve seen his. Is he bigger than me?”

“I honestly don’t remember,” Leila said. “I saw the barbell sticking through the tip and thought, holy shit and then laughed hysterically at the, uhm... other circumstances.”

“What other circumstances?”

“I’ve said too much as it is.”

“Is it worse than walking in on your best friend on her knees with a dick in her mouth?”

“So much worse,” she said with a sigh.

“Oh, come on!” Nate exclaimed. “Now you have to tell me.”

“No way, they’ll skin me alive or rip out my tongue so I can’t gossip anymore,” she said. Her giggle was infectious. “And I know how much you like the way I work your cock with it, so unless you want no tongue action on your dick, I’d leave it up to your imagination.”

“You’re no fun.” Nate pouted.

“Say that next time you try to sleep with me, see where it gets ya,” she challenged him.

“Leila, my imagination is running wild as it is,” Nate told her. “There isn’t anything you could possibly tell me that’s worse than what’s going through my mind right now. Unless they were engaging in something super kinky like golden showers, you can’t possibly shock me.”


“Ew, that is worse,” Leila said as she cringed.

“So spill it,” Nate coaxed. “Or no dick for you until you tell me.”

“Who are you really trying to punish?”

She had him.

“I’ll never ask for anal again,” he bargained.

“I kind of liked it,” she replied.

“Orgasms beyond your wildest imagination?”

“Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt that read Cock Hungry on it,” was her reply.

“I’ll come to your office and give you oral under your desk,” he countered.

“Now you’re speaking my language, sir.”

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