Winds of Nightsong. V. J. Banis

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      “I’ll never stop. I just want it to last all afternoon.” He nibbled at her ear. “I’m hot as a boiler.”

      “You’re always hot.”

      “It’s the Irish in me, love.”

      “And you’d better not ever take your ‘Irish’ out of me, Sean Dillon.”

      “Never. I love you more than my own life.”

      “And I love you.”

      He started to move against her again, practiced and even, the kind of lovemaking that’s only possible between two people who have enjoyed years of happiness together.

      “I adore your body,” he moaned. He was getting too hot again and eased out of her. He began making love to her body with his mouth, kissing her breasts, her navel, her abdomen. He placed his face between her thighs and pushed his tongue deep inside her.

      “Oh Sean,” Susan moaned as she clutched the pillow, tossing her head from side to side.

      When Sean felt himself in control again, he moved up over her and eased himself back into her wetness. He took his time, moving with the graceful precision of an athlete as he brought her to one shattering climax after another.

      “Sean, Sean, Sean,” Susan murmured, and he drove into her, giving himself up to the flood of release he could no longer hold back.

      “I adore you,” he breathed as his whole body tensed, his toes curled, his teeth clenched.

      Afterward they lay exhausted and content, listening to the pounding of their hearts.

      “I think you married me just for my body,” Susan said.

      Sean propped himself up and reached for a cigarette. “That’s right, love. Marrying you keeps me out of the red-light districts. I get you whenever I like and I don’t have to pay the tarts.”

      She grabbed his hair and yanked it hard. They tussled for a moment, laughing and rolling about. Then Susan became serious. “Why did you marry me, Sean?”

      He sucked on the cigarette. “To spite your mother, of course. I thought you knew that.”

      “Oh, be serious.” She punched him and pulled his hair again.

      He turned and kissed her softly. “I married you, Susan MacNair Dillon, because I happen to have fallen hopelessly in love with you and I wanted you to be the mother of my children.”

      “I’ll accept that,” she said, smiling.

      “Besides, you’re the only high-class lady I ever met who’d have a Mick like me for a husband.”

      “You’re not a Mick.”

      “I was always a Mick. Low-down, no-lace-curtains Irish. That’s me.”

      “We’re very rich, aren’t we?”

      “Yes. Very. But that doesn’t change where I came from. And remember, love, I don’t have a very respectable occupation. Owning a distillery may be profitable, but it isn’t considered very upstanding in the eyes of New York society. I wish I could give you more.”

      “You’ve given me everything I ever wanted, Sean. You know how much I hate those snobs I went to school with. I despised the way Mother made us live.”

      “Speaking of your mother, I’m going out to the coast next week. I suppose I’ll have to stop off and pay my respects or we’ll never hear the end of it.”

      “She’ll be just as uncomfortable with you as you’ll be with her, if that’s any consolation. And if you don’t want to see Mother, I won’t care.”

      “Why don’t you come with me?”

      “As much as I’ll miss you, I think I’d rather stay here.”

      “Maybe I’ll take Lorrie. She’s always pestering us to send her to her grandmother’s.”

      “I want Lorrie kept away from my mother. Our daughter is enough of a little prig as it is. Mother would only encourage her snobbish tendencies.”

      “I know what you mean, love, but that girl drives me up the wall. Maybe it would be best for all concerned if we sent her to that school your mother is always raving about.”

      “I don’t know, Sean. I truly believe it will only make Lorrie worse than she is now.”

      “She can’t get any worse. She’s unhappy with us, you must admit that. She doesn’t approve of you and your suffragettes or factory workers. And I know she’s ashamed of what her father does for a living.”

      “I’ll think about it, darling.” Susan bit down on her lower lip, knowing he was right. There hadn’t been much peace in the house since Lorrie’s visit to her grandmother’s last year. Lorna had been a terrible influence on the girl. However, perhaps it would be best for everyone if Lorrie were with her own kind, pretentious little brats who thought they were better than everyone else.

      “Did you say you’re leaving next week?” Susan asked.

      Sean stubbed out his cigarette. “Friday, if everything goes according to plan.”

      Susan was silent for a moment. Then she said, “I’ve been thinking about that fire at the shirtwaist company, Sean. You know, the one where all those people died.”

      He nodded.

      “We both agree that working conditions in those places are dreadful. Someone has got to stand up for those poor people who work for peanuts.”

      “They can’t even afford peanuts,” he said. “But you know damned well, Susan, the owners will never tolerate even the mention of a union, if that’s what you’re thinking about.”

      “I realize that. Yet someone from the outside has got to get on the inside and make the public aware of what conditions there are really like.”

      “And I suppose you intend to be that ‘someone’?”

      “I could pass myself off as some poor wretch who needs a job, and once I was working there I could try to get something organized.”

      “I don’t want you getting involved with those sweatshop owners. It’s too dangerous.”

      “Nobody need know who I am.”

      “I know you, my girl. You’ll start instigating trouble the first day on the job. Now I’m giving you an order, wife. You are not to go near those sweatshops. Do I make myself clear?”

      She didn’t answer.

      “Susan,” he warned, wagging his finger at her.

      “I only want to see what it’s like inside one of those places.”

      “Hell,” he breathed. “You’ll do what you want, I know.” He flopped back on the pillows. “You’re a headstrong, СКАЧАТЬ