Chapter Forty

Norah

It's the week before the spring play. Dr. Andrews wrote the entire production himself and titled it "BeDRAGgled." When I originally told him about having the Irish trio model the costumes for the cast, he laughed to the point of tears. He loved all of my designs for the characters but thought the one Rowan modeled was genius. I had successfully turned him into a cowboy drag queen.

"Fecking hell, Norah," Rowan grouses. "These chaps are heavy."

I chuckle as I secure the last buckle on his fringed chaps. "You look great, Ro. And you're a good sport. You've complained the least out of the three of you."

"Ach, well if we have to do this, we might as well give it our all! Plus," he says, turning the lower half of his body to look in the mirror, "these knickers really make my arse look good."

"I'm going to hurl," Teagan mumbles into the trash can between his knees. "If I puke, do I still have to do this?"

"Teag," I scold, "you play on stage at Paddy's, and you play on the field in front of tons of people all the time. How is this any different?"

He lifts his head long enough to scowl at me. "I usually have my arse covered during both of those, thank you very much."

I shake my head and motion for him to rise. "Stand up. Let me make sure everything is still in place."

"There's not much here to be in place," he grumbles but complies anyway. His costume consists of a red cheeky leotard covered in shiny beading, black fishnet stockings, red platform ankle boots, and a devil-horned headdress.

After begging her and promising to cook her dinner for a week, Layla agreed to help with the makeup on the guys. She transformed Teagan's face from the handsome and rugged Irishman into a smirking devil with hooded eyes. I can't wait to see what she did with Eamon.

"Where the hell is Kennedy?" Ro calls from the other side of the room where he's still posing in front of the floor-length mirror, running his hands over the glittery denim bustier while admiring his ass in the matching cheeky boy shorts. The tasseled chaps, cowboy boots, and cowboy hat complete the look. We put him in a curly red wig, that matches his beard perfectly, and ridiculously long fake lashes covered in glitter. He doesn't seem to mind them in the least.

"That's a good question," I muse, looking around backstage. "I'll go check on him. Teagan, you're good. Go over there with Ro and let him boost your confidence." I meander out of the general dressing area to the private dressing rooms and knock on the door to the room Eamon was getting ready in. "Eamon? You in there?"

"No," he grumbles.

I swallow the laugh getting ready to burst from my mouth at his sullen tone and ask, "Can I come in?"

There's a pause, then a loud, exasperated sigh. "If you must," he finally says .

Cautiously cracking the door open, I slip inside, closing it behind me. Then I stop, and my jaw hits the floor. Eamon is standing there in his skintight black faux leather bodysuit that covers him from neck to ankles. I designed it without sleeves to showcase his muscular biceps. I've seen him in the bodysuit before, but seeing him in it with hair and make-up leaves me stunned. Layla outdid herself, and I make a mental note to thank her with a bottle of wine. He's wearing a straight waist-length wig and cat ears on top. There's a long black tail hanging limply from the back of the suit. Layla painted on a black eye mask and gave him blood-red lips. He looks hot as hell.

"What?" he asks, fidgeting.

I clear my throat and rake my eyes slowly up and down his body again. "How is it that you're sexy as sin in your sweats and as a cat woman? Life is so unfair."

"Ach. Stop. You're having a laugh at me, and I feel ridiculous." He pouts.

"I'm not!" I promise, closing the distance between us. "If you didn't have to be out there modeling in thirty minutes, I'd jump your bones."

He snorts and gestures down his torso. "This bodysuit was practically painted on."

"Uh huh…" I say, ogling the way the bodysuit clings to him below the waist.

"Acushla."

"Hmmm?"

"Eyes up here," he deadpans.

"Sorry," I say, though I'm not sorry at all. "I didn't realize just how distracting you'd be."

Eamon rolls his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest, which does nothing for my current state of arousal.

"Okay, but on a serious note," I say, clearing my throat again. "Does anything need to be adjusted or altered? Can you walk towards me, turn, and walk away?"

"You just want to check out my arse, don't you?" he accuses, narrowing his eyes at me .

I huff out a laugh. "I won't deny it, but I really do need to make sure everything is where it should be."

"I can assure you that my cock is not where it should be right now."

"Stop." I giggle. "I'm serious."

"So am I, love," he growls, stalking towards me.

"No, you have to walk like you will out there." I throw a thumb over my shoulder towards the direction of the stage. "I need the swagger."

"You're killing me," he grinds out. "But fine. Don't you dare laugh at me."

"Never," I promise with a wink.

Eamon takes a deep breath, lifts his eyes to the ceiling as if saying a prayer, and then starts sashaying towards me with the grace of a lion. Of course he does.

He comes within half a foot of me, then suddenly spins on his heel, tossing his long wig in my face, and traipses away, swinging his hips. I can't stop staring at his ass. What can I say? I'm a weak woman.

"Alright, kitty," I say roughly. "It definitely looks good on my end. Anything you need me to check? Besides your cock?"

He lifts his eyebrows in surprise. "I don't think I've ever heard anything so filthy come out of that sweet mouth of yours. I like it."

I pin him with a glare.

"Alright, alright. No, nothing seems out of place. You've done quality work, love."

I grin at the praise, then say, "Now, come on out. Teagan is about to throw up his lunch, and Rowan might be considering a career in cross-dressing."

Eamon chuckles. "‘Course he is."

We walk into the dressing area, and Rowan lets out a loud whistle. "Fecking hell, Kennedy. You make one sexy cat woman. Can I borrow that for Halloween?"

I laugh loudly while Eamon replies, "Sure thing, Ro. But only if you let me borrow yours. Especially the chaps."

Rowan grins broadly. "Aye, alright. It's a deal, mate."

"Where's Teagan?" Eamon asks, looking around the room. I do the same, but don't see him anywhere .

Ro stops taking selfies long enough to say, "He's in the jacks. Bet you a pint he's got a bad dose of it."

"I'll go check on him," Eamon sighs, sauntering towards the bathrooms.

Eamon

"Teagan, mate? You in here?" I call out as soon as I walk into the bathroom. There are a couple of stalls parallel to the urinals, but only one has the door closed and a pair of fishnet-covered legs kneeling on the floor.

"I can't do this, Eam," Teagan groans. "I'm fucking losing it. I've never felt so nervous in all my life." The toilet flushes, and he emerges, clutching his devil tail.

"Shite. Looks like Ro was right. You do look like you've had a bad dose of it." I smirk at him.

"Fuck off. That's not helping."

"Sorry, mate. I'm just messing with you. But, seriously, your costume is fierce. Have you actually looked in the mirror?" I ask, gesturing towards the mirrors over the sinks.

Teagan shakes his head. "No. I'm afraid I'll hurl what's left of my guts up if I look at myself."

"Why? What's got you so up to high doh?" I ask, tilting my head to the side.

"You're not?" Teagan asks in disbelief.

"Aye," I nod. "‘Course I am, but not to the point of being sick."

"Your arse isn't hanging out either," he says pointedly.

"Not hanging out, no, but this thing is so tight you can make out every hair on my arse along with the outline of my cock." I gesture towards my groin.

Teagan's eyes widen as he takes in my costume. "Fecking hell. You're not kidding. How'd you even get into that?"

"It wasn't easy." I grimace. "I thought about greasing myself up but didn't want to be sliding around inside this wetsuit. You can at least move somewhat freely in that. Your skin can breathe."

"Aye, that's true." Teag snorts in agreement. "I guess it's just the setting. A small stage at the pub or being on the pitch isn't nearly as terrifying as being on an actual performing stage with the lights and being expected to walk in a way I'm not used to all while actual drag queens critique me."

I nod in understanding. "Look at it this way, Teag. You're in costume. No one will even recognize you this way. We don't even have to say anything. Just march our arses onto that stage, model Norah's designs, then we're done."

Blowing out a deep breath, he says, "You're right."

"Plus," I add cheerfully. "Ro has fully embraced this and is already begging to use my costume at Halloween. He has enough confidence for all of us. And he's going out first, so he can pave the way."

Inhaling another breath and releasing it, Teagan rolls his shoulders, straightens his spine, and nods. "Alright. Let's do this."

Norah

It's time for the guys to make their way to the stage, and Rowan has convinced them they're the sexiest cross-dressers in the state of North Carolina. They're huddled up like they do before games, chanting encouraging words at each other. It's hilarious. I break up their huddle to usher them to stage right, where they're going to strut out from. I remind them to smile, bat their fake lashes, and exaggerate their hip swaying.

Rowan rolls his eyes at me, then prances onto the stage with enthusiasm. He's blowing kisses at the actors in the audience and gyrating his hips like it's his job; circling the lasso over his head while thrusting provocatively. The cast is laughing and cheering loudly, begging for more.

I send Teagan out next. He takes a deep breath, then saunters onto the stage, swinging his devil tail for all he's worth, all while holding his head high and grinning wickedly. I look over at Layla, who's laughing so hard I think she might fall over.

Finally, it's Eamon's turn. Before he steps out, he grabs my face and plants a quick but hard kiss on my mouth, winks at me, and then swaggers toward his friends. He twirls his cat tail in one hand while clawing the air with the other. Next thing I know, he's dropped into a low squat and rolled his body back up, smacking a hand on his ass. The audience eats it up, and I might actually die from laughing. He's not only completed the task set before him, but gone above the bar to excel at it.

At the end of the costume reveal, the Irishmen take a bow to a standing ovation and loud cheering. When they make their way back to the dressing rooms, Eamon sneaks up behind me, wrapping his arms around my torso and swinging me in a circle. I screech loudly until he sets me down. Wheeling around, I throw my arms around his neck, grinning wildly. "Oh my god, Eamon, that was amazing!"

Chuckling, he presses a kiss to my temple. "That was more fun than I thought it would be."

I pull back, wagging my eyebrows at him. "Fun enough to be a regular costume model for me?"

"Fuck no." He laughs. "I can't breathe in this thing, and the makeup is making me itch."

"Speak for yourself, Kennedy!" Rowan yells over his shoulder. "I'm going to make a killing doing this! Who needs business school?"

"You're on your own, mate," Teagan chimes in. "My thighs are chafing, and my eyes won't stop watering with all this stuff on my face."

Laughing, I rest my head on Eamon's chest.

"Are we allowed to change now, Acushla?" he mutters against my hair. "My balls need air."

Rowan and Teagan howl with laughter, which earns them a middle finger from Eamon. I step out of his embrace and twine our fingers together. "Yes, you're free to change and wash the make-up off. I'll help you."

"Ach, I bet you'll help him, fire sprite!" Rowan winks.

"Be nice, or I'll have Layla use super glue on those lashes instead of the remover," I threaten .

He puts his hands up in surrender. "No need to get scary, Grady."

I glare at Ro playfully before following Eamon back to the dressing room, where I definitely do more than just help him out of his costume.

* * *

Eamon and I are curled up on the couch, having just hung up from the call to his Mom and sister to tell them about our engagement and desire to marry in Ireland. Rosie and Caity both squealed with delight and Rosie immediately started listing all of the venues, florists, and bakeries. We tried to tell her that we just wanted something simple and affordable, but she scoffed at us, insisting that she would pay for everything. We playfully argued for a while before convincing her that, if she really wanted to contribute, she could pay for the photographer since we cared more about preserving the memories from the day than the frills. Then I chatted with Caity for a few minutes about her recovery and therapy. She told me that everything has been going surprisingly well and she's already able to walk with just the help of a cane. Her motor skills are still a little delayed, but overall, she's thriving. We've yet to talk face-to-face, but I can already sense a bond forming. I feel like I've known her for years.

After saying our goodbyes, I set my phone on the coffee table then turn to Eamon. I open my mouth to say something when he suddenly cups my face in his hands and kisses me passionately, stealing my breath.

"What was that for?" I gasp.

He shrugs and kisses me again. "You're amazing, and I love you. I love that my Mam and sister love you almost as much as I do. I love that you're mine and I'm yours."

I crawl over him, straddling his lap. He rests his hands on my waist while I link my arms around his neck. Pressing a soft kiss to his lips, I say, "I love you too. And I love that I'm yours and you're mine."

He flashes a grin at me as his hands drift over my hips and down to my thighs, skimming his fingers under the hem of my sleep shorts. When I lean in to kiss him again, I slowly rock my hips over him. He growls against my mouth, slipping his fingers higher until he reaches my already damp panties .

"Already wet for me, Acushla?" he asks, pressing his thumb through the fabric against my clit.

"Yes," I gasp. "Always."

Kissing his way along my jaw, he flicks his tongue against the sensitive spot behind my ear. I hum my approval, arching my back as he nips and sucks on my neck. Wrenching away from him, I tear my tank top over my head, my hair a wild halo framing my face.

Eamon raises his other hand to slide his knuckles between my breasts. "God, you're beautiful," he says reverently.

In response, I grip the bottom of his shirt, lift it over his head, and toss it behind me. Slowly, I trail my hands over his chest, scraping my nails over his nipples. His stomach tenses in anticipation as I run my fingers down his abs to his sweatpants. Hooking a finger over the edge, I pull the elastic waistband out, then release it, letting it snap against his skin and making him grunt. Untangling myself, I sink to my knees in front of him.

"Take these off," I order him, pulling on the fabric of his pants.

Eamon raises his hips to pull his sweats down to his knees, and I remove them the rest of the way, then quickly lean forward to run my tongue up the line separating his abs before kissing my way back down to his cock. I wrap a hand around the base and lick the underside of him slowly, preening at the growl coming from his throat. Catching his gaze, I take him into my mouth as far as I can before sucking my way back to the tip. His hands fist in my hair, and he starts slowly pumping into my mouth. The tip of my tongue massages the ridge around the head of his cock, causing his hips to buck. His moans grow louder and louder until he thrusts one last time and stills, spilling himself down my throat. I swallow it all, then give one last lazy lick up his shaft.

"Fucking hell. You're way too good at that," he pants in praise.

I'm practically purring as I shuck my shorts and panties and clamber back onto his lap, sinking down onto him in one smooth motion. He curses under his breath and grips my ass firmly with both hands, rocking me gently. But I don't want gentle.

So I lean in and whisper against the shell of his ear, "Harder. I want you to fuck me harder, handsome. "

With another growl, he lifts me slightly slamming me back down. I cry out each time our bodies collide, and just as I'm getting close, he flips us and pins me down on the couch. Lifting one of my legs over his shoulder, he thrusts harder and faster. Bending over me, he lightly grazes my nipple with his teeth. My body arches at the contact, and I gasp loudly when he bites down harder. He's fucking me so hard, I have to brace my hands on the arm of the couch above my head. I've never felt so alive, so feral, and. I can't get enough of him.

"Eamon," I rasp, "I'm going to…Oh god. Don't stop!"

Within a matter of seconds, I'm coming so hard that I see stars. As I clamp down around him, he barks out my name and comes again. Before I can recover, he's vibrating his thumb over my clit.

"You're going to come for me again," he orders in a low, husky voice.

"I can't…I don't think…Fuck…Oh god, oh god, oh god!" I scream, thrashing my head from side to side as another orgasm shatters through me.

I'm completely spent, and my limbs feel boneless. It's several minutes before either of us moves. We just lay there, holding each other and breathing heavily.

Eamon is nuzzling his face into my neck when Rowan interrupts my flashback. "Fire sprite! What do you say we have ourselves another drinking contest? See if you can beat Kennedy this time!"

I shake my head to dispel the lingering lust and laugh at Ro. "No thanks. Beating Teagan last time was enough for me. I think I've proven that I can hold my own."

"Aye, but not the black stuff. But then again, you probably wouldn't beat him anyway," he taunts me.

"Don't let him bait you, Acushla," Eamon mutters into my hair.

I turn to give him an accusatory glare. "Are you afraid you'll lose, Kennedy?"

He pecks my lips quickly before saying, "No, not at all. Just would hate to see you wound your pride like last time. I'm looking out for you, love."

I hold his gaze for a moment, then say, "Line ‘em up, Alicia."