Surviving the Rich-Sunshine and Sir Ch. 08

"Sinner," he said, with a smile, "and Catholic to boot. Not really a follower of Christ."

"I'm fine with that," she replied, taking a sip of her beer. "Americhristians have pretty much turned me off to religion."

"Americhristians," he said, sitting on the couch. "I haven't heard that one."

She grabbed a pillow and placed it on the floor in front of the chair, then lowered herself down, tucking her freezing feet into the warmth of her pants. "You know, bibles and guns; abortion is murder but contraceptives are a sin; purity rings and pledges. Love the sinner hate the sin. Americhristians."

Killian dished out food for them both and then picked up his beer. "That pretty much sums up the church I grew up in. God, husband, wife, children, and so on. A woman's place is in the home, raising her children and honoring Christ through her husband and church. My mother believed that and did everything she could to be the wife and mother the church, and God, expected her to be. My father believed it too, and reveled in being the head of his household. In the beginning his abuse was verbal, tearing her down every chance he got. In private. In public he was the epitome of the Godly man."

"Aren't they all," she muttered, the smells making her reach for the naan, hungry or not.

"For the most part," Killian agreed, around a mouthful of food. "My mother just tried harder, because if a man was as miserable and lost as my father it meant his wife was failing him. She prayed, scrubbed, cooked and sewed, and shielded me and my sister. Once the abuse turned physical she learned to cover her bruises quite skillfully, and she prayed harder."

Rae took a bite and her whole body sighed in contentment, the curry and naan melting in her mouth. Killian was quiet while he chewed, his eyes dark with memories that obviously still haunted him. "I found out, through my sister, that my mother had developed a condition that made sex painful. Do you think my father cared? She was his wife, he'd rape her, angry she tried to deny him. I'd hear her crying through the walls, and I wanted to do something, to save her, but..."

"I'm so sorry," she said, her heart breaking for him.

He shrugged and took a large gulp of beer. "She finally reached out to her friends in the church, and do you what they told her? She needed to do better. They were sad for her pain and they'd pray for our family, but trust in Jesus, he'd guide her. One night my father came home drunk and started wailing on her. I was nine, and while I was terrified, I couldn't stand by anymore and got in-between them. He turned his wrath on me, and every time my mother tried to stop him, he knocked her down. My sister called the police, and they arrested him. The church elders did not approve of her actions. God's law above man's, and these matters should be kept within the church."

"Jesus," she whispered.

"Abusing her was one thing, but turning that violence on me was another. My mother refused to give into the elder's guidance. She stood firm and my father was prosecuted."

"Good for her."

"We were lucky," he said. "The arresting officers, and prosecutor were on our side. The church wasn't. My mother had to listen to person after person, people she thought were friends, testify on my father's behalf and disparage her, even though most of them knew what he'd done to us. She was supposed to forgive and keep the family together. Forgiveness is important, and is used as weapon to keep the abused shamed and quiet. No one from the church stood for her. Not one single person. The judge was swayed, but not entirely, and sentenced my father to the minimum. The church turned their backs on us, and when my father was released welcomed him back into the fold. Jon Weisman, Mark's father, was instrumental in getting him released early, and ensuring his forgiveness and acceptance among the flock. We left town and never looked back. Spent time at various shelters before my mom was able to scrape by on her own. She was one of the most kind, generous, and loving people you could ever meet, and life kicked her in the teeth every chance it got."

His eyes were glassy and red and she moved to the couch. Killian looked at her and the anguish in his gaze broke her heart all over again. She hooked her arm around his and kissed his shoulder. He hung his head in his hands and she cuddled closer, picturing a nine year old Killian standing up to his drunken, abusive father.

"She forgave them," he said so quietly she barely heard him. He looked at her tears in his eyes. "Not me." He downed the rest of his beer and wiped his eyes. "We became a new family, and she let us pick our names, made it a game. I chose Killian. I'd always liked my middle name and it fit. Laird was my great grandmother's maiden name. My mother loved her grandmother dearly, so she felt she was honoring her by choosing it. I was more than happy to leave Billy Harris behind."

"But you didn't," she said. "You took your revenge on the church and all those who wronged your mother, and Billy."

"No Rae, I delivered justice. We weren't the only ones screwed over by the elders and their families. I witnessed the power of the law, and while I know it fails countless people, it didn't fail us. Over the years, living in the hovels we did, I saw the dark side of the law. I won't deny that. But there were always those who knew how to manipulate the system, who made the law work for them. I decided Killian Laird would be one of those people. I stumbled across a few forums here and there in my twenties, ones where people post their stories about church abuse. Calvary was mentioned plenty. So I formed a plan, and collected as much dirt on them I could. When the time was right I reached out to other victims and set the ball rolling."

"How many victims?"

"Nineteen initially, but once it hit the airwaves four more came forward. But there were plenty who didn't. The bad memories had too much of a hold or they didn't want anyone to know what happened to them. The criminal investigation was the final nail in the coffin for Calvary, and the world has been a little bit better of a place ever since."

"And Mark blames you for his parent's deaths."

"It would appear."

"Do you think the investigator works for him?" she asked, finishing her own beer.

"It's possible. I'll find out tomorrow."

"How?"

He smiled and shifted, putting his arm around her. "I have friends. Better investigators than that third rate P.I. But you need to do something that doesn't come easily to you."

"What's that?"

"You have to trust me. I won't fail you."

He leaned back and she closed her eyes, letting his warmth wrap her in comfort. Killian had the camera, and she honestly didn't want to see photos of herself in dining the room. She had to trust him. "Will you promise to erase any photos of us you find?"

He kissed her head and said, "I promise."

"Was it the security company that called when the alarm went off?"

He stroked her arm softly and said, "Mmhmm."

"Your code word is sunshine?"

His hand stilled for a moment and then started moving again. "Yes."

She heard her phone ringing, and jumped up. Running into the kitchen she dug it out of her bag, smiling when she saw the number. "Hi sweetheart."

"Hi Mamas! It's my goodnight call."

Rae had to swallow a few times to keep her composure and said, "I'm so glad you called. I miss you when you're not with me."

"I miss you too. The cousins are going to snuggle under the covers and watch a movie. Daddy thinks I'm going to fall asleep soon, but nope, nope, nope. I'm having too much fun!"

"I'm so glad sweetheart. I love you, more than anything in the whole wide world."

Reagan giggled and said, "I love you more than anything in the galaxy."

Rae smiled and said, "I love you more than anything in the entire universe."

"I love you to the end of time," Reagan said, finishing their back and forth. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight sweetheart. Have sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Mommy, you have sweet dreams too."

Killian listened, smiling a bit at the love you mores. His mother rarely vocalized her love, it was the way she was raised. But he always knew.

Rae walked back into the den and dropped her bag on the chair. It tipped over, scattering various items all over the floor. Killian got off the couch and helped her pick everything up, a simple drawing ending up in his hands. "I seem nice," he said, looking over the picture. "Talk about me at home?"

"You come up from time to time."

He handed her the picture and stood, the dusting of freckles across her bare shoulder catching his attention. When she stood Killian encircled her in his arms and breathed deeply, the hint of mimosa in her hair and skin making him smile. His gaze was drawn to those freckles. Every one needed to be kissed. Pulling her hair over her shoulder, he brushed a freckle with his lips, and then another, and another. Each kiss sent a small shiver through her back, and held her tighter, his kisses more insistent. Her breathing deepened and he turned her around, his hands slipping under her blouse. He dropped onto the sofa, and pulled her onto his lap, eliciting a noise of surprise. Whipping her blouse off, he entangled a hand in her hair and pulled her head back. He kissed and licked her skin, running a thumb over her nipples.

She inhaled sharply, and he said, "Sore?"

"Mmhmm."

He smiled and gently kissed the soft, tender flesh around her nipple, the warmth and scent of her skin intoxicating. She rocked herself along the stiffness in his pants, small sounds of pleasure bubbling up from her throat. He licked that velvety valley between her breasts before latching onto the other, sucking her tender flesh mercilessly.

"Don't you dare give me a hickey," she whispered.

He tightened his grip on her hair and devoured her breast, tempted to do just that. His hand drifted down to her thighs and he sighed in frustration. "See? Pants get in the way."

She laughed and he laid her down, then grasped her pants with both hands and whipped them off her hips.

Her pale creamy skin against the brown leather was reminiscent of delicate porcelain, and that shyness, the inability to look at him while she felt vulnerable brought those two warring instincts roaring to the surface. He knelt next to her and gently pulled her hair free so it cascaded over the sofa, completing the picture. "You truly look like a work of art sunshine," he said, his fingers drifting. "I wish I could draw." Kissing her neck, he slipped a hand between her legs and stroked her folds. "Capture your beauty in this moment."

Rae gasped and he covered her mouth with his, moving his fingers faster. Flicking her clit, he sucked on her bottom lip. When he did it again she jumped in his grasp, moaning into his mouth. Suddenly she grabbed his shirt and tried to pull it off. He took hold of her wrists and kissed his way down her body, settling himself between her legs. He pressed her arms to the sofa, his hands manacles, and pulled her wrists towards him as he latched onto her clit. Every time she squirmed he jerked her wrists towards him, bowing her body and feasting on her folds. He had complete control and she finally submitted, no longer trying to pull free. He swirled his tongue around her hot, wet hole, then took a long lick up her slit. He did it again and she whimpered, her body aching for him. His cock throbbed in with his temples, the need to be inside his sunshine overcoming everything else.

He released her wrists and took his pants off, his eyes on hers. He was tempted to keep his shirt on but she would wonder why, distracting from their lovemaking. So he took a deep breath and lifted the shirt overhead. Her gaze was immediately drawn to the large ugly scar in the center of his chest, just as he knew it would be. Ignoring the curious look on her face, he kissed his way upward, devouring that tender valley, then the curve of her neck, and finally feasting on her ear, licking and biting her sensitive lobe. She moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders, as she rested a leg on the back of the couch, her hips reaching for him. He settled his weight onto her and exhaled heavily, savoring the feel of her softness cushioning him, her desire and need reflected in her eyes and quivering flesh. She reached for his scar and he grabbed her hand, then the other. Taking hold of her wrists in one hand, he pressed them above her head, and shifted her leg further, opening her up even more.

"Look at me sunshine."

She met his gaze and he pushed into her slowly, her silken walls contracting around him as she curled her hips to meet his. The angle allowed him to go deep, and she sucked in air between her teeth, her eyes as big as saucers. He pulled out just as slowly, his gaze taking in every breath and shudder of pleasure that moved through her. He shoved her leg along the top of the sofa till it was above her head, every slow, tortuous thrust going deeper. She braced her foot on the sofa and pushed her hips up eagerly, begging for more.

"Want it all sunshine?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

"Yes," she moaned, as he moved his hips in languid circles, adding to her torture." "Please!" she cried, trying to pull her wrists free so she could grab hold of him.

He tightened his grip and plunged himself inside her, her body enveloping him to the hilt and holding on tight. She cried out in pleasure and pain, and he pulsed, his entire length pressing into his sunshine, his groin grinding against hers. Wrapping her leg around his waist, he changed his rhythm, his long, deep strokes ending with a harder thrust each time. The sound of his flesh slapping hers as arousing as the dulcet moans and cries escaping her lips. He switched his grip, intertwining his fingers with hers and grabbing onto the arm rest, the fire roaring through his veins igniting explosion after explosion along every inch of his shaft. He wanted to pound them both into carnal oblivion, but they weren't there yet. She had to beg, please wasn't enough.

Picking up speed, he bit her ear and whispered. "Tell me what you want sunshine. What you need."

"Harder," she breathed, arching her back so her breasts were pressing into his chest.

"I didn't hear you."

"Harder! Please!"

"Not convinced," he growled, barely able to hold himself in check.

Please Killian!" she cried. "Fuck your sunshine harder!"

All his restraint vanished, her referencing herself as his sunshine a drug that drove his hips savagely against hers, their pleasure building together.

"Keep your eyes on mine," he said, a deep rumble making his chest vibrate. "I want to see the orgasm overtake those beautiful blues." She didn't respond and he barked, "Look. At. Me. Now!" Emphasizing every word with his cock.

Her eyes flew open and went in and out of focus as the orgasm ripped through her body, her walls constricting tighter and tighter until his body exploded, the ecstasy surrounded him like a cloud imbuing every second with bliss.

Killian!" she cried, her body bucking beneath him.

With one final thrust, he held himself there, and then he released her wrists. She wrapped her arms around him, her ragged breathing broken with an occasional spasm, as the aftershocks coursed through her.

"My Rae," he breathed, kissing her tenderly. "I'm so glad your car broke down."

Her eyes sparkled and she laughed lightly, the pall the intruder threw over their evening lifted completely. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed him, making it impossible for him to stop smiling. He rested his head next to hers, his heart still pounding and his legs heavy. Rae stroked the back of his neck, her fingers drifting up and into his hair, the tingling sensation relaxing every muscle in his shoulders and back.

"If I don't move I may fall asleep like this." He smiled and kissed her one more time. Easing away, he grabbed the throw from the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders.

She smiled in response, and grabbing her clothes disappeared into the bathroom. He put his clothes back on and took care of their dishes and the leftover food. Making sure the alarm was on, he went back to the den.

When she walked in, he was stretched out on the sofa flipping through T.V. channels. He held his hand out and she took it, letting him pull her into his embrace. He readjusted the pillows and wrapped an arm around her. "Anything in particular you'd like to watch?"

"Nothing comes to mind," she said around a yawn. "Come across anything good?"

"That depends on your definition of good."

"Wait, go back." He reversed course and she said, "The Lion In Winter. Katharine Hepburn delivers every line with such relish, it's a wonder to behold."

He put down the remote and pulled her even closer. "Why didn't you pursue acting?"

"Life got in the way," she said absently. "Watch O'Toole and Hepburn together, they're mesmerizing. No matter how many times I watch this movie I catch something between the two of them I missed before."

He kissed her cheek. "I like hearing that excitement in your voice."

As the movie played she would point out a particular moment, or silently mouth Hepburn's lines, the hero worship in her eyes and voice obvious. He thoroughly enjoyed this side of her, completely relaxed, and fangirling over something she loved. He rested his lips against her head soaking up every moment of intimacy he could. He breathed in her scent, felt her warmth and joy, and listened to that voice he so dearly loved. She was a salve for his heart and mind, and he closed his eyes, promising himself he'd just rest them for a moment.

Rae felt Killian's arm get heavier. When she looked at him, his eyes were closed, his lips parted a touch, his breathing slow and steady. Her chest tightened, a chaotic jumble of emotions washing over her. But she didn't want to think, she just wanted to be. So she burrowed into his embrace, perfectly happy to pretend the world outside didn't exist. If only for a night.