Page 9 of Cillian

I took another deep inhale, praying to God that I didn't shit myself. I wasn't the most charming of my brothers, that title went to Bell and Pad. But the lasses I did win over, weren't the ones people called wife material. Gorgeous to glance at, yes. Bedroom skills to fuck you into hell, absolutely. But personalities only a parent could love. No brains, just nice tits and good pussy. For me, that was the only requirement. All I needed women for was a good time.

Especially when they fell in line with all the fucked-up shit I like to do to them. Other than that, there was no use for one. Love and all that shit was a fantasy folks cooked up to keep you faithful and provide hope for the future. Only people who truly believed in love were damn poets and the men that served that didn't think they would make it back home.

She'd be twenty-two, they said. At least the one thing she wouldn't be was an old maid. Finally, we reached the back alley of the church where we are met by my future bride's mother and father.

“Which one of your boys is it?” The woman asked, as Paddy struck me to take my cap off, as Tadhg pushed me forward to greet her.

“You might remember my youngest brother, Cillian. Will he do?” The mother took a few steps closer to me, somewhat tall, made taller by expensive heels. She was light skinned with curled hair, almost like a white woman. Ehhh, maybe a white woman was pushing it. She could pass for Indian or Arab, or something like it, as her eyes were this eerie shade of hazel that looked too light for a Colored woman. She wasn't all that big though. Also wasn't what I called a looker, either. Yet she was the one appraising me, deciding if I was good enough. She was old enough to be my mum, so she must have been the mother. Maybe her daughter was as light as she was.

“He's taller than I remember.”

“Had a growth spurt,” I murmured, wondering where I knew this woman from for her to remember me.

“Do me a favor and smile for me. With all your teeth now,” She insisted. It felt odd smiling on cue and being put on display for a stranger, but in an attempt to keep things civil, I did as she asked.

“Come on, Martha. You've given him the onceover, will he do?” Tadhg challenged, his tone irritated. She walked back over to her well-dressed husband, the anticipation of her silence having me sweating bullets. For all I knew Black women were drawn to specific things about men. What if she couldn't find anything she found attractive about me?

“You said he would be blonde.”

Tadhg laughed.“What I said was he was a strawberry blonde, but that it was heavy on the strawberry. But enough about that. We're wasting precious time. Will the lad bloody do?” She rolled her eyes, offering a lazy shrug.

“Fine. I suppose he'll do.” Cheer and laughter filled the back alleyway as my brothers took turns man handling me for meeting her approval. One by one, we all entered the church through the side entrance as Tadhg took me to the side and I was able to steal a glance of my appointed bride on bended knee at the altar. Like her mom she was more on the slim side. But other than her back, I couldn't make out much else.

“I want to take a minute to talk to you, Cilly. Would you take the damn pick out your mouth?” Tadhg challenged, reaching for it himself and tossing it to the chapel floor.

“Before you do this, I want you to remember something. It was Pa who wanted you to do all ten years when you got sentenced. All this here, was two years in the making. Whatever happens, we all did this for you. So that our little brother could have a bloody chance of a future.” I took a huge gulp, fearing for the worse.

“Holy fuck, she must look like a troll.” I cut my eyes in her direction as Tadhg took my face in his hands.

“Remember lad, we did this for you. Everything we’ve done is for the future of this family, so don't go ‘round fucking it up. Now go, we've only got the chapel for another hour.”

Slowly, I approached the altar meeting my bride’s stance on the ground, as a thick white veil covered any chance of seeing her face. As the priest began his sermon, I couldn't help focusing on the only part of her that I could see. Her dark hands. Any hope of being pale like her mum had been cancelled out. But if it was any consolation, she had nice hands. Small and delicate, with her nails painted a soft light pink.

The time had approached where she was asked to lift her veil and my eyes darted in her direction, unable to fight my curiosity. I had to see, and what I witnessed, I wasn’t expecting.

She was quite the opposite of hideous. The woman beside me was like no lass I'd ever thought was real. She was…really fucking stunning. A wicked smile formed on my face as I turned back to my brothers to signal them the okay sign, but the truth was, it was hard to stay focused on my brothers. Her presence had truly captivated me.

She possessed a sweet face, full cheeked and inviting, with thick perfectly arched brows that framed her smiling doe eyes. Her lips were seductive, a flattering heart shape, her upper lip a wee bit darker than the top, and her nose was that of a button, which added to her feminine poise.

But it was her hair that pulled her whole look together. Wild and majestic, like the mane of a lion, but instead falling in tight curls. I'd never seen hair so different look so beautiful, and when she turned to look at me, her innocent gaze nearly stole my breath away. I didn't know a woman could be so…dazzling.

Whatever she was thinking, her eyes masked her emotions, but I knew mine couldn't lie. Was her heart beating as fast as mine? Because at the rate mine was pounding, they'd be picking up my heart right in front of us. Her dark skin was clear and smooth, like a chestnut, and I swear, her rich shade might have been my new favorite color. At the sound of my spoken name, I was snapped out of the enchanting trance her beauty held me in. As I was requested to know if I took Elizabeth Stanton to be my lawful wedded wife. Elizabeth…

Her name was Elizabeth.

“I do.”

“And do you, Elizabeth Stanton, take Cillian Sullivan to be your lawfully wedded husband?” Anxiety clawed its way through threw me at her hesitation, an exhale of relief escaping at her slow but final response.

“I do.” The priests joined our hands, hers dark, mine pale, winding the ribbon of the hand fast, an Irish symbol of our families becoming one. For the first time all night, my heavy worry had left me.

“In the eyes of God, you may now kiss the bride.” I leaned in, pressing my lips into her full ones, the tenderness causing the veins in my cock to stiffen. She tasted of something sweet and pleasant, like summer plums, and ripe fraocháns, but her effort to kiss me back had been almost nonexistent. I suppose that was to be expected; both of us being strangers to each other.

“I now pronounce you, husband and wife.” The last-minute planning of the wedding left no room for a proper reception afterwards. Before I could get a word in with my new wife, Bellamy was pulling me away. Paddy and Tadhg stepped away to talk to the bride's father, likely to sort out some last-minute business.

“Well?” Bellamy probed.

“Well, what?”

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