To Call for Hands of Above Ch. 02: Time and Ink of a Ghost

She bobbed her head up and down along it, her tongue out. The pink tip peeking out from over her bottom lip, tasting the underside of his penis. It throbbed and pulsed in her mouth. He was trying to conceal it, but she could hear him exhaling and stifling grunts. She felt his muscles tense. She sped up again. His hand lifted off her head and balled into a red and white fist at his side. She felt him shuddering. "Sylwia," he said, hoarse and breathy, and she knew he was almost there.

She readied herself, gripping his leg. Her other hand tightened its grip on his testicles and she kept moving her head at the same pace. Taking his whole length. Her nose brushed the scratchy pubic hair. She felt the glans at the back of her mouth, pointed at her throat. It pulsed hotter and hotter. She heard him grunt once, twice. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose and held it.

Cearbhall exclaimed as he climaxed. She felt it shoot out, down her throat and filling up her mouth, hot and thick and bitter like raw mushrooms. She maintained suction, allowing every drop to fire, not letting any spill.

Cearbhall made to pull out. Snag released his balls and ran her hand down his leg as he stepped away. She loosened her suction only a little, enough to let him off. It emerged from her mouth, a thin string of drool between her lips and the now-shiny head. Cearbhall all but collapsed into a seat on the bed, as Snag busied herself with swallowing the thick load. Gathering it all into her mouth, she gulped it all down, tracing it with a light finger down her neck. It left a weird aftertaste of copper coins.

She caught his eye as he watched her, sitting on the bed and looking downn at her, kneeling on the floor still. They exchanged looks, and Cearbhall gestured her over to him. She rose, and he moved to lie on the bed, leaning against the backboard. Snag pulled herself in close, head on his broad chest, arm draped across him, her hand slipping under his wide lapel. He wrapped an arm round her and they embraced.

"So, how many minutes are left now?" Snag asked after a couple of minutes.

"Eh?" Cearbhall replied.

"You know. Until our reservation? We had a half hour."

"Ah." He squinted at the clock on the nightstand. "Ehm... 23 minutes."

They looked at each other.

"...Do you want switch the telly on?" Cearbhall asked.

"...Sure," Snag answered.

The Good Wife was on channel 11.

***

Dinner was lovely. Snag decided that the hotel had definitely earned its rating. Not that she doubted it in the first place. The restaurant was well and warmly lit, with a high ceiling and soft, deep-red carpet floors. The servers were all young, well groomed and refined. Cearbhall ordered for them a bottle of red wine with a pretty French name and for himself, a marinated steak. Snag read over the menu and was slightly overwhelmed by the elegance of the dishes. Her eyes goggled at the sight of the prices. With Cearbhall's help, she eventually decided on a pasta dish with an unpronounceable name.

"You're awfully quiet today," Cearbhall said, sipping his wine.

"Am I?"

"Yeah. More than usual, I mean. You have much on your mind?"

"Not really. This day has just been very strange."

"Hmm. If you're bothering about that lark this morning, there's no need to. It wasn't as big a deal as Martina made it out to be, she was just blowing smoke."

"I wasn't thinking that, really," Snag said, waving her hand.

"Well, in any case, I think that woman's attitude could do with some work," Cearbhall growled, looking to the side. Snag didn't reply. "I know," he went on, eyes glinting, "how about next time she decides to go off on one, we move her to a corner of the room, stick one of those dunce caps on her, and leave her to do a ton of menial work until she calms down?"

Snag laughed. "Cearbhall, you shouldn't make jokes like that."

"Who's joking?"

Snag laughed again, then noticed Cearbhall's expression. "Oh, Cearbhall, don't. Please? Martina only wants the work to go smoothly."

"Why are you apologising for her? Isn't this the woman who's constantly harassing you in front of the whole office? Who's constantly belittling you, talking down to you for the smallest mistake? I don't- " He cut himself short.

"...What were you going to say?" Snag asked, shifting in her seat awkwardly.

"Nothing. Doesn't matter."

"Please?"

"...I was going to say 'I don't understand why you don't stand up for yourself more'. I stopped because I realised I was talking at you. Like Martina herself. No better. I'm sorry for that."

Snag smiled gently. "I don't mind. And I don't mind Martina being hard on me. It's - it's all stones on the road."

Cearbhall furrowed his brow. "What do you mean?"

"Stones on the road. Towards my - future. My apprenticeship with you, your office, it's all so - I can learn, what it is to be a lawyer. Ever since I was small, I knew a lawyer was what I wanted to be. So, every day I spend working for you is a day I learn to be the best I can be. Just - just like my Tata." Finished, Snag blushed on instinct and sipped her wine.

"...That - is a very mature outlook," Cearbhall said. "I wish I'd had it when I was your age. I probably would have kept more friends." They shared a look and smiled. "What was that last part? 'Just like your' what?"

"Oh. Tata. My dad."

"Ooh. You didn't say your father was a lawyer before."

"I didn't?"

"No. Was this over in Poland? I've been at this job a while, and I've never heard of a lawyer in Dublin named Gwozdek."

"Gwozdek is my mother's maiden name. She went back to it after Tata died."

"...Oh, Sylwia, I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be. That was a long time ago. I was too young to really remember him. But Mama always spoke so well of him. She said how he was one of the top lawyers in the country, but I'm not sure how true that is."

"Well, tell me his name, I might have known him."

"Tata's name was, um, Brzeziki. Markus Brzeziki."

"...What?" Cearbhall's eyes had gone wide, his face fixing in an astonished frown. "Say the name again?"

"...Markus Brzeziki?" Snag replied, confused at Cearbhall's reaction.

"No way," Cearbhall said, a bit louder than normal. "No way are you Markus Brzeziki's daughter."

"Uh, so - you did know my father?"

"Know him? I used to work for him. Your da was famous back in the day."

"Famous? Really?"

"You joking? You couldn't be a barrister in the early nineties without hearing about Markus Brzeziki. He was the closest thing we had to a celebrity. He was a genius, but eccentric. No-one could figure it out, why a spark like him would pull everything up and move to the backwater Dublin was back then. There were rumours going round that he was a spy for the Soviets. This was all before the Wall came down, you understand, and no-one believed it, anyway. What would the Russians want with Ireland?

"Whatever the reason, he came over and quickly made a name for himself. He was one of those sorts of people you could never be neutral about. Anyone who met him either loved him or hated him."

"How did you feel about him?"

"I did like him. I always found him endlessly charming."

"What was he like? When you met him, what was he like?"

"He... had a kind of devilish spark about him. Now, he was always polite, but he still had this air to him. Like he was secretly laughing at everything. Only, not in a way bad-natured way. More like, he saw the world as a big joke, and when you spoke to him he would try to let you in on it. I admired that. That sort of confidence."

Snag smiled to herself, a warm feeling in her chest. Then she remembered something, like a drop of rain on her eye. "How did he know Mr. Tornit?"

Cearbhall's mood stumbled at the mention of his business partner's name. "Tornit? What about him?"

"I just remembered something my mother said earlier. She said, that Mr. Tornit was an old friend of my father. Is that true?"

Cearbhall frowned. "I don't know if they were exactly friends, but sure, they worked together. But remember, Tornit and I work together, and we're hardly friends."

"Tell me about them. Please?"

"...Well, I met them both for the first time a little under thirty years ago. This was, August 1989. I had just started my own firm, and one day I got a message in from this other firm, which had started up itself only a year before. It was them, Brzeziki and Tornit. Well, Brzeziki. They welcomed me to the 'World of Law'. That's actually what it said, I'd never seen the like.

"Anyway, they invited me to meet them for dinner and discuss business. It was a networking thing, getting to know as many potential allies as possible. Bit out of the blue, butI figured I might as well go, get some pointers from someone with a bit more experience than me.

"So about a week later, I drive down to Donnybrook to meet them, and Brzeziki is there waiting for me outside the meeting spot. He sees me and he beams like he's never been so happy in his life. He greets me, and takes me inside to meet his partner, Tornit."

"What did you think of him, then?"

"Straight away, I didn't like him. He was almost similar to your father. Saw the world as a joke. Only he preferred to keep it to himself, watch everyone stumble around, taking it all seriously. Laughing at us from his perch."

Snag sat thinking for a moment. "Cearbhall?" she asked.

"Hm?"

"Why do you work with Mr. Tornit, if you distrust him so much?"

Cearbhall finished his wine. "I do trust Tornit, absolutely. I may not like the man very much, but I trust him. For all that can be said about him, 'disloyal' is not one of them. He looks after his own, that much you can count on.

"It wasn't long after I heard your father died, when I started working with him. Tragedy, at the peak of his life. So suddenly too. Then, a while after I'd heard the news, Tornit called me and asked if I'd be interested in collaborating with him on a case. I was wary at first. What does he want with me, I thought. But I took the risk, figuring I could pull out if things got too deep. Then, one case became two, then three. Soon enough, we formally agreed to merge our offices. From then on is history."

"Do you think he feels the same way about you?"

"I should hope so."

"Do you think he felt that way about my father?"

Before Cearbhall could answer, their food arrived, blinking them out of the closed space of their conversation. When their server left, they exhaled at the same moment, like they had been released from a trance. After a moment, they started on their foods. Snag started a new subject. They talked no more about her father that night.

***

Snag hung her blazer up in the wardrobe. The hangers clinked against eachother like dominos. Back in the room, she stretched as Cearbhall reclined on the bed, fingers laced across his abdomen. He had already thrown his jacket over the back of a chair. He watched her as she thumbed away the buttons of her blouse. Two, then one, then none. She turned to face him, spreading the cloth apart. Presenting her small breasts and tight midsection. She wore dark lingerie, with rose embroidery and frilly lace. She left the blouse one from the sleeves. Then, turning her hip, she unzipped her skirt from the side down and stepped out of it. Her underwear matched her bra. She placed it on the chair with Cearbhall's jacket and stood at the foot of the double-bed, feet shoulder-width apart. Feeling his eyes on her.

He silently gestured her over and raised his hands behind his head as she strode to him, swaying her hips. She got on the bed and crawled into position, straddling over Cearbhall's legs on her knees. She looked at him. He watched her with hungry eyes. With nimble fingers, she reached out to his collar, hooking the knot of his tie. She pulled, slowly undoing it. Gently. The knot came undone and she slipped it off him. After toying with it, she dropped it down the edge of the bed. Her hands turned their attention to Cearbhall's shirt buttons. She undid them, one by one. Cearbhall made no movement, still watching her.

She unbuttoned him down to his midsection, then placed her hands under his shirt. She ran her hands over his broad, coarse-haired chest. Felt the warmth of it, the beating of his heart beneath his bare skin and bones. She reached down, planted a light kiss on his sternum. Breathed in the scent of him. Like the woods in the autumntime. She kissed his exposed flesh all over. His chest, his nipples, down his abdoment to his belly button.

Cearbhall removed a hand from behind his head to trace the path of Snag's braid. Following from the side of her head to the back where it twisted and tied into a dark, complicated bun. He found the point where it all connected and released it. Snag came up and billowed out her hair, long and loose and curly, running down to her lower back.

Cearbhall moved his hand from her head down, brushing her neck with the gentlest of touches and sending a shiver down her body. He rested his hand on her shoulder and they leaned in for a kiss. They locked lips and another shiver ran through Snag. They kissed again and Cearbhall moved his hand further down. Still grazing her body. Down to her breast. He gave it a very light squeeze. Down her abdomen, running his fingers. To the hem of the panties, swivelling his wrist. He slid his hand inside and pulled the panties down. Still kissing him, Snag lifted one knee, then the other, then both ankles as he removed them. Her vagina exposed, she sweat with anticipation.

Their kisses became more intense. Snag ran her tongue across Cearbhall's teeth. He returned the gesture. Their tongues twined and twirled round each other as Cearbhall rubbed her vulva. Forward and back, with two fingers. His thumb pressed against the base of her thigh. The organ grew hot, became damp with moisture. Juices began drooling from her, slickening Cearbhall's fingers. He never lost his pace.

Snag's breath turned deeper, hotter. Making out with him still, she started making noises. Not quite moans, but getting there. Mmms and aahs. She felt the heat rising. Filling her up. Her hands slipped under his shirt again. Felt the rough, hairy skin. His even but quickening heartbeat. The taste of his mouth as she rolled her tongue around it. The feel of his thick fingers, rubbing her down there. Spreading her labia. Touching the soft pink flesh directly. Forward and back. His thumb pressed against her pubic mound. Raising her clitoris and brushing past it, up and down, up and down. Her almost-moans increased in volume. Each graze sent goodness shivering through her, prickling goosebumps on her skin.

Each shiver pulled her away from the kiss. His fingers stopped moving and bent, teasing. She leant over him, one hand gripping his shoulder for support, the other in his chest. She wasn't thinking anything. She stared at him with glassy eyes and her mouth open, tongue over teeth. He still watched her, that intense, hungry look in his eye. She clutched at him. He stuck two fingers inside her and she shuddered with delight.

Juices ran over Cearbhall's hand, long streams flowing down his forearm. His fingers moved quick and sharp, sending waves of pleasure rippling through her whole body. She curled and uncurled her toes. Her chest heaved, her breathed ragged and hot. Clinging to him. Drool threatened to overflow. Her skin glimmered with sweat in the warm light. A hot tear spilled from the corner of her eye and smeared her makeup. She was moaning for real now. Wordless vocalisations. Unrestrained and husky-voiced. She bit her lip to hold herself together. She shook her hair out of her face. A wave hit her and she cried out, throwing her head back. She felt the climax building.

Her knees started shaking. Cearbhall noticed and increased his efforts. Going faster. Harder. Sharper. His thumb pressed against his clit, rubbed it from nub to mons. Snag started moving, shaking her lower body back and forth in time with his fingers. His other hand slid up from her knee to grip her hip, pulling her closer.

Just as she reached the point of no return, Cearbhall slowed down, then stopped completely. He removed his fingers from her vagina. Snag quivered. "No," she mewled, "put them back in."

Keeping his eye on hers, Cearbhall licked his fingers, then extended his arm to her face. He smoothed her mouth open with his thumb. She clasped his hand and ran her tongue over it. Tasting the tangy fluid that drenched them. "I think I have something you'll like better," he said, smoldering.

She comprehended, and made to undo his belt and trousers. But he took her arms by the wrists and moved up, passing to her a silent command to 'Hold Still'. She bit her lip again and creased her brows. She watched him sit up. Undo his last button and remove his shirt. Dropping it over the bedside. Unclasping his belt, unzipping his trousers, pulling them down his hips with his briefs. Revealing his penis, standing erect. She stared at it. He stopped her as she attempted to lower her hips onto him.

"Wait," he said, gravel-toned. A command. She inhaled a fluttering breath. He went to her shoulders and removed the shirt. His face was concentrated. His hands cool, unhurried. He reached behind and unhooked her bra, slipped that off too. Her bare skin exposed, cool and slick with anticipation. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her hands, unsure of where and what to touch, hovered nervously in front of her. Her breathing was wild.

"Beg me for it."

"W-what?" she stammered

"I want to hear what you want me to do to you. I want to hear you beg for it. Until I hear it, then I won't be giving you anything." His eyes gleamed, his face set.

"But - I..."

"If you won't beg, you mustn't want it very much."

"That isn't true!"

"Well, then?" He waited, never taking his eyes from her.

"...please," she whispered, shivering, sweating.

"Say again? You'll have to speak up." He touched her narrow chest, under her breast.

"Please," she said, in a voice a little too loud, "please, fuck me."

The crooked beginnings of a grin creeped across Cearbhall's features. "Good. But you can do a bit better than that. Try being more specific?" His touch moved down to her hips, stroked up and down from bone to thigh. "What do you want me to do to you?"

"I want - I want you to fuck me," she cried between ragged breath, "I want you to me fuck me like an animal. I want you stick your big cock in me and pound me so hard. I want you to make me cum like a whore. I want you to make me yours, I want you to blow your load all inside me and fill me with your cum.

Cearbhall's grin split to reveal the white teeth and devilish glint in his eyes. "Good," was all he said, as he gripped her hips with both hands and directed them to his cock-head. Snag moaned involuntarily as it prodded her labia. He rubbed against her folds. A final tease, before the hole was found. Easing in at first, until the glans slipped inside. She moaned again, then cried out in surprise when he suddenly forced her hips down, plunging the full length of his cock up into her.

She sat on it for a moment, tongue lolling, eyelids fluttering. She felt it inside her, hot and pulsing. She enjoyed the feeling. He kept his grip on her hips. Waiting. She laid her hands on his shoulders and began moving her lower body. Forward and back, shaking her ass. Directed by Cearbhall's strong hands.

The wet sounds returned, audible, sticky, arousing. She was gushing. The juices flowed from her freely, running down his cock to his thighs, clinging to the wiry hair and dampening the bed sheets.

She wanted to speed up and ram herself up and down his penis. Cearbhall wouldn't allow her, his firm grip forcing her to keep a steady, even rhythm. When she tried to increase her pace, he would move his hands down and clench her butt cheeks, hard. Shocking back to his pace. Maddening. Desiring to go wild, but kept under such dictation. Her moans were filled in no small part with frustration. She could feel the pressure rising, so close to orgasm, but too slow, too slow. She felt like she was losing her mind.