Chapter 10 Deliverance

"Deliver me out of my sadness. Deliver me from all of the madness. Deliver me, courage to guide me. Deliver me strength from inside me. All of my life I've been in hiding wishing there was someone just like you. Now that you're here, now that I've found you I know that you're the one to pull me through…" Deliver Me by Sarah Brightman

For Murphy, the contact was bewildering; like time travel. As if he'd stepped back into his boyhood shoes and finally stepped up to kiss the sweet girl he'd loved so wholehearted, but so quietly. And in the silence, he heard the whisper of longing still prodding him like it had done all those years ago sitting behind her in the classroom, shuffling behind her in the communion line, or passing her on the way to the car after mass.

His hands had ached to reach out and touch her then; so he did now, hoping to fill whatever psychological crater the unmet desire had left in him. His fingers grazed her face. He held her there in his steady palm. She leaned in to his hand, moving her lips slightly to breathe his name. It felt hot on his wrist.

Her mouth mesmerized him. Plush and stained with color, it begged to be devoured. At full force, they collided. She made a submissive sound; something between a whimper and a plea, but her tongue dominated, and her hands took him over.

At least I still remember how to do this, she mused.

Her shoulders loosened and her arms wound around him. She moved her trembling hand, pushing it in the tight space their bodies made until he felt the pressure of her palm against his denim-clad crotch. It was his turn to make a sound. It was approving, but tortured. It wouldn't be enough to just touch.

But he couldn't scuttle with her in the back seat of the car. Not with the wind pushing its way through the small gaps of Connor's ghetto makeshift cardboard window replacing the glass that was shot out. Not on a side street in a town that barely knew them. Nah. He'd been thinkin' on this very moment for days, and even in the dirtiest parts of his mind, he'd never put Elise on that level.

Even as she jostled awkward and tight to get out of her coat, he couldn't ignore the nagging need to get out of that spot. Go somewhere quiet. Warm. Safe. Private.

"We can't do this h," he started to say. But Elise drew his face closer, kissing him again in her deep, deprived way.

"Oh yes we can," she assured him, smiling after their lips broke apart.

He chuckled lightly; the way he did to show his trepidation or his slight amusement. "No, I mean, we can't here. In the car." He scratched at the invisible itch he favored at the back of his head.

Elise stopped trying to tear out of her clothes. She glanced out the window. More people were shuffling toward the Greyhound station, and a cop was making another pass around the block.

"Ah, gotcha," she nodded. She chewed at the side of her cheek. She thought of Patience in her room and the top bunk filled with Connor in his room. "Well, we can't really go back to the shelter." She caught his eye. "But I really want this to happen. Don't you?"

Before he could answer, she pulled him in for another heavy kiss. When she released him, she still held his eyes. His pulse quickened with her all-consuming stare. The need in her glassy green gaze pushed him into action.

"Hell yeah, I want this. Ya know," his head bent as he peered through the frosted windshield. "I think I remember seeing a place up the street. Like a Motel 6 or something. It won't be pretty, but it would work," he suggested. "We could walk."

She blinked, lightly smearing her damp mascara. "Sure; okay. Let's do it."

On the slickening pavement, Murphy reached for her hand. "Come on," he said, leading her from the car.

Walking beside him was like meeting him all over again. She gnawed her lip nervously, sneakily skimming his profile with an insatiated want that came bubbling from nowhere. He glanced at her once or twice, mostly to see how she was holding up against the weather's cold tantrum.

She was smiling at him; staring, and he caught her. His heart thudded, rivaling the snow thunder's godlike voice. Would it be so bad to just take what they wanted from each other? He'd be leaving soon. They may never see each other again. Or her cousin's traitor army could march right in and kill them all.

Not a chance. Not a fucking chance in Hell.

His thoughts evaporated when he felt her resist against his hurried strides. Her full frame shoved into his uncertain arms. Her snow powdered lips, tired of waiting, melded with his. Her tongue invaded and dominated his mouth. She claimed him with a confidence that shoved away any of his doubt.

It was hard to break apart, but once he did, he was met again by those beautiful glimmering Irish eyes that so desperately reminded him of home. They pleaded to be fulfilled.

"Let's go," he muttered, "only a few more blocks."

Elise followed again, gripping his hand and sneaking peeks again at his shadowy profile. The more she looked, the more enticing he became. And again, he felt the resistance as she broke his stride.

He turned to her in question, but she was upon him as swift and hungry as before. Murphy instantly challenged her by sliding his tongue between her teeth before their lips connected. He bucked into her, proving his desire for her, too. Proving he'd no longer be a gentleman if she kept this up.

Her gasp of approval had him grinning under her slippery lips. Yes, this was the woman he imagined her to be after sifting through her lingerie. No longer the shy, ginger-braided girl from catechism. She was forward and uncontrollable. Sexual. Needing him as much as he was needing her.

"My dear," he grumbled, his accent thickening. He pressed his forehead to hers. His eyes drooped again. "If you'd just let us get there you'd have me all to yourself. No outside audience. No more snow soaking your clothes."

"Oh, okay," she finally relented. She gave her lips a lusty lick before putting her hand back in his.

The place Murphy had seen was nothing like a Motel 6. In fact, it was a severely corny roadside drop-in shaped considerably like a lopsided octagon and lit up like a space ship. It was called The Satellite Inn. Elise could've sworn she'd seen something like it in an old USA Up-All-Night tits and ass feature.

But it didn't matter. Elise had signed them in ID-less as Nebraskan newlyweds while Murphy feigned a lost wallet. The night attendant cared as less as she. He gave them the supposed honeymoon suite, only interested in getting the cash and getting back to his favorite rerun of Seinfeld on the late night buzzing television set.

They laughed aloud at each other when the door pushed open onto lush, pink carpet and an oh-so-typical heart-shaped Jacuzzi in the middle of the room. Even with a flick of the lights, the room remained permanently dim.

"Can you believe this place?" She hooted.

She stepped around the hot tub to the nearest window by the fluffy, draped bed. More pink, she noticed. The room could've appeared as scenery in any number of cheesy 80's B-comedy romps, but it felt tailor-made for her.

Us. She corrected. So adorkable for our first night together.

Murphy had paused at the tub, peering into the murky leftover water from The Satellite's last honeymooning couple. "Now that's just fucking disgusting," he spat. His brow wiggled playfully. "You wanna?"

She flinched and smiled, laughing a little. "Yeah, no thanks."

She watched him move toward a phony hearth built into the weak, plaster wall.

"Hey, a fake fireplace," he told her. "I could get this going, and at least we'd have some decent heat."

Oh, we will have decent heat, she assured him silently.

He put his back to her, occupying himself with the plastic-looking flames. She slumped from her wet, dragging coat and tugged out of her jeans until she stood at the window with only her sister's oversized sweater on.

She parted the mauve curtains to get a peek of the unspectacular view of a snow-filled back alley. On cue, white lightning streaked the sky, illuminating her faint profile. She cautiously stepped away from the window for fear a vengeful bolt might strike her where she stood. A punishment for sins about to be committed.

She should be out stopping the bad guys not bedding down with the good. But she was helpless to this. She needed a deliverance of a whole other kind tonight.

"Having second thoughts?" Murphy wondered aloud without a single drop of disappointment.

She glanced back at him. He was closer than she'd thought, and his face had grown serious at the near naked sight of her. His light brow was cocked in evaluation, taking her all in-mood, body, and beauty.

He reached for the lamp nearest the bed, but the insistent wag of her head halted his hand.

"No second thoughts," she assured him. "I want you."

With eyes locked intently on each other's faces, Murphy began slowly removing his clothes. Silence permeated the small space they occupied, but their stares spoke loudly at each other. Her chest heaved with anticipation. Then, she moved.

She reached for him. She grasped his hands, pushing them away before he could undress himself completely.

"Let me," she breathed.

He straightened, moving just a slight bit closer until she literally felt him breathing down her neck.

Starting at his collar, her trembling fingers almost disabled her from unbuttoning his shirt, but she managed.

He breathed, that tormented sound from the car, as her quivering lips brushed against the hard, pale flesh beneath the undone shirt. Her fiery mouth seared across a tattoo she didn't make time to read until she circled the tiny bud of his nipple.

His eyelids dropped. One steady hand stroked the long wet tresses down her back. He muttered her name, gulping, while she gently tugged, circling slowly with a masterful tongue. Murphy abruptly decided he wanted that tongue and every other part of her in his mouth. And it was killing him to go slow.

Cupping her face in his palms, he guided her from his bare chest until she was looking into the warm eyes that melted everything cold left inside her. A muscle quivered in his clamped jaw.

"What?" She barely breathed.

You fucking know what. His brow cocked, questioning her back before smothering her unpainted lips with his.

It was a flash heat she didn't feel coming from the seemingly cool man. But with every hot slip of his tongue, she knew it had been there, just simmering below the surface waiting to burst into flames and set her entire body on fire.

It was just the spark she needed to quicken the pace.

She pushed and tugged until he was out of the worthless shirt. Then, her hands roamed, racing over him until her palms pressed against his jaw, holding him to her tighter than she thought comfortable.

His response was as rough as her hold. He nipped the corners of her mouth and bit, starving, on her bottom lip.

Her pained gasp forced him to be kinder. He loosened his mouth from hers, smearing her cheek with soothing pecks of what should've been kisses. He muttered into her ear, something about trying not to get too rough. Then, he navigated his exploring tongue over her dressed up lobe.

She was trembling; partly from the cold, droopy sweater, but mostly in pleasure. Murphy, the unfamiliar lover she had followed to this room, was plenty accommodating, allowing her hands free reign of his body. She intended to use his solid frame to her every advantage tonight.

No reservations, she decided. As if she had a choice in the matter. Her inhibitions had been burned up and left to disintegrate into a smoldering pile of ash at her feet.

Murphy let her snatch his arm. His hand followed, compliant and curious, as she thrust his open palm between her legs against her damp warmth. As she guided his touch, her breath seized in her lungs. It left her body on a shuddering sigh.

Under her direction, he stroked frantically through the satin of her panties. Panties he'd probably already touched.

Except before they weren't this wet.

As if reading his mind, she whimpered, "You do this to me. Now what are you going to do about it?"

He chuckled playfully, taunting her frustration. "What do you want me to do about it?"

He contemplated easily sliding a finger or two between the thin material and her slippery skin, pleasing her instantly, but what fun was quick release? The torment could last all night if it be his will or desire.

His lingering curiosity concerning her legs lead his fingers astray. His open palm soothed the quaking of her thighs, but did nothing to stop the burning between her legs. He loved her smooth, undimpled skin, and the way it quivered beneath his touch. In his mind, he imagined her to be a thick ribbon of silk just waiting to be wrapped around him.

She let him reach under the sweater. She'd wished he'd just heave the entire heavy mess right over her head, but he had other torturous plans for her. With the delicateness of an uneasy school boy, Murphy barely cupped her.

But it didn't matter. It lit her hotter. It made her crazy. Blazing. Even the slightest pressure of his thumb grazing her nipple sent currents of unvoiced need through her. Her breasts strained against the tight fabric fighting him for release.

"Take it off," she commanded, and he obeyed.

His finger fumbled for only a minute with the pesky hook, but finally she jerked free from the bra and her panties, both garments pooling at her bare feet.

She was beautiful, and his eyes could not get their fill of her. Every inch of her screamed for him to touch, taste, and please. And his body ached to fill each request. He lifted her arms above her head, feasting on her neck, shoulders, and the crest of her swelling breasts that smelled and tasted of persimmon snow.

An insolent grin spread across his face. Provoking her, he asked, "Do you want me naughty or nice?"

"I don't care. I just want you." Elise braced, anticipating the blistering delight of his lips nudging her ready nipple.

It was a painful warmth searing her as he bit and tugged. It made her knees buckled.

"Hey, hey, hey, where are you going?" A low chuckle bubbled from his throat as he straightened her.

"To hell," she gasped. But first I want you to show me Heaven…

He planned to. Kneeling, Murphy's quick hands slid over her curves. They moved along the softness of her belly. He bent his head, planting a delicate kiss at her navel.

She knew what he was about to do. The mere suggestion of what pleasure was to come left her breathless. She gripped his bare shoulders, bracing herself again. She watched, entranced, as his tongue trailed along her quivering thigh, and his fingers entered her.

Elise cried out; a wail confused between pain and bliss.

"Fuck, are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

He was looking up at her. So sweet. So bad. So absolutely irresistible. She couldn't help but bite her lip to keep from smiling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "I'm just...so eager."

He grinned. No holding it back. "Eager for what?"

"For you to, you know,"

He gave his head a wag. "No. I don't know. For me to what?"

He loved the blush spreading across her cheeks. He loved that she couldn't decide between coy or confident; submissive or dominant. But he wanted her to pick a side soon before he exploded.

"I'll do whatever you want, love. Just tell me what to,"

She made her choice. Quickly, she breathed, "I want you to taste me."

Happy to oblige, Murphy gripped her hips. His tongue landed and flitted. He circled her, sucking, nipping, and tugging the vulnerable folds of her flesh with a seemingly experienced mouth.

I don't care. I won't care, she told herself. I won't concern myself with his past because tonight he is mine.

Her head rolled, her hair a tangled curtain down her back. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, the manicured nails biting hungrily into his skin. She began to writhe, thrusting herself gently over his chin. Murphy clasped the soft mounds of her ass, steadying her body as he penetrated deeper with his tongue.

She cocked her knee, lifting her leg, moaning deep and strong.

"Please, don't stop," she pleaded. Her hips rolled with his every lash.

"Or what?" He baited. He removed his lips only to replace them with diving fingers, continuing the torturous pace. "I won't disappoint you."

His promise rang true as he shifted between fingers and tongue until he recognized her pitched breathing and felt her violent shudder. She called out to him, and this time he allowed her to go limp in his arms.

Amazing, she sighed. No-freaking stellar!

He moved her to the unmessed bed beside him.

"I told you I wouldn't disappoint you." It was like he'd heard her thoughts again.

Elise shook her head weakly, draping her arm across his chest. "And so you didn't." She smiled. "It's good to have man with exceptional follow-through."

Her fingers played at his chin. Her hand wiped away any traces of her flood so she could kiss him. In his kiss, she could feel his need; his anticipation for release. He held her hand, placing it where he needed.

She grasped him and he throbbed against her. The need for her was so overwhelming it was painful.

"I wonder how you will feel inside me," she said.

"Well, let's find out," he replied, snickering

Tenderly, Murphy eased her sultry body beneath the cool sheets. He finished undressing quietly beside her, finding the token of safety his brother had tossed to him earlier.

I'll have to thank him after all for that, Murphy mused, then re-entered the bed.

He wrapped his arms around her, planting kisses along her shoulders and neck. He found her hips beneath the covers, carefully shifting her onto her side, facing away from him. He nuzzled into the thin strands of her hair clinging to her sweaty nape.

Elise followed along as Murphy guided her leg, crooking it, moving it over his side. His other hand tugged and squeezed her taut nipple, preparing her for more. She groaned impulsively as her own urgency began rising again. She heard herself pleading with him again.

He pierced her fast and deep from behind, wincing at the strangled, tormented scream that broke from her throat. He petted her naked curves. He repeated her name, circling her nipple again and again.

"I'll make you feel good. Just like before," he promised.

After eight years of complete celibacy, it won't be difficult for ya, she thought.

He moved and she moved with him in perfect sync. A rushing wave of heat swelled over both of them. His moans matched hers, low and lusty. What started as tender turned animal as he practically climbed her, taking her from behind with ferocious thrusts. He grunted, handling her rough now, pushing and tugging on her circling hips.

Elise groped above her, feeling for the heavy pillow. He was building swiftly to climax as was she, and she wanted so bad to ride it out with him. She cried out, crying his name again and again. He kept pummeling her with his maddening thrusts until she exploded onto him like bursting fireworks descending from the sky.

Her agonized scream ripped through the darkness of the room, fueling his bursting orgasm. Murphy growled into her ear a pleasured release. He stroked her, rocked her, and panted into her neck.

Elise threw her arm across his bare chest, placing her palm near his heart. Her head landed in the crook of his arm, and he pulled her close for a deep kiss. His soft, warm lips grazed her neck. He kissed her slow, lingering slightly above the tip of her nose before plunging down for another. His fingers tangled in her long hair.

His eyes pierced her with a vulnerability she was sure was contagious. She felt as open and transparent as he looked. And that's what she adored about Murphy. Despite his gun-toting, swear word saying, hard as rocks exterior, he was definitely the more susceptible of the two.

"You okay, love?" He asked.

Love. It sounded nice, but seemed highly irregular.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm better than okay. I'm fantastic." And she was. She'd never felt more wanted by any man. More satisfied by any lover. More conflicted by any situation.

Once the job is over, then what? She wondered. Will I just tag along as a new sidekick? Murphy's girl? I mean, what AM I now? Will Connor accept that? And what about Patience? My sister? Or are we over with the completion of the mission?

"Me too," he yawned.

What if we never started and this was all just a one-night thing. Maybe I'm assuming too much too soon.

Elise felt her teeth gnawing at her lip, but Murphy's insistent mouth was completely oblivious to her thoughtful predicament. He just kept kissing her, adding to her confusion. She decided she'd attach to his body, but keep her heart at arm's length.

They stumbled back to the car in the middle of the night. She'd wanted to stay; sleep in his arms in the big tacky bed, but Murphy had changed her mind quickly. He'd reminded her that they'd told no one where they were going, and he was sure his brother was probably pacing the place with pissed off worry.

He was right.

When they entered the shelter as quietly as sneaking teenagers, Connor was waiting for them in the entryway. His already mussed hair was even more damaged by half a night's sleep. His eyes winced deeper and his dark whiskers appeared rougher as he sloughed a shaky hand over his jaw.

He immediately charged at them. "Where in the fuck have you two been?"

They had been tangled up in each other, but Connor's fierceness easily broke them apart. Murphy grew instantly defensive against his brother's anger.

"Out," he prickled.

"No shit. Out where?" Connor demanded.

Murphy wilted a bit, shrugging. He gave a curt nod to the woman still holding to his arm beside him. "We weren't here, asshole. Figure it out."

Like a light popping on in a dim room, the realization lit him, and Connor eased back, shrugging. "Oh. Well," he eyed Elise for a second. Then, his finger was in his brother's face. "Well, you don't know the shit that's gone down here in the last few hours. And I was about to call the Aul Man about ya,"

Murphy spit a stream of amused laughter at him. "Call the Aul Man were ya? And tell him what? What the fuck is going on around here that I can't go out and catch a breather from all this bullshit,"

A sob interrupted his tirade. A sob so pathetic, strong, and deep it made Connor wince again and Murphy shut his mouth. Elise looked around Connor's lean frame, finding her sister crying behind him.

Her puffed eyes and splotched face looked as if she'd taken a beating from Redneck, too. But Elise knew her sister had been crying for a very long time, and she had no idea what for.

Surely this isn't over me being gone. "Emilia? What's,"

"They're dead," Emilia wailed. She swiped at the snot dripping from her nose with a crumpled, scraggly tissue she'd obviously been clutching for hours.

Elise barged past the guys.

"Who? Who is dead?" She demanded to know.

But Emilia was bawling so hard all words just got clogged up in her sore throat. Elise grabbed her, wrapping her arms around her. She glanced back at Connor, commanding him to tell her.

He sighed, and she could tell whatever he was about to reveal was going to murder her like it was killing her sister. She held herself tight, squeezing Emilia harder.

"Your brother found your aunt and uncle murdered," he told her plainly; without a tone.

For a moment, Elise was confused. Aunt and uncle? Most had either been executed already or gained allegiance with the Yakavettas. Then, she felt her sister shudder. She saw the color drain from Murphy's face, and heard another woeful sigh from Connor, and it hit her.

Aunt Nora and Uncle Cillian. She blinked.

She thought she'd be sad. Devastated. But the only emotion coming over her was a sort of told-ya-so sort of regret.

If Aunt Nora's ghost was here right now I'd tell her I knew this day was coming. I'd blame uncle Cillian for letting them get involved in the first place.

"That's the bullshit that's been going on around here," she heard Connor quip. She felt his finger point in her direction. "And that one's been completely inconsolable all night."

She would've snapped; bit his head and his fucking finger clean off, but Emilia had nearly collapsed against her. Besides, she needed her anger. She had a cache of dark emotions she'd been storing up and saving away for a night like this.

"Well, what the fuck do you expect, you stupid, insensitive dick," Murphy started arguing, but it became static in her background. His voice was a mild distraction buzzing behind the rage she was channeling.

She held her sister, letting a few tears leak onto her dark hair. But she was glaring at Murphy.

He felt the heat of her stare and moved toward her. "Elise, fuck. I, I'm so, God, I'm so sorry."

She started shaking. Trembling like the earth on a fault line. "Don't be sorry," she muttered through clenched teeth. "Be angry."

The frost in her voice stopped him from coming any closer. He imagined touching her to find her stone cold. But he recognized it. He felt it after Rocco. After those Godless bastards took his best friend's life like taking out the trash.

His eyes narrowed and he nodded his recognition at her. "I am angry, Elise. And I fucking promise you this-we will kill every last motherfucker that had anything to do it. Okay?"

Elise closed her eyes against the madness and sighed. "You betcha."