BETWEEN LAUGHTER AND SCREAM

Emma's POV 

When the little girl's small voice echoed in the living room, Are you my mummy? My heart stopped. I froze mid-smile, unsure if my voice was even capable of responding.

A tiny pair of feet padded toward us, with her grey eyes widened. And for a moment, time did that funny thing where it slows down. 

"Um.." I said, choking on my words as I stepped forward.

I looked from the little girl to Liam. His mouth was open,  but then he closed it, blinked once and gently said. 

"Hey, Orla, sweetheart. You don't say that to someone you just met. Say hello first. This is Emma." 

Orla blinked shyly at me and tilted her head. Then she whispered, "Hello." Her voice was small but polite; her eyes were fixed on me, as if she were sizing me up. 

I could barely breathe. I hadn't prepared for this part because he didn't tell me he had a daughter. I wanted to say something smart. 

Instead, my voice came out as: "Hi... Orla. Your eyes are the same as your daddy's." 

Her little brows creased, and that tiny smile reformed. Before I could say anything further, Mrs Moira O'Connor, Liam's mother, burst in with a plate of steaming food. 

"Dinner is ready! Come on, everyone, sit, sit!" Her voice was loud with joy. 

Just as we were settling at the table, another pair of footsteps appeared. 

"Da," Liam said in a quiet voice. 

A tall, slightly worn man in a dark pullover entered. He had broad shoulders like Liam's, salt-and-pepper hair, and a calm face that didn't quite match his serious aura. 

"You must be Emma," he said as he brought out his hand, offering me a handshake. 

"Nice to meet you," I said, gripping his hand. His grip was firm but brief. 

"I'm Seamus," he introduced and turned his attention to Liam.

I noticed that Liam didn't hug him. Seamus didn't pat his shoulder. The only thing that passed between them was a short but heavy look. 

Dinner was surprisingly warm and filled with laughter. Liam's uncle, Padraig or uncle Paddy, makes jokes about how I pronounced Irish names. 

Siobhán kept repeating, Siobhán, no. Not See-bhon!. Liam was also getting teased for not teaching me to speak Irish. 

"Liam, when will you teach Emma how to say my name properly?" Moira teased, placing a dollop of mashed potatoes on my plate. 

"Just as soon as she survives my sisters' accents," he said, laughing. 

Siobhán leaned over. "Try saying it like She-vawn. Like a soft Shh." 

I repeated it a few times until even Uncle Paddy was laughing. "Close enough, lass!"

All the while, I kept sneaking glances at Liam. He was attentive and genuinely involved with Orla. He asked her about school, joked about her drawings and when she talked about her favourite part of all her school trips, Liam lit up in a way that made something inside me ache. 

Finally, dinner was over and I loved it. But right before we were about to excuse ourselves, Uncle Paddy spoke. 

"My daughter and her fiancé are visiting from London soon, and they'll be joining us for Christmas dinner too. Thought it'd be nice if you met them, Emma," He said, leaning back with a grin. 

I could feel my pulse race. More introductions weren't good for our plan. But I masked my face with a tight smile. "That sounds... lovely."

"Our room's this way," Liam said quietly as we ascended the stairs. 

"Are we sharing?" I asked in a tone just above a whisper.

He shrugged, then tilted his head. "There isn't an extra room unless we squeeze someone into the guest bed."

"Fine," I replied, forcing a smile. "But you better not snore." 

"You're the one who sleeps like a chainsaw in the windstorm." He opened the door to his room and entered. 

"Why didn't you tell me about Orla?" I asked, my tone softer than I expected. 

He didn't answer at first. He just looked at me. Finally, he murmured.

"Because she's not up for discussion. Not until I knew you'd be here. I didn't want to explain. 

I froze at his words. I felt my stomach sink, but instead of responding, I stepped into the bathroom and shut the door to brush my teeth.

Seconds later, I heard a knock. "Emma?" His voice came. 

I didn't want to talk. Before I could answer, he opened the door, closing the space between us. 

His presence was too close and warm. Liam didn't say anything, his eyes just held mine. And then without warning, his lips were on mine. 

It was soft at first, then harder and then hungry, like he was trying to memorise every inch of me. I should've stopped him or pushed him away. 

Instead, I whispered his name as his tongue brushed mine. I could feel my thigh become moist. But when I stood on my toes, inching closer to him we heard a sharp scream. 

"MUMMY!!"

My eyes shot open and we both froze. It was Orla. And she sounded terrified.

HER MOTHER

Emma's POV 

As my eyes fluttered open, I woke up to silence. And not the usual warmth of Liam's chest at my back or the soft press of his lips on mine. Not his teasing fingers slimming over my skin. 

I woke up to cold air and an empty bed. My eyelids closed multiple times, blinking into the dim light. I sat up and glanced to his side of the bed, but it was still made and untouched. 

That was when the memories from last night returned. Orla's scream was caused by the light in her room going off, and she was scared of the dark. Liam had quickly gotten the lights back on, but her tears hadn't stopped until he crept into her bed and promised to stay.

I had stood awkwardly by the door, staring at the affectionate moment between father and daughter before I went back to the room. He hadn't come back at night. 

I dragged myself from the bed and padded to the bathroom. The mirror was fogged, and the sink was damp. He'd been here and left, but didn't wake me. Great. 

After quickly washing up, I got dressed in a comfortable shirt and pants and stepped out into the hallway. The house was already lively with movements and voices.  

But there was no sight of Liam. I found Siobhán first in the kitchen, pouring tea into a thick ceramic mug. 

"Morning, Emma," she said with a soft smile. "Did you sleep well?"

 "Yeah. Thanks." I replied while returning the smile. Hesitating, I asked. "Umm.. do you know where Liam is?" 

She nodded. "Left for dad's mechanic workshop. He said something about checking bikes." 

My eyebrows widened. "Checking bikes at your dad's mechanic workshop." 

Siobhán's smile deepened. "Surprised? Liam's hands aren't just for courtroom drama. He spends his time checking bikes when he's back home." 

He hadn't mentioned that. Again, he'd kept another part of him away from me. 

"He's full of surprise," I said, forcing a small laugh. 

In the living room, Mrs Moira was arranging a small list. "Emma, darling," she called with the soft smile she'd given me yesterday. 

"Do you need anything? Maybe, personal items."

I could feel my chest squeeze and my heart float with warmth. "That's very kind of you." I paused and stared at her for a while. Even my aunt had never shown me such warmth and kindness. 

"Actually I forgot my moisturiser. It's the only one that doesn't make me break out."

"Write it here," she said, pushing the notepad toward me. "We'll stop by the store later."

While I was writing, she suddenly asked, "Do you know Liam's native name?" 

Looking up at her, I saw her eyes twinkle with something unexplainable. 

"Ailill," I said as I tried not to grin. "He told me it means elf or something like that. And he hates it."

For a moment, she was quiet, before she let out a laugh. "He does. One day I'll tell you how he had that name." 

I smiled and gave her a curt nod. I knew she had just tested me. Liam had warned me before we arrived. 

A little while later, Siobhán called out from the hallway, holding Orla's small coat. "I'm taking her to the park. You want to come?"

"Of course." I wanted to see what the city looked like and I needed the distraction. 

The nearest park was only a short walk away. It seemed to have snowed a bit last night, but the sun was already up. The houses we passed had their porches decorated with Christmas trees and lights. 

Ahead, Orla was running and giggling while her brown curly hair bounced under her hat. My lips curled up in a smile as I watched her. She was beautiful and a happy kid. 

Liam is lucky to have her as a kid, and she's lucky to be his daughter. Or they both are lucky to be in each other's lives. 

"She likes you," Siobhán said, bringing me out of my reverie. "You're the forest woman she's met like this." 

I stopped in my tracks. "Like this?" My brows arched, askance. 

"She doesn't usually see her dad with... anyone." Siobhán glanced at me as she explained. "Don't hurt her, Emma." 

I felt my stomach do those strange flips again, but this time it twisted. I wasn't only going to hurt her, but all of them. I've been acting a lie. 

"I won't." I managed to say. 

We found a bench near the kids' area and settled in. Conversation rolled smoothly as we talked about random things like the weather, holidays, and makeups. 

But then, we heard loud voices. Children were shouting, and I turned to see a small crowd forming near where Orla was. 

A girl who looked five years older was yelling at Orla, who was cornered away and her tiny shoulders were hunched.

I couldn't hear the words, but her face was pale and tight. Then the girl shoved her. Immediately I bolted toward them.

"Oi!" Siobhán yelled, storming ahead. 

As we reached them, the girl's mother rushed over too, glaring at us. "You have no right to shout at my child!" Her Irish accent was so thick.

"No right?" Siobhán bristled. "Your daughter was bullying a five-year-old!" Her tone was high. 

"She was defending herself," the girl's mother stretched the word like she wanted to convince herself rather than us. "The brat tried to take her toy."

Brat?

I stepped forward, feeling fury rise in my throat. "If your daughter is this mean, maybe you should ask yourself who taught her." 

Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?" 

"You're excused," I replied, as I moved closer. 

"You want respect? Teach your child how to act like a decent human being. And maybe keep your insults out of a public playground." 

I could see rage flood her eyes. "Who even are you to this child?" The woman snapped, angry. "Her nanny?" 

"I'm her mother." The words slipped out before I could even stop them. 

The rude girl's mother blinked like I'd slapped her. Siobhán's lips parted in shock, and her brows raised. Orla stared up at me, her eyes wide and unreadable. I could feel everyone's eyes on me. 

My cheeks flushed with heat, but I didn't look away. Still, I didn't correct myself, because at that moment it felt natural. 

Orla didn't say anything; instead, she stepped closer to me, and her small hand brushed mine. I felt my throat tighten. 

What did I just do? What did I just say? And why do I feel so damn right?

AFTER THE STORM

Liam's POV

The buzz of my phone in my pocket nearly made me swerve off the road. Glancing down, I saw it was the station calling. 

My stomach sank, a punch of adrenaline hitting me. Orla... Emma... what has happened now? I twisted the throttle, the wind whipping my face as I sped toward the station.

When I skidded into the parking lot, heart hammering, I half expected chaos, my daughter crying, my family shouting, Emma looking frantic. But what I found instead stopped me dead.

They were all sitting there, calm. Too calm. Emma, Siobhán, Orla, and the other girl with her mother were lined up on the bench, as if it were just another afternoon. 

And Orla, my little girl, was chattering non-stop, her tiny face glowing as she recounted the events of the park.

Emma.

Of course, it was Emma. She had stood up for my daughter, my little girl whom I would move heaven and earth to protect. I could see her profile from the door, the way she sat straight-backed, eyes glinting, hands folded neatly in her lap. Not a hint of fear. Not a tremor.

Why the hell did she do it?

Her courage pulled at me in a way I couldn't name. It wasn't just about protecting Orla. She could have walked away, disappeared back into her life, stayed out of this. 

But she hadn't. She had gone headfirst into confrontation, defended my daughter, and faced a stranger and her angry mother without flinching.

I walked up to the officer in charge, my face unreadable. 

"What happened?" My voice was calm, even though the rage behind it was coiling tight in my chest.

"Nothing serious, Mr Liam O'Connor," he said, glancing at Emma and Orla. "Just a little playground disagreement. Emma here... she handled it like a pro."

I didn't move my gaze from her. My daughter's words filled the room, echoing like a trumpet in my mind. 

"Emma stood up for me, Daddy! She's my friend!"

I swallowed. That little girl of mine... her sudden trust in Emma, her excitement in recounting the bravery, it stung me with a pride I couldn't put into words.

The other girl's mother was made to promise she'd caution her child and teach her better. And if something like that repeated again, it would be seen that she wasn't capable of training a child and her child would be taken away from her by the government.

As we left the station, driving through the familiar streets, my mind wouldn't stop replaying the scene. Emma had protected Orla, she had taken on the role of her defender. My thoughts kept drifting to her courage, her composure, and the way she seemed to make even chaos feel manageable.

Through the rear-view mirror, I stole a glance at her. She was unusually quiet, her head was slightly bowed, but there was an edge of something there that I couldn't name, something that made my chest tighten and my hands grip the wheel a little too hard. 

She wasn't afraid of me. Not really. And that made me... want her. I wanted her in a way I hadn't expected, even after the first night, even after everything.

When we got home, Mom practically burst from the kitchen. "Oh, Emma, that was wonderful! Standing up for Orla like that!"

Siobhán had, of course, called my mother and briefed her about the situation. 

"Oh, it was nothing." She replied to my mother, with a smile plastered on her face. 

"Someone needed to put that lady in her place. Her child can't go around making other kids uncomfortable."

I could see the subtle rise of her chest as she breathed, the faint flush on her cheeks. She had been on high alert for the station visit, and now that it was over, the tension lingered like perfume.

Just as Orla was recounting what had happened for the umpteenth time to my mother, I saw Emma walk upstairs quietly. 

Something about her retreat pulled at me, and I followed, silent, watching the way she moved, every step measured, yet fluid, the kind of movement that could hypnotise a man.

In the room, she turned to face me as I leaned in the doorway. 

"Why the sudden disappearance?" My voice was low, calm, but I could feel the tension building between us like a live wire.

"I... needed to rest," she said softly, a slight shrug. "Or a bath. To calm down."

I fixed my gaze on her, studying her expression. Her eyes avoided mine, but her lips had that soft, playful curve that dared me to step closer. 

"For defending my daughter," I said. "Thank you, Emma."

Her eyes flicked up, and for the first time that day, I saw a trace of vulnerability. 

"I thought... you'd be angry. That she was taken to the station because of me."

"Angry?" I stepped closer, watching her body respond subtly, almost instinctively. "You stood up for my daughter. That's... more than I expected." My voice dropped an octave, deliberately edged with desire.

She smiled softly, eyes darting down, then back to mine. The tension between us thickened, almost tangible, a storm coiling around us.

"You deserve a bath, I think," I murmured, voice low, heavy. "You've had quite a morning."

She turned, starting to undress. Even in the soft light, I saw the curve of her back, the sway of her hips, the gentle rise of her breasts as she moved. 

My chest tightened. I could feel the blood rushing through my veins. My body reacted before my mind had a chance to intervene.

I wanted her. Not just for her bravery, but for every inch of her that moved, every glance that held defiance, every smile that dared me to cross the line.

My eyes were fixed on her as I slowly followed her to the bathroom. I paused just inside the door taking in every detail as she stepped gently into the bath filled with steaming water. 

Then she turned to me, her eyes flickering with something daring. The same look that I'd seen in those eyes the first time we met at the club. 

And that was all it took for my restraint to vanish. I stepped into the bath, and took off my shirt, letting the heat between us swell. Looking down, I pressed my lips to hers, soft and teasing at first. 

Immediately, she responded, she opened her mouth, giving way for my tongue to ravage the inside of her mouth. She kisses me ferociously, matching my hunger.

My hands began trailing her body, exploring and tracing the curves of her back. I stopped below her buttocks, squeezing her soft flesh. She responded in kind by arching into me.

Just then, Emma began fondling my nipples simultaneously with her fingers. I could feel my c**k already about to break through my pants. It seemed like she knew and she unbuckled my belt, unzipped my trousers, freeing my c**k.

She stopped kissing me and shifted back, her eyes on my c**k. I noticed something shift in her eyes as she inhaled. 

A small gasp left my lips as she grabbed my c**k, giving it a gentle squeeze. She returned her gaze to me and slowly went to her knees. 

Emma stuck out her tongue, trailing the visible veins. From the top, down to the base. The soft trails left me breathing hard. Without warning, she took me in her mouth and she gagged when she tried to take all my length in at once. 

The few women I've had sex with in the past hadn't dared to talk half of my length in their mouths. But she took more than half of me in. 

Her eyes were still fixed on mine as she started sucking me faster. One of her hands was squeezing my balls while the other was wrapped around the base of my shaft. 

I felt tension build inside of me and my c**k grew larger. I knew that I was near. Immediately, I pulled out of her, my hands grabbed her to her feet and bent her over, her back towards me.

I placed her hands on the edge of the bath and I bent down. Her smooth, shaved p*ssy which was now glistening with her wetness, was staring at me. 

"Ahh, Liam." 

She moaned out the moment the tip of my tongue met her cl*t. The taste was still the same as the first time I had tasted her. I pulled her toward me and her soft a** rubbed on my face. 

I got engaged in sucking her. The more I sucked, the more her juice flowed and the more I licked them up. The tempo of her moans got higher. 

Suddenly, she pulled back, but my hands still held her thigh in place. She looked back at me and asked. 

"The door... my noise?" 

My lips cornered with a small grin. 

"It's moan-proofed," I replied, my voice dripping with humour.

I pulled her back into position and I heard her giggle as I resumed sucking her. Not long later, I noticed her legs were trembling. It started out lightly, but within seconds her legs began to tremble violently. 

I held her in place with one hand while the other went down, stroking my c**k that was in the water. Just like before, water began gushing out from her, and my stroke became faster. 

Just as I exploded into the bath, her trembling stopped. Gasping for air, she stood up and pressed her kiss on mine, kissing me and kicking the remains of her wetness on my lips. 

Emma led me out of the bathroom and back to the room. Her eyes were on me with a subtle, soft look on her face as she pushed me onto the bed. 

She climbed over me, straddling me, her lips made contact with mine again as we kissed faster and hungrier. As we kissed, she rubbed her wet p*ssy on my limp c**k, determined to bring it back to life, which happened in no second. 

Without wasting more time, she pushed my c**k inside her. Taking it one inch at a time while she rode me slowly. 

I remembered that first night we'd spent together, the way she had challenged and driven me to heights I hadn't known existed, the way she had overwhelmed me.

And now, she did it again, in her quiet, subtle way, each touch, each sigh, each whispered word pulling me closer to the edge.

And I couldn't resist. She was fire, a force of nature, and I wanted to consume her in every way I could without fear, without hesitation. 

She leaned in closer, and my lips traced between her neck and her ear. The places that made her shiver and tremble. She pressed against me, a silent plea plastered on her face as her erect nipples made contact with my chest.

Her hands found mine, guiding me to her breast. Every moment was drawn out, deliberately, each touch, each breath, each moan a slow burn that made time meaningless. 

She was more than desire, she was an obsession I didn't want to resist. She drove me wild, like she always did.

She began to slow down. I flipped her onto her back and thrust into her hard, building the tension all over again. I felt her tighten around me, her body pulling me deeper.

When the moment reached its peak, I pulled her close, our bodies pressed together, the room charged with heat, lust, and unspoken need.

Her touch, her scent, her presence consumed me entirely. My mind, my body, my soul-everything centred on her.

Then it all spilled over. I came hard, breathless, holding her as the world narrowed to us. When I finally looked at her face, I knew one thing for certain.

We were far from over.