“What are you doing?” I whimpered.

“Trust me, sunshine.” He grinned against my lips. “I’ve got this.”

His huge fingertips brushed gently against my folds, and I almost came off the bed. O’Connell was a genius to take things as slow as he did. Any quicker and my panic would have ruined it. After that one touch, he lightly ran his calloused fingertips over the tops of my thighs and around the elastic of my pyjamas, anywhere but where I actually needed his touch. All the while, we kissed as though we were devouring each other, and the need grew worse with every stroke. He was as hard as a rock against my leg, but I could barely think about anything but what he was doing to me.

“Please, O’Connell,” I begged.

“What do you need, baby?” He smiled knowingly.

“Touch me again.”

His looked triumphant as he brushed against me gently with his thumb.

“Ahh,” I cried out, arching my back and gripping the sheets as I tried to process what he was doing. This time I’d given him permission. Hell, I’d begged him to keep going, and he didn’t disappoint. He stroked rhythmically, and I was torn between wanting to pull away from the overwhelming sensations and pleading with him never to stop. My nipples, hard as buds against his chest, sent darts of pleasure below as they brushed against him.

“I can’t. I can’t...,” I whimpered.

“Let go, baby,” O’Connell whispered. “I’ll catch you.”

My spine was a rod of steel and bright blinding stars burst across the back of my eyelids as I came. It was the most amazingly wonderful thing that I had ever experienced, and I wanted to cry out at the sheer joy of it.

O’Connell looked at me lovingly. I held his jaw reverently in one hand.

“Thank you,” I whispered to him. “That was so much more than I ever imagined it would be.”

He smiled brightly, and it was like the sun coming out.

“As long as I live, I will never forget how beautiful you look right now.”

He cuddled me into his side, but his hard cock wasn’t going anywhere any time soon.

“O’Connell?” I paused, not knowing how to say this without sounding like an idiot. “Can I do the same for you?”

I was mortified. Not so much at the thought of doing it. The idea of stroking him in my hand was enough to make me wet all over again. I was embarrassed, because I sounded so naively clueless. Any girl my age with a pinch of sexual confidence wouldn’t have asked permission, they would have just known exactly what to do. He didn’t answer me so I risked a glance up at him. His eyes were closed, and he looked like he was in pain.

“What’s wrong?” I asked concerned.

“I’m trying not to come in my pants,” he answered.

I was confused about why he wasn’t jumping on me for my help when I’d offered. When he seemed a bit more in control, he explained.

“I promised Danny no sex before the fight. It’s a golden rule for most of the boys. The banked up sexual frustration helps with the production of testosterone.”

We were both quiet as we wrestled with his promise.

“Fuck!” O’Connell cursed. “I can’t believe I just gave up a hand job from you for some miserable, skinny, angry old leprechaun.”

“That angry old leprechaun only has your best interests at heart. Besides, I’m not going anywhere. Consider the invitation your reward if you win your fight tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes again.

“What are you doing now?” I asked.

“Trying again to focus on not coming.”

AN HOUR LATER, we reheated our pasta and sat cross-legged on my bed enjoying it. My cold, shitty little apartment now felt warm and cosy, and I was so happy that I could burst. O’Connell had beaten the crap out of the radiator until frostbite was no longer a real threat. He’d lit a ton of candles, ostensibly because we needed all the heat that we could get, but it made the place seem more romantic than it looked in the harsh light of day. O’Connell, shirtless and sat on my bed, was absolutely drool worthy, even if he was practically inhaling his meal. As soon as he’d finished, he put the bowl to one side, and in a way that reminded me of a small child, he asked me what had been on his mind.

“Can I have my present now?”

I smiled as I always did when he sounded like a little boy.

“No. You’ll have to wait until I’ve finished my dinner,” I admonished.

“That’s not fair,” he whined comically, and if he’d been standing, I was sure he would have stomped his foot.

“You eat so slowly, we’ll be here for months!” He gave an over exaggerated sigh when he could see that I wasn’t going to relent.

“Are you going to eat any more?” he asked after a while. I looked down at the mountain of food that he’d dished up for me, which would be about two of my usual servings. I shook my head no and steadied myself as he bounced off the bed to clear the plates. He washed up the dishes as I dried, then turning off the heating, he climbed into bed beside me. It was all so domestic, and I loved it. I turned on my side to face him, and he did the same.

“Do you want your present now?” I asked.

“Do you want to give it to me?” he answered with a smirk.

“On second thought, it can wait until after your fight,” I told him with a straight face, calling his bluff.

“What! No! I didn’t mean it. Please, can I have it now?” I laughed because he really was just too cute.

“It’s not very big. Just a token gift,” I warned him, worried that I’d built this up into too big of a deal, or that he might not like it after all.

“I don’t care. I haven’t had a present in years.”

“What about your birthday?”

“Danny gives me a week off subs, and the boys buy me a pint,” he explained.

“That’s awful!” I exclaimed, horrified.

“We’re blokes.” He laughed. “What did you expect us to do?”

“What about your mum?” I asked.

“I don’t remember the last time she bought me anything. But, then, coming home to a night when she hadn’t passed out in a pool of her own puke was gift enough.”

I reached into the drawer of my bedside table and pulled out a box wrapped in brown paper and string. I placed it on the bed in front of him.