Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 120240 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 601(@200wpm)___ 481(@250wpm)___ 401(@300wpm)
His fingers slide back inside me, and I moan, my body clenching around him. He starts to move them in and out, slowly at first, then faster, harder.
I can feel my orgasm building, my body tensing with each stroke. But just as I’m about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“No,” I whimper, my body aching for release.
“Patience,” he murmurs, his hand coming down hard on my ass again. “I’ll let you come when I’m ready. When I’m convinced you’ll be a good girl again.”
His fingers find my clit again, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. I moan, my hips moving against his hand, seeking more friction.
“Cavin, please,” I beg, my body trembling with need.
“Are you going to behave? Obey your husband?”
“Yes. Yes, I promise.”
“Are you sorry for being a naughty little lass?”
“Yes, so sorry!”
“Come for me, Erin,” he commands.
And I do, my body exploding with pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I cry out, my voice echoing in the small room.
He continues to rub, drawing out my orgasm until I’m a trembling, boneless mess across his lap. Only then does he pull his hand away, leaving me gasping and spent.
“There’s a good lass,” he murmurs, his hand stroking my back soothingly.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, my body still tingling with the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“Cavin,” I whisper.
He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. I melt into him, my body molding to his, completely and utterly his.
When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless, my heart racing. I look up at him, my eyes filled with love and desire.
“Yours,” I say, the words a promise.
He smiles, a slow, dangerous smile. “Mine,” he agrees, his hand cupping my face tenderly. “You’re always fuckin’ mine, woman, and don’t you forget it. Now, the night is still young, lass, isn’t it?”
I turn around and give him a curious look.
“That wasn’t proper punishment, was it? That was a warning.”
Ahh.
He spins me around to sit in his lap, and I start tapping my pocket. One, two, three, four.
“You’ve been to The Craic before, but not as my guest.”
My eyes go wide.
“You know it’s a private family club. Exclusive. But if you want to be my wife, you need to understand what this means.”
Oh, okay.
“And I want to deal with my wife properly. You disobeyed me twice tonight, on purpose. You wore that top, and you came to the fight. You think a few smacks on the arse is enough for that?”
I giggle nervously. “Um, what are we going to do?”
He leans in and gives me a wicked smile. His pupils look nearly black. “Take you somewhere where you can scream as loud as you want, and no one will come running to save you.”
My jaw drops open.
“And we’re going to start right now, love. I don’t want you to see anything on the way. I want you to rely on your other senses.”
I feel him reach down and take something—I can’t quite see what it is. A T-shirt? He slides it over my eyes and ties it at the back.
“You wear my fucking coat so nobody sees you like this too.”
And then, just like that first night by the cliffs, he drapes his jacket over my shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
Just like usual, he lifts me and slides me over his shoulder. My bag is back with my bodyguards.
“Cavin, I have to—”
His hand claps across my arse. “You have to obey your husband. That’s what you have to do, love.”
My heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest. How can someone feel both scared and utterly safe at the very same time?
I know The Craic and the ring are within walking distance. Is he… walking with me, over his shoulder, blindfolded?
I believe he is.
Cavin!
How did he just beat the shite out of the man in the ring and still have the stamina to carry me to the club?
I feel a rush of warm air and hear a hush come over the crowd. And they go wild—clapping, screaming. They must see me over his shoulder like I’m his purse of winnings tonight.
Oh my god. I feel a bit dizzy.
“Mr. McCarthy, sir.” Someone says. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Bring my car around,” he says. “Have my cousin park it at The Craic. And as per usual, have my purse sent to the same place as always.”
He doesn’t know yet what I’ve been doing with his winnings. He will soon. Makes me feel like I have a bit of control here, even when I’m being hauled to my doom by my modern-day caveman, who’s two steps away from banging his chest with a damn club.
I've got my own secrets. And mine actually make money.
“Right away, sir.”
I can hear the sounds of music, laughter, people drinking, and glasses clinking. But his hand is possessive on my lower back, and everybody who speaks to him speaks with respect.