by Jane Henry
Aye, something happened alright. But I can’t tell her. Even if Carson wasn’t off limits, even if they’d all sanction our affair… which they would not… It feels too new to tell anyone. Too… sacred.
I’m going mad, that’s all there is to it.
“Ach, no,” I tell her, waving a hand and getting to my feet. “What are all these papers you’re carrying?”
“Ah, not sure,” she says. “Keenan left them upstairs when he came down to breakfast, and he meant to bring them. I offered to trot upstairs and get them for him, since he’s holding counsel after breakfast.” She grins and winks at me. “The man needs his sustenance.”
I smile back at her. “He does.” She’s every bit the doting wife, but she lives for this. Motherhood and married life become her. Some women lose themselves in such domestic pursuits. Others find themselves. I wonder where I am on that spectrum.
We go downstairs, and a strange sort of dread gathers in my limbs. It’s erotic and sensual, the knowledge that I’ve defied the man I’ve called sir. The memory of his punishment, even the glimmer of his frown, makes a shiver of awareness trickle through my body. I never knew I would crave something like this… control. Dominance. Mastery.
And I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.
Sounds of laughter and chatter come from the large dining room. It’s typically of a morning to have a large buffet of food laid out, as the men of the Clan and their families gather. Sometimes I join them, sometimes I’ve a shift at work and can’t join them until later. But I always pop in when I can.
When I enter the room, I imagine the air leaves with me. Nothing changes in reality. It’s a typical morning scene. Various members of the Clan sit with their wives. Toddlers sit at highchairs and babies are held in arms. Nolan sits at the far corner of the table with Sheena and Fiona, chattering about something, and the single members of the Clan, Lachlan, Tully, and Boner, sit at a little circular table nearby.
Staff wanders noiselessly about, filling juice glasses and steaming mugs of hot tea and coffee. The fragrant scent of fried eggs, hot tea, and the fresh-baked breads our staff is known for lingers in the air, and my stomach churns with hunger. When was the last time I’ve eaten?
But it isn’t my cousins or their wives or their children I’m looking for.
I smile politely when Lachlan salutes my entrance. Caitlin scurries away with the papers for Keenan, and I watch as she hands them to him, he smiles his thanks, and she kisses his cheek.
“Juice, miss?” I nod absentmindedly and take a glass of fresh-squeezed orange juice. Aileen catches my eye from the long dining room table, and I wave my fingers at her. Will I sit beside her today? Or….
Then I see him. He stands at the buffet table, at the far end, away from his brothers. While everyone in the room continues conversation and their meals, I meet his eyes. And right then, right there, we’re the only ones here. Just me and him.
His eyes narrow, and his lips turn down in a frown that makes my heart do a somersault. His arms are crossed on his chest, and I swallow hard. Until last night, I didn’t know beneath those clothes were powerful arms that can hold me down. Muscles that emanate strength and conviction. A seductive line of dark hair that runs down the length of his abs to his…
I swallow hard. I’m getting turned on again, and he hasn’t even touched me. Slowly, so slowly no one else would likely notice, he turns his wrist to look at his watch. His frown deepens.
I can almost hear his voice.
You’re late.
He looks up from his watch and meets my eyes again. He shakes his head from side to side. Once. Then with careful precision, he brings his hand to his waist, glides his palm over his leather belt, then points to it and gives it a little tug.
The air whooshes straight out of my lungs at the implication. I can almost hear him.
You disobeyed me.
“Megan?” I look up to see Aileen standing next to me. “Where are you, woman? I’ve been calling your name for like two minutes straight and you were staring off into space.”
She follows my gaze, but it’s too late. He’s gone, sitting beside Lachlan and Tully. Leaving me to wonder if our exchange was merely a figment of my imagination or not.
“Oh, I’m fine,” I say, with a wave of my hand, when my phone buzzes. I take a seat beside Aileen, and when she leans over to speak to Cormac, I sneak my phone out of my pocket.
Sir: You’re late.
I quickly type a reply.
Sorry about that, sir.
I look over my shoulder so no one notices my looking at him. I stifle a gasp when he gets to his feet. Is he coming over this way? But he doesn’t look at me as he walks toward Keenan.
Keenan hands him the stack of papers Caitlin brought down, and Carson stares down at them. I’m a little deflated. Did he forget about me that quickly?
Am I crazy?
Keenan says something to Carson, and Carson nods. His phone is in the palm of his hand. A second later, my phone buzzes again, and I glance at the screen.
You’ll be punished for that.
I feel my cheeks heat, and I shove my phone back in my pocket. I don’t reply. I wonder if he notices I’m blushing from where he stands.
“Scone?” Aileen says.
“Aye,” I say gratefully.
I need something to shove into my mouth before I say something stupid like spank me, sir, right out loud for the entire room to hear. I take two scones, slather butter on them, then shove one into my mouth before anyone can ask me to speak again. They’re rich and sweet, and the butter is creamy and delicious. I chase the scones with a hot cup of cream-laced tea and the glass of juice. I sigh, feeling better already.
“How was your night?” Aileen asks.
“Oh, fine,” I say, waving my hand nonchalantly.
“Did you go back with Carson, then?” she asks.
I look at her sharply, but she’s just buttering her own scone. She doesn’t look like she’s prying for information but just making small talk.
“How did you know that?” I ask. Her eyes widen when she looks at me.
“You sat with him at dinner and said you’d help with Breena.” She tips her head to the side, places the scone down on her plate, and a slow smile spreads across her face. “Why, Megan? You hiding something?”
I scoff. “Absolutely not,” I say. But I kind of wish I could tell her. Yes, yes I am. That man over there, he’s kind of like Superman. The studious professor’s only his cover. He’s hot, he’s dominant, he’s kinky as fuck.
“I need you to run these numbers immediately after breakfast,” Keenan’s saying to Carson. “Got it?”
Carson’s frowning at the pages in his hand. He nods. “Yes, of course,” he says. “Seems they’re mostly in order.”
God, what that man does to me with a scowl.
I eat another scone. I think I butter my fingers instead of the scone, but I’m not really aware of what I’m doing. Scones and butter don’t matter when my gaze is fixed on the dark, tattooed column of his neck. His dark eyes behind the shade of glasses. The way his lips turn down in a scowl, framed with a five o’clock, scruffy shadow. The way one unruly lock of dark brown hair falls onto his forehead. His powerful, masculine fingers. I remember what those felt like all over my body.
Maybe I’m a sapiosexual, I think to myself. Yes, that’s got to be it.
I remember having this conversation at uni with my friends.
I pull out my phone and google it.
Sapiosexual: sexually attracted to highly intelligent people
Yup. Who knew? There’s a whole line of girls who find intelligence sexually attractive, and until Carson, I had no idea I was one of those girls. No. Idea.
“You working today?” Aileen.
“Yeah. A double.”
She grimaces. “Sounds fun.”
“Aye,” I say with a sigh. I was eager to take those shifts. Double shifts pay time and a half, and I like earning my own money. But
now that I’ve got something better to occupy my time, and weekend work fest doesn’t sound so fun.
“Morning, Megan.”
I look up to see Carson standing right next to me. He’s got the papers for Keenan tucked under his arm.
“Oh, hello there, Carson,” I say so loudly, I wonder if they’ve heard me over at Holy Family. My cheeks flush pink again, goddammit.
“You have a minute to talk?” he asks.
Aileen pauses, a forkful of smushed peaches on a little baby spoon hanging in mid-air.
“Aye,” I tell him. “Sure enough. When?”
A muscle ticks in his jaw. “Right now.”
I shiver, pretending to be all nonchalant and casual while I fold my napkin and put it on the table.
“Yes, of course.” I smile at Aileen, ignoring the question in her eyes. “See you later.”
Her eyes flit from me to Carson, but I turn away before I give anything away.
His hand comes to my wrist, too low for anyone to notice, and as we approach the door, his hand travels lower, to the small of my back.
And the world ceases to exist.
Chapter 7
Carson
We’re leaving the dining room, and my mind’s swirling a mile a minute. I can already see her, naked and squirming helplessly over my knee, protesting under the lashes of my belt. Pleading for mercy when I give her none. And after I’ve striped her red, leaving with a jeweled plug between her cheeks to remind her of me, of her humiliation and punishment and obedience to me.
Am I out of my mind?
“Well, aren’t you just full of chatter,” she murmurs with a coy little smirk.
“Mmm,” I say, pushing her to the door with my hand on her back. “Not quite, lass.” The meeting room is vacant until my brothers arrive, but I’ll have to move quickly.
I don’t know what’s come over me. I’ve had months of celibacy, and now it’s as if someone’s unleashed latent desire I didn’t know was there. And everything I’ve held back since—hell, no, it was even before I was with Eve. Everything I’ve held back at all comes simmering to the surface with Megan.
She’s no stranger to me. I’ve watched her from afar. We’ve gotten to know each other just by virtue of the McCarthy family, me as their adopted. But now... now I’ve felt her turn on the full power of her charm, and I can no more hold myself back than I could stop a stampede of horses.
I tug her into the room and quickly lock the door. This is one of the few rooms in the entire mansion not under video surveillance. In here, we orchestrate highly confidential business, and don’t risk anything. And since it’s the only “dark” room in the house, it’s the perfect place to bring her.
I sit on a chair and draw her to sitting on my lap. She faces me, her eyes bright and curious, her beautiful, full lips slightly parted. I can’t help myself. I cup her jaw, bring her mouth to mine, and kiss those full lips until I sigh into her. She moans and sinks into me, her body soft and fragrant as she draws closer.
I cup her breast while I slide my tongue into her mouth. Her eyelids flutter closed, and her palm presses up to my chest. I drag my fingers from her jaw to her neck and flex my fingers. Her body freezes. I grasp tighter, and she trembles. Holding her neck, I flex just enough for her to feel my strength, while I touch her tongue to mine.
Her responding moan as she squirms on my lap makes me so hard, I thrust my hips, my hardened cock straining for release. I pull my mouth off hers with difficulty. I could kiss her all day long and not grow weary.
“You’re a naughty little girl in need of punishment.”
She bites her lip and casts her eyes downward. “Oh?” she asks. “I don’t know about that.”
I grasp her chin again and bring her eyes back to mine.
“What time did I tell you to be downstairs?”
She bites her lip and looks away.
“What did I tell you would happen if you disobeyed me?”
Her eyelids lower and she bites her lip. I squeeze my hand harder. “Megan.”
Footsteps sound in the hall, and for a moment we both freeze. Then they retreat.
“Yes, sir?”
“What did I say would happen?” I repeat in a low whisper.
“That you’d punish me, sir.”
I nod, reaching for the buckle at my waist. Her eyes widen as I unfasten it.
“Someone will hear,” she hisses. “You can’t—”
But no one will hear, and even if they did, they’d never suspect the sound was me whipping her.
I snap the belt out of the loops, fold it over, and drape her over my knee.
“Dress up,” I order. She wears a little tank top thing with thick straps that gathers around her chest, cinches right below her waist, then drapes down to the tops of her toes. She obeys, and I’m pleased to see she’s left her knickers off like I asked.
“Good girl.” I know I shouldn’t do this. I know I should walk away—no, run. My conscience haunts me with memories of Eve, my vows to Keenan, my allegiance to the Clan. I’m vowed to protect the women of the Clan, not fucking seduce them.
But I can’t fucking help myself. She’s as eager for this as I am, and I can’t turn away from the power of this seduction. I’m starving for this, to control and master, and her eagerness makes it damn near impossible to resist her.
Last night, I blamed the drink. We lost all sense of propriety and sense when we gave into what we both wanted, both needed. But now, what’s my excuse? There’s no alcohol thrumming through my veins, no reason for pursuing her.
But I can’t help myself. I have to have her. The broken pieces of my past are forgotten when she’s under my control.
She flails and scissors her legs after the first slash of leather on her naked skin. My cock aches against the zipper of my pants, and I remember what it’s like to slide myself between her warm, sensual folds. I smack the belt down a second time, crisscrossing the first stripe. I relish the sounds of her moans and squeals. One hand flies back in an effort of futile self-protection. I quickly grab her wrist and pin it to her lower back, not breaking my stride.
I give her only two hard lashes of the belt. We don’t have time for a proper punishment. This is just a taste, just a reminder, and if my suspicion’s right, it’s exactly what will keep her wanting more.
I take a moment to admire my artwork, gentle bumps where the line of leather welted her perfect backside. She’s draped over my knee, panting heavily, now that I’ve stopped her spanking. I thread my belt back into the loops of my pants and quickly fasten it. She stays right where she is, even when I finger her tight, secret hole.
“I’ll put a plug right there,” I say, circling my finger. “Right there, so every time you moved, you’d remember your obedience to me.”
She gasps but doesn’t reply.
“And if I touched you right now, what would I find, love?”
I hold her in place over my knee. It feels right, having her here like this. Submitting to me and vulnerable, and I know she wants this, too.
“I’d be… oh God, you’re a kinky fucker. Ow!” She bucks when my palm slams against her sore arse.
“Answer the question and watch that smart mouth.”
She nods her head. “Aye,” she says. “What was the question again?”
I pinch her bottom, and she squeals. “If I touched you right now…” I drag a finger lazy down the swell of her arse to the crease right above her thighs. “What would I find?”
I ghost my finger between her legs. A promise and a kiss, no more.
She parts her legs and groans. “One soaking, hot, needy little pussy.”
I can’t help but grin. I haven’t fucking grinned in months, maybe even longer. Nothing, not Nolan’s antics or Boner’s wisecracks or Breena’s sweetness, strikes humor in me like this, like Megan’s unpretentious, unabashed honesty.
“Let’s test that theory,” I say to her, when we hear voices right outside the window.
Fuck. I locked the do
or but completely forgot about the windows.
She stills when I do. I gently drag her dress down and pat her arse, then raise her to her feet. Her hands come to her arse and she massages, even as her focus is totally on the voices outside.
“Who are they?” she whispers. I point to the little loveseat silently, instructing her to sit. This time, my instructions are no joke.
She quickly sits, her eyes wide and curious.
I walk quietly to the window. Standing to the side so I can avoid being seen, I peek out as discreetly as possible.
I see three of our guards pass by. “Just the guard,” I say quietly. But why aren’t they at the gate, then? I frown. “They should be at the gate.”
I take my phone out and text Keenan.
Guard just passed meeting room window. You dismiss them?
His response is immediate. Hell no. Where did you see them?
I give him an intentionally evasive answer.
First floor. Saw them outside the window.
On it.
Megan looks from me to the window. “I have to go,” she says. “Your… the men will be here soon to meet with you, and I’m not sure they’d believe I’m just in here dusting shelves or something.”
I walk her to the door. I wonder why she doesn’t meet my eyes. She’s hiding something. Is she afraid that I’m only taking advantage of her? Or is it something else?
She’s right, we can’t do this, we can’t get caught here. My brothers would never forgive me, and we don’t have privacy here. But before we leave, I need the memory of the two of us fresh in her mind.
When I reach the door, I press her up against it, lift the edge of her dress and yank it up until I bare her. She wears only a bra, the faint marks of my teeth still christening her body. I kneel, still holding her dress folded in my grasp. She’s trembling, her hands flat on the door behind her, when I drag my tongue down her belly.
“Carson,” she protests.
“Shh.”
I kiss her belly. She has contours and rounded softness everywhere she should. A man could lose himself in these curves. She pushes her hands on my shoulders as if to stop me. I pause and look up at her. Her eyes are frantic, her face contorted in distress.
