Carson: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)

by Jane Henry

Megan grins. “I think you’re losing your touch, sir,” she says with a teasing smile. “How can I take you seriously when you’re playing with dollies?”

  I lean my mouth to her ear and whisper, “Oh, I think we can remedy you taking me seriously later, love.” I watch the way her cheeks flush and her breaths come in shorter gasps. Breena’s back is to me, as she’s intent with her dolls, so I take a discreet moment to weave my fingers through Megan’s wild mass of waves and give her a firm tug. She gasps. “Won’t we?”

  Her response is somewhere between a squeak and a moan.

  We get Breena ready for bed and dress her in her jammies. She snuggles between us on the couch. She’s dragged a fistful of picture books with her, and holds them up, her eyes wide with expectation.

  “Story?” she asks.

  “Oh, aye, I love this,” Megan says, holding up Wee Gaelic Fairy Tales for Wee Folk. She flips through and laughs out loud. “Fancy that? Children’s version of Conall Yellowclaw and The Story of Deirdre.”

  I smile to myself. “Fancy that.”

  I take the book, open it up, and begin to read. Breena laughs and giggles, snuggling closer into me and Megan as I read. My heart is full, as the two of them hang on my every word. We read one story, then the next, and I’m finding myself easing into the simplicity of this moment, this time together, unencumbered with the expectations of the Clan or of doing a relationship right. This, right here, while the moon rises over the harbor and the dishwasher hums pleasantly in the background, is the stuff of dreams. I don’t have high aspirations of grandeur or wealth. As a member of the Clan, I’m secured for life. But this right here is what I’ll fight for.

  I place the book down and look over at the girls. Breena’s head’s on Megan’s chest, and Megan’s hand rests on Breena’s shoulder, holding her. My heart squeezes, and a lump rises in my throat at the very sight. They’re both fast asleep, the cares of the world erased from Megan’s lovely features, Breena at total peace in slumber.

  I bend and take Breena out of Megan’s arms. Megan doesn’t wake. I hold Breena to me. Her head rests on my shoulder, but she’s deadweight in my arms. Completely exhausted. Quietly, I tiptoe to her bedroom where I situate her in bed and pull the blankets up over her. I shut the door behind me.

  When I return to Megan, I grin. She slumped straight over onto the couch, sprawled out in exhaustion, the sofa cushions pressed up to her cheek. I kneel beside her and kiss her shoulder. She doesn’t move. Next, I kiss down the length of her arm to her fingers. I lift her fingers to my mouth and gently suck, but she doesn’t even stir.

  I kiss her belly and lower still, to the very top of her thighs. Still, she doesn’t budge. I tug down her pajama bottoms and glide them down her hips. She squirms a little, but her eyes are shut tight. Watching her, I kiss the very top of her sex. Her breathing shifts. I grin against her naked skin. I doubt she’s asleep now.

  My eyes on hers, I gently drag my tongue along her seam, and she lets out a moan. I position myself better, tug her pajama bottoms totally down, then return to her soft, sweet pussy eagerly. She barely moves as I lick and suckle, but I can feel her body changing. She’s gone from being at rest to being excited, as her body vibrates with need. Still, she keeps her eyes closed and doesn’t say a word.

  “Good girl,” I say against her thigh, kissing a little freckled spot just there. “Open your legs wider, love.”

  She obeys. I cup her arse in my hands, raising her pussy to my mouth, then gently glide my thumb along her arsehole. Her breath hitches as I tease her clit with the top of my tongue, pushing her limits just before I slide my fingers into her hot, tight channel. She whimpers and spreads her leg wider. I pump my fingers as I lick and suckle, until her back arches and she gasps for breath.

  “Come, love,” I whisper to her. “Take it. Chase it.”

  I return to her pussy and continue until she’s spasming with pleasure and moaning, and Jesus if it isn’t the hottest thing I’ve ever seen, gliding my fingers in and out as I work her through her climax. Her hands are in my hair, her knees pressed up to my face, owning this. I ease her through her pleasure, then bring her back down again, giving one final, lazy swipe of my tongue through her folds. She shivers and opens one eye.

  “What the bloody hell was that?” she whispers. “My God, you’re good at that.”

  I smile at her. “Fucking rewarding, you coming on my tongue like that. You’re so alive with eagerness, I could do that every fucking day.”

  She grins. “I’d agree to that.”

  I give her a teasing swat. “Would you, now?” I ask. “And how would you earn it?”

  “Any way you wish, sir.”

  I sit on the couch beside her and draw her onto my lap. “You’re exhausted. You sure you’re up for more?”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll sleep for fucking days after this.”

  I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom, my mind occupied with every damn thing I could do to her. She’s awake now, though she’s walking on trembling legs.

  “On the bed,” I tell her, giving her arse a good, hard slap. My mouth is dry with the thought of what I want to do to her, how I want to use her, and how she’s eager for just this. “And strip.”

  “Carson,” she begins. “I’m still not comfortable… not with the lights on… I don’t want you to see me. Oh God, I’m all curves and dimples and fat.”

  Oh hell no.

  I shake my head and reach for my belt. Tonight, I’ll let the slap of the belt do the talking for me. She won’t be allowed to cower in the darkness with me, to push me away, or refuse to become vulnerable and honest. I won’t let her. I won’t allow it.

  Her eyes widen when I draw my leather belt through the loops. I easily arrange her limbs. Feet on the floor, her belly pressed up against the edge of the bed. A tempting sight for sure.

  “Carson,” she whispers in a panic, her wide eyes giving her away. “What are you… why are you…”

  I tug down the little pajama bottoms and bare her full, heart-shaped ass.

  “What did I tell you?” I ask, my voice harsh and demanding. She may be turned on after this whipping. Hlell, I hope she is, but I’m not playing.

  I press my palm to her lower back, holding her in place, then swing the folded leather through the air. It whistles and lands with a satisfying whomp on her bare skin. She yelps and grips the duvet. I give her a second hard lash of the belt, then a third, crisscrossing the leather on her naked skin. Small, bright pink welts rise, making my dick even harder.

  “I know, I know,” she moans, wriggling beneath the onslaught of hard, punishing smacks. “Don’t say anything about my body, nothing self-deprecating, but honest to God—”

  Another hard lash lands.

  “Honest to God what?” I ask, poised, ready to spank her again.

  “You make it sound like can I just push an off button and make my insecurities go away.”

  “Nope.” Another hard crack of the belt. “But you will obey me, Megan.”

  She moans and presses her cheek to the duvet when I spank her again.

  “Touch yourself. Glide your fingers to your clit and touch yourself.”

  “Oh, God, I’m so sensitive,” she says. “You just made me come, you know.”

  That was only round one.

  I squeeze her arse cheek. “Do it.”

  She lifts her hips and slides her fingers to the apex of her thighs. She moans when she finds her sweet spot. I glide the folded leather over her thighs, over her arse, to her lower back, then back down lower still.

  “You’re beautiful,” I tell her, dropping the belt and bending to place kisses along her heated skin. “So fucking gorgeous. And I want you to know that. I want you to feel that. I want you to believe it.”

  She whimpers, her hand moving faster between her legs. My cock aches for release.

  “If I hear you say things like that again, you’ll earn my strap. And if I don’t see a change, you’ll earn my cane. The cane is far harsher
than even my belt. It’ll be nothing like the little spanks I gave your pussy. Do you understand me?”

  She nods. “Yes,” she breathes. “Yes, sir.”

  I unfasten my trousers and glide my thick, swollen cock out. I thrust up against her, relishing the way her flaming skin feels against my hardened length. I slide a condom on.

  “I want to take you,” I say, pressing my tip to her opening. “Right here, love. Right now.” I want to fuck her tight, gorgeous arse, but we’ll work up to that.

  She shivers and nods. “Yes, sir.”

  I close my eyes in bliss when I glide my cock into her tight, hot cunt.

  “Mother of God,” I groan. “Jesus, woman, you feel fucking amazing.”

  She moans, her fingers tightening on the duvet. “You feel,” she pants. “You feel pretty damn good yourself, you know.”

  I build a rhythm, rocking my hips, my cock sliding fully in then nearly all the way out again. Every time I take myself out, she holds her breath, then every time I ease back in she moans in pleasure.

  Grá mo Chroí.

  Love of my heart.

  I love you.

  I can’t possibly say those words out loud, and I wonder even where they came from. Am I that entranced in the heat of the moment? That needy for her hot, tight pussy milking my cock?

  Or is it something more? Something deeper?

  My need builds as I thrust in and out, my hands gripping her hips so hard, my fingers leave marks. “I love the way you feel,” I whisper, lowering my body to hers, my mouth at her ear, while we move together as one. “I love the way you respond.”

  It’s a copout, telling her all the ways I love her without saying the actual words.

  “I love your body, every fucking dimple and curve and slope and valley.” I thrust again, this time harder, so she whimpers and squirms in excitement. “I love who you are and who you’re becoming.” Jesus, God, I love everything about her. Heat rises in my chest, and her breathing hitches.

  “Sir,” she moans. “Carson... I’m going to—”

  “Come,” I tell her. “Come.”

  Bent over the bed beneath me, I feel the walls of her pussy clench as her second climax overtakes her, spurring me on until my own body quakes with climax. Christ, it’s powerful as I thrust in and out, our moans intermingling in the quiet of the room.

  I pant, my cheek pressed to her damp skin. “Bloody gorgeous,” I whisper in her ear. I brush hair off her neck and kiss the sweet, private spot. “Bloody mine.”

  She grins and nods. “Yes, sir. My God, this ‘more than one climax in a night’ thing’s bloody genius. No one’s ever done that for me before you.”

  What the bloody hell has she been doing?

  “Fucking shame,” I say, drawing out. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

  I clean her up and get ready for bed, then draw her to my chest and glide my fingers to her pussy. I whisper filthy things in her ear, tell her all the ways I’ll use her, how I’ll spank her to tears then make it better, until she’s spasming and climaxing against my fingers again.

  She was right. We’re both sated after another climax, but in the wee hours of the morning, she rolls over, and before I know what’s happening, we’re making love again. It feels right, though. So fucking right, to chase our pleasure together and fall asleep with her tucked in my arms. The warmth of her back to my chest soothes me like nothing else.

  I fall into a dreamless sleep holding her.

  We wake the next morning after the sun has risen, bright light filtering in the room from beneath the edge of the shade.

  “Daddyyyy.” I hear Breena’s little voice from the other room. “Up, daddy?”

  I look over at Megan, who’s just waking up herself. “Cuter than an alarm,” she says. “But it’s a shame we can’t have a morning quickie.”

  “Is that right?” I ask her. “Maybe a sleepover at the mansion’s in order.”

  She grins. We get out of bed, and when she catches sight of herself in the bathroom mirror, she yelps.

  “Jesus God, my hair’s a rat’s nest,” she says. “I’m not used to this ‘waking up next to my partner’ thing. Good Lord, I need some time to look human again.”

  I come up behind her and stare at our reflection in the mirror. She fits perfectly in my arms, just like this, her head against the hollow in my neck, my arms around her, my chin resting on top of her head.

  “You look bloody perfect,” I tell her. And she does. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her vibrant green eyes bright, and I love the disheveled look of her chestnut hair. “You look gorgeous with or without makeup, with or without your hair all done.” I pause, my voice dropping to a lower pitch. “With or without clothes.”

  “Mmmm,” she moans. My dick twitches in my boxers, and I press myself to the swell of her arse. “I love it when you talk dirty to me. Can’t believe you—” But she pauses and doesn’t complete her thought. Perhaps she’s remembering the proper belting she got for putting herself down the night before. And even though being spanked turns her on, it also bloody hurts.

  She smiles at me. “Yes, sir. Thank you.”

  My heart swells in my chest. I want to savor this. Hold her. Capture this moment in a bottle and cap it so it never goes away. Wrap her up and tuck her away so I never lose her.

  Chapter 12

  Megan

  I could get used to this, and not just the fucking awesome sex, the unbridled passion, the way he orchestrates my body to ecstasy expertly. It isn’t even just the attention he pays me, the brilliant conversations, or the way he melts my heart into a puddle with his daughter. It’s so much more.

  Breena’s sweet voice chattering on about her dolls and stuffed animals. The way he grins at the plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast I give him.

  “Brilliant,” he says.

  “Just simple food,” I tell him. It’s nothing fancy, certainly nothing like he can get up at the mansion where there’s a staff that cooks breakfast daily.

  “I like simple,” he says with a hint of a smile. And it’s then that it hits me. I do, too. It’s all of this. The simple smell of fried bacon and hot tea. The way he takes Breena’s hand and she wraps her little dimpled fingers around his. The way he tussles her hair and lifts her to her highchair. And when she’s intent on her breakfast, the way he comes up behind me, slides my hair off my neck, and kisses me just so, just there, so I shiver with pleasure.

  We eat our breakfast and chat with Breena, whose little toddler voice makes me melt.

  “What are your plans today?” he asks.

  “No work. I was going to get some errands done in town, maybe get some shopping in.” He grimaces, and I laugh. “None of you like shopping, do you?”

  He shakes his head. “Ah, no,” he says. “Though I could be persuaded if there was a promise of lunch at D’Agostino’s. I’ve got nanny interviews today, but they’ll be finished up in the morning.”

  “That’s perfect,” I tell him. “So I’ll watch wee Breena while you interview, and then we can get lunch in town.”

  “Good plan.”

  Breena claps her hands. “Megan!”

  Oh, I love her. I reach over and tug a little lock of her hair. “Let’s plait that pretty head of hair before we go out, hmm?”

  He cleans up the dishes while I get Breena ready, and it’s seamless teamwork. People talk about the passion in new love, the sex, the excitement, the newness of it all. And that right there is amazing. But this right here is where my heart longs to rest, in the perfect balance of simple pleasures. Companionship.

  We get ready for the day and I put my bag away in his closet. I know before we’ve even discussed it that tonight, I’ll be coming back here. I feel something hard press up against my hand, and it isn’t until then that I remember the diary.

  My stomach clenches. I hear Carson in the kitchen with Breena. She’s asking for a cup of juice, and he’s opening the fridge. It feels as if… the longer I let this go, the harder it will be to b
ring up. How do I explain to him that I found Eve’s diary? How do I explain that I read it without telling him, then let it get ruined before he could even take a look? It feels like betrayal, and the stern men of the Clan would likely not think any differently.

  I put the bag in the closet and tell myself, tonight, tonight I will tell him. Just get it over with. I mean, it’s Carson, right? What could possibly go wrong? He’s got a heart the size of a mountain. Surely he’ll understand.

  And then I remember being pushed over the bed and strapped last night. A part of me’s turned on by being dominated, aye, there’s not a doubt about it. But at the same time… I have to wonder. I’ve seen how stern he can go, how hardened. And I can’t forget the look on his face when he mercilessly took the life of my assailant in Stone City. I can’t let myself forget that Carson Flynn can be as vicious as the rest of them.

  I love those men as if they were my brothers, and they’re my very flesh and blood, but I know who they are. I know their unwavering dedication to Clan code, their inflexible loyalty. And certainly, Carson’s loyal to the memory of his beloved. I couldn’t love him as I do if he wasn’t.

  But it doesn’t matter how ruthless he can be or what the outcome of my telling him about the diary may be. None of that matters, because I have to tell him the truth. The longer it goes on without me telling him, the worse this is.

  “Fancy a walk?” he asks. “Need to meet my brothers up at the mansion, but they won’t eat for another hour.”

  I look at the time. “Bloody hell,” I mutter. “Didn’t even know it was this early. You two are early birds, aren’t you?”

  “Aye,” he says with a grin.

  “A walk sounds lovely.”

  I don’t have a jumper with me, so he lends me one of his, for it’s chilly by the shore in the morning. Breena toddles along the shore, picking up bits of shells and pointing with glee at the gulls that soar overhead. The salty air tingles my senses, his hand is warm in mine, and I love the feel of his much larger sweatshirt on me. It smells faintly of him, his masculine scent lingering.

  Ten minutes into our walk, he freezes, and I watch as his body goes rigid. His eyes are trained on the ocean. I follow his gaze and see a fleet of ships heading our way.