by Henry, Jane
I roll on a condom and without preamble, plunge my stiff cock between her legs and impale her in one vicious, savage thrust. She screams, then moans, as I thrust in and out. Her slick pussy hugs my cock as fuck her.
I don’t even remember what the fuck we argued about last time, but I’m sure it was something stupid. What I wouldn’t give to stop this endless on and off again cycle. This time, we’ll make it work, I think, as I slam my cock into her, relishing the sound of flesh on flesh and her pretty, helpless moans.
I thrust in and out, chasing my release, until I come so hard I throw my head back and roar through my release. She pushes against me as if she’s fueled herself by my pleasure. She grinds against me, on the edge of climaxing herself as I milk every spasm of ecstasy.
But her punishment isn’t over yet.
I pull out.
“Tully,” she whimpers, her eyes meeting mine a little surprised. She’s not yet sated, sagging in the bonds, waiting for relief. “Please—”
“I told you I’d finish your punishment.” I zip my trousers back up, and reach for my leather jacket on the chair. “And I will. You’ll wait for yours.”
“Tully!”
I slam the door behind me on my way out.
It’d be a dick move, if I didn’t know she loved exactly this, being used, dominated, hanging on a string, waiting for me. She’ll come harder when I end her punishment. She always does.
I go to the bar and order two shots. Lachlan and Tiernan are gone, but Boner and Cormac are at the bar in here. Boner’s tall and thin, covered in so much ink it’s hard to remember the true color of his skin. With a shaved head and eyes that dance, he never sits still. Cormac’s large and muscled, the biggest member of our Clan. He’s got a heavy beard reminiscent of our Viking ancestors, and a heavy brow that’s frequently furrowed in concern. He carries the weight of the world on his shoulders, and it sometimes shows.
Cormac’s Aileen’s beside him, her hand on his thigh and his arm around her neck.
“Y’alright, Tully?” Cormac asks.
I nod. “Excellent.”
“Thought you were meeting McKenna tonight?”
I nod. “I am.”
He gives me a knowing look and doesn’t ask any more questions.
“Need you back at the compound when you’re done here,” he says in a low voice. “Looks like maybe goddamn Scots causing issues at the border.”
Fuck. We haven’t had trouble with the Scots in ages.
“When?”
“Keenan says an hour.” Keenan’s Clan Chief, the eldest McCarthy brother. I look at my phone. I’ve missed two calls and three texts from him. Jesus. I hate carrying this stupid thing with me. He hates when I miss his call.
“Thanks for that,” I say, tipping one shot into my mouth. He nods.
“Any time, brother. You bringing her back with you tonight?”
His eyes twinkle, the wanker. He knows I don’t bring girls home, most especially this one.
“Fuck off, brother.”
His booming laugh makes his wife giggle as I turn my back to them and head back to the room, my mind preoccupied with all things McKenna.
Ever since I met her at St. Albert’s, the Clan finishing school, I’ve been taken with her. She’s smart as a fucking whip, witty and brilliant. Far as I can gather she’s lived a sheltered life, until her mother married one of the clan’s strike force years ago. She’s a bit tight-lipped when it comes to her past, but loves her job at St. Albert’s. McKenna’s one of the few teachers at our finishing school who’s not related by blood.
Keenan’s text catches my attention.
Tully, I need you here for a meeting and I want to talk with you when we’re done. Tonight.
I shoot him a quick text back.
Yes, sir. I’m sorry I missed your earlier texts.
Keenan: See you then.
I open the door to the room and stare for a minute before I fully realize what I’m seeing.
No McKenna. The silk ties dangle. The bed is empty. I look to where I left her clothes in a pile, only to find they’ve disappeared as well.
She’s gone.
* * *
Chapter 2
McKenna
I hope at least for a minute or two he thinks I’m kidnapped or something. Maybe that makes me bad, and I suppose I should be ashamed of myself.
I’m not.
I grin to myself. The plan was excellently executed, though he’ll be mad as hell when he’s realized what I’ve done.
A part of me considered waiting. My body thrummed with excitement, and I was dying for release. But when he left and I saw my chance, I couldn’t help myself.
The ties on my left hand dangled just so. He’s not the type to restrain cruelly, and it only took a matter of seconds for me to grab the very end of the silken tie with my teeth. As soon as one hand was free, I moved quickly. I grabbed my things, dressed, and escaped through the back door.
Every room in the Craic has an entrance and exit for safety’s sake. He’ll be back any minute, and when he realizes I’m gone, he’ll search for me.
My conscience pricks me a little. I hope he doesn’t think anything happened to me.
He’ll be angry when I go to him tonight. He might even punish me a second time.
But make-up sex is the best damn sex, and I won’t let a big, burly man like Tully have the final say with me. Not now, not ever.
My body still trembles at the memory of the proper belting he gave me, and my arse cheeks clench at the thought of round two. Will he punish me?
I hope so.
It’s hard for a girl like me to admit I like how he is, so heavy-handed and bossy and damn near domineering. Women like me shouldn’t want a man like him.
I’m Oxford-educated with a double master’s degree. A schoolteacher at St. Albert’s, in charge of educating the McCarthy Clan boys. If I don’t have my nose in a book, I’m pecking away at my laptop, writing my epically-long fantasy novel that may really never be published.
I should be with a man who wears wire-rimmed glasses and recites poetry, not a cigar-smoking man twelve years my senior with silver at his temples and the devil in his eyes, covered in ink, scars bearing testament to the hardened life he’s led.
And yet… when I met Tully…
I shake my head and quickly hail a cab to take me back to his place. He’ll make it back eventually, and when he does, he’ll find me naked in his bed. I grin to myself. I don’t know what it is about Tully, but he brings out the most outrageous sides of me I never knew existed.
The taxi swings round to the front, and just before I duck inside, I hear my name.
“McKenna?”
Jesus, no.
I look up to see Cormac’s Aileen staring at me. She’s holding the door handle of a sleek black car, one of the fleet the McCarthys use.
“Where are you going?” she asks, tipping her head to the side. A pretty blonde, she’s married to Cormac McCarthy, the co-leader of the McCarthy Clan. As wife to Cormac, she’s nearly royalty herself.
I hold my finger to my lips. “Shhh,” I say. “I’ve got a bit of a surprise for Tully.”
She looks at me, abashed. “You can’t do that,” she whispers. “He thinks something’s happened, lass. He’s alerted nearly the whole damn clan. They’re looking for you now.”
Oh, God. I didn’t mean to take it that far. I wince.
“Oh no. I’m terribly sorry about that,” I say. “It was only part of the game, you see—he’ll understand.”
She shakes her head. “You can’t play games like that, McKenna. The men of the Clan…” Her voice trails off and she repeats herself. “You can’t.”
The quickest way to get me to dig my heels in is to tell me I can’t do something.
My temper rises.
“Can’t I? And I’m not sure it’s any of your business.”
I like her, but she’s butting in where her arse doesn’t belong. But Aileen’s no pushover.
&nbs
p; “Aye,” she says, her own temper flashing. “You don’t play with the men of the Clan, McKenna, or you’ll get burnt. They won’t tolerate it.”
“I’m well aware of what the McCarthy men will and will not tolerate,” I say, glaring right back at her.
“Are you, now?”
“Aileen?”
Jesus, it’s Cormac behind her. I make up my mind. I heave myself into the taxi and slam the door. Thankfully, this is a taxi meant for transportation, large and roomy inside for one to put luggage or the shopping. There’s a privacy screen between the driver and me, so I lean in and give him Tully’s address. Tully’s never brought me to his place, but it was easy enough to find his address at school.
“Right-o,” he says, pulling into the main section. I lean back against the seat and breathe out.
Will Tully be angry at me? I tell myself he likes playing these games with me.
Doesn’t he?
He loves when I disobey him and give him reason to exert his authority and strength over me, to dominate me.
To be honest, I can’t even remember why we fought last time, there’s the interesting part of it all. You’d think it’d be something big, but unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how you look at the situation, with the two of us it’s rarely anything of importance. A little misunderstanding. A hasty word. Two stubborn souls too proud to admit wrong.
I sigh, and shake my head.
Tully lives up by the McCarthy family mansion on the craggy cliffs of Ballyhock, overlooking the Irish Sea. Those related to the Clan by blood often live at the mansion itself, but the other members live nearby in houses built for this purpose.
The McCarthys believe that nearness and the strength of family solidify them, and they’re not wrong. All are within a few minutes’ walk to the main house.
A little part of me wishes my mum had married better, that we’d been proper members of the Clan. Her man, my stepfather, was a recluse, though. We lived apart from the others, and he kept his job hidden from me. It wasn’t until I was a teen I understood what he did, and he promised me a job when I graduated.
It was the one thing he ever gave me, before he died in a clan-related accident.
It’s then that I realize we’re nowhere near Tully’s flat.
I clear my throat, trying not to panic. “Excuse me? Um. Excuse me, sir?”
He doesn’t respond, but drives even quicker than before.
“This isn’t the right way,” I tell him. Now I’m definitely panicking. “Hey. You need to let me out!”
I reach for the door handle and realize it’s locked. Panic sweeps through me. Who is this man? Where is he taking me?
What will he do to me when we’re alone?
“Let me out of here!” I scream. “I’ll call the cops.”
He chuckles, and it’s vaguely familiar. “Nah, you won’t.”
Do I recognize that voice?
I peer through the screen but can’t see anything beyond the cap he wears. Why is he so certain I won’t call the cops? I reach for my bag and grab my mobile. My fingers shake on the keys as I get ready to dial when the cabbie pulls down a long, winding road that takes us to Ballyhock centre.
We can get to the McCarthy mansion this way, too… I think?
He pulls down another dark road, not a light in sight. I can’t see anything. My heart is pounding, my palms sweaty, when the cab comes to a halt.
“Put your mobile down.”
The screen goes down between the two of us. My eyes go wide. I recognize those dark brown eyes, that thick beard, the salt and pepper scattered throughout his hair.
“Tully!”
My relief is only brief. I escaped a potential threat, only to leap right into another.
He looks so angry, my heart races.
I am in so much trouble.
I wanted this. Didn’t I?
“Care to explain yourself?” he asks.
I make myself as small as I can in the seat, my eyes focused on him. “Well, I… I didn’t like being left high and dry like that,” I begin.
“Oh? Didn’t you know I’d be back for you?”
“I did,” I say, a note of petulance in my voice I can’t hide. “But I… well, I didn’t want to let you get the final say.”
He shakes his head. “You clearly haven’t learned your lesson.”
I swallow hard. “Oh?”
His brows shoot up. “Oh.”
He turns back to the wheel, pulls back onto the main road, then drives down the road that takes us back to Ballyhock.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“Tully—”
“Be quiet.” All playfulness is gone, and I’m reminded I’m with one of Ireland’s most wanted. A criminal to the core, Tully thinks nothing of making his victims pay for the crimes they’ve committed.
Am I one of his victims?
What am I doing? How’d he even get this car?
Excitement and nerves build up inside me, my heart accelerating so rapidly I’m panting. I grip the door handles of the car, my belly flipping when we suddenly descend down a steep incline.
“Where are we going?”
“What’d I say?”
The hardness in his voice makes my nipples pebble. I’m hardwired for this, dammit. I close my mouth, and my mind goes blank as we descend into darkness.
The car comes to a stop. My heart beats so fast and loud I wonder if he can hear it. What’s he going to do with me? My body tingles with anticipation, and a part of me wonders if I really can trust him.
Have I crossed a line?
I hear the jingling of something, the car door opening and shutting. A second later, the door beside me opens, and his rough, strong hands grab me. I let him take me. I want to see where we are, see where we’re going next. I’m not fighting him now. My curiosity’s gotten the better of me.
He swings me up into his arms, and it almost feels gentle, if it weren’t for the tightness of his body and rigidity of his limbs. Anger emanates from him like burning embers in a fire, and I know he’s deadly serious right now.
It’s cool and dark here, like we’ve entered a tunnel or a cave. I don’t speak, determined to observe and not stir things right now.
He fumbles with something that jangles. Keys? We’re definitely not at the mansion, and we’re definitely not at his flat. Where are we?
The door swings open, and I find we’re in a holding cell of sorts… or something. It’s a room with a bed, a small table with flowers, a dorm-sized refrigerator and a bathroom. It’s clean and tidy, but disturbingly barren, like trees stripped of their leaves.
He walks me to the bed and places me down, reaches and captures my chin in his strong, rough hand. His eyes glint like fragments of obsidian.
“I’m not going to restrain you this time. You’ll stay there if you know what’s good for you.”
I feel the threat in his tone and find myself nodding. I swallow hard. “Yes, sir.”
Something inside me rails at calling him sir, while my insides melt to jelly. I’m a paradox, it seems. Or he is. Maybe both of us.
He locks the door behind him, shrugs out of his jacket, tosses his keys with his jacket onto a nearby chair. His jaw set, he sits on the edge of the chair and removes his boots and socks until he’s barefoot, sitting before me in well-worn trousers and a faded black tee stretched tight across his arms and chest. Strong, powerful arms marked with ink. Strong, powerful arms that could hold me.
He lifts the edge of his t-shirt and peels it off, his muscles rippling in the dim light. He’s got a smattering of black hair with a touch of silver across his chest, and new ink I haven’t seen before. Intricate black details, Gaelic I can’t read from here. I swallow hard as he stalks over to me with his t-shirt fisted in one hand.
“Where are we?” I ask, risking a question.
“Clan bunker,” he says, surprising me by actually answering.
“Bunker. A hidden room, then? No one k
nows where it is. It’s where you go when you need to be safe?”
He works his jaw. I’m not supposed to be here, I’m guessing. “Aye.”
My heart thuds. “Do we need to be safe right now?”
A corner of his lips twitches, and his eyes glitter at me. “You’re not safe, baby.”
Don’t I know it. But he wouldn’t be amused if we were hiding from… bad guys or something.
I don’t really know what the men of the Clan do. I have no clue. I probably should, being the stepdaughter of one of their men, and a teacher at the school. I know they have something to do with illegal arms trade, and I know that people in Ballyhock fear them.
I’d guess there are reasons for that.
I like them, though, I really do, so maybe I’ve been willfully ignorant of who they really are.
Will I regret this?
He tips a finger under my chin, and makes me hold his gaze.
“I went into that room to find you. I was going to end your punishment. I was going to make you come, McKenna.” He breathes into my ear, his breath warm. “Harder than you ever have before.”
I shiver.
“And when I didn’t see you…” His voice trails off, as he rubs his fingers along the back of my neck. “I feared someone took you.”
My heart thumps. Did he really? I didn’t want to take it that far…
“I guessed you were heading for the cabbie. I paid off the cabbie.” His grip tightens. “And now you’re mine.”
He stands, and I let my eyes rove over the strength in his tanned arms, the hardness of his muscles, the stark contrast of his tats. He twists his t-shirt into a rope and ties it around my eyes. I’m plunged into darkness, the masculine scent from his t-shirt invigorating my senses.
He quickly strips me.
I yelp when he grabs my hair and forces me to my knees. Rough carpet grazes my knees.
“Put your hands behind your back.” I jump at the sound of his harsh voice, and quickly do what he tells me. My pulse races when I hear the sound of him unzipping his trousers.
“You fucked up, babe.”
