Tully: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance: Dangerous Doms

by Henry, Jane

“Got a new development, Tully.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye. Need to have a meeting with the inner circle this evening.” I can see him stifle a yawn, but he only nods.

  “Yes, of course. And I’ll tell you about what happened at the school today as well.”

  Keenan nods. “See you in half an hour in the meeting room?”

  “Aye.”

  Tully gives me a wink. “Just enough time to get us situated after a long day.”

  When Keenan leaves, I roll my eyes. “We don’t have time for that.”

  He gives me a look of mock affront. “Not sure what you have going on in that dirty little mind of yours,” he mutters, “but I’m only looking for a kiss.”

  “As if.”

  He chuckles, the sound sending my heart to thumping as we go up the large flight of stairs to the room.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.”

  “Tully, you’re laughing at me!”

  Is he? I hated being poked fun of as a child. I was the nerdy girl with glasses who sat alone. I wonder sometimes if it’s partly why I like being the teacher now, as if it brings a sort of healing from my childhood.

  “I’m not,” he says, but his shoulders are shaking.

  I sigh dramatically as we make it to the landing.

  “It’s just that sometimes you’ve got the vocabulary of a college professor, with your five syllable words and -ologies and -isms. And then sometimes you sound like a thirteen year old.”

  I giggle to myself. “I suppose it depends on the mood.”

  His lips twitch. “I suppose.”

  He opens the door and brings in my bag. I squeal when the warm, soft bodies of my kitties wrap around my legs.

  “Oh, Mummy missed you!” I say in a baby voice, which earns me a groan from Tully.

  “As if they understand a word you’re saying.”

  “Now, don’t you listen to that big, bad man,” I continue in the singsong voice. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

  “Is that a fact?” he asks in a rumble. My heart thumps a little faster. I’m kneeling on the floor with Cookie tucked up to my chest, in the perfect position to observe the heavy black tip of his heavy black boot.

  “Fact!” I tell the boot.

  I look up to see his hands planted on his hips.

  “Have to go meet Keenan in a few minutes,” he says. “But that’s plenty of time to school a naughty little mouth.”

  I rise with Cookie as my talisman, cradling her up to my chest as I defend myself.

  “Now, Tully, I was only teasing you…”

  “Quite disrespectfully,” he says with a shake of his head, as if he’s terribly sorry to disappoint me. “Ah, well. I’m afraid you’ll have to be punished when I get back, then.”

  Thump.

  I get a little zing from that.

  “What do you mean?”

  He does that thing with his lips, all scowly and stern, those dark eyes glittering like fragments of obsidian.

  “You know exactly what I mean.” He reaches and takes Cookie from my arms. She snuggles right up against that massive wall of chest of his and purrs, the traitor.

  “Head to the tub,” Tully says, jerking his head in the direction of the loo. “Strip.”

  “Now? We just got home!”

  “Now.”

  I give him a pout as I kick off my shoes, but I’m not really bothered at all. I like this dance of cat and mouse we play. My shoes hit the wall and he doesn’t flinch, just keeps his gaze on me as I walk through the living room toward the bedroom.

  “Draw a bath,” he says, his deep voices reverberating in the room. “Then strip.”

  He’s punishing me by making me take a bath? How odd.

  I walk to the large, circular tub. It’s scrubbed crystal clean, as housekeeping comes in twice a day and does the tidying up.

  It’s absolutely gorgeous in here. The tub is nestled into the corner of the room, a window above it high enough so no one can look in, but wide enough for us to see beyond, to the depths of the Irish Sea. The tiles at the bottom of the tub are a pale, sea-foam green, accented in dark greens along the edge. Fluffy, cream-colored towels are piled high in a basket beside the tub, and bottles of lotions and soaps are nestled in a little basket on the edge of the tub.

  “It’s like a spa in here.”

  “Oh, aye. They’ve done it up nicely.”

  He stands in the doorway, his hands on his hips. “But what did I tell you?”

  “Working on it,” I say, quickly moving to obey. I strip out of my clothes and toss them into a nearby hamper, as hot, steaming jets of water fill the tub. He takes a little bottle from the basket, squirts some soap into the tub, and instantly fragrant bubbles billow up.

  He reaches over, tests the temperature of the water, and frowns.

  “Bit hot,” he says, adjusting the knobs. For some reason, my heart does a little thump at that. I love when my big, strong man gets all concerned and gentle.

  A moment later, he’s at my side, and he’s helping me yank the rest of my clothes off.

  “Not moving fast enough for you?” I ask, which earns me a good crack to the backside. Heat rocks through me.

  “Nope.”

  Seconds later, all my clothes lay in a heap in the laundry basket.

  “Bend over the side of the tub.”

  I blink. “What?”

  He places one hand on a hip, while he does a little twirly motion with his right hand. “Turn around,” he says slowly. “And bend yourself over the side of the tub.”

  There’s a lump of nerves in my throat and my heart’s beating desperately. I don’t know what he’s planning.

  “I have exactly five more minutes before I need to be downstairs,” he says. And without warning, there’s a clink of metal, a swish, then the slap of something unyielding across my arse. I gasp.

  “Tully!”

  Thwap.

  I gasp at the fiery feel of leather on my naked skin. I crane my neck over my shoulder, not at all surprised to find he’s removed his belt, and folded it in his hand.

  “Back around,” he snaps.

  I scramble back in position, just in time for two more sharp lashes of the belt.

  My mind goes blank, as I grip the tub, heat coursing through my body. He loves to punish me, to remind me he’s the one in charge, and as much as I fight it, I love when he does.

  “Now, then,” he says sternly, lacing his belt back through the loops of his trousers, while my heart thumps madly in my chest, and heat rises in my core. He’s left me all hot and bothered.

  His large, rough hands, go around my hips.

  “You’ll wait for me to come back. And while you do, you can relax a bit in the tub.”

  I nod wildly, as my body heats even more, and my heart skips in my chest. One of his hands rests on my lower back, while his other hand spreads my legs further apart.

  “I told you I’d have my way with you, McKenna. Didn’t I?”

  I nod mutely.

  “So you’ll wait for me, lass.”

  I freeze when something cold slides along my inner thigh.

  His command is sharp. “Spread your legs.”

  I obey, trembling. Whatever he’s got in his hands pulses as he slides it into me. And just that quickly, my nerves ignite.

  I grip the edge of the tub, as vibrations ricochet through me.

  “In the tub,” he says. His palm cracks across my arse to get me moving. “Here are the rules.”

  Of course he’d have rules. I climb up the steps, then begin the slow descent into the steaming, bubble-filled bath. I sigh in contentment as the warm water laps at my naked skin. I sit comfortably, leaning back against the tub, when the little dildo he placed in me begins a harder, faster vibration.

  “Oh God,” I mutter, squirming. “Are you going to torture me the entire time you’re gone?”

  He shakes his head. “Not at all. It’s time for you to relax a little.”

  He sits
on the edge of the tub and reaches for a strand of my wet hair. He tucks it back, a wicked smile playing at his lips.

  “You can let yourself go. Let that tool do its job while I’m gone.” He leans in, a predatory look in his eyes, the smile fading. “I want you ready for me when I come back. The only rule? You’re not allowed to take it out.”

  Easy. It’s buzzing in me and making me throb, so the thought of taking it out seems preposterous. He reaches down into the water and reaches for my nipples, his rough fingers raking over the hardened peaks. My hips jerk and I moan.

  “Good girl,” he says approvingly, his voice husky with arousal. “That’s such a good girl.” He bends and kisses the top of my head. “Behave while I’m gone.”

  My eyes are already closed, my head nestled back against the tub, when the door to the bathroom clicks shut.

  My bottom still stings from the spanking he gave me, and for some reason it seems to magnify the effect of the little dildo. I reach to touch it, my mind wandering, as wave after wave of pleasure courses through me.

  The sound of my own moans and sighs echo in the tiled room, and I reach to touch myself. The dildo does its magic, and my fingers do theirs.

  No, I’ll wait for him. I have to.

  I groan, as my need to climax reaches higher and higher.

  I need to.

  He said I could. The only rule is I’m not allowed to take it out.

  My mind wanders to school, the scare we had, but as soon as I bring the memory to surface, it floats away like white-capped waves.

  The jets hum, and my eyes go hazy as I stare out the window at the Irish Sea. I’m swimming in the sea, swimming in my own private little paradise.

  I float along the surface of the water, swim to the other side, and I can’t hold back anymore. My pussy throbs with need as I get closer and closer to coming.

  I find a spot on the other side of the tub and lean back.

  I think of today, but again, the second my mind goes to the memory of this afternoon, I’m drowning in pleasure and sensation. I can’t think anymore. My mind’s nearly numb, my body a slave to the vibrations and demands of pleasure.

  My mind goes to me, bent over the tub, his belt in his hand. Those rough hands of his on my hips, my back, my legs. With a sigh, I stroke myself and fondle my nipples until finally, pleasure knifes through me so hard, I give a strangled scream.

  I work myself to perfect pleasure right there in the tub, fully immersed in the hot bubblers and relaxing water, until I come down from my release.

  “Oh, God,” I whisper to myself, my eyes closing of their own accord. “I needed that.”

  I feel so warm and cozy and at peace, all comfortable and floaty, like I’m on a cloud. I could take a nap, I’m so comfortable, but that damn dildo hasn’t stopped, not once.

  My body rises again, pleasure building upon pleasure.

  “Again?” I whisper. This time, it takes longer, and the orgasm’s more intense, even sweeter this time. I come so hard I have to grip the edges of the tub for support.

  I’m on my fourth orgasm when he finally comes to me. I’m delirious with pleasure, unable to speak, a limp noodle. I watch in a daze as he strips his clothes off to join me, all rippling muscles and tats.

  “You look like a fucking god,” I mutter. “A god, I tell you.”

  He grins at me. “How many?”

  “Four,” I breathe.

  He wastes no time, but drags me over to him and spreads my legs apart. He takes the dildo out and situates it on a washcloth on the side of the tub, then he fingers my pussy.

  “So fucking swollen,” he says. “Someone’s been a very naughty girl.”

  “Mmm,” I mutter, sex-crazed and desperate. “So naughty. Maybe I ought to be punished.”

  “Ah. No cock for you, then?”

  I moan. Even though he’s made me come, I want to feel him. I want to be filled with him again. “That would be cruel and unusual punishment.”

  He reaches for me and yanks me over to him in the water, warm little bubbly waves lapping at the edge of the tub.

  “Good girl,” he says. “Ride me.”

  I straddle him, his thick, hard cock gliding right up against my thigh. I spread my legs and guide him to my center, so eager to feel him.

  “That’s a girl,” he says. “Just like that.”

  He cups my breasts in the water, the sensation quite unlike anything I’ve really felt before. It’s easy to ride him like this, the water making me buoyant, the four orgasms I just had making me boneless and pliable.

  “Just like that,” he groans. I can see it in his face, in the lines between his brows and concern etched into his features, that he’s worried about something. Whatever it was that Keenan told him, I suppose. But as we make love, with every stroke inside me, every little moan I make or groan he makes, I can see some of that tension begin to evaporate a little more.

  “Christ, you make me crazy,” he growls, lifting my hips as he strokes in and out of me, and it feels so damn good. Everything from today’s a distant memory as he holds me, as waves lap at our skin and I ride him, until his head falls back and he groans his release.

  “Fuck yes,” he says in a choked whisper. “That’s it, baby.”

  My own orgasm, sweeter than the ones before, finally hits with the power of a thunderstorm.

  Crash!

  “Oh, God. Tully…”

  My head drops to his shoulder. He runs his hand down the back of my head to my back. I don’t finish my thought, and he doesn’t ask me to. I’m glad. I was about to say, I love you.

  * * *

  Chapter 11

  Tully

  I’m not a romantic kinda guy. I’m pragmatic and grounded, and it’s how I’ve always been. I don’t believe in things like “soulmates” or “destiny.” I live my life to the fullest in the here and now, the present. But Jesus, if the past few days with McKenna haven’t felt bloody magical.

  I wake with the most gorgeous woman by my side. She looks younger when she’s sleeping, more innocent, probably because she takes her glasses off. We replaced her glasses, and I think they’re the cutest fucking things I’ve ever seen. I make her fuck me at least once a day wearing nothing but the glasses, and when she does this thing, lowering her glasses and looking over the lenses at me, I get fucking hard on demand. And she knows it.

  One of her favorite things to do is to give me that look when we’re in a room crowded full of people. One of my favorite things to do is prowl up to her, take her by the elbow, and march her to the nearest place of privacy we can find and fuck her senseless. We’ve christened the greenhouse, the library, the interrogation room and meeting room, and every fucking closet in the mansion.

  No regrets.

  About a week after she’s arrived, we’ve settled into a sort of routine. I go with her to school and stand vigil in her classroom while she teaches. I’ve come to know the boys, and they’re getting to know me as well. I love hearing her teach and seeing her interact with her students. I can’t help but sometimes think she’d make an excellent mother.

  We come back to the mansion and eat with the others. I do the work I couldn’t do while at school while she corrects work and prepares lessons, and I come home to her in the evening. It’s a long day, and we both work hard, but I’m seeing the appeal of having a woman to come home to, and I’m making a plan for how to keep her here with me.

  I don’t want her to go home.

  I wake a few weeks after she first came here to find she isn’t next to me. I rub a hand across my brow, waking up. I came to bed after a meeting with Keenan eager to feel her again, woke her up with my mouth between her legs, and seconds later her fingers tangled in my hair.

  Jesus, she’s addictive.

  “McKenna?”

  I hear the sound of a flushing toilet, and then the door opens. She looks white as a ghost, and I sit up immediately in bed.

  “You okay?”

  She clutches her stomach and shakes her head
, stumbles to the bed, and sits heavily.

  “Must’ve been something we ate last night,” she says. “I’ve been up for hours, queasy and nauseous.” She sighs and shakes her head. “Can’t go to school today. You should call around, see if anyone else is sick.”

  I’m on my feet already, calling Sebastian.

  “Tully?”

  “Sebastian, it’s McKenna.”

  “What is it?”

  “She’s sick, thinks it could be food poisoning.”

  McKenna’s mumbling something in the background about overreacting and no need for a doctor, but I ignore her.

  “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

  I hang up the phone and point to the bed. “Lie down,” I say sternly. “I’ll have Tiernan notify the school you won’t be arriving.”

  She moans, her hand over her face. “But today’s the day Mum’s coming to meet Mary.”

  We’ve put it off long enough, and Mary’s getting impatient. Says she needs to return to the men of the north.

  “You don’t worry about that, now. If I need to introduce them myself, I will, and we’ll be just fine, baby.”

  Suddenly, she goes still. Too still.

  “McKenna?”

  She sits up in bed so fast she startles me. Her eyes are wide, her hands splayed out on either side of her as if to brace herself.

  “What is it?”

  “Mother of God,” she whispers, her hand over her mouth. “Oh my God.”

  “Bloody hell, what’s going on?”

  I sit beside her and put my hand to her forehead. She’s a little clammy but not warm.

  “Baby. You said baby, Tully.”

  I look at her in consternation. “I called you baby, just like I always do.”

  “I know!” She’s absolutely stricken. “But I… I just realized something.”

  “What, love?”

  “My period’s late.”

  Oh.

  Oh.

  Oh, fuck.

  I’m on my feet, pacing the room.

  “We used protection.”

  She’s wringing her hands. “Protection sometimes fails.”

  We’ve used condoms and she’s on the pill, but bloody fucking hell… we’ve fucked like animals for weeks, never thinking…