Cormac: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance (Dangerous Doms)

by Jane Henry

  “Black leather and latex,” I say, turning back to the mirror to brush my teeth.

  She snorts from the other room. “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “Half joking. People do wear those sort of things, but there’s no way in hell you will.”

  “Right. Burka it is,” she mutters. “Or perhaps a dress?”

  “One could argue a burka’s a dress.”

  “You would think that,” she says, but she’s smiling. “You know, Mr. McCarthy, I like the fact that you’re unapologetically possessive of me. Most of the time, anyway.”

  “Damn right,” I say, placing my toothbrush back. “Now what shall I wear? A black t-shirt to show off my manly physique, or a leather jacket to scare off the twats that look at my wife?”

  She holds a light green dress in her hand and tips her head to the side. “Not sure I like anything drawing attention to my husband either,” she muses.

  Something stirs low in my belly at that. Every time she calls me her husband, every time she gets that possessive look about her. I like that she’s jealous. I cross the room to her. I need to feel her, to hold her. I gather her in my arms, and kiss her. She responds instantly, melting into my arms and kissing me back.

  “I love you,” I whisper to her. “You don’t have to say it back. Give it time, lass. Let me prove myself to you.”

  She blinks hard, as if trying to stop herself from crying. “That’s about the best thing you could tell me right now,” she whispers. “You know that?”

  I shrug. “I get a good idea every once in a while.”

  She grins, gathers my face in her hands, then pulls my face down to hers so she can plant a kiss on my forehead.

  “Go on with you,” she says. “Let me get dressed before you’re balls deep in me and we never make it to the damn club.”

  I give her arse a smack and let her go.

  We dress and get our ride downstairs. We’re in the back of the same car that took us home from our wedding. It seems so long ago now.

  “We’re going alone?” she asks.

  Why does she seem suddenly nervous?

  “Aye. The others will meet us there. You’ll see, there’s a sort of anteroom in the front, but the real fun takes place in the back. Members-only.”

  She stills. “My brother goes there?”

  “Aye. But don’t worry about him, lass. He gets one look at me or my brothers and he turns and goes the other way.”

  It doesn’t appease her, though. She frowns and doesn’t reply.

  “We’ll get a drink in the front and I’ll introduce you to the others. Then when you’re ready, I’ll take you to the back.”

  She nods slowly. “Do people have… rules and things?”

  “Aye. Club’s safeword is flagon, but you won’t be using that.”

  She nods.

  “No drink for you either,” I continue. “For obvious reasons.”

  “Mhm.”

  I take her hand, kiss her fingers, then tug her closer. “But you’ll have rules of your own as well.”

  She swallows. “Will I?”

  She likes this. I’ll use that to my advantage.

  “Aye.”

  She swallows again. Her eyelids lower, and she squirms a little.

  “You’ll do nothing without my permission. If you have a question for me, you’ll address me as sir, and you’ll stay by my side. And whatever happens, you’re not to come without my permission.”

  “Aw, fuck,” she says in a throaty whisper. My cock twitches at the sound.

  “What?”

  “That’s hot as fucking hell,” she groans.

  I slide my hand up her thigh and squeeze, letting my thumb graze the heated vee where her thighs meet. She pulls closer to me.

  “Good girl,” I say. “You remembered no knickers.”

  “Mhm.” She closes her eyes when I stroke between her legs. Sighing, she drops her head to my shoulder.

  “That’s a girl,” I whisper. “Open your legs, sweetheart.”

  She parts her legs obediently. Holding her to me, I drag my thumb along her thighs, before I gently stroke between her legs.

  “Fuck, woman,” I groan. “You’re so damn wet.”

  I haven’t even taken her to the club yet, and she’s damn near ready to come. Keenan told me she might be like this, starving for sex and easily turned on. She’ll get no complaints from me.

  “On your back,” I whisper.

  “Cormac, the driver—”

  She gasps when I slap her thigh. “On. Your. Back.”

  The way she bites her lip as she obeys makes my pulse race. Leaning back in the car, she lets her legs fall open. I kneel in front of her and kiss her inner thigh, preparing her. I drag her dress up so it’s around her waist. With tinted windows and a screen between us and the driver, no one will see. I’ll protect her modesty, but damn if it isn’t hot thinking they could.

  “Cormac, really,” she says in a high-pitched squeak.

  “Quiet,” I tell her. “Or we’ll begin the night with you over my knee.”

  “You can’t spank a pregnant woman,” she says, but her eyes are half-lidded, and when I quirk a brow at her, she bites her lip and swallows.

  “Says who?”

  “I… well, you know…”

  “I have it on good authority from the doctor himself that kinky pleasure’s absolutely permissible for an expecting woman.”

  She flushes. I kiss her inner thigh again, and her legs begin to tremble.

  “Pleasure?” she whispers.

  “Aye,” I say, my cock lengthening at the arousal laden in her voice. “Do I need to demonstrate?”

  She groans. “Maybe.”

  I grin at her, lower my mouth to her pussy, and drag my tongue through her folds.

  “Just imagine,” I say, letting my hot breath graze her private parts. “You’re draped over my knee for being a naughty little girl.”

  “Mmm,” she says, her head falling back as I kiss her sweet spot. Her hands fly to my hair when I suckle and lick.

  I lift my head and whisper, “You squirm and kick beneath the weight of my palm.”

  “Cormac.”

  She groans when I lick and suckle again.

  “I could make a proper spanking pleasurable for you.”

  “I…” she pants, gripping my hair, fueling my desire for her. “Believe that.”

  I give her pussy a parting kiss.

  “Good girl,” I say approvingly. “Now you’re good and primed for the club.”

  “Cormac,” she groans, reaching for me, but I grasp her wrists and move her away from me.

  “Aileen.”

  “You’re not going to just… to just leave me like this?”

  “Certainly not all night,” I tell her. “Just for now.”

  “You can’t—”

  “I can,” I remind her, my tone hardening. “Now be a good girl or you’ll give a taste of that spanking before we even exit the car.”

  She pouts, but the faint pink flush of her cheeks tells me she’ll respond well to what I have planned for her tonight. After a huff and whine, she finally nods her head. “Fine. Alright then.” Drawing in a deep breath, she gives me what I’m looking for. “Yes, sir.”

  I drag her over to me, kiss the sweet spot on her neck, and suckle the tender skin there. I pull her to me, my cock pressed up to her body. “Good girl.”

  “Someone likes having his way,” she mutters with a teasing smile.

  She has no fucking idea.

  We enter the club, and at first she looks disappointed. I bring her to the bar and we order drinks. I won’t take her to the other part of the club until the others arrive.

  “Is this it?” she asks, frowning as she sips her virgin cocktail.

  “Well, you can’t have alcohol for now,” I tease.

  She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean. Not the drink. Thought you said there was another room.”

  I grin at her, but tug a lock of her hair. “Don’t ro
ll those eyes at me, woman. And the answer is no. This isn’t it. But I’ll take you to the good part after my brothers arrive.”

  She sips her drink and looks around the tame interior. Rafferty approaches us and smiles.

  “You must be Cormac’s wife,” he says, extending his hand out to greet her. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “I am,” she says with a smile. “And thank you.”

  He pulls another pint for me. “Brother’s Blaine, right?”

  My body tenses when her face pales and she stammers, “Right. Yes, that’s my brother. You haven’t seen him, have you?”

  Rafferty pushes the pint my way and I give him a warning glare he misses.

  “I have,” he says. He looks to me. “Been coming back on the regular since you haven’t been coming.” He frowns and jerks his head to the back. “I’ll notify you if I see him tonight?”

  “Aye,” I say. “We’re not on good terms.”

  He nods, wiping the counter down. “Don’t blame you. Man’s a fucking prick.”

  Aileen hasn’t taken another sip of her drink since Rafferty mentioned her brother, but I’m glad he did. I want him to tell me if he sees him. I want to be prepared. Even with my brothers arriving soon, I don’t like being unprepared for whatever Blaine does.

  Why the fuck did I bring her here tonight?

  “I don’t care, Cormac,” she says, lifting her chin with that stubborn, fierce determination I’ve come to love about her.

  “Good girl,” I say approvingly. “You know I won’t let him hurt you.” I also won’t let him intimidate her, or have her scared of showing her face anywhere he is. So tonight, we’ll stake our claim. We won’t cower because of fucking Blaine.

  She nods. “I’m good for a solid kick to the bollox myself if need be.”

  I clink my glass to hers. “Aye. The way to bring a man to his knees is always through a solid kick to the bollox.”

  She grins. “Good to know. Cheers.”

  Nolan arrives with the others, and after brief greetings, I take Aileen’s hand.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her. “It’s time.”

  I’m eager to get her to the club, to see how she responds.

  And then to get her the fuck home.

  “What’s the story, brother?” Boner asks. He sips his pint and walks on my left, Nolan to the right of Aileen.

  “My wife was curious about the club, so I’m showing her, but you know I don’t trust her brother. Rafferty says he’s back since I haven’t been coming.”

  “He here tonight?”

  “No, but that could change.”

  “I’m not going to hide from him,” Aileen says tightly, her eyes cast ahead of her.

  “Of course not,” I agree. “I just don’t fancy having to dole out another beating when I could be doing far better things with you.”

  “Oh, I’d help you with that,” Nolan says, then quickly amends. “The beating part, not the wife part. For Christ’s sake, keep yer knickers on. I’d pay to get a chance to break the man’s nose.”

  Aileen smiles. “’Tis probably deviant to take pleasure in such a thought, but I won’t deny it pleases me.”

  We get access to the private part of the club. I hold Aileen’s hand tightly in mine as we enter. Something unsettles me tonight. I didn’t recognize the men at the door, and it’s much more crowded there than I ever remember seeing before. There are men dressed in black at the exits, men and women, singles and couples, roaming the darkened interior.

  “Is it always this dark in here?” I ask Nolan. I don’t like it. I’ve half a mind to gather her up and head back home before we’ve even begun.

  “No,” Nolan says. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he sweeps his gaze across the room. “Shouldn’t be so dark in here. It isn’t safe.”

  “Tell them to put the damn lights on, then.”

  Boner shakes his head. “You twats, it’s soirée night.”

  “What the fuck is that?” I ask.

  “Themed night at the club?” he says. “Dimmed lights. Fancy dress. Cocktails.” He snags an hors d’oeuvre from a waitress passing by as if to show us what to do.

  “Relax, Mr. McCarthy,” my wife says with a charming grin. “I’m sure you’ll keep me so close to you that even the dim lights won’t interfere. Oh my God, is that a curry spread?” She takes three mini toasts off the tray a waitress holds and devours the food. I grin at her. I sometimes forget what a hearty appetite she has.

  I take her hand and lead her around, finding every cocktail waitress with a tray we can find. When she’s filled her belly with crudité, grilled potato skins, mini egg rolls, and bacon-wrapped scallops, she collapses on a nearby bench still nursing her drink.

  “Aren’t you going to eat, Cormac?” she asks, daintily wiping a napkin across her lips.

  “Aye,” I tell her. I tug her onto my lap and kiss her.

  “Don’t you even say what you’re thinking,” she says, crossing her legs as if that will actually prevent anything. I tug her forward to straddle my lap, my cock pressed hard against her arse.

  I lean in and whisper in her ear. “I’ve still got the taste of your pretty pussy on my lips. It’s ruined me for anything else.”

  She gasps and squirms. I raise the hem of her dress and rest my thumbs on her inner thighs. I tease her, lightly brushing my fingers near her secret spots. She wraps her arms around my neck and squirms, wriggling her arse so she draws closer to me.

  “Pinch your nipples,” I whisper in her ear.

  “Cormac!”

  “Do it, before I spank you.”

  “You wouldn’t dare. You can’t—”

  Ah, the classic female protest. I easily arrange her over my knee, her pert little arse raised high in the air, and give her a little pat.

  “Can’t I?”

  “People will… how can you… Cormac!”

  I inhale the sweet, seductive scent of her arousal, lift the hem of her dress, and place my palm beneath the fabric. I squeeze.

  “Cormac,” she repeats on a moan.

  I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Do you need a spanking, young lady?”

  “No, sir,” she says stoutly, but the flush of her cheeks and the way she bites her lip tells me another story.

  “Oh, I think otherwise.” It’s so crowded and dark in here, not a soul looks our way as I lift my hand and give her a good, hard slap. She’s more than safe here, over my knees, with her belly well supported. Sebastian assures me some kinkier times could actually be beneficial as long as we’re careful. Something about raising hormone levels and blah blah blah.

  “Now,” I tell her, my hand poised above her arse. “What did I say to do?”

  “Pinch my—you can’t mean it,” she protests. I underscore exactly what I do mean with another hard smack. She bucks and squirms but reaches for her breasts and with her eyes squeezed shut, pinches her nipples to tight peaks.

  “Good girl,” I say, with another approving hard smack. “Just like that.”

  I wonder if she’s forgotten where she is. She certainly doesn’t look like she cares anymore. Her protests die on her lips as she pinches her nipples through the thin fabric and I continue the slow, deliberate spanking I’ve been eager to deliver.

  “Pinch them.”

  Smack. My dick throbs. She moans.

  “Again.”

  Smack.

  “Oh God.” She’s panting in earnest now, while I give her one hard swat after another, pausing between strokes of my palm while she works her breasts.

  “Good girl,” I whisper. “Just like that.” I lift her back onto my lap upright, facing me. “Keep going,” I tell her. I lift the edge of her dress and slide my hands beneath it. Still, not a soul looks our way. She could be giving me a lap dance for all they know. I touch her swollen pussy and finger her clit. The first stroke of my fingers has her throwing her head back. The second, she’s gasping for breath.

  “Come,” I breathe in her ear. “Let yourself go. Come for me, sweet
heart.”

  She moans, losing herself to ecstasy. Her head rolls backward, her eyes closed tightly, and beneath my fingers she pulses against my hand. I savor every moan and gasp, loving the way she spasms on my lap while she milks her pleasure.

  “Good girl,” I say. “Just like that, love. Come for me.”

  I stroke her until she slumps against me, spent and sated, and it’s the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen. Her pale, soft skin flushed pink with pleasure. Thick black eyelashes against her cheeks, her eyes closed in bliss. Her golden hair tumbling about her shoulders, fragrant and silky. Her gorgeous body limp with pleasure.

  “Christ, you’re so beautiful it kills me,” I say to her. She smiles, leans forward, and burrows into my chest. Instinctively, I wrap my arms around her and hold her. Warmth floods my chest. I know she’s just come, that she’s still high on endorphins, but it pleases me that she trusts me like this. That she seeks my comfort and closeness.

  She places one hand on my chest. I lift her palm to my lips and kiss her, fold her fingers over, then tuck her hand back onto her chest.

  “A kiss to take home?” she whispers.

  “Aye.”

  She smiles. “Never would’ve taken you for a sentimental man, Mr. McCarthy.”

  “Seems there’s something about a beautiful lass wearing my ring and bearing my child that does strange things to me.”

  I hold her, nestled in my arms, all soft and warm, as the music plays on and couples mill about in various stages of dance and erotic foreplay. The air is pungent with the scent of sex and drink, as I plan on where I want to take her next.

  Nolan’s a few meters ahead of me, laughing and drinking with a woman dressed in red. To his right I see Boner and Tully sitting at a table with a few girls. I scan the room, always on the lookout for Blaine, when something catches my eye.

  I narrow my eyes and look harder. Mother of God. Though she’s dressed in all black and her hair’s tucked into a wig, I swear to God that’s the redheaded reporter. Doesn’t she know we frequent this place? Does she have no shame?

  “What is it, Cormac?” Aileen sits up and peers at me. “I could feel your body go all still like. Something amiss?”

  “Aye,” I growl, gently pushing her off my lap. But before I can even get to my feet, there’s a commotion ahead.