Seal'd to Her: A Billionaire Second Chance Romance

by Piper Sullivan

  “What the hell! Do you always run around naked?” I blurted out and turned my back on him.

  “All the time,” he said in that flat, I-don’t-care voice.

  “Just get dressed will you?” I muttered.

  I heard him shuffle about behind me. I couldn’t wipe the image of him from my mind. He was built like Thor. Yeah okay that’s pretty cheesy, but it was the truth. Other than the obvious fact that he was really muscular, his right pec was covered in one of those tribal tattoos and ran down the length of his arm and on the other side a dragon curled its way around from his hip up to his side, disappearing around his back. I probably shouldn’t have looked or paid any attention but his cock was big and semi erect. For a second I wondered if he was busy rubbing one out when I came in… oh god another one of thoughts I shouldn’t entertain. What the hell was wrong with me? Okay so I may be innocent at most, but I wasn’t an idiot, being in college, you can’t help but being exposed to certain things that would make any normal person blush, and this was no way for a lady to behave.

  “Done. Happy?”

  I turned around only to find a towel flung in my face, “Hey!”

  “You better get dry or you’ll end up with pneumonia. Then you need to eat.”

  I glared at him and then looked around the cabin, “And what do you suggest I wear?”

  He stopped what he was doing and then scratched the back of his head. I raised a brow, “You didn’t quite have that on your itinerary, did you?”

  “Well excuse me lass, but I was kind of caught up saving your pretty little arse and your wardrobe wasn’t a priority,” he bit out and then dug in his bag and pulled out a T-shirt, “Here, you can wear this while your clothes dry out.”

  A T-shirt twice my size would at least serve well as a night dress, I thought as I glanced around.

  “You have to turn around,” I said.

  “What?”

  “I need to get dressed, turn around.”

  Irish rolled his eyes and turned around, resting his hands on his hips. I stripped down to my underwear and piled my wet clothes on the chair. I was drenched right down to my bra and panties, so they would have to go as well. Feeling a little awkward I took them off and then pulled the T-shirt over my head. It smelled like Irish, and again I felt that small flutter in the pit of my stomach.

  A while later, my clothes were hanging in front of the fire, and I was snuggled up in a fleece blanket, forcing down the horrible concoction Irish made me eat and wallowing in self-pity. In a matter of 24 hours I have been through hell and back. I still had no clue why though, why would anyone want to get to my father through me, what did my dad do to deserve this? I swallowed back the tears that threatened to spill and hugged my knees. This had to be a horrible mistake.

  “So are you going to tell me what’s going on at all?” I mumbled without looking at him.

  He simply sat on the stool and stared into the fire, twisting a mug of coffee in his hand. He clearly had a lot on his mind, but I deserve to know the truth. Why was I being hunted down like an animal, and what did any of this have to do with my dad? But more pressingly, who exactly was Irish? I have only ever seen him at my dad’s office on occasion when I went home for spring break or over Christmas. He used to always wear a suit. Naturally I figured he had been one of the corporates who worked for my dad, but after this morning’s events, I knew he wasn’t even close to being a pencil pusher.

  “Are you just going to sit there and contemplate life or are you going to tell me what’s going on?” I muttered.

  “Alana…” he started and pinched the bridge of his nose, “It’s very complicated. Your father asked me to look out for you, and right now, that’s what I’m doing.”

  “So that’s it? My father told you to look out for me and I just have to accept that?”

  “I’m afraid so.”

  “Bullshit!” I tossed the blanket aside then walked over to where he sat and slapped the coffee out of his hand. For the first time in my life, I was angry. This wasn’t like me at all, but I’ve been through too much to just accept my predicament and wait it out, “I was nearly killed, and now you’re refusing to tell me why!”

  The chair scraped back and toppled over as Irish stood towering over me. A muscle jumped in his jaw, and his gun-metal blue eyes bore into mine. His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but instead he pursed his lips and grabbed me by my arm. For a moment I thought he was about to go all Neanderthal on me and throw me over his shoulder, but instead he dragged me over to the table and sat me down.

  “I need you listen to me, and listen very carefully. This life you’ve been living is nothing but a figment of your imagination. Your father is in a lot of trouble right now and he had to leave the country. Until this mess is sorted out, we will stay here. Understood?”

  I frowned at him, none of this made any sense, what trouble could my father possibly be in? “What trouble is he in?”

  “It involves the FBI and a bunch of shit, I’m not willing to get into right now. All you need to know is he asked me to protect you, so I would appreciate it if you could respect that.”

  I raised a brow and regarded him, “You go around shooting men in cold blood without blinking and he trusts you to take care of me?”

  “Christ! You’re fucking impossible. That was me protecting you. Those men were going to kill you and the fewer of them walking around the better.”

  I sighed and buried my face in my hands. The reality of the situation was still so farfetched I didn’t know if I was coming or going.

  “Okay, so run this by me again, some bad guys are out there hunting me down to get to my dad. You’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen and in the mean-time I have to just stay put and forget about my life?”

  “Yes.”

  It was a simple definitive answer, but I didn’t like it one bit.

  “So what am I supposed to do with my time?” I asked dropping my hands down on the table.

  Irish looked at me with his brows drawn together, then walked over to a small wooden cupboard against the wall and pulled out a small box. When he placed it in front of me I looked up at him confused.

  “A deck of cards?”

  He nodded, “Play patience or something, but just keep yourself busy.”

  I rolled my eyes, picked up the deck and tilted it so that the cards all fell into the palm of my hand, “I have a better idea.”

  I squeezed the ends of the cards together and flicked it. All the cards went flying across the table, some landing on the floor, “You can keep yourself busy and clean up this mess.”

  He moved so fast I barely had time to register what was happening. He flipped me over his lap and his hand came down on my bare ass.

  “Ow! I’m not ten years old!”

  “You’re behaving like a fucking child so I’ll spank you like a fucking child,” he ground out and WHACK! Another hand landed on my bare bottom.

  It was stinging like hell and I tried to twist out of his grip crying in protest. But what was even worse was the fact that I was butt naked underneath the T-shirt. My cheeks felt hotter than a casting iron and I desperately tried to reach behind me to pull the T-shirt down and cover my girly bits. Two more thwacks and he abruptly let me go, causing me to stumble backward and flop down on the floor, I immediately scrambled to get the fleece blanket and covered my legs as I crawled into the corner next to the fire place, tears stinging my hot cheeks.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I whimpered.

  “Then stop acting like a child,” he muttered under his breath.

  I stayed curled up in the corner as I tried to regain some dignity. He was right; I was acting like a child, throwing tantrums like a teenager which was not like me at all. Instead of being thankful that he saved me, I was retaliating. I suddenly felt lost and afraid. Everything I knew had been a lie, my entire life was a faux. My magic carpet was gone, my Genie AKA Daddy was gone, and I would most likely not have a penny in my bank account no
w that he’s, who the hell knows where. I carefully reached up and touched the cut above my brow that by now was covered with a crust of dried blood. I had been so stubborn having to stay in this place that I hadn’t even thought about the accident and the cuts and bruises I sustained.

  “It’s a scratch. I have a first aid kit in the bathroom.”

  There’s a bathroom? I wanted to chirp, but decided against it, who knows what he’ll pull off next. Instead of a spanking he might tie me up and gag me to keep my trap shut. I got up and quietly made my way to the bathroom. I had a few cuts and bruises on my arms but nothing serious. I used the gauze and water to clean off the crusty dried blood and then used some antiseptic ointment before sticking a small Band-Aid across the cut. Looking at myself in the mirror I realized just how ghastly I looked. My hair was mucky, and I had dirt smeared all over my face, I was desperate for a shower. I latched the bathroom door and turned on the water. Just my luck, but not unsurprisingly, it didn’t get hot at all. I huffed and stripped out of the T-shirt. I’ll be quick, I told myself. In and out that’s all I needed to do. I stepped in under the cold water and goose bumps broke out all over my skin. Geezus it was freezing! My teeth clattered, and I quickly used the bar of soap and washed myself down. At least Irish had shampoo, not that it would do my hair any good. I looked at the label and pulled a face. Apple and Cinnamon fragrance no-name brand shampoo. But I washed my hair, anyway. I was done in less than five minutes give or take and reached for the tower hanging on the hook behind the door.

  “Oh my god!” I cried out. The towel was damp!

  “Alana?” Irish called from the other side of the door, “What’s wrong?”

  “It’s horrible!” I shouted back.

  I saw the door handle jiggle, and I called out, “Don’t you dare open that door or I’ll stab you with a toothbrush!”

  “What the fuck’s going on?” he asked again.

  “The bloody towel is damp, that’s just gross!”

  “Seriously, of all the things you could complain about, it’s a damp towel?”

  I didn’t bother answering him. I patted myself dry with the drier parts of the towel and pulled the T-shirt on again. I looked around and realized that there was no hairbrush and only one toothbrush, and there was no way I was going to share that. Instead I took the toothpaste on my finger and finger-brushed my teeth.

  When I exited the bathroom Irish was standing with his hands on his hips.

  “I think we should start over,” he said quietly.

  I bit my lip and hugged my arms around myself, “I guess.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll go out and get a few supplies, so make a list of everything you’re going to need for at least a week.”

  “Oh thank god this is only going to last a week,” I exhaled.

  “No, that’s not what I said. We’ll be on the move, so for now just the necessities, food, snacks, toiletries and yeah, well that’s about it.”

  It was one of those awkward moments where there was a hidden apology somewhere in a completely irrelevant conversation.

  “I’ll make a list,” I said, instead of making this more difficult.

  Liam “Irish”

  This was fucked up, I couldn’t possibly be attracted Alana, not to mention Fergus’ daughter. And the fact that she was only twenty was another cause for concern. So fine, she’s legal with all the bells and whistles and she’s probably been around the block a few times at college, but I’m forty-fucking-two for god sakes.

  I just couldn’t stand being in that confined space with her any more than she could tolerate me, but in my case, it was for a completely different reason. Seeing her standing there, wearing my T-shirt with those perky tits poking against the white fabric and knowing she didn’t have a stitch on under there was fucking with my brain. All I could think of was that tight firm arse of hers under my palm and the way she squirmed each time I smacked her bare bottom. It would have taken nothing for me to touch her pussy and feel her up. As it was it had taken me more control than I thought I could conjure up to let her go after giving her, her first real hiding.

  Frustrated with myself I tossed her a small notebook and a pen and stalked out of the cabin. I needed fresh air, and the rain was no deterrent for me, it was like a much needed cold shower. Dragging my hands through my hair as I paced up and down next to the cabin, away from the window, I tried to just focus on shit. I promised Fergus I will keep his daughter safe, not that I would fuck her brains out. I had to keep my focus, or this shit was going to go pear very fast.

  “You can do this Irish,” I said out loud to myself, “Just look at her as if she’s your own daughter.” You don’t have a fucking daughter you fool!

  “Effing shit!” I cried out and rubbed my hands down over my soaked face. I had to get a grip and fast, not only was she a temptation she was a bloody distraction. The sooner we get Fergus’ name cleared the quicker I can get her out of my hair. Better yet, tomorrow when I head to town, I’m going to find someone to fuck and get my mind off this little temptress.

  After a while I headed back inside to find Alana sitting at the small table making her list.

  “Do you want something to drink?” I asked as I walked over to the camper cooling box.

  “Do you have anything other than coffee and water?” she asked.

  “I have beer and whiskey,” I offered.

  “I’ll have a whiskey,” she said, “Not that I’m a big fan but I need something stronger than coffee.”

  “Aren’t you to young?” I asked curiously.

  “I’m twenty-one and legal thank you very much,” she piped up and shoved the list towards me; I glanced at it briefly and then poured her a drink.

  “Do you have Cola?”

  “No.”

  “So how am I going to drink this?”

  “How else do you drink whiskey?”

  She did that eye roll again, and said, “Well then bottom’s up!”

  That eye roll of hers was starting to grow on me and fuck, it was sexy. I raised my glass and then tossed back the drink. Alana of course did not expect it to have such a kick, and after she took her first gulp she choked and coughed uncontrollably. I laughed and poured myself another.

  “Easy there princess, this stuff puts hair on your chest.”

  “Oh my god, you could have warned me!”

  I laughed and topped her glass up, “Now take it easy, take a little sip and let it lay on your tongue for a bit, then swallow. Once you get used to it, it’s actually quite pleasant.”

  She eyed me warily and then took a small sip. Her lips pouted slightly as she swished the amber liquid around in her mouth before swallowing it. Now if that was her swallowing my cum… Jesus Irish! I cursed mentally, you have to fucking stop!

  “That wasn’t too bad,” she said softly and took another sip and another. Soon she was telling me all about college and the frat parties, and how she found the boys her age to be far too immature and shallow for her to bother with.

  “So that’s the story of my life!” she slurred and flopped down on the bed, “Oops!” she mumbled and tried to pull the T-shirt down to cover herself up.

  “I think you’ve had a little too much,” I said and took her glass from her.

  “Oh come on, you’re such a sour puss, one more, then I promise to go to bed,” she begged.

  “I don’t think so.”

  I placed the glasses in the sink and then screwed the bottle top back on.

  “Ugh, for once in my life, I don’t feel like being the little good girl everyone expects, and now you go and spoil it!”

  This time she stood up and walked over to where I stood, those sultry eyes and plump lips of hers pouted up at me as she dragged her nails down over my bare chest. Note to self, keep your fucking clothes on. I grabbed her wrist and held her at arm’s length, “C’mon, time for bed.”

  “Or what, you’re going to give me another spanking,” she teased rubbing her arse cheeks.

  “Alana…” I war
ned and guided her to the bed, “Get some rest.”

  “Are you gay or what?” she piped up.

  “No, but you’re plastered and before anything happens that you would surely regret, I insist you sleep it off.”

  She took a deep breath and then flopped back on the bed, stretching her arms above her head. This time there was no way I could look away. Those beautiful ivory legs stretched all the way up to her hips, and her pussy had a slight dusk of red hair very neatly trimmed. I swallowed and tried to divert my thoughts, but it was useless. It was only when I noticed that she was hardly moving that I realized she had actually passed out. Thank fuck for that, I thought as I reached for the blanket. I gently lifted her legs, avoided staring at her pussy, and moved her on to the bed and then covered her with the blanket. There, temptation gone—NOT.

  I needed an effing miracle to keep my pecker under control around this one; I thought and went to sit at the fireplace away from her. But all I kept thinking about is burying my cock deep in her and fucking her until she couldn’t walk straight.

  “Fergus, you fucking bastard, what the fuck where ya thinking?” I said out loud.

  “Daddy…”

  I jumped up, expecting Alana to be up and at it again, but she was talking in her sleep and I sat back down. Why the fuck did Fergus not send her off with her aunt, at least that way she would be out of harm’s way and I wouldn’t be in this fucking fix.

  I must have fallen asleep at some point, I sat up and stretched my legs, sleeping on this chair was way too uncomfortable. I eyed the bed where Alana was still fast asleep and tucked under the blanket, then eyed the floor.