Whisper stroked Mariana’s hair. “No, they don’t. I’m so misunderstood.”
Paula leaned past Caelan, a look of mischief in her eyes. “You guys should do that show thing you do,” she whispered and actually covered her laugh with a hand.
Mariana lifted her head from Whisper’s shoulder. “At her wedding reception?” she asked before turning an expression of glee on her. “Want me to say congratulations properly, girlie?”
Sliding her arms around Mariana, Whisper’s eyes got heavy as she scooped her hands around her friend’s ass. “Think it’s only right, don’t you?”
The women were practiced at teasing a room like pros. Finding each other’s mouths, they wasted no time. Kissing one way and then the other, they pressed closer and let their tongues touch in the ecstasy of a kiss that never meant more than the moment.
In nightclubs, they danced together like they were lovers. They knew how to work a pole and were no strangers to the podiums. Paula encouraged all the misbehaving, but usually ruined the mood with her giggling.
Mariana slid her hands up and down Whisper’s back and into her hair, sampling her neck as Whisper’s hands drifted to her friend’s breasts. The move encouraged Mariana’s mouth lower; together they sank against the wall.
“What the hell is this?” Miles’ voice came from somewhere.
Whisper was more interested in bringing Mariana’s mouth back to hers than she was in her cousins.
“I… I don’t know,” Caelan stuttered. “They just started—”
“Well, stop them,” Miles said.
Mariana was yanked away. Without missing a beat, Whisper grabbed her friend and pulled her back to the kiss. Cupping her face and holding her close, she enjoyed the whimper of desire Mariana added for effect.
“It’s just good fun,” Paula said.
“He’s fucking watching,” Miles hissed. “This fucking shit is exactly what Cyrus didn’t want. It’s fucking bullshit.”
Pulling away from the kiss, Whisper licked her lips, making a show of trying to regain her senses. Mariana stroked her hair and nuzzled her neck.
“You gotta swear so much, Miles?” Whisper asked. “It’s distracting.”
Her fizzing cousin bounded closer. “Good. I’m fucking glad. How you want your father to explain to your husband that he’s married to a dyke?”
“I don’t need anyone to explain anything to anyone,” Whisper said, turning her head to sample Mariana’s mouth again. “I’m a free spirit.”
Mariana’s lips trailed to her ear. “A hot spirit… Want to come back to mine?”
That would give them a good excuse to leave the reception to go get ready for the club.
“Paula, you wanna come fuck me and my girl? We’ll eat you first, be real gentle.”
“Mrs. McDade…”
It didn’t even occur to Whisper that anyone was talking to her until Caelan and Miles parted. Someone was standing just behind them… Bosco.
“Aww,” Mariana pouted. “Is he going to ruin our buzz?”
Whisper ran a hand through her hair and tipped up Mariana’s chin to kiss her again. “No, baby, don’t you worry about that. He just wants a better view. Isn’t that right, Mr. Bosco?”
“Happy someone’s told you who I am,” Bosco said. “Means I don’t have to explain who I’m speaking for when I tell you that it’s time to leave.”
“Time to…” Mariana made a sound of disappointment. Whisper straightened her friend up and pushed away from the wall. “I don’t want to leave, Mr. Bosco. The party’s just getting started… I’m sure your boss’s dick can wait until after I satisfy my girl’s pussy… Hasn’t he ever heard the expression ‘ladies first’?”
“He has,” Bosco said, unruffled by her question. “But I’ve worked with him long enough to know that making him wait won’t lead to anything good for you… Mrs. McDade.”
A beating on her wedding night, was that what he was promising? What a welcome to the family. But she had to pick her battles. Whisper kissed Mariana and gave Paula a hug before opening her arms and letting them fall to her sides.
“Well, Mr. Bosco, what’s he got in store for me?”
No answer was forthcoming. When Bosco gestured to the exit, Whisper glanced around to see who was gawking only to discover that Zaiden wasn’t even in the room anymore. His absence led her to assume he’d be in the back of the car waiting at the curb. He wasn’t. Bosco slotted her into the back, closed the door and then got in the front passenger side. With the privacy screen locked up, there was no way to demand answers.
Whisper wasn’t bothered enough to make a fuss. Alone with the minibar, she poured herself a generous drink. Getting through as many of the bottles as she could was the plan. Unfortunately, she barely got to sip the first drink before the car drew to a halt.
They couldn’t have driven more than a couple of blocks. Whisper peeked out the tinted windows to check if they were stopped at a light or stuck in traffic. Neither was true. They were actually ensconced in a shadowy residential street lined with narrow townhouses and tall trees. Whisper tried the door, but it didn’t open. Damn, she cursed men for their need to control others. McDade men were shaping up to be exactly the same as Doherty ones. Just as Whisper expected.
After a boring wait, someone got out the front. She heard the door open, but didn’t know who it was until Bosco appeared to open her door.
“I’m not a child,” she said, climbing out, straightening her skirt.
“Really?” Bosco asked. “ ‘Cause you seem like a brat to me.”
“Good,” she said. “That was exactly what I was going for.”
Looking up at the building in front of them, she couldn’t deny that it was pretty. With red brick and black accents, there was a gated stairway to the basement level. A wrought bannister flanked the stoop that led to a grand black door.
“Welcome home, Mrs. McDade,” Bosco said and gestured at the stairs.
“No one going to carry me over the threshold?”
In opposition to her tease, Whisper was actually quite happy about that. Being in anyone’s arms, especially McDade affiliated arms, would make her edgy. Her aversion wasn’t entirely about her in-laws. Relaxing with any man who did anything affectionate or sentimental was beyond her capability. She could handle just about anything else. Tenderness, intimacy, ridiculous sappy things like that made her feel weak and soft. Whisper resented anyone who even implied she was either.
“If I were you, I’d be glad it’s quiet now,” Bosco said, opening the front door. “It won’t always be like this.”
The parquet floor in the hallway wasn’t easy to see in the dim light of the unilluminated hallway. In contrast to the shadows lurking around them, dull light shone from somewhere deeper inside the building. The stairs to the left would take them up or down. But the light came from the open double doors on the same wall as a long display unit to her right. The unit with its cabinets at the bottom and shelves above obscured her view. Whatever its origin, the illumination wasn’t bright enough to be from an overhead light.
Her curiosity was piqued. “Am I getting a tour?”
“No,” Bosco said, going to the bottom of the ascending stairs. He swept an arm toward them. “Keep going all the way to the top.”
“Like the princess in the tower,” she muttered, but started up the stairs given that there was little else for her to do.
Bosco was a McDade, by blood or not. Because of that affiliation, there was a brief moment in which she considered taking him down. It was instinct… least that’s what Whisper told herself. They were alone, far as she could tell, so would it be really that wrong to—
“The garden floor is at the very bottom of the house,” he said, following in her wake, interrupting her speculation. “That’s where you’ll find the gym, breakfast room, kitchen, and dining room, as well as access to both the front and rear courtyards. Mr. McDade Senior’s office and the living room are on that floor we just left. The rear deck over
looks the lower courtyard. From inside, that’s accessed from Mr. McDade’s office. I’d advise you to avoid going in there. His living space is on the second floor. We don’t encroach on that either. He likes his privacy.”
“You know people say that all the time,” she said over her shoulder, still tramping up the stairs. “I’ve yet to meet a person who says they don’t like their privacy.”
Like she hadn’t spoken, Bosco kept going. “The third floor is Mr. and Mrs. Parker McDade’s suite. The fourth floor is where you’ll sleep.”
He finished his round-up just as they got to the top of the staircase. All the wood she’d seen so far was a warm shade of cherry red. The floors and doors matched, though with the doors in that hallway closed, no artificial light seeped in. All she could do was assume it was the same hue up there.
As her eyes adjusted, she counted three doors. One to the right, at what would be the front of the house. One straight ahead. To the left was a third, wider door. That was the one Bosco pointed at.
Going to open it, Whisper had no inclination of what she’d find on the other side. It was a bedroom. A large bedroom.
Decent was her first thought as she scanned around. The huge bed stood against the right-hand wall. A long couch ran the width of the footboard at the end. It was one of those boudoir type pieces. Didn’t look that comfortable, but she’d pick sleeping there over sharing the bed with a McDade.
“Bathroom’s there,” Bosco said, walking past her to point to a second door further along the wall from the one they’d entered. “Closet’s to your left.” Perpendicular to the entrance. That wasn’t the only door on that wall either. The one further along was Bosco’s next destination. Without going through it, he opened it up and gave it a push. “This is your room.”
At first, she thought he meant the one they were standing in. The McDades generosity was a welcome surprise. With two tall narrow windows on the back wall and a thick carpet, it was a substantial, and clean, space.
Whisper should’ve known better.
He didn’t mean the whole suite, he meant whatever was through the door he’d just opened. She only figured that out when he swept an arm across the threshold. That arm sweep seemed to be his thing. Maybe that was some kind of signal he used to sic Razer onto people.
Showing her into the adjoining room, Bosco reached around to turn on a light as she approached. Whisper entered to find it wasn’t substantial, in fact, it was tiny.
With just one window and not so much as a dresser, she pushed out her lips while studying the twin width bed. “Hmm,” she said. “Cozy.”
“It’s the nanny’s room.”
Well, that startled her. “The nanny…” she said, smirking. Wouldn’t be natural for her to miss such an opportunity. “Guess we should’ve discussed fetishes before I said I do.” Turning to Bosco, she exhaled. “Does he wear diapers too?”
Her guide didn’t look at her, but the sound of his inhale was intriguing. “Mrs. McDade, you are in a precarious position… it’s not a safe one either.”
She shrugged. “I like trying new positions.”
Bosco was a tough audience. “You’d be an idiot not to treat your status here with respect.”
“I treat it with respect,” she said, unable to muster much concern. “From my place in the nanny’s room…” She sighed. “Guess it could be worse. I could be in his bed.”
“Just because you’re in a separate bed doesn’t mean you’ll be exempt from your marital duties,” he said, reversing out. “Your things are in the closet. You are free to use the bathroom… Your husband will be home any minute.” Sound from beyond the room brought a smile to his previously unamused lips. “That’ll be him now.”
For him to be home so soon after her and Bosco, whatever said “husband” had left their reception to do couldn’t have taken long. It screamed power play. Did the McDades really think she’d be kowtowed by such an obvious maneuver? They were going to be surprised if they believed she was simpering. Maybe they’d confused her for the affable Madison Byrne.
If her so-called husband was already back, the time to change her outfit was limited. After Bosco strode from the room, Whisper went straight to the closet, which she discovered was about the same damn size as her fucking nanny’s room.
Interior design affronts would have to wait. She needed to find something to change into. The first door she slid open revealed a rail of expensive suits. Definitely didn’t belong to her. Closing it up, she tried the opposite side next. Behind that sliding door were her dresses, all hung up in neat rows. Turned out her things weren’t just there, they’d been put away with care. Interesting.
Something behind her banged, snapping her out of her intrigue. Figuring it must have been the bedroom door, she froze, waiting to see what would happen next. Bosco had distracted Zaid for a minute, but not for long enough.
The closet door was open, so it didn’t take long for him to find her. Whisper expected some acknowledgement, given they’d gone the whole day without speaking to each other. But he didn’t say a word or even give her a chance to come up with something.
The oaf grabbed her arm to haul her out of the closet and across the bedroom. He hadn’t even bothered to turn on a light. The only illumination came from the closet and nanny’s room.
Whisper wasn’t fighting him, but didn’t appreciate being manhandled without so much as a hello. A guy had to earn that right. As a McDade, Zaid was starting from a position a hundred behind the others. The meathead.
He flung her to the floor in front of the couch at the end of the bed and started to unbuckle his jeans. She’d just risen to her knees and shoved her hair from her face when he pulled his cock out of his pants. Her mouth—which had been open, ready to release a barrage of outrage—clamped shut without uttering a word.
“Suck it,” he growled.
All Whisper could do was blink at it, there above her in all its ample glory. “Fuck me,” she breathed out.
“That comes later. I said suck it.”
Shaking herself from her surprise, Whisper located her grit again. “And I say no,” she said, clambering to her feet, yanking her shoes off as she rose. “Would you look at that thing? No way I’m putting it in my mouth… that’s an injury waiting to happen, Buster. I’m all for a hung guy, but that’s gotta be ten inches!” And he wasn’t even hard yet. Tossing her shoes aside, she growled. “See what you did? You made me compliment you. I really didn’t want to do that.”
As she turned away, he grabbed the neck of her dress at her nape and hauled her back, pulling at both sides to rip the zip right open.
With her jaw clenched, Whisper whirled around, grinding out a sound of frustration. “This is your goddamn seduction? No wonder you McDades have to blackmail women into bed. What the fuck?”
He lunged at her, but Whisper was quick and leaped back, holding up both hands.
“Take your goddamn clothes off… wife.”
“Oh, well this is a great start to our marriage. Suck it and take your goddamn clothes off.” Slipping one arm out of her dress, she fanned her face. “Am I blushing?”
Bearing his teeth, he growled at her. “Do what the fuck you’re told, slut.”
“Okay,” she said, taking her other arm from its dress sleeve. Once her arms were free of the garment, she held it to her chest while presenting a forefinger. “I love dirty talk, love it. But I am not actually a slut. If we’re using the word for effect, you know, to make things dirtier and hotter, we’ve got to build up to that. It’s only allowed if I believe there’s an underlying element of respect. ‘Suck it’ as an opening gambit doesn’t tell me you respect me.”
“You talk too much.”
“Maybe I’m trying to put off the inevitable,” she said, opening a hand toward his groin. Looking at it again brought a scowl to her face. “I mean, my God, man, send the next girl a disclaimer with the proposal, huh?”
“I’m six four, what did you expect?”
Her brows rose.
“I’ve gotta be honest, I didn’t spend a lot of time considering your proportions. You’re a McDade and I only laid eyes on you for the first time this afternoon.”
Moving in closer, he seemed less frantic when he spoke again. “Let go of the dress.”
The simple command stirred something in her belly. Like a weight gathering mass, it reached her chest and kept on spreading. Her fingers loosened. The material dropped first to her waist and after catching for just a moment it drifted off her hips and to the floor.
“Do you want my weapon?”
Whisper assumed he’d want her unarmed while she was so close to such a sensitive part of his anatomy. Apparently, she was right because he opened his hand in expectation. Reaching down, raising her knee as she did, her leg came into brief contact with his. Ignoring that contact, she kept her eyes on his as she unsheathed it and placed it on his open palm.
Her expectation was that he’d toss it aside. Instead, in a deft move, he flipped the blade toward her and flicked it up, slicing through the strip of material connecting her bra cups. They fell away from each other.
But he wasn’t done. Grabbing the thin strap of silk at her hip in a loop, he used the knife to cut through it in a single move, then did the same on the other side. Her panties joined the pool of material already on the floor.
“Shit,” she said, crossing her hands to cup her breasts.
Zaid put the knife in his teeth and laid his heavy palms on her shoulders to push the straps of her bra away. The entitlement of his touch somehow had the effect of loosening her hands to let him follow through.
He took the knife from his mouth. “No reason you should ever have clothes on in this room,” he said, using the flat of the blade on the underside of her chin to force it up. “You’re my wife. Your duty is to be groomed and prepped for me every minute of the day.”
“For sex,” she sneered.
Zaid bowed lower, though that didn’t bring him even close to her level. “For whatever the fuck I want.”
Throwing the knife to the bed, he forced her down onto the floor in front of the couch again. After waiting for a couple of breaths, presumably to ensure she wasn’t going to get up, he dropped onto the couch and took his cock in hand.
Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2) Page 4
