Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  This was what he wanted. He wanted head and she was his wife. Damnit. Whisper had figured there would be sexual duties and that she’d be prepared to handle them when the moment arose. Turned out that actually being faced with what arose was tougher than she expected.

  Scooping a hand around the back of her head into her hair, he pulled her forward, stroking himself as he did. “Suck it.”

  “Yeah, okay, I know,” she said, resisting his force. For all the good it did; the meathead was much stronger. Flattening her hands on his thighs, Whisper pushed back, clearing her throat and moistening her lips. Another grumble from her husband tested her patience, so she took her hand to his. “Give it to me.”

  His hand slid away, leaving his cock in her grip, giving her a chance to learn what she was dealing with. Sliding her fist up and down, she wasn’t encouraged by its length and girth. It was nothing like she was used to dealing with.

  But, as was her luck, the situation wasn’t going anywhere. So while reminding herself that she’d given head a bunch of times, Whisper gathered her courage and opened her mouth. It had been her intention to just suck him in and see how far he’d go. Instead she hesitated and wasted some time flicking her tongue over his head, circling it, licking, tasting.

  “Wife—”

  “Okay, goddamnit, I’m doing it.”

  Closing her eyes, Whisper took the plunge. Sucking him hard into her mouth, she dragged him in as far as he’d go. Of course, he hit her gag reflex, so she made a horrible sound and immediately pulled back.

  It didn’t help matters when she peeked up to find him smirking at her. “Suck it,” he mouthed.

  In reply, she narrowed her eyes in a glare.

  Working her hand over him, Whisper hated that he got so hard. His cock was like a concrete column; a monolith that she was supposed to scale and couldn’t begin to mount. As soon as that word popped into her head, she immediately chased it away.

  Having him in her mouth was bad enough. If the meathead McDade tried to put it anywhere else inside her five two frame that barely reached a hundred pounds, he’d likely split her down the middle.

  Determined not to give him the same satisfaction again, she squeezed him tight and shifted his dick out of the way to give her a shot at sucking his balls. He’d only said “it” and hadn’t actually stated what she should suck. The more time she spent working his shaft in her fist, the less time she had to worry about how deep she could take him.

  The reprieve didn’t last. The meathead grabbed a handful of her hair to pull her away. Apparently, he’d figured out her game. Closing his hand over hers, he forced his dick between her lips again and used his grip on her hair to work her mouth over him.

  On the plus side, he didn’t seem to mind, or notice, that she was using her hand as a chaser. Her mouth only had to advance so far while her hand worked fast near his base.

  “Look at me,” he grumbled.

  Opening her eyes, she blinked them up at him. Registering how heavy and satisfied his lazy gaze was gave her another shot of that odd sensation in her gut.

  “You’re good at sucking cock, Peanut,” he said, pushing deep into her mouth and sliding out slow while she worked to keep up the pace, hoping he’d go off soon. “Look at the precious little Doherty Princess with those sassy cherry lips wrapped around my cock…” His smirk became something close to a sneer. “Who’s your daddy now?”

  That suggestion almost made her gag again. All of a sudden, the meathead jerked her hand away and surged up, forcing himself into her throat with both hands buried in her hair.

  Even in spite of her struggling and the sound of her gagging, he pushed himself into her throat and held her face firm to his groin while he came inside her. Half a minute of nothing reverberated before he yanked her away and tossed her to the floor.

  “You’re gonna do that every night,” he said, breathing out, then resting for another few seconds before tucking himself back into his pants. “And in the morning too… you need to practice ‘til you get it right.”

  Whisper didn’t have to ask herself what kind of an asshole would say that to a woman after she’d just given head. The meathead was a McDade; that was all the explanation she needed.

  He stood as she sat up and crossed her legs, pulling her ankles to her body and laying her hands over them.

  “You sleep naked and never close that door.” He nodded toward the nanny room. “If I close it, you don’t open it. I don’t care what side of it you’re on. It doesn’t open until I open it.”

  “You’re a real fucker,” she said, her focus on the couch.

  “I’m your husband, Peanut. That makes you my possession. Mine to control,” he said, heading for the door. “I’m going out. Go to bed, you won’t leave this suite until breakfast.”

  He went out without waiting for a response. A frustrated breath was about to leave her throat, but the sound of a click dammed it. Whipping around, she stared at the door for a minute before clambering up to rush over in a half-crawl, half-crouch. Grabbing the handle, she gave it a tug. It didn’t move.

  He’d locked it.

  Fuck.

  He was an asshole; she was trapped.

  So much for trust in a marriage.

  “The guy is a maniac!” Whisper protested the moment the bedroom door was opened the following day. It wasn’t opened by the man who’d locked it. No, course not, why face her in the light of day? Bosco was the unfortunate one standing there receiving her wrath. “There’s no lock on this side. What kind of a lock doesn’t go all the way through the door?”

  Bosco narrowed an eye. “The kind that doesn’t want to be picked from the inside?”

  Snatching her purse, she shoved past him to storm toward the stairs. “You came just in time. Three more minutes and I was kicking that fucker in.”

  “You’re a hundred pounds soaking wet,” he said with a smirk in his voice. “How the hell are you going to get through a solid wood door?”

  She tossed her reply over her shoulder. “Oh, believe me, I have my ways.”

  “You’re going all the way down to the basement.”

  “I don’t think so, buddy. Your hospitality has been swell and all, but I’ve got an appointment with Fuck You City and I’d hate to be late.”

  Swinging herself around the bannister on the lower floor, Whisper expected a clear path to the front door. Instead, she ran smack bang into a tall, hard body. Leaping away, she threw her head back to find Doran McDade peering down at her.

  While he examined her, he spoke to the man still descending behind her. “You know if I saw any other guy coming down the stairs with my brother’s wife, I’d have cause to put a bullet in him.”

  “I’ve done every task your brother’s ever set me,” Bosco said. “But we both know fucking his wife won’t ever be on that list.”

  Still peering at her like she was a science experiment, Doran didn’t hide his perusal. “Didn’t think he came home last night.”

  “He didn’t,” Bosco said.

  One side of Doran’s mouth sloped up. “So, you haven’t had your morning dose of McDade, sweetheart? Let’s go upstairs and fix that, huh?”

  “No, thanks,” Whisper said, straightening her arm that was still connected to the newel post. “Think I got a double dose last night. I’m good for a while.”

  The other side of Doran’s mouth twitched. Rather than respond to her, he looked over her head at Bosco. “That was a good answer.”

  “I’ve been practicing my whole life,” she said, kind of pissed that he was ignoring her, though McDades being rude wasn’t a surprise. “Just in case an asshole was arrogant enough to proposition me the day after my wedding.”

  Doran didn’t care about her sass and kept his focus on Bosco. “Where was he anyway?”

  “He was at… you know.”

  “Oh,” Doran said on a blink of surprise. “Thought that was over.”

  Stepping aside, Whisper remained on the bottom stair. Even with the extra bo
ost to her height, she still had to tip her head back to see both of them. “You know, you don’t have to talk in code about his girlfriends. I don’t care where he sleeps or who he fucks. Only thing I care about is not being locked in all night.”

  Doran’s smirk grew. “He locked her in?”

  “Yes,” Whisper spat out. “He locked her in and she didn’t like it. Now if you don’t mind getting the hell out of my way, I have my own boyfriends to service.”

  “I don’t think so,” Doran said and did move, but only to completely block her route to the front door. “Breakfast room for you.”

  “My boyfriend has better breakfast,” she said as he took her by the shoulders to direct her toward the descending stairs. “Every day he gives me a hearty shot of protein, right down the gullet, wakes me right up.”

  At the bottom of the stairs, Doran gripped her tighter to pull her back and mumble above her ear. “Only protein you’ll have in your gullet is McDade protein, Hot Wheels. McDade men don’t let their women cheat.”

  “Or ask questions,” she said. “Yeah, I’ve heard a lot about McDade men.”

  He pushed her toward the back of the house into a light airy space.

  There was a booth to the right and a sort of breakfast bar with stools straight ahead. Beyond that was a massive kitchen with a central island. Past the kitchen were a couple of equally spaced columns and a large dining table. Most of the end wall was glazed, so she could see light and greenery in the rear courtyard Bosco had referred to the previous night.

  Doran kept shoving at her until she got to the dining table. The woman from the McDade reception table was seated there alone, surrounded by a table full of breakfast goodies. Caelan had identified her as Nicole McDade, Parker’s wife. She was leafing through a hefty pile of glossy magazines with her legs crossed away from the table. Her position was definitely designed to ensure her long tanned pins were on show to all. That would be why she chose to wear the micro-mini, but classy, shirt dress. She toyed with a diamond earring and glanced up to check who was approaching. Nicole seemed to fixate on her brother-in-law, their brother-in-law actually, who was coercing Whisper forward with jabs and shoves.

  “Oh, Doran,” Nicole said, her lip curling in disgust. “Do you have to touch it? God only knows where it’s been.”

  It? At first, Whisper didn’t put it together that Nicole was talking about her. She only figured it out after Doran pushed her down into a chair at the table and Nicole twisted her legs away while deepening her sneer.

  “It was trying to speed on out of here. Had to steer it back inside,” Doran said, dropping into a seat a couple of places up from her.

  “It’s disgusting,” Nicole said, without disguising her repulsed perusal. “Do we have to keep it in the house? Poor Razer, the things he does for this family.” Whisper’s assessment of the beauty included logging the note of hope in her next question. “Is he home?”

  “Zay? No, he’s out at…”

  “Oh, right,” Nicole said, licking a finger to drag a page of her magazine across to reveal another, then she frowned. “I thought that was over.”

  “When is it ever,” Doran said, reaching across the table to snag a bagel.

  Nicole turned up the dial on her next glare. “What are you going to do with it all day? You can’t leave it here. Daddy won’t have that. Shouldn’t we get a pen for it or something?”

  Did Nicole call her father-in-law daddy?

  Whisper smiled and put her purse on the table. “Should I call him Daddy too?”

  “I don’t think it should call him anything,” Nicole said, answering her while ignoring her completely, which was quite a skill. “I don’t think it should be allowed to address any of us directly.”

  “Whisper is family now,” Bosco said, coming through the pillars carrying two cups of coffee. “She’s Zay’s wife.”

  “It’s as much family as you are, Bos,” Nicole said, spitting out a scoff of horror when Bosco put one of the coffee’s down at Whisper’s place.

  It surprised Whisper too. But she was too drawn in by the intoxicating scent of the steam to question him. Grabbing the mug, she gulped the hot liquid, almost burning her tongue. With that little piece of java satisfaction warming her, Whisper drew her heels up onto the edge of the seat. Keeping the drink close, she hugged the cup in both hands on top of her knees.

  “And we all know how you feel about me, Nic,” Bos said, going around to sit at the opposite side of the table. “You’ll be pleased to hear you’re on Doherty duty today.”

  Nicole sat up straight. “Uh, excuse me?”

  “You’re taking her with you today. She has an appointment…” Bosco retrieved a card from his breast pocket and slid it across the table to her.

  Parting her knees, Whisper leaned across to take the card. When she read it, her jaw swung loose. “The sexual health clinic?”

  Bosco shrugged, but Nicole laughed. “I don’t blame him for wanting to get it checked out.” Shaking her body, she exaggerated her shudder. “God, just the idea of it is enough to make me want to puke.”

  Whisper’s outrage was the inverse of Nicole’s. Despite their opposing views, Whisper slanted Nicole’s way, keeping her attention on the card. “I don’t disagree with you.”

  “You have some nerve saying that in this house,” Nicole blustered. “You have no idea how lucky you are to be in your position. Raze is a catch!”

  “If you want him, I’ll loan him out to you for free. In fact, why don’t you just keep him? You love the McDades so much, two for the price of one is a steal.” She tossed the card across the table at Bosco. “I’m not going. If he thinks I’m diseased, so be it, he can keep his dick to himself. No problemo.”

  “Wait,” Doran said. “Does that mean he didn’t fuck her last night?”

  “He fucked my face if that counts,” Whisper said, gulping her coffee. “There’s no way I am going to some McDade quack. He’ll poke and prod at me then make up some excuse for your buddy to back out of this.”

  Talking to Bosco was easier than talking to the other two, at least he’d never referred to her as a thing.

  “Most STIs are curable these days,” Bosco said. “And from what I saw yesterday, you wouldn’t be averse to finding a way out of this deal yourself.”

  The McDades backing out would make her life easier. That way she’d be off the hook with her father… providing he didn’t blame her for screwing it up. But what would that mean for the Doherty machine?

  Whisper had always been on the periphery, never important enough to do more than just menial jobs for the family. Things were different since… Without her brothers around, she must have ascended a few rungs. Maybe? Her father had never said it, would never consent to it, but with her being the only descendant he had left, who was next in line? It couldn’t be her Uncle Dallin; he’d get about as much support from Cyrus as she would. Her cousins, Caelan and Miles, were too incompetent to run it well. Did that mean when her father died that there would be a Doherty civil war with everyone trying to wrest control?

  Doran’s voice snapped her out of her daze. “Well, is there?”

  All three people around the table were fixated on her. “Is there what?”

  “A chance you might be pregnant,” Bosco said.

  “There’s a pill you can take for that now,” Nicole said, flicking over a page of her magazine. “I heard it can make women violently ill…” Turning another page, she smiled. “I say we give her two or three, see if she can take it.”

  “A pill for what?”

  “An abortion pill,” Nicole said like it was nothing.

  Whisper’s chin came up slowly. Bosco had no decipherable reaction.

  Doran was her last hope, so she twisted to look at him. “I never thought to ask,” she said, clutching her cup in one hand while she scratched the back of her ear with a manicured nail. “But you McDades are Irish Catholic, right?”

  “Irish, yeah,” Doran said and smiled. “Not so much of the
Catholic these days.”

  “Burl still goes to mass,” Bosco said.

  “Yeah, but he’s the only one.”

  Whisper extended her thumb and jabbed the air in Nicole’s direction. “Did she really just say the word ‘abortion’ to me?”

  Bosco folded his forearms on the table to lean closer. “If you’re devout, you can’t use birth control either, can you?”

  “Of course I use birth control,” she said, rolling her eyes and letting her feet slide to the floor. “That’s just good sense. But if I got pregnant, I couldn’t… I just couldn’t.”

  Bosco’s brows rose. “What if you were carrying a McDade baby?” Whisper hadn’t thought to ask if she was expected to reproduce with the Neanderthal who’d locked her up last night. “What if it was a Byrne baby?”

  That changed the whole hue of her pondering. Hit by rage, Whisper dropped her cup to the table, squeezing it tight in her hand. “That’s not funny.”

  “He’s not trying to be funny,” Doran said. “And he’s got a point, what if you were pregnant with a Byrne baby? You just said you wouldn’t abort.”

  Recognizing that getting a reaction was what they wanted, Whisper drew on all her reserves to maintain her composure. She sank back in the chair to draw her heels up to the seat again.

  “I wouldn’t have to,” she said, doing her best to be casual about sipping her coffee. What she really wanted to do was launch it against the opposite wall. The pressure of her anger needed a vent. Even the suggestion she’d let one of those animals touch her body tempted her to seek out a weapon.

  “Why not?”

  “Because my father would slit me open and let me bleed out before he’d ever let me come to term.”

  “He’d kill you?” Bosco asked, narrowing his eyes to peer closer. “His own kin? Even if this baby was a product of rape? Which I’d guess it would have to be if your reaction to the Byrne name is any indication how you feel about them.”