Only Yours (A McDade Brothers Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  Their makeshift med-bay was manic. Cleaning wounds, changing dressings, and icing bruises, Whisper didn’t get much time to stop and think. Yet, every once in a while she’d take note of the mission’s bonding effect on both crews.

  Her father had ordered his men into the fray with the McDades. Caelan and Miles had apparently been there too, though they hadn’t come back to the McDade home. Whether that meant they weren’t injured or they were cared for elsewhere, she didn’t know. The suspicions of those who were there eased. As the hours past, each side became less dubious. By the Sunday night when everyone was being tossed out, they were making plans to meet and help each other out with other jobs.

  Even those who were unsure came to her to ask about the rules. All Whisper kept reinforcing was that they were family now. True or not, her father couldn’t keep saying those words and not expect others to repeat them. As far as she knew, the whole damn point of the wedding was to prove they believed the sentiment.

  Parker closed the front door on the last group of guys and actually smiled at her as he passed by to head into the living room where his father and wife were.

  Spinning around, Whisper darted up the stairs as quickly as she could. Reaching the top and running straight into Zaid’s room, she found him sitting on the bed tying his boots while Bosco stood beside him.

  “Ready for the McDade grill?”

  Because Doran was still recuperating and everyone had basically spent the weekend together anyway, Burl decided they were going to barbecue in the rear courtyard. The commotion the house had endured since Friday night led him to declare only immediate family were allowed. That basically meant those who lived in the house.

  “I will be in a minute,” she said, unzipping her dress and kicking off her shoes. “I need to stand under the shower a minute and change my clothes.” Whisper went into her room to snag a hair tie from her nightstand so she could pull her hair up into a messy chignon off her neck. “I have blood, and sweat, and pus, and God knows what else all over me. It’s been a day.”

  “You did good this weekend!” Bosco called through to her room.

  Pushing the straps of her dress down, Whisper let it fall and grabbed the clasp of her bra as she departed her bedroom. “Thanks,” she said, crossing Zaid’s bedroom, a bobby pin in her teeth.

  Slipping her bra from her arms, she didn’t think anything of tossing it aside until Bosco whirled around to face away.

  Zaid leaped to his feet. “Whisper!” he exclaimed.

  “Guess I know how to get you to say my name now,” she said, sliding the bobby pin into her hair to hold up the loose wisps and her bangs. Standing in the bathroom doorway, she looked right at him as she hooked her thumbs into her panties to shimmy out of them. “You told me I should always be naked, husband, I’m naked.” She blew him a kiss. “Aren’t I a good wife?”

  Zaid still wasn’t used to her aggravating ways, but she couldn’t change them. Whisper liked to be playful. In time, he’d become accustomed to her… or he’d throttle her. Could go either way.

  Sitting out in the back courtyard the following Sunday, with her girls and their pitcher of margaritas, Whisper was adjusting her life to fit into the McDade routine.

  The trio had missed their Friday night out again that week. It wasn’t her fault that time, or even the McDades fault. Paula had met herself a special man the previous week while Whisper had been patching up the walking wounded. Even though she hadn’t made the party, Mariana and Paula had gone out together. In the club, Paula had caught herself a live one.

  At least, that’s what they’d thought. Paula showed up to the arranged date two days ago, on Friday, excited, looking forward to her night. And the stupid guy had left her sitting in a bar for hours before texting to reschedule for the next night, Saturday.

  The fact that Paula was sitting at the patio table, red-faced and blubbering was evidence that the Saturday hadn’t exactly gone to plan either.

  Mariana was leaning back in her chair looking up at the building while Whisper topped off their glasses.

  “It seems bigger than your dad’s place,” Mariana said, adjusting her shades.

  “It’s four feet wider,” Whisper said, glancing at her admiring friend. “Doran told me, like he’d actually figured it out… Guess he’s obsessed with size…” Her mind wandered in a salacious direction, as it so often did. “Don’t know why he’d be worried if he’s anything like his brother.”

  Paula opened her mouth to begin crying again. Mariana, who was on the opposite side of the table, leaned over to take her hand. Having finished pouring duty, Whisper twisted around to face Paula’s way. She draped her legs over the arm of her own chair to rest her crossed calves on the arm of the patio chair next to hers.

  “Oh, honey, don’t cry about that,” Whisper said. “The asshole who stood you up probably has a weenie pencil dick. That’s probably why he didn’t show up…” Picking up her glass, she swung it around to her lips. “Was a lucky escape, no woman wants to be with a guy like that.”

  “With a guy who has a weenie pencil dick?” Mariana asked, wearing a grin. “No, she doesn’t.” Her smile dropped in an instant and she sat upright. Mariana’s sudden switch to instant terror caught Whisper’s concern, so she followed her friend’s line of sight over the back of her chair into the house. “Oh my God, should we leave?”

  Three men were walking through the kitchen, past the pillars into the dining space. Zaid, Doran, and Bosco. All three were intent on their path to the back courtyard, though she had no idea if they’d seen her and her friends seated out there or not.

  “No, we’re good for a while.”

  Mariana leaned over the table just as the men emerged from the house. “But are we allowed to be here?”

  Whisper turned a reassuring smile to her friend and saw Paula was peeking over the top of her balled-up Kleenex. “You’re not a threat to McDade security… not more than I am.”

  “Mrs. D,” Bosco said, coming over and ruffling her hair while Doran dropped into a seat at the end of the table.

  Zaid put a hand on her shoulder.

  Sensing his question, Whisper laid her hand over his. “They know about dinner. They’ll go before it’s time for us to leave.”

  She’d made the choice to bring her girls back to the house, knowing she’d eventually have to duck out for dinner. Having them there meant they could enjoy each other without worrying about a repeat of two Sundays ago.

  Appeased, Zaid took his hand back. He went to the chair her legs were draped on and hooked an arm under them to raise them just enough to let himself sink into the seat. After resting her legs on the arm again, he reached over to take her glass from her hand. Watching him drink from it gave her a weird sort of satisfaction.

  Shaking that off, Whisper returned her focus to her friends. “What’s his number?” she asked. Paula and Mariana were gaping at Zaid and didn’t seem to register the question. Crunching up a little, she snapped her fingers near him to get her friends’ attention back. “Pencil Dick, what’s his number?”

  “I… it’s in my phone,” Paula said.

  “Give it to Bosco,” she said, pointing at the man sinking into the chair at the opposite end of the table from Doran.

  “Why do I want Pencil Dick’s number?” Bosco asked, but raised his hips to take his phone from his back pocket anyway. “Who is Pencil Dick?”

  “You want it because my phone is on the kitchen counter,” Whisper said, glancing that way. As she turned her head back toward the table, Zaid leaned over and put a finger under her chin. When he tipped her head toward the light, she guessed he’d seen the bruise on her forehead. “Oh, yeah, I had lunch with Cyrus.”

  “Didn’t duck fast enough?” Bosco asked her, scrolling through his phone.

  “Too fast,” she said. “Head-butted the table… saw stars for a minute. He didn’t like that he missed. But…” She scratched her fingers into her hair at her crown. “You can’t see bruises on my scalp, so that’
s something.” Zaid was still peering. Whisper didn’t like the intensity of his scrutiny, so she pushed his arm down. “I’ll put concealer on before we go out. I promise no one will think you’re knocking me around.” She grinned. “Though it wouldn’t hurt the rep, I guess.”

  “I want to hear more about Pencil Dick,” Doran said. “Who is he?”

  “Some guy who stood Paula up two nights in a row,” Whisper said. Paula yelped. “It’s okay. Doran doesn’t think any less of you for that guy being an asshole… or if he does, that just proves he’s an asshole too.”

  She smiled at Doran who just glared. “I remember a time when you were scared of us, Whis.”

  “I was never scared of you, honey. I’m just really good at faking it.”

  Doran’s gaze shifted past her. “You gonna take that from your wife, brother?”

  “Don’t think faking it with you is the same thing as faking it for her husband,” Bosco said.

  Whisper wasn’t sure that Zaid was listening, he was scooping ice from their glass onto the napkin he’d pulled to the edge of the table. She was watching him, thinking that she hadn’t had to fake anything with her husband. Not because he was so good at pleasing her, but because he’d never tried. He’d never used that mouth on her, anywhere except her breasts. Even then, he hadn’t given them much attention. Those hands had never been between her thighs, his tongue—

  After putting the glass on the table, he grabbed her wrist to pull her forward, so her upper body was folded over her legs. He slapped the ice filled napkin to her bruise.

  That he even tried to show any care was enough to make her smile. “It’s probably too late for that,” she said, earning herself a growl with his glare. “But thank you, baby.”

  Curling her fingers around his, she held the ice to her head. Taking her turn, Whisper touched the bruise above his brow that was fading. The cut within it was still healing.

  “Don’t fuss,” he grumbled and swatted her hand away to sit back, snatching up the margarita glass as he went.

  Wouldn’t do much for his rep to have his wife fawning over his boo boo.

  “We don’t know that he has a pencil dick,” Mariana said. “We’re just assuming for compassion sake.”

  Doran’s smile was obvious in his voice. “Compassion to who? Not the guy.”

  “To Paula,” Whisper said. “The guy is a jerk. He made two dates with her and didn’t show for either.”

  “We assume, for compassion sake…” Mariana said, finding her voice though there was still trepidation in it. “That our friend isn’t missing out on much.”

  Bosco laughed. “So you gave the guy a pencil dick? Ouch.”

  Whisper waved at the table and kept her attention on Paula while leaning over to take her glass from Zaid. “Give Bosco his number and I’ll find out exactly how he’s hung for you.” Both Mariana and Paula looked at Zaid. Grinning, Whisper didn’t even bother to check her husband’s reaction. “I don’t have to fuck him to feel him up. Besides, Zay doesn’t care.”

  “Might be difficult given that he doesn’t show up when he makes dates,” Mariana said.

  “Who said anything about making a date?” Whisper asked. “We can get his address from his phone number. Right, Bosco?”

  “Probably,” Bosco said.

  Topping off the glass, she gave him the sultry eye. “The Dohertys could do it.”

  “The Dohertys can’t tell their ass from their elbow at the minute,” Doran said. Whisper handed off the glass to Zaid, while taking her focus to Doran. “Won’t apologize for telling the truth.”

  “You don’t apologize anyway,” Whisper said and put the ice on the table to grab up the empty pitcher. “We have time for one more refill.”

  Leaving her seat, she went into the house and through the dining room to the kitchen. Most things were still out, so she began to mix up the fresh batch of margaritas.

  She was slicing into a lime when a pair of hands slid onto her shoulders, startling her. Peeking over her shoulder, Whisper found Zaid peering down at her.

  “Tell me and you’ll get it,” he said.

  Holding up the knife, she kept her lime balanced in the other. “I’m holding a knife, Zay,” she said, returning to her quartering. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me when I’m holding a knife. I might accidently cut something off that could be of use to both of us one day… Why is Doran in such a good mood?”

  “We made a profit,” Zaid said. “A good profit.”

  She smiled and stirred, picking up another lime to quarter it. “I love the taste of lime, don’t you?” Raising it over her shoulder, she offered it to him without bothering to look his way. “Suck it.” The joke was unintentional, but Whisper appreciated it anyway. “Ha, you see what happened there?”

  Taking her wrist, he raised it higher and sank his teeth into the fruit. The juice trickled down her hand, over Zaid’s grip to her arm. He bent his knees to catch a drip on her skin with the tip of his tongue. Running it up the delicate flesh of her wrist and between her moist fingers, he took his time about tormenting her.

  Whisper stopped what she was doing with the fresh glasses and the salt when her eyes closed. That was the most contact she’d ever had with his tongue. It felt good. Damn good. Strong and sure, he varied his pressure, being softer with the sensitive crevices and harder on the edges.

  After two weeks as his wife, Whisper was used to the way his dick felt in her mouth. She’d even learned a few tricks that he seemed to enjoy when she blew him morning and night. But she hadn’t learned anything about the way he liked to kiss or the weight of his body on hers. She didn’t know what he felt like in her most intimate space. He’d never even given her the pleasure of his teasing fingers.

  At first, she hadn’t minded or given it much thought. But as the days passed and she became more used to having him around, her curiosity increased… and so did her yearning.

  Pushing everything out of the way, Whisper spun around and jumped up to sit on the counter, quickly coiling her legs around his when he began to back away.

  “No,” he said before she opened her mouth.

  “I’m your wife,” she said, sliding the leather of his belt from its buckle and bowing forward to accentuate her cleavage. “God won’t frown on you fucking your wife.”

  That made his brow arch. “Peanut… you astound me,” he murmured, opening his fingers to comb them through her hair, pushing it back behind her ear.

  He didn’t look astounded, he looked as indifferent as ever. “I think that’s cause for celebration, don’t you?”

  Zaid didn’t stop her from unbuttoning his pants, though he seemed more interested in his fingers in her hair than what her hand was doing to his dick. His body was paying attention though, as always, his cock hardened for her fast.

  “You ever say no to a guy?”

  “For sex?” she asked, rubbing in long, slow strokes. “I’d say no to any Byrne who asked… and any McDade too before I married you.”

  “You saying yes now?”

  Loosening her legs from his, Whisper parted her own wide. “Open for business, husband.”

  “Why? Because we’re here and you’re horny?”

  Letting her lips curl, she boosted a little higher. “Is there another reason?” she asked, but was surprised to feel him withdraw. “Hey.” Letting go of his dick, she took hold of his ribs instead. “I haven’t had an orgasm for two damn weeks, more than two weeks. I think I’ve been more than patient.”

  Zaid just shook his head and stepped back to fasten his pants again. “You’re not ready.”

  “Not…” Her reaction to that insult fired her up and not in a warm, sexy way. “Are you fucking kidding? I service you every damn night, and every damn morning. I haven’t objected or rejected you, not once.”

  “You don’t like doing it.”

  “Blowing you?” she asked, feeling a little ridiculous when her hands went to her hips because she was still on the counter. Sitting up there gave her more h
eight than she’d have on her feet, so Whisper stayed put. “I would relish sucking your dick every hour, on the hour for the rest of my life, if I didn’t get the impression it was all going through the motions for you.”

  His brow came down hard and fast. “What? I come every damn time.”

  “Yeah, I know, but why wouldn’t you? You’ve got a woman’s mouth on your cock, of course you come. But you couldn’t care less whose mouth it was. There’s nothing special about it. It’s a physical release, that’s all. I just don’t get why I’m not allowed one too.”

  “If it’s such a chore for both of us, why do we do it?”

  “You tell me, husband,” she said. “You’re the one who demands it.”

  “Why wouldn’t I take it? You’ve never said no.”

  Spitting that truth at her gave Whisper a new perspective. Her defiant nature curled her hands around the edge of the counter. She leaned toward him, her eyes sure and wide when they locked onto his.

  Deliberately, Whisper accentuated the word, “No.”

  Every second of silence that passed heated the tension. Whisper could actually feel it. The crackle of his simmering interest had always been there to some degree, now it was rising to a boil that she suddenly felt unable to control.

  When his hand rose from his side on route to her knee, she batted it away and twisted to get further out of his reach. The sound of his nasal inhale gave Whisper a rush. He provoked a sense of power like she’d never before experienced.

  “Didn’t you hear me say no, jerk?”

  Lunging forward, he grabbed the counter on either side of her thighs and surged over her, forcing her to slant back. “Open your fucking mouth,” he hissed and tried to dive down for a kiss.

  Whisper twisted away fast, leaning even further back. “No way,” she said, peeking around at him. Tipping up her chin, she curled her leg around his again, running her heel up the back of his thigh. “Tell me I’m pretty.” Zaid bared his teeth and hissed at her. A satisfied smile rose on her lips. She’d never seen that kind of heat in his eyes. Nothing even close. She’d had his dick in her mouth and watched his every nuance as she brought him to climax. Even in those times, she’d never seen him want her like he did right there, right in that second. “Tell me I’m pretty and take me to dinner…” Resting a hand on his shoulder, she let it slide down his chest as she pressured him back, touching her lips to his ear as she eased up. “And maybe there will be a reward in it for you, husband.” She drew back just enough to let her mouth dance in front of his, their drowsy eyes almost as close. “But I doubt it…”