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Ronan
“Fuck,” I groan as I grab a fist full of the blonde woman’s hair on her knees in front of me. I don’t know her name and don’t need to. I grab the back of her head with my other hand and shove my dick further down her throat. She gags like she hasn’t done this a thousand times before to a thousand different men. I know her type. “Fucking take it. Don’t you stop.” I fuck her face harder, not letting up.
I have the perfect arrangement with women, simple really. When I need stress relief, they relieve the stress. I don’t ask them for a relationship; they don’t expect one. Telling everyone they know they got to sleep with Ronan McDermott is usually more than enough. There’s no cuddling, no overnight stays, and no talking. Once I fuck their brains out, they simply pack up their shit and leave.
Just how I like it.
She swallows around the head of my dick. I feel my balls tighten and am just about to come in her mouth when my brother Cormac, or Mac as everyone calls him, slams the door open. He takes in the scene before him but chooses not to comment.
“Our parents are here.”
Shit. The last thing I need is them breathing down my damn neck. When Dad handed over control of the “family business,” I thought it meant that he would finally leave us the hell alone.
I was wrong.
If anything, he’s been hovering more than ever, and it is starting to drive me certifiably fucking insane.
“What do they want?” I snapped, not bothering to pull my dick out of her mouth. After all, it’s nothing he hasn’t seen before.
“How the hell am I supposed to know? They want to see all three of us in the den. Now.” He stares at me deadpan without moving from his spot in the doorway.
“Fine. I’ll be there in two minutes. Go get Finn.” With a sigh, he gives the blonde one last look and walks down the hall towards Finn’s room.
Five minutes later, I walk into the den, and the woman I just had my dick buried in walks past me and out the front door. I see my parents sitting on the couch and Mac standing and staring out the window with a glass of whiskey in his hand, doing everything in his power to avoid looking at our father. Finn sits anxiously in the armchair next to my parents.
No matter how old we are, Finn’s panties get in a bunch whenever Mum and Dad are around. I know it stems from his desire to always stay on their good side, not wanting to become a castaway. When our parents took him in when he was eight, he became one of us. Now and forever. Finn never seems to understand that he is permanently part of this family, that we want him here, and that he doesn’t always have to try so damn hard.
Already armed with an attitude, I sit in my usual chair opposite Finn and wait to hear what I am sure will be a detestable request from my father.
“Who was that?” My mother smiles at me sweetly. Sometimes I don’t understand how this incredible woman married the man beside her.
I smile back at her, “It was nobody, Mum. What brings you here today?”
“Oh, so formal. We can’t just stop by to catch up with our children?”
Mac, Finn, and I all look at one another, knowing full and well that they both have an agenda. “Mum,” Mac drones, hoping to get this show on the road. The less he’s around our father, the better.
“I need you boys to take care of something,” Dad finally pipes up.
“What do you need?” Finn asks. God, he’s always so eager.
Mum sits back on the couch as my dad gets ready to explain. “Do you remember the Hayes’, the couple that ran the bank?”
The bank is code for the bookstore, Hayes’ Bookstore. We use it to hide all of the New York syndicate’s money. We, of course, don’t trust any bank to keep our shit safe, and keeping that kind of cash in anyone’s home is just asking for a robbery and a bullet to the head. The amount of money that sits within the walls of that store is insane. Nobody outside this room knows what the bookstore is, and no one else takes money out or puts money in.
“Yeah, I remember them,” Mac states as he stares out the window. “Cece has been running things since Aiden and Freya died, right?”
“Murdered. They didn’t just up and die. They were murdered,” Dad snaps through gritted teeth, annoyed that Mac isn’t showing him the respect he thinks he deserves by looking at him when he speaks.
“Sorry.” Finn apologizes for Mac.
“Anyway,” Dad continues, “Cece died of a stroke six months ago, and her niece, Aiden, and Freya’s daughter, has been running things ever since.”
We all stare at Dad, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “She has no idea what’s hiding behind the walls in the back rooms and believes that she really is just running a bookstore.”
“What?” I bite out.
