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An urge hit me. An ugly, little messed-up need to take another look. Not because I wanted to see my sister in that way, but because it was like seeing myself through another lens.
Would I look like that if a man was on top of me?
Stealing a glance around the corner, a different view surprised me. Ruby’s face pressed into the sofa as the man screwed her from behind.
Would my hips indent if his fingers gripped them like that? Would my skin flush at his touch?
The very thought made a twist of pleasure writhe through me. But unlike my sister, I had no experience with men. Because, at twenty-nine, I was still a virgin.
It was a constant source of hilarity for Ruby, who never failed to point out that one glaring difference between us.
My sister cried out, her fingers digging into the edge of the sofa as the man pounded into her. Would I moan? Or scream? The man was fairly attractive, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have him inside me.
My gaze travelled from his muscled stomach upward to meet his eyes, which were fixed on me as he grinned.
My feet felt leaden as I dragged myself back to my room, closing my door behind me and leaning against it, my pulse racing. Holy smokes. He’d seen me watching them. Ruby would have a bloody field day if he told her.
Throwing myself back into bed, I buried my face into the pillow and let out a stream of muffled curses as the muted sound of their lovemaking filled our apartment—almost like the man was purposely making it louder so I would hear.
Putting in my headphones and upping the volume on a playlist, I drowned them out.
It had always been the darker depictions of romance that had pulled my attention. Never the flowers and love notes. Curiosity had gotten the better of me a few years prior when I tumbled down an online rabbit hole and into threads where people discussed being spanked and bit, and it turned them on. It turned me on when I let my mind wander to being under a man’s control. Giving my body over to him for him to use.
When I finally fell asleep, it was to the thought of me beneath the man, spread wide around him while crying out because I needed more. My twisted little fantasies were never satisfied with just being impaled by a man.
In the dream, I begged him to hurt me, choke me, and give me what I desired. Something I could never ask for in the real world.
THREE
EWEN
‘What do you mean, the shipment’s wrecked?’ I said, cracking my knuckles on the hand not gripping my phone.
‘It’s been sabotaged, boss. Someone’s got marking dye all over the fake notes.’
‘Fuck,’ I groaned, reaching up to rub a hand over my stubbled chin. ‘Look into it. I want you to find whichever fucker has stuck their nose in our business. When you find out, call me.’
I hung up the phone and slammed it down onto the counter.
Alfie, a family friend and owner of a hedonistic highland retreat, raised an eyebrow. ‘Alright, mate?’
‘Nah. They’ve hit again. Assuming it’s the same arsehole as before,’ I said, leaning back against the granite countertop behind me in our small family kitchen. With my brothers and sisters all having moved out, it was just me in the McGowan mansion most of the time. While the chef worked in the staffed industrial kitchen, this one had always been where my siblings and I gathered to grab a beer and a snack. Well, and Alfie, who used it as a home away from home when he was down in Glasgow.
‘I’d ask who you guys pissed off, but I’m guessing the list is extensive.’ Alfie grinned before opening two beers, handing one to me.
‘There’s no-one notable at the minute. Maeve and Cam have done a pretty good job of running the organisation lately.’ The cold beer tingled against my tongue as I stopped to take a sip before continuing. ‘They are making more connections than enemies now that Harold’s gone. I don’t think there’s anyone I’ve annoyed.’
With the two patriarchs, Malcolm Sr and Harold, of our crime families dead, we’d joined forces through Maeve and Cam’s wedding. While they spearheaded the organisation, all I usually did was run the money laundering side of my business and keep The Loft going. Unless someone needed to torture information out of an idiot or two. It had been a while since I incited any feuds.
‘You’ve not annoyed some mafia princess, have you?’ Alfie asked, giving me a smirk.
I shook my head. ‘That’s far more your style than mine. Don’t shit where you sleep.’
‘Ah, they get over it eventually. Plus, the stuck-up ones are fun when you corrupt them. Nothing sweeter than an uptight woman begging for more.’
Begging at all would be nice. It’d been too long… Damn, I needed to change the subject before I went thinking about it too much and getting a boner in the kitchen. Alfie would probably offer to take care of it, and that would be messier than I needed. Especially seeing as he’d already slept with my brother and his wife. Not a pudding I needed to stir.
‘Are you staying down here for Logan’s fortieth?’ I asked. My siblings and I had been preparing for our eldest brother’s birthday for a few weeks.
