Page 85 of Guilty as Sin

Pain, pleasure, punishment, reward, all of it combines into a swirl of euphoria.

“So. Fucking. Good,” my husband grunts, pounding into me.

He says it again and again as he spanks me, as he pinches my clit until I’m spasming around him, as he erupts inside my pussy with a heat that overwhelms every other sensation, except my thrill of victory.

“So fucking good.”

Chapter 39

Brady

My wife excels at her new role. After our nighttime exchange, I take her off patrol and reassign her to whatever I’m doing. We visit my hotels and restaurants to verify everything’s running smoothly. We visit my office, but that’s mostly because I know she loves it when I bend her over my desk. We visit my latest construction site, where she praises the men’s work and jokes with them in Spanish.

I didn’t know she spoke Spanish. I don’t like the way she makes other men laugh, but before we leave the site, she kisses me in front of everyone, tongue-deep as she bends backward in my arms. Letting them all know she’s mine.

She proves herself at every opportunity, and I reward her accordingly.

But she pushes it too far when she asks me to reach out to her brother.

“He’s lonely,” she says over breakfast one morning. “He doesn’t have any friends here.”

“I don’t see how that’s my problem.” I don’t like Connor. He tried to fuck us over by making an alliance with Seven, and I still don’t trust him.

“It’s Liam’s problem,” she says. “Connor’s been staying isolated because of his face.”

“It must’ve healed by now.”

“Which is why the two of you should take him out.”

“Trust me,” I scoff. “I’d like nothing better.”

She sets down her yogurt and spoon to glare at me with full force. Her concern for her brother would be touching, if it weren’t potentially so harmful. You treat every gun like it’s loaded, and you treat every non-O’Sullivan like he’s a traitor.

And Connor’s already betrayed us.

The fact that he and Cora are so close brings serious risk. She’s so goddamn protective of him. If my wife had to choose between shielding Connor or obeying me, I know which one she’d pick.

And that’s a problem.

Problems are something to be dealt with immediately. But in the frustrating instances where I can’t, it’s best to keep a close eye on them.

“Fine,” I say. “We’ll take him out.” This only gets Cora to purse her lips in addition to glaring, so I add, “Golfing.”

“Thank you,” she says. I’d expected her tone to be curt, but she sounds truly grateful to me.

Reaching out to Connor will be killing two birds with one stone. It’ll please my wife, which is inconveniently important to me. Meanwhile the other element is important to my whole family.

“We need a gut check on Connor,” I tell Liam over the phone. “It’s a matter of security.”

* * *

We bring Finn with us to make sure Connor feels even more outnumbered. Finn’s not happy about it, but none of us are.

We take Connor out to our golf simulator complex. It’s the only venue I’ve put Finn in charge of, so it’s completely over-the-top. We hit microchipped balls into the garish targets in the outfield, while a waitress delivers caviar and single malt whiskey to our climate-controlled bay. We’re in the highest-end suite, naturally, which Finn had outfitted with white leather couches, a chrome and glass bar, and high-def TVs covering every inch of the three walls.

Connor sips his whiskey in silence. He’s bolt upright on the low-slung couch, and he’s jumpy as shit. His face has pretty much healed. But now that I can see his features clearly, I wish they were still mashed to shit.

I hate that he looks so much like Cora. He’s got her rich dark hair, her ice-blue eyes, even her sharply pointed chin.