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“Enough! You have touched her more than necessary. Get the fuck up now and get out.” He orders the guard out of the room, and I swear my entire body becomes an oven. Every part of me is responding to his authority, and I don’t know what is happening to me. Once the room is empty, he simply stands there staring at me, not speaking, but it is the loudest sound.
“I… uhm…thank you for getting me out of here, Sir. I don’t know if I can pay you anything, but I..”
“You will call me Cillian, in the presence of others.” OKAY… That’s odd. What will I call him otherwise? “And, I don’t want or need your money, little flower.” My cheeks feel warm when he calls me that, but it also makes my body kind of achy.
“Then what do you want for… for helping me?”
“We will start with your tiny petal between those thick thighs and your sweet lips on mine and then move on to everything.” Oh, God. I can’t believe he said that to me and furthermore I can’t believe I liked it. I am at a loss for words. “It’s okay, little one. No need to reply. It is done. For now, I am going to send you home with my driver. Feel free to make yourself at home and eat. Mrs. Madigan might still be there. Have her cook you something. Get comfortable. I will be home shortly. Call no one until we have had time to talk.”
Holding his hand out, he looks at me expectantly, waiting for me to comply. I should feel hesitant, especially given what he just said, but, all I am feeling is this buzzing anticipation zinging through me. I place my hand in his, and I swear I feel something pass from him to me. Gasping, I look at him, and his eyes are a hazy blue compared to a minute ago.
“I…” Oh, God. Everything is warm now. My mouth feels parched, and no matter how many times I lick my lips, they feel dry.
“Don’t worry, little one; your mouth will be wet enough. Soon. Now come.” I obey him like a lap dog and walk with him to the car. “Take her straight home, Cordero. No stops, and keep your fucking hands and eyes to yourself.”
“You got it, Sir.” He looks at me once more before turning haste and walking into the building. I slump against the seat, expelling tension I didn’t know I was holding in being in his presence. Geesh.
The car ride is shorter than I expected, and when we pull up, I am stunned. His house… more like a mansion, is exquisite. It is huge. Five families could fit in there. “Are you sure we are in the right place?” I ask his driver lamely. He doesn’t look at me or speak to me. He just stands there like a statue, and I shrug, knowing he is going to follow orders. I am not sure I should ring the bell or knock, but the choice is taken from my hands when an older woman opens the door.
“Hello, dear. Come on in. Are you hungry?”
“No, thank you.” I have a problem eating when I am nervous. Not that my hips and stomach get the memo.
“Very well. The master bedroom is upstairs down the hall to the left. Only room with double doors. Get comfortable, dear. By the way, I am Mrs. Madigan.” Smiling, I nod my head and walk up the stairs. I really should call my brother and tell him everything, but Mr. O’Doyle told me not to, and I really have this unexplained need to do as he commanded.
This room is amazing. I walk around taking everything in, and nothing screams a woman’s touch, but then again, as masterful as he is, he could simply not let her have a say. When I make it to the bathroom, I see the jacuzzi tub, and my body begins to scream how much it needs to soak and get clean. “Yes, please,” I say to myself.
Oh my God. I didn’t realize how horrible I felt being in that jail with no shower or bath and not being able to wash my hair. I keep teetering between feeling guilty for enjoying this when I should be contacting my brother and feeling pampered. I found some body wash under his sink and added it to the tub, and now I am under an obscene amount of bubbles fighting back jealousy at the feminine fragrance surrounding me.
I want to close my eyes and drift off for a bit, but every time I do, I picture his face and the way his eyes stripped my body down to the core even though I was covered up. My nipples begin to bead just like they were sitting in that room being watched and scrutinized by him. I couldn’t admit it to myself then, but my pussy was so wet I swear I thought the chair was going to wilt beneath me. I wanted to pant and beg him to douse the flame he lit inside of me, but something held me back.
