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Fifteen
Brennan
It was hard notto pin her down, not to shove my knee against her cunt and to have her grind into me. It was hard not to sink between those too-thin thighs and to eat her out, to thrust my fingers inside her and make her work for her orgasm.
But what I wanted, tonight, was for her not to think. Was for her to sleep.
Just pinning her down, just getting her off had already taken away a lot of her tension, and had she not made that ecstatic sound, that faint clutch in her throat that reminded me of when she orgasmed, only not as powerful, I’d have let her rest.
If it was tomorrow, I’d have spun her face down and spanked her ass—exactly like I’d promised her I would this afternoon on the ride back to the stables.
But I wanted her to sleep.
More than I wanted her to bounce on my fucking cock.
Which was really saying something.
I could probably hammer nails into wood, that was how hard I was, but Camille wasn’t just willing pussy. She wasn’t a mistress.
She was going to be my wife.
The mother of my children.
And for all that I’d been led into this thanks to an association I wished I could forget, it occurred to me that she was so submissive I could guide her where I wanted her.
Mold her into what I craved.
The idea was enough to make me salivate. It hadn’t been on my mind at any point while I’d been concocting this plan, but, and it was a massive but, it had been ever since she’d come barging into my room.
Everything about her, as she clumsily tried to seduce me—either into tying me to her or to help her forget, I wasn’t sure which yet—had given off such strong vibes that it was like a magnetic call to the iron in my blood.
I could no more back away from that than I could stop being a fucking O’Donnelly.
Every inch of me responded, and the only way I could contain myself was to pin her down and to get her off. Anything else, any other movement, and I’d have found it impossible to stop myself from fucking her.
The second she moaned in pain, the second she admitted why she’d put pressure on those battered hands of hers, and the second that I’d told her she didn’t have to think anymore—that I’d do that for her—she’d relaxed. Like I’d uttered her personal ‘Open, Sesame,’ she’d grown limp and lax, and when I’d made to move off her, to let go of her hands, that was when she’d grumbled, and started fidgeting.
I stayed where I was, unable to believe my future wife might potentially be... I didn’t even want to think it.
But it began with K, ended in E, and was Superman’s only weakness.
By no means was I an Irish Mobster version of Superman, but when a woman ticked every fucking box, it had to make you question things.
At least, it made a smart man question things...
And I was, if nothing else, smart. I wasn’t saying I was like Conor, who crapped binary code every morning before breakfast, but I was definitely no dumbass. It would be impossible to juggle as many plates as I did if I was thick in the head, after all.
But this woman had the guts to kill—not just anyone, but a Pakhan—while clinging to me as sweetly, as softly as she was now. I knew she’d slay any fucker who tried to hurt our kids, would protect them just as she’d wanted to protect Victoria tonight, while blossoming under my variety of dominance as we made those future O’Donnellys together... How could that not give a man a hard-on?
Even though it pained me, I left her alone. Let her recover from the evening’s violence, from the bloodshed, from the distressing truth of what she’d done.
This was a judgment-free zone because, in the long run, she’d done me a favor by ridding my world of a frenemy, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t hitting her hard, and that didn’t mean that, if I fucked things up now, I wouldn’t be paying for it for years to come.
See, smart. And selfish.
Sue me.
What stunned me the next morning was that I fell asleep in that position, and woke up with her arms around my throat, her face nuzzled against mine as we shared a pillow. My knee stayed between her thighs, pinning her to the mattress, shoving us flush against one another with my morning wood sandwiched between the pair of us.
