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So this is a punishment for what I said earlier. I whimper and press my hips back to meet his thrusts. I wiggle my butt, trying to get him to relent as he mercilessly uses my body for his own pleasure.
He responds by spanking my ass twice. It hurts less than the ruler did creating a warmth that spreads deep inside me, taking me closer to ecstasy.
Pressure builds at my core. I’m close, but I can’t catch the high I’m looking for. Rory rotates his hips, taking me to the brink.
“If you come, I’ll thrash your ass raw.”
Despite the threat, I struggle to hold off my orgasm. I have no idea how I manage, but as Rory grunts and finishes inside me I haven’t climaxed. He pulls out of my body, leaving me a sticky, unfulfilled mess.
“Let that be a lesson to you,” he says as he throws back the curtain and walks back out into the main room. “Only good girls receive pleasure from me.”
As he goes and retakes his seat on the sofa, I bow my head. Lesson learned. I won’t act like an ungrateful brat again.
CHAPTERFOURTEEN
Rory
Family dinnersat my house are always a boisterous affair. We’re a loud and demonstrative bunch and I’m not sure how Eleanor’s going to cope since she’s not got no siblings of her own.
I wrap an arm around her waist as we go in through the front door. It’s partly because I want to give her a sense of security and partly because I think she’d run if I gave her the chance.
We step into the hallway and voices drift along the corridor from the dining room. The first people we encounter are Sorcha and her kids. She’s in the living room, reading my niece and nephew a bedtime story. As we enter, she gets to her feet.
“Eleanor!” she exclaims. “You look fantastic.”
My chest swells with pride. My wife is gorgeous tonight in the green dress I bought her yesterday, along with a whole wardrobe of clothes and shoes, including the impossibly high heels she’s wearing.
At my insistence, she left her hair loose. It tumbles in soft curls down over her shoulders. Pre-Raphaelite paintings can’t compare to her beauty.
Sorcha is also dressed to the nines, as usual. She’s a stunning woman, but tonight she looks tired. She was widowed far too young. I can’t help thinking she should be out having fun. She should be dating someone new by now, but Aidan seems to want her locked away here forever, remaining faithful to our brother’s memory.
“These are my children,” Sorcha says, pulling me from my thoughts. “Donal and Cora, this is Eleanor.”
Three-year-old Cora smiles shyly and hides behind her mother’s legs. With her blonde curls and pale skin, she looks like a little cherub. She’s a sweetheart most of the time, but there are moments when she displays the legendary Donovan temper.
Donal, ever-protective of his mum, steps in front of her. At almost five, he’s already showing signs of being his father’s son. He scowls at Eleanor.
“Who’s she?” he demands.
“Your ma told you, she’s Eleanor,” I tell him. “She’s my wife.”
“You don’t have a wife.” His tone is petulant.
“He does now,” Sorcha says in that quiet but firm tone she uses with her kids. “And you’d better be nice to her.”
Donal continues to glare at Eleanor, a wonderful welcome to the family. I’m tempted to reprimand the little shit, but I don’t like to step on Sorcha’s toes. Aidan has no such issue. With Ciaran gone, he has no qualms about exerting his authority. He’s grooming the boy to take our older brother’s place one day.
“You forgot the bag,” Eleanor says suddenly and I realize I left Andrew’s gifts and the toys we brought for the kids, in the car.
“I’ll go get it.”
Kissing her cheek, I head back out to the car, just as Jacob’s car pulls up, the ever-present Manus at the wheel. Jacob gets out of the car and storms into the house, muttering furiously. If he sees me, he gives no indication of it.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask Manus as he gets out of the car.
“Woman trouble.”
“What woman?”
