After he gets a few eager moans from me, he moves away and drags the ice up my body, over a nipple, and then to the other side until he’s between my legs again, stroking the ice over my clit, gently. Somehow the sensation becomes perfect and painful, and I grind against his mouth, fighting against the cuffs, wanting to grab his head, hold him there as he gives me what I want.
Another low chuckle, and then his finger is inside me, another one joining right behind. Eyes on me, he keeps his face near my sex, and I watch him as his fingers move rapidly inside me, demanding I go where he sends me . . . right out of my mind. But as I reach there, he refuses the high, and I grunt in frustration.
“Aw, baby, you want to come?” he asks, voice soft.
I want to respond, but I can’t, not yet. He’s risen again and he reaches for the condom and applies it in haste. I stare at him, this incredible man with a strong body, full of delicious muscles and even that sexy V, but it’s his soul that’s sexier. “I want you,” I tell him, “every goddamn inch of you.”
The side of his mouth arches sensually as he steps in front of me, roughly taking hold of me, gripping my hips. “Spread your legs.”
I do as I’m told, and then he enters me right to the hilt. Our moans echo each other and my head falls back, the cuffs digging into my hands, reminding me I’m trapped to his desires. His cock moves in and out, setting a steady rhythm. I’m blinded by the pleasure as every stroke seems to somehow take me higher, make me feel more of him, more connected, more lost to each other.
His brow furrows, expression grows serious, and he’s thrusting hard and slow, showing me who’s in charge. It’s all so perfect, and all that I need. And with each powerful thrust, I fall deeper under his spell, staring into his eyes, watching him take my soul in a way no one has ever requested it. There’s nothing between us anymore. Nothing to fear. Nothing to worry over. Gabe has me, in all the ways that I need to be loved.
Somewhere in between moans, and on a gasp, I say again, “I love you.”
He freezes, buried deep inside me. He grabs my face, stares at me intently. “Christ, I love the way that sounds from that pretty mouth.” He steps back, withdrawing, and a coldness washes over me.
He grabs the handcuff key off the bar and removes the metal loops from the bar, then he takes off the right handcuff completely, only keeping one set on my left wrist. “Come here, sweetheart,” he says, turning me around, gathering my wrists behind my back and cuffing them together. “Let me show you what my love feels like,” he finishes.
I don’t get any hint of what he means until he threads my hair in his fingers, angles my head back, and then bends me over the bar in a way I can tell he’s dreamed about doing. He reenters me, one hand on the cuffs, one on my hips, and pounds into me from behind.
“You’re mine now, McKenna,” he growls in my ear. “Tell me.”
“Yes, yours,” I scream, my eyes pinching shut against the rising pleasure, as his rock-hard cock hits that perfect spot inside, over and over again. “God, yes!”
He grunts, a primal sound that weakens my knees as he takes me from behind. Over and over again, skin smacks against skin, and the scent of our sex trickles into the air, our moans turning into a single sound. All of that isn’t what tips me over the edge, sending me crashing into his euphoria, it’s the strength of his body at my back, his teeth pressing into my shoulder, somehow mingling pleasure and pain into one blissful sensation.
“Gabe!” I scream, beginning to tremble, quivering with an orgasm I can’t control.
“Yeah, baby, I like that, too,” he growls, then he’s pounding against me.
I can’t think, let alone speak, as he’s shifting his hips in a rhythm to get us both off. The strength of his presence, the way he touches me, takes me . . . reality fades away and I free-fall, screaming and shuddering while he’s bucking and jerking, roaring out his pleasure.
We fight the end, holding the climax until our very last strength is used up. Only then does the high fade, and then the only thing left is sweaty, satisfied bodies . . . and the best thing of all . . . us.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
“And I’ll love you forever,” Gabe says again in my ear, breathless.
Epilogue
Gabe
One year and a few days later . . .
Voices carry across the pub in a loud roar of drunken celebration. When the final note of the traditional Irish wedding song is sung, the crowd erupts in cheers. McKenna laughs and leans toward me, and I kiss her for all to see, dipping her back, putting on a show. Because that’s how the Irish celebrate a wedding.
She laughs again as she leans away, her hair in big loose curls, her body decorated in white vintage lace, her makeup light and stunning. She gestures at the bar. “I’ll go get us another drink.”
“I’ll be here,” I reply, smacking a hand against the table and dropping down in the chair closest to me.
She gives me another bright smile that could warm the coldest of souls, and then she’s on her way toward the bar, where there are people we don’t know working tonight for our wedding. I’d hired the catering company to handle things so that O’Keefe’s employees could enjoy the wedding after our outdoor ceremony at Crissy Field Park. From the stunning views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco Bay at the ceremony, to the beautiful day with big fluffy clouds in the sky, McKenna had the perfect wedding, and for that I’m insanely glad.
I reach for my near empty lager, when a sudden low voice comes from behind me. “You’re so full of shit.”
Recognizing the voice immediately, I chuckle and glance over my shoulder, finding Dmitri, a CEO from Las Vegas that’s been a friend for years. Tall, blond, and exuding a heady dose of arrogance, he always did fit in with our crowd. “Pray tell,” I say with a grin. “Why am I so full of shit?”
Dmitri’s brows wing up over intense blue eyes. “I do recall you all telling me once that being locked down wasn’t for you.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and gestures with his chin. “Now look at you all. Not one of you is single.”
I bark a loud laugh and follow his gaze, finding Micah, Ryder, and Darius, surrounded by their ladies, before I address Dmitri again. “Coming from the guy who’s come to San Francisco with all of his friends, who either have families already or are expecting babies any day now, that’s rich.”
Dmitri chuckles, his gaze falling to where all the Las Vegas crew were standing. I’m not close to Dmitri’s wife, Presley, nor any of his nearly dozen friends, only meeting them tonight for the first time, but the moment Dmitri heard I was getting married, the entire gang of them came for the trip. If I took a guess, I’d say that’s because Dmitri missed Micah’s wedding, along with Darius’s and Ryder’s too, so he likely came now out of respect to show his support of us.
We’d all known each other a long time, but hadn’t see each other in a while. Dmitri had a sex club of his own in Las Vegas, and he often sought advice from us on how to run it, because we’d all been successful in hiding our dirty little secrets.
Of course, until we weren’t.
Dmitri eventually turns back to me and slaps my back. “Love looks good on you.” He gestures again at Micah, Darius, and Ryder. “It looks good on all of you.”
“Thank you, Dmitri,” I say to him and offer my hand. “I appreciate you making the trip out here.”
Dmitri smiles, returning the handshake. “You gave us a good reason to come and enjoy your clubs out here for a few days. I think all our ladies are thanking you for that.” He releases my hand. “You should come see us in Vegas sometime.”
“We just might take you up on that,” I reply with smile.
Dmitri leaves then, returning to his group, taking his wife into his arms and kissing her.
“Who was that?”
I glance up, finding McKenna holding two beers. I take both, placing them on the table before pulling her onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her. “They’re friends
from Vegas.”
She’s watching them, squinting her eyes. “Isn’t that Allie’s assistant? What’s her name?”
“Liv.”
“Right, Liv.” She turns to me. “Is that her boyfriend?”
I chuckle, knowing exactly what she’s talking about. One of Dmitri’s friends that he introduced me to earlier, Miles, has Allie’s assistant in a kiss that is as explicit as it is hot. “I don’t believe they are dating, no, but it looks like that might change.”
“No kidding,” she says with a laugh, then she sighs it away and sips her beer, relaxing in my arms.
I brush my knuckles across her cheekbone, suddenly feeling like it’s just me and her with no one else around. “How is my beautiful bride?”
She gives me her sweet smile then studies the people around her. “I’m not quite sure I’ve ever seen so many drunk people in the pub.”
I nod. “Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves.”
“Yeah, they do,” she whispers, staring at something over my shoulder.
When I look to the source, I find Evan, who’s standing at the bar with his girlfriend. They’re talking to my mother and father, who for the most part seem to be having fun. While it took my mother a while to get on board with the small wedding idea, she happens to love McKenna to pieces.
McKenna didn’t only change my life, she made it a whole lot better.
I realize then, as I stare at Evan, who found himself a straight and narrow life out in Arizona, how much has changed in a year, and not just for McKenna and me. Across from us, Micah has his arm around a very pregnant Allie. Taylor isn’t showing yet, as she sits on Darius’s lap in the chair, but within a month she will be, and their children will grow up together. Even Ryder, who’s hugging Hadley from behind, married six months ago and is thinking of starting a family soon. Life has moved on. Slowly, but surely, there aren’t dirty little secrets anymore, there is only love.
“What’s that look all about?” McKenna asks, dragging me from my thoughts, sliding a hand across my cheek.
I smile into the warmth of her eyes, knowing nothing can ever break us. “It’s you.” I cup the face of the woman who made my life unravel and then somehow put it back together better than before it was broken. “It’s this. It’s everything.”
A soft smile creases her cheeks as she leans into my touch. “It’s us.”
For my readers
Acknowledgments
Much love to my family; my readers; my editor, Sue; my publisher, Gina; my agent, Jessica, my assistant, Michelle; the kick-ass authors in my sprint group; and the entire Loveswept team. This book couldn’t have happened without all of you!
BY STACEY KENNEDY
Dirty Little Secrets
Bound Beneath His Pain
Tied to His Betrayal
Restrained Under His Duty
Cuffed by His Charm
Club Sin
Claimed
Bared
Desired
Freed
Tamed
Commanded
Mine
Magic & Mayhem
Witches Be Burned
Standalone
Bought by the Boss (coming soon)
PHOTO: © PAIGE RICHARDSON
STACEY KENNEDY is the USA Today bestselling author of the Dirty Little Secrets and Club Sin series. She writes deeply emotional romances about powerful men and the wild women who tame them. When she’s not writing sensual stories, she spends time with her real-life hero, her husband, their two young children, and her other babies: a mini labradoodle named Jax and a chocolate Labrador named Murphy. Stacey is a proud chocolate, television show, Urban Barn, and wine addict. She likes the heroes in her books like she likes her coffee…strong and hot!
staceykennedy.com
Facebook.com/authorstaceykennedy
Twitter.com/Stacey_Kennedy
Read on for an excerpt from
Hard Cover
by Jamie K. Schmidt
Available soon from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Dawn
Rory Parker was a billionaire douche bag who looked like a movie star. I knew this because we had gone to the same high school. I Google stalked him when he started sending me emails earlier this year. We traded quips and banter for several months like it was some bizarre foreplay. Then the real reason he contacted me came up. Rory hadn’t wanted to “reconnect,” he wanted to buy me out of my lease. I wanted him to go to hell. When it was apparent neither one of us was going to budge, the emails mysteriously stopped being friendly. I felt partly triumphant that I stood my ground, and a little disappointed that he only was interested in me because of my store. However, I should have known he wasn’t giving up and was just refocusing his attack.
A combination of old money and real estate mogul, Rory was planning a redevelopment project for the shops by the Haven docks. He was throwing money around that had everyone scrambling to sell out. I wanted to punch him in his perfect white teeth—when I wasn’t fantasizing about what I’d like to do with him. With his pretty rich-boy looks and body by CrossFit, Rory was eye candy. He was also the enemy, and I had to keep that in mind.
In high school, he had been a senior when I was a freshman—not to mention his crowd wouldn’t let him be caught dead going out with me. Still, we managed to flirt every chance we got. Once he left for college, it was out of sight, out of mind for both of us. I felt like an idiot for getting all oogly-woogly when he emailed me out of the blue. I was such a sap. Maybe I was even a little desperate. That’s why it stung so much when he followed up my “Want to get dinner sometime?” with “Funny, you should ask . . .” I told him I wasn’t interested in having him buy me out of my lease, and then stopped responding to his emails. Rory still sent them, though.
When the emails no longer worked for him, he sent my landlord, Larry Briggs, with a generous offer. I ripped up the paperwork and set it on fire inside the copper bowl by my cash register. It had been worth the citation for the fire hazard. I’ll pay that fine next month, as well as another one when the next bullshit charge they try to lay on me comes around. The town’s officials were collecting offenses, hoping to evict me, but they were going to have to work a lot harder on that one. I paid my rent on time and I was a model tenant—if a little eccentric.
I hoped that would be the end of it. I couldn’t care less if I was delaying hometown boy’s pet project. I still had five years left on my ten-year lease. He and this town could kiss my ass until then. When it was time to find another place for my bookstore, it probably wouldn’t be here. No one would rent to me. I was the quartz in their otherwise shining jeweled crown of the conservative New England town of Haven, on the Connecticut shoreline. Eight months out of the year the only customers I had were locals I brought in through workshops and my lecture series. But during the summer, I made a great deal of money selling unique books about feminism, sex, and various other forms of enlightenment.
The tinkling bells over the door alerted me someone was coming into the bookstore. I glanced up as a woman walked in with her two children. She took one a look at me and my purple hair and tattoos, grabbed their hands, and rushed out of the store.
Namaste, bitch.
I wasn’t your usual bookstore owner, and I certainly didn’t belong among these stores—at least that’s what some of the town politicians thought. They replaced the potter who had the shop next to me with one that sold Limoges, Waterford crystal goblets, and Hummel figurines. The old fisherman who had the store on the other side of me took Rory’s generous buyout offer as well. Packing up his handmade birdhouses and fishing lures, Old Man Mack left an empty store space that smelled vaguely of Skoal tobacco and codfish. They replaced the business with a small art gallery, with painters I’ve never heard of, from places far away from Haven.
The First Selectmen of the town—Rory’s father—said they wanted to make over my store into a chic bookstore cafe that sold things that would be more universally appealing. I
offered to put a few USA Today best sellers in the front window as a compromise, but that wasn’t good enough.
My best friend, Jeannine, worked in the selectmen’s office and overheard a conversation between my landlord and the selectmen. After she filled me in on their nefarious plans, I quickly installed cameras and put up signs that said: If You Enter This Store, You Agree to Be Videotaped. I had to assure my regulars that it was for security reasons and not because anyone wanted to spy on their purchases. It lost me some customers, though.
But it saved my ass when the guy they sent in to buy a deck of tarot cards accused me of trying to sell him drugs. I showed the police the video transaction and exonerated myself, much to my landlord’s chagrin.
Fuck you, Larry.
The guy got the worst end of the deal, but he had a pretty good lawyer. I let him sweat a little bit before I dropped my defamation lawsuit. It would have gone to small claims court and I would have represented myself, but the guy was “judgment proof,” as my dear old dad, the esteemed Judge Nolan, used to say. Or in other words, the guy didn’t have a lobster pot to piss in. The fuckers in charge paid off a dock rat who hung around the wharf to do their dirty work for them by trying to make it seem like I was doing something illegal. I would have loved to sue the McMansions out of the brains behind that little scheme, but they were untouchable.
Story of my life.
Still, it would have been fun to see my father recuse himself from the case. Not that I would have gotten a fair trial anyway in this town. One of his judge friends would have passed judgment on me in his absence. Disobedient daughter? Gavel down. Guilty.
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