Epilogue
Ryder
“Good grief,” Hadley says, tucking her arm into mine, moving a little closer to me on the wooden pew at Darius and Taylor’s wedding. “Do you all know how many people stare at you?”
I settle into my seat and smile at her. “I only know when you stare at me.”
She rolls her eyes but slides her fingers into mine and takes my hand. “Sweet and all, but seriously…when we were outside, you guys were like the main event.”
Before we were ushered inside the church, Darius had been outside greeting his guests, along with Micah, his best man, and Gabe as well. I hadn’t noticed anyone looking at me but the beauty sitting next to me.
Hadley glances around the church, then leans in and says quietly, “I mean, honestly, even the men were looking at you all. It’s like I wasn’t even there, and this dress shows cleavage.”
I dip my chin, examining her incredible cleavage before looking at her again and arching a brow. “Am I supposed to be upset that other men don’t look at your cleavage?”
She laughs, lightly smacking my arm. “You know what I mean. Do you all have any idea of the power you have over people?”
I lift her hand to my lips and kiss her palm softly. “Yes, we do know, and it’s come with a lot of trouble, too, as you well know.”
In the weeks following the governor’s reign of terror, everything had changed—in my life, in Hadley’s life, and the guys’ lives, too. We were no longer the Dominants’ Council; it simply meant nothing anymore, and my club was no longer mine. I’d completely washed my hands of it. We didn’t discuss sex clubs, kinky nights, or our power over the city. We were friends—friends who spent the weekend together. Dinner parties, nights at the theater, casual backyard grilling, we’d done it all, and I’d introduced Hadley to Micah’s Allie and Darius’s Taylor.
Life had gotten very vanilla, and I liked the sweetness of it.
The tabloids were leaving us alone, and our lives were moving forward. Except for Gabe. He hadn’t been at any of our parties, completely avoiding us until today at Darius and Taylor’s wedding.
Even now, as I turn to him sitting beside me, I see the firm set of his mouth as he’s looking at his phone, and note the stress he’s under.
“You don’t look happy,” I say to him, hoping he opens up and lets me in on what’s going on with him.
“I’m not happy.” He hands me his cellphone.
I angle the phone, keeping the screen private, even from Hadley, and read the first paragraph of the article from Gotcha!
Ladies, whips and chains better be your thing if Gabe O’Keefe is your current crush. Our sources tell us that not only is he a big player at Afterglow but he’s the sex club’s owner!
I sigh and hand Gabe back his phone, not wanting to read more. For years, we’d been extremely careful not to let our adventurous sex lives get into the hands of the media to avoid a sex scandal. We’d all come out unscathed. But not Gabe. “Do you need me?” I ask.
“No,” Gabe bites off, looking straight ahead, arms crossed.
I note the firm set of his lips, wishing I could do more. There’s no one to hunt down. There are no secrets to discover. We know who’s behind Gabe’s personal information getting out. And now I understand what’s truly upsetting him.
McKenna…the woman who sold him out.
Maybe his affections toward her run deeper than lust. Maybe he loves her. I wonder, because he has yet to make his move to confront her. “You’ll reach out if I can be any help? My team is available if you need them.”
Gabe turns his head then, dark circles under his eyes. “Yes, of course, thank you.” He sighs heavily and gives a weak smile. “Before I do anything, I need to get this straight in my head.”
Christ, I feel for him, truly. I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes.
There’s nothing more to say, so I don’t bother attempting to make him feel better. He’ll get there on his own, I don’t doubt that. By the tightness around his eyes, and the anger I see in their depths, I pity McKenna. She’s got no idea the trouble coming her way, and I can only imagine she won’t be prepared for it.
“Is everything okay?” Hadley’s soft voice captures my attention, and I glance to her, finding her eyes concerned.
I smile, squeezing her fingers. “It’s nothing that we need to worry about.” And maybe I like that, too. As much as I would do anything for Gabe, I’m only too glad things in my life have settled.
Hadley gives me a sweet smile, and that’s when the crowd begins to whisper. I look toward the altar, finding Darius waiting there, with Micah at his side. Darius’s eyes meet mine and he gives a nod, which I return with a smile before he focuses on the back door of the church as it opens.
The crowd rises, and so do I, as Allie begins striding down the aisle, wearing a soft pink dress and holding a colorful bouquet of flowers.
I step in close to Hadley and wrap my arms around her neck, bringing her nice and close against me. “Soon that’ll be you,” I say, watching Taylor, Darius’s soon-to-be wife, stride down the aisle in a vintage lace wedding dress, with her father.
“No…” Hadley whispers, grabbing onto my arms. “It’ll never be like this.”
“Why?”
“Because I’d never make you wear a tux.”
I chuckle, pressing a soft kiss to her bare shoulder. “And that, Hadley, is what makes you mine.”
As always, for my readers
Acknowledgments
Much love to my family; my readers; my editor, Sue; my publisher, Gina; my agent, Jessica; my assistant, Michelle; the ladies in my sprint group; and the entire Loveswept team. Ryder and Hadley 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 (coming soon)
Club Sin
Claimed
Bared
Desired
Freed
Tamed
Commanded
Mine
Magic & Mayhem
Witches Be Burned
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
Cuffed by His Charm
A Dirty Little Secrets Novel
by Stacey Kennedy
Available soon from Loveswept
Chapter 1
Gabe
Ladies, whips and chains better be your thing if Gabe O’Keefe is your current crush. Our sources tell us that not only is he a big player at Afterglow but he’s the sex club’s owner!
Years I’d spent ensuring my sex life stayed out of the tabloids. I’d been careful, cautious, and inconspicuous. Now not only is my sex life detailed in the grocery store tabloid Gotcha! but the world also knows that I own the club.
I shift the gears of my MV Agusta F4 sports bike, the engine roaring beneath me, the power a much-needed comfort as the control I’ve kept on my life spins away from me. Determined to get that control back, I glide through the streets of San Francisco, weaving my bike in and out of traffic. Last night I slept a total of two hours, trying to piece together my next steps.
An hour ago a plan had solidified.
Once I breeze through the T intersection, I stop at the curb in f
ront of the original location of what is now my chain of Irish pubs across North America, O’Keefe’s Pub. I kick out the kickstand of my bike and slide my leg over, then remove my helmet. There’s a lot on my mind as I approach the front door and enter my pub.
My life had been relatively normal until just over a couple of months ago. Then everything changed. It began with stories about me and my friends printed in the tabloid magazine Gotcha! Stories that had a ring of truth to them. Which immediately raised all of our alarms, because when does that tabloid get anything right?
The following weeks have been filled with realizations. One, someone placed recording devices in my pub to catch our private conversations. While the interest in us might seem strange, it didn’t to me. That’s what happens when you’re friends with the most influential and powerful men in San Francisco. The tabloids hungered for stories about us. We’re all in our mid-thirties, longtime bachelors, and adored by the ladies, making us perfect material for the tabloids.
Usually, I don’t mind the attention. In fact, I like it. I enjoy the way women openly gawk at me. It feeds my ego. What I don’t like is people knowing the truth about my private life and ripping it apart. Some things are private, and who I fuck and how I fuck them is most definitely one of them.
The pub is empty as the door shuts behind me, not that I’m surprised. It’s ten o’clock in the morning and we don’t open for another two hours. But there’s a good reason I’m here today, and that reason is standing behind the bar in a pair of skinny jeans and a tight black T-shirt with the O’Keefe’s logo across her great pair of tits.
McKenna Archer.
I’ve never wanted to bury my cock in a woman more than I do her. She’s beyond beautiful with long blond hair, captivating amber eyes, and she’s got just the right amount of curves to remind me how much I hunger for her.
She’s also the woman who’s selling me out to the goddamn tabloids.
Maybe it’s my anger at her betrayal, but my cock is hard and throbbing. I jerked off twice last night and it did nothing to ease the hardness, driving me mad.
An hour ago I came to the realization that only one thing is going to sedate me and clear my head enough to figure this mess out. Her.
There are boundaries I put up because she works for me. I never pushed how much I want her, because I am her boss. Now there’s nothing holding me back.
I enter farther into the pub, watching her take the beer bottles out of a box and restock the fridge. She notices me then and gives me a little smile, but I won’t fall for her innocent act now. She’s the reason my world’s being ripped apart.
I don’t care what’s right and what’s wrong. I’ve wanted her for months, jerked my cock thinking of her too many times to count, and I won’t be refused any longer.
“Come here, McKenna,” I call, striding by her, approaching the back room where the local folk band plays on the weekend.
She silently follows behind me, but when I turn around to face her, she’s giving me a puzzled look.
“What’s up?” she asks.
I place my helmet down on the table next to me, take a deep stabilizing breath, and then I turn to her. My balls ache at the way her eyes widen and dilate, and how her lips part, her face flushes. Maybe she knows that I want her. Perhaps she understands what’s about to happen between us.
I step toward her, watching her step back until she hits the pool table.
“I want you,” I tell her, barely able to control the desire and adrenaline pulsing through my veins. “Right here, right now, McKenna. I want to fuck the goddamn living shit out of you.”
Her breath hitches, but there’s no refusal, as I knew there wouldn’t be.
For months, I’ve teased her and she’s teased me back. But we’ve never allowed each other to cross that line. It’s been playful between us, but not anymore.
I step in closer, pressing the hardness of my body against the softness of hers. “I’m going to kiss you, unless you tell me to stop.”
Her hands lift to my face, squeezing tight, and then she seals her mouth across mine, as if to strip more control from me.
There are no more barriers between us, only lust in the rawest form, with my red-hot anger fueling the kiss. We’re both breathless as my tongue explores her mouth. She’s keeping up, melting beneath my touch, just the way I want her.
But it’s not enough. I want everything she’s got to give me…and then I want to demand more. Today she’s mine to take until I’m the man I was before she walked into my life and fucked it up.
With a growl voicing all my frustration, I shove my hand up her T-shirt and grasp her breast, massaging it with a fierce grip. This isn’t about her, it’s about me, I tell myself. It’s about laying my need for her bare and absolving myself of it.
She moans against me, and I don’t wait. I flick the button of her pants open, yanking her skinny jeans and black lace panties down to her knees before turning her around. I bend her over the pool table, pressing her chest down, staring at the ass that has teased me for many long months. She’s breathless, gasping her desire, as I reach for a condom that I left in my back pocket, and once I get my jeans down, I sheathe my throbbing cock, determined to shed myself of this damn erection that won’t soften.
I thrust my hand into her hair, and she gasps as I find her slit with the tip of my cock. Whether she’s ready or not, I thrust forward right to the hilt. She arches against me, and I find she’s indeed ready and then some. I reach around us, holding on to her neck with one hand while the other goes to her hip. I hold her tight against me, getting the leverage I need to shed my frustrations and to fuck this woman from my mind.
There’s nothing pretty about how I take her. It’s ravenous and rough and messy, and her screams echo in my ears. I yearn to enjoy the lovely sounds she makes and the way she’s quivering against me. I’m so tempted to revel in how wet she is, and I do want to be pleased that I’m getting her off so easily and her cum is soaking my sac.
But I can’t enjoy this. I don’t allow myself to.
I yank out from her tight heat, and she whimpers in disapproval as I spin her around, grabbing her waist and lifting her onto the pool table. I yank her jeans off her feet, her panties dangling off one leg, and I’m there a second later, in between her thighs, and thrust back in without letting her even breathe.
I own you. You don’t control me.
I slam forward, fisting my hands in her hair, pinning her just where I want her.
She moans, her eyes rolling back into her head.
I want to hate you.
Why are you so goddamn beautiful?
I pump into her, sweat slicking my flesh and sticking my T-shirt to my back. Pleasure sweeps across me, bringing more and more rage alongside it. I want to hate this woman, loathe her with everything inside me, but even now…I can’t.
She opens her eyes, and I’m not sure what she sees on my face, but suddenly her hands are on my cheeks, eyes concerned, and she’s whispering, “Gabe.”
I shake off her hands and stop the conversation. I can’t let her fool me with that sweet act. Not again. Not after all she’s done to ruin me.
Her eyes pinch shut then, not by choice but by the hardness of my cock driving into her soaked heat. I feel the quivering of her legs before her inner walls convulse against me, and then there’s no going back.
I can’t fight my orgasm. She’s thrashing wildly in my arms, screaming out a climax, pulling my semen right out of me. She’s draining me more and more, and I’m roaring against the rage inside that I’ve let her, fighting against the unfairness of what she’s done to me…against the deception.
Many minutes later, her soft voice lifts my head. I find her hair a mess, her makeup running, and confusion in her eyes. Before, I would have loved this view, now my blood is boiling.
“Not that I didn’t love every second of that,” she says softly. “But what in the hell is going on with you?”
“That was me taking what I’ve want
ed to take before I force myself to hate you.”
Her lips part, a soft gasp escaping.
I lean forward, erasing the distance and staring into those gorgeous eyes that lie. “Tell me why you’re selling me out to the fucking tabloids.”
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