A part of me wanted to shout hosannas that he was hungry for pussy—if not mine in particular just a random hole he needed to fill. That was almost enough to have me sagging into the bed, arousal whispering through me. Later on, that other rational part of me would recognize how pathetic I was, but for now, his lips were on my ear lobe, and his breathing was all I could hear aside from my own heartbeat.
A shimmer of heat drifted over my body, making my insides feel heavy as everything seemed to turn inward. My focus, my thoughts, even my sight. It was like earlier, when I’d known he was taking me to heights I’d never reached before. I no longer thought about whether he was hard, no longer struggled against his grip on my wrists. I just let him pet me.
Because that was what he was doing.
Petting me.
And I loved it.
I couldn’t hide from the fact that no man had ever given me this much attention. Had ever granted me so much focus that was fixed on me—on me and nothing else.
He touched me like he had all the time in the world, and I loved that too.
He hadn’t even kissed me, but his fingers were touching the most intimate part of me like he was just holding my hand or something.
A whimper escaped me as a heavy fullness overtook my lower half. I writhed into him, pushing against his hold even though I didn’t want him to let go, my legs slipping and sliding against the silky sheets as I tried to accept what he was gifting me—pleasure.
The whisper of his breath in my ear was like a serenade.
The heat of him against my side was like the warmest of hugs.
And the intensity of his focus was more seductive than a kiss to my damn clit.
He gave off a sense of immovability, like he was here for an endless amount of time. Like he had nowhere else better to be.
I had no idea where this had come from. Why the tides had turned and, when I’d tried to seduce him, instead, he was doing this to me. I had no room for thoughts, no space for anything other than the ecstasy his fingers gave me.
I could feel it. Hovering in the distance. I knew what it was, and wanted it so badly. So close… so near…
A keening cry escaped me as I peaked, my orgasm flowing through me, washing me clean while calming me down. I felt like I was dragged to an incredible height all while being grounded, and there was, I realized, nothing better than that.
To fly while being tethered—I wasn’t sure I’d ever wanted anything else in my whole life.
The release and the relief tangled together, merging into one big ball of pleasure that imploded inside me, sending charges of sensation throughout my body. Kissing every limb and extremity with energy that both regenerated and relaxed.
When I sagged into the bed, when conscious thought returned to me, his fingers were tapping against my clit, and this time, as he did so, we were both aware of the difference from earlier. I was wet. So sticky wet that the noise was audible above my pounding heart. He moved, at last, so that his breath and mine mingled, and even though I couldn’t see him, I was pretty sure these were the most intimate moments of my life. More than outweighing what we’d shared together in the stables.
I wasn’t a hole.
A thing to fuck.
At least, I didn’t think so—
Before insecurities, of which I had many, could overtake me, he pressed a simple kiss to my bottom lip, dragging it down as he moved his head, swaying slightly, like he wanted to see how dormant I could be. How docile.
Did he want me to move?
Or did he want me to just lie there?
Uncertainty had my nails digging into my palms as I curled my hands, and a soft moan escaped me as the bittersweet pain from that unintended caress mingled with the delight from before.
He stiffened, but even though I thought it was impossible that he registered the sound, he did.
He knew exactly what I’d done.
“Did you do that on purpose?” he rasped, and that he sounded genuinely angry was bewildering. What did he have to be angry about?
I stuttered the truth, not even thinking to lie, which was crazy because I had no intention of not being honest. “No, it was by accident.”
“There are no accidents. No coincidences. Not in this room.” My eyes flared wide at his certainty. “You clenched your hands. Why?”
My bottom lip quivered, the one that had just felt the delicate trace of his mouth against it. “I-I didn’t know what you wanted me to do.”
“You don’t need to think with me, Camille. You just need to lie there. I’ll tell you the rest.”
Maybe, to another woman, that wouldn’t be like a sweet serenade, but to me, it was bliss. It was like a kiss from God, because I needed that. I needed to be told. I needed not to think, and I felt like, even though the circumstances weren’t ideal, even though it was probably so wrong considering his ties to my mother, maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what I needed.
A sullied savior, a life raft in a storm...
Fifteen
Brennan
It was hard not to 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 w
ould 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.
Our skin was cleaved together from the shoulder down, and the scent of us was tangled amid the sheets. Oddly enough, though I hadn’t drunk a drop of the hard stuff last night, I felt like I was hungover.
Groggy and drowsy, but comfortable.
This was going to be my future.
If I allowed it.
I could keep her at arms’ length, maintain a strict distance between us, see her only perfectly made up at meal times and have her by my side at galas, or I could have her like this.
Raw.
Ripe.
Ready to plunder.
Almost shuddering at the thought, I looked her over, taking note that her hair wasn’t as much of a rat’s nest as I’d hoped. It was tangled and wavy around her head, a cloud of gold for me to breathe in.
I needed to work on that.
And I wanted to work on that.
That was the difference.
When Camille had come back onto the scene, a week or so after Inessa and Eoghan’s wedding, I’d been reminded of that fucking promise I’d made. A few whispers here and there among my contacts, and I’d learned shit about the Vasovs that I’d always suspected but had never really wanted to know for certain.
Because he was the afore-mentioned frenemy, I wasn’t going to kill the Bratva Pakhan, but I wasn’t going to complain that she had.
If any fucker deserved it, it was Antoni Vasov.
The more I’d learned, the more I’d heard, the more that had been shared with me, I’d known I had to fulfill that promise to Mariska. She’d been a good mother, whose inability to bear a son and whose poor choices, of which I was dead center, meant her girls had to be raised by a fucking monster.
Camille had pushed all the right buttons yesterday when she’d tried to coerce me into this marriage, but she hadn’t known that I’d been planning our union for longer than she’d even registered who Brennan O’Donnelly was to her family.
I’d thought of an anonymous union. Kids produced after rutting between the sheets. A family forged between strangers.
Yet, here and now, there was nothing strange about how perfectly her tit fit in my hand. There was nothing usual about how delicious she felt in my arms.
I just needed to fatten her up, and she’d be my dream girl.
Fate definitely had a way of fucking with a man...
Because she wasn’t how I imagined she’d be, brazen after her time with the Sinners, and I had a feeling she’d be embarrassed, I was careful not to disturb her as I maneuvered away from her and made my way off the bed. We were so stuck together that it was impossible not to wake her, but she confirmed that incredible shyness that years with a goddamn MC hadn’t managed to erase by waking up and pretending to be asleep.
My lips curved into a smile that was both amused and wry, because she was already proving to be a complication.
A man like me, with the various stressors I had in my life, didn’t need complicated. If anything, I needed simple. Fuck, did I. But I liked how she had spunk in some things, then was innocent in others.
At least, I liked it for the moment.
After thirty fucking years, maybe I’d want to strangle her, but a lifetime married to me, married into the O’Donnelly clan, and I had to believe that she’d grow into her confidence.
I let her play pretend because I didn’t particularly want to face facts this morning, at least, not with her watching on. Especially when, quite by chance, I saw some dirty smudges on the arm nearest to me.
Bruises.
That fucker had bruised her.
Christ, I wished I’d been the one to kill the bastard now.
Regret filled me, not just about Vasov’s death. I also had to accept that I’d been a fool to do what I had last night, but it would have been impossible to stay away from her when she slipped beneath my sheets and offered herself to me the way she had.
The most I’d been able to manage was to pin her down and to give her pleasure, but my dick was already telling me I was a dumbass, even as I was relieved I’d managed to hold back.
I was going to have to accept that, for whatever reason, I’d been more than willing to give her pleasure without expecting any in return.
A sign of character growth?
Or just proof that she could tangle my balls into a knot?
I wasn’t particularly impressed with either prospect as I left her, heading over to my bathroom and closing the door for some privacy while I used the toilet.
After, I stared at myself in the mirror, looked at the stubble I needed to shave, and deep in my eyes, I saw the strange resolve there.
For months, I’d known about Camille.
For months, that promise to her mother had been plaguing me.
Now it was coming to fruition, I didn’t feel like a man being led to the guillotine. I didn’t feel as if this was the end of my life as I knew it.
If anything, it was the beginning of another phase. The turning of a new leaf. And while the timing wasn’t ideal, in my world, there was no perfect time to do anything.
We were always at war with someone—granted, not to this extent—and we were always involved in disputes with one gang or another, of the business variety if not the violent.
Sometimes, you just had to grab life by the balls or you never did anything. At forty years old, it was time.
Time for me to have something of what my baby brothers had.
Time for me to have a family.
I’d never have said I was a romantic, because I wasn’t. You couldn’t be in my line of work. But after last night, after how biddable she’d been... it made me wonder if I wanted her for real. Not just to fulfil a promise, but because she was a hot piece of ass and she’d managed to do what few had—killed a Pakhan in the Bratva.
That made her more interesting than the piece of fluff she came across as.
Deciding that I’d shower first because I wanted to jack off, I stripped down and pressed the button that triggered the waterfall shower head. As the water rained down, I pressed another button, one that had the wall of glass in front of me fading into a clear pane, and as I did, I saw she wasn’t pretending anymore. Her eyes were open, her face tilted toward the ceiling.
Stepping under the fall, I let the water pound down on me before I grabbed my soap, let some pool into my palm, and then reached down and coated myself in the slippery liquid.
A hiss escaped me as my cock responded immediately, morning wood having made my earlier bout of chivalry seem even more stupid.
Hadn’t she said it herself?
Tonight, I wasn’t going to abstain, so why had waiting last night been so important to me?
I didn’t know why, in all honesty. I knew the reasons I’d given her, but was aware that they were only
half the truth.
As I shaped my cock, my jaw tensed as I pressed one hand to the glass, looking at a woman who was mine in a way... Hell, in a way that no one would ever be. Could ever be.
She’d be tied to me in every which way. Mine to protect, mine to shelter, mine to keep.
But as I looked at her, I had to accept that she was too hot for any of that.
Too fucking sexy, everything about her my idea of spankbank material, to just fuck her to get her pregnant.
Irony was, of course, that I accepted that just as she rocked her head down and her gaze drifted over mine. For a second, I saw her surprise, because she hadn’t realized the piece of glass in front of me was a ‘magic’ window, and then, she registered what I was doing.
Her cheeks burned a bright red for the barest moments, before her gaze clashed with mine and she tipped her chin up, then declared war.
She licked her lips.
“Fuck,” I muttered gutturally, the curse forming under my breath as I sped up, my fist flying as need rode me hard.
Her hand moved, roaming over the meager curve of her belly before she began to unfasten the buttons of my shirt.
That she was doing it to tie me to her, like she’d tried it on before, pissed me off, but I was too horny to complain.
Later on, I’d make her realize that if she was going to act like a slut for me, there’d be repercussions, but as it stood, I was willing to be a hypocrite because my cock ached like a fucker and we had too much to do this morning before Tink and my crew came around for the wedding service.
Few men would realize she was trying to pussywhip them, but I wasn’t exactly ‘few’ men. She forgot I knew how she responded now. After last night and at the stables, I’d learned more about her than she probably knew.
The shirt buttons slowly parted beneath deft fingers, revealing creamy, golden skin that was begging to be licked, sucked, and bitten. Then her hands went straight to her tits, proof that I knew her body better than she did.
Filthy Sex: The Five Points’ Mob Collection: Four Page 16