Hyland's Consort

by Felicity Brandon

  Glancing right, Sean was fast asleep beside me. Sean fucking Hyland, the man who had ripped me from my life—I should hate him, despise the very essence of the man he was. Certainly, I loathed the things he represented and the way he did things, but taking in his handsome profile in the early morning light, I realized I didn’t hate him. Sean had taken me, changed me, and a part of me accepted there was no going back, no reverting to my old life, to my job as an assistant at The Syndicate, to Saul.

  I tensed at the thought of my old lover, my throat drying. I’d thought I’d been on the brink of falling in love with him, but now I didn’t know how I felt. He hadn’t come for me, hadn’t swooped in to rescue me the way I’d hoped. Maybe he’d given up on me, or maybe he’d never cared at all. Swallowing down that emotion, I focused on the man who would soon be my husband. I didn’t love Sean, I knew that much, but even though I detested his methods, I couldn’t deny I often liked his results. Sean had made me hornier than any other man, and true to his word, he hadn’t tried to take me by force. Yes, he had done other awful things—demeaned me to within an inch of my life, made me pay homage to his feet in the most appallingly humiliating ways, used me as furniture, riled and insulted me—but when it came to intimacy, he’d been bizarrely respectful. He only demanded I satiate his needs when I was receptive and never forced me to engage in any sexual act. Of course, that could all change. Once he said I do, Sean could morph into the monster I knew he could be. That version of him could be a different matter, but I had no evidence for that hypothesis. All I knew was he’d told me he’d fuck me once we were married, and honestly, based on how wet and desperate I was, I couldn’t bloody wait. I needed him—a man to make me a woman, an enormous erection to fill the lonely wet spaces his time and attention created. It was the least he could do.

  Flexing my fingers, I glanced down at my bound hands. He insisted on keeping me this way, always captive and at his mercy, though half the time, I wondered if the bondage wasn’t more about appealing to my pussy than my imprisonment. Over the days he’d held me, we both understood my predicament. I knew if I ran, he’d come after me, find me, and do God knew what to me. I’d accepted I was his—for the time being, at least. I’d learned how to appease him, please and satiate his needs, and much though it vexed me, I acknowledged I got off on some of the twisted shit he liked. I closed my eyes at the stark realization. I might be the victim, but I was far from innocent. How many hostages writhed in their binds, not from fear but passion? How many secretly longed for their captors to screw them senseless?

  Likely, Sean had learned something about me as well. Although it pained me to accept, he’d worked out how aroused his attention made me and figured out how much I wanted his cock. He knew how little it would take to topple me. He’d had me naked and vulnerable every day of the ordeal, and in that time, he explored me and saw for himself just how horny I was. I was ashamed to admit it, but it was true. Sean had been acquiring knowledge about me at the same time I’d been trying to figure him out, and though he could never have known it when he decided to snatch me from the streets, in some ways, we were well-suited, aligned.

  “Good morning.” His eyes flickered open as if they could sense the weight of my stare. I blushed under the scrutiny of that knowing blue gaze.

  “Good morning, Sir.” It didn’t feel strange referring to him that way, didn’t grate as much as it had, as it should.

  “Did you get some more sleep?” Smiling, he pulled me to his naked body. I went gladly, frantic for his focus in spite of myself. My brain chastised, telling me I should be mortified to seek the caress of my abductor, but my body quieted the complaint, sensing what I wanted, what I yearned for, even if my brain refused to admit it.

  “Yes, Sir.” Pressing my face into his chest, I snuggled against his dark hair. Sean had just the right amount, its presence soft and reassuring against his strong, toned pectorals. “Yes, I did.”

  “Good.” One hand rose to the back of my head, cradling me the way he’d done in Crane’s office after I’d fallen apart.

  The memory of the excruciating things that had transpired that day was burned into my psyche for all time, yet I couldn’t bring myself to hate him. Sean had instigated those things, reveled in my debasement, but he had also been the one to collect me from the floor, to hold me and wipe away my tears. In a perverse way, his tenderness had changed things, let me in, and allowed me to see the man lurking behind the monster. Sean wasn’t only the one-dimensional wanker he conveyed on a daily basis. He was more—deeper, stronger, and caring. That was the man who could lull me down the aisle.

  “I’m glad.”

  Silence bloomed between us, but not the awkward or uncomfortable type. Warm and comforting quiet filled the space. Eventually, he broke the quiet—it was always going to be him.

  “Come on, gorgeous.” He breathed the words into my hair. “Let’s get married.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Sean

  “SERIOUSLY, SIR?”

  Her voice was etched with desperation, wide eyes pleading with me to see reason. Today was my wedding day. The last thing I wanted was reason.

  Dragging my attention from my reflection in the mirror, I cast an eye over her. Kneeling in only her stockings, her hands clutched at the dress I’d bought, and her hair still wet from her recent bath. I hoped marriage didn’t mean I’d take those things for granted. I wanted to always appreciate her smooth wet skin, running the water over her like some nubile nymph from a fairy tale and massaging product into her long golden locks. Those things would never get old.

  “Yes, seriously.” I’d intended to be firmer, but today of all days, I didn’t want to be harsh. “You’ll look wonderful in it.”

  “B-But,” she started, glancing frantically over the fabric in her hands. “There’s nothing to it, Sir.” Our gazes locked, her baby blues tearing. “There are holes in it.”

  Suppressing the grin threatening to rise, I pressed my lips into a hard line.

  “Only in certain places.” In all the right places. “There’s no need to worry about being warm enough. The venue is well-heated.” I smiled at her uptight expression. “I’ve taken care of everything.”

  “I didn’t expect this.” Her head fell. “I thought I’d be dressed modestly, not on show for the whole world to see.”

  “You’re a delight, and you’re mine.” I laughed as I approached her, straightening my lapels. The suit had cost a fortune. Turning back to catch sight of my image in the full-sized mirror, I decided it was worth every penny. “I want everyone to see you, admire you, and know they’ll never get to have you.”

  “But Sean.” She sounded so despondent, so close to tears, I almost overlooked the way she’d addressed me. Almost.

  “What was that?” There was an edge to my voice, the tone I used when I wanted to frighten her.

  “I’m sorry, Sir.” Her response was immediate and fucking sweet. “I just...” She pulled her lip between her teeth. “Please, this is going to be dreadful.”

  “You’re making a big deal about nothing.” Perching on the edge of the bed, I beckoned with my index finger. “Come here.”

  With a sniff, she turned and crawled to me.

  “Hand it over.” I stretched out my palm, waiting as she dropped the dress onto it, then settled by my feet. My balls tightened at her show of submission. Hilary had come a long way in a short time, and her progress pleased me immensely. “Now, stand and let me help you put it on.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She climbed to her feet with a sigh, and I joined her, rising to my full height as I lifted the white material over her head.

  “Arms up.”

  She lifted her arms and permitted me to pull the gown over her head. Positioning her arms into the sleeves, I eased the fabric down, smoothing it as the rest of the gown fell into place. Some said it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride on the morning of the ceremony, but some fools believed any old garbage. The only luck I had faith in was the sort I created
for myself. That was the energy that brought Hilary hurtling into my life, and it was the same source that would bind us together. Who needed luck when you had money, looks, and power?

  “Fuck.” Shaking my head, a wave of arousal crashed over me. She looked even bloody hotter than I’d imagined, and I had imagined. “You look incredible.”

  Blowing out a breath, I ran my hands over her body, my palms brushing her exposed breasts, then gliding over her covered, toned stomach to the tops of her thighs. The dress was a one-off, handmade specifically for Hilary. Designed from soft oyster-colored satin, the sleeves were long enough to keep her warm, while the skirt was perilously short, skimming the tops of her pearl stockings. The most advantageous aspect of the design, though, was the top of the middle section. Above the corset style center, the dress was cut away, thin panels rising to form the pretty neckline, leaving her amazing assets on show. I grinned at how right I’d been about the design, my idea from the get-go.

  “Sir.” She swallowed, briefly gazing down at her bared breasts. “I can’t get married like this.”

  “Of course, you can.” I beamed as I caught her chin between my thumb and forefinger. “This is precisely how you’ll say I do. It’s how I want you.”

  Her brows furrowed, and for a moment, I thought she was going to argue, but one hard stare ended that strategy.

  “Don’t worry,” I cooed. “You’re amazing.”

  “I look like a cheap whore,” she grumbled.

  “Correction.” My digits tightened on her flesh. “You’re my cheap whore, and I’ll fucking kill anyone else who tells you that’s how you look.” Winking at her, I threw her my most devastating smile. “Understand?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I could see how much she despised the dress, how it would kill her to have to wear it, but poor little Hilary didn’t know the half of it. “Let me brush your hair before it dries.” I grabbed the hairbrush from the nearby counter and started work on her tresses.

  “I’m not much of a hairdresser, I’m afraid.” Chuckling, I ran the bristles through her hair. She was so beautiful. “I could have paid to have one here, but I thought you’d prefer the personal touch.”

  “It’s fine, Sir.” She sighed, clearly still coming to terms with my choice of attire.

  “You’ll wear it down,” I told her, enjoying the way I got to make all the decisions. Most women planned their special day down to every minute detail, but Hilary had left all that to me—she’d had no choice. “If it bothers you later, I’ll tie it back for you.” I was, after all, exceptionally experienced at bonds and knots. Guiding her toward the mirror, I presented her with the wonderful reality.

  “See how gorgeous you are?”

  “Oh God.” Her eyes widened as she took in how exquisite she looked.

  “Exactly.” Leaning forward, I pulled her hair to one side and kissed the side of her neck. “I’m going to have a perpetual hard-on all fucking day.” Her gaze flitted to mine, my arms snaking around her middle as I pushed my excitement against her. “See?”

  “Yes, Sir.” Her tone was husky, but I couldn’t tell if arousal or apprehension inspired the response. Not that it mattered. I knew my hot little blonde well enough to know she’d be wet and desperate for me before too long.

  “Now for the final touches.”

  She tensed when I left her, turning to follow me with her gaze as I wandered to the dresser. Collecting the white collar I’d had made for this precise moment, I selected the appropriate box of shoes and made my way back to her.

  “Here.” I placed the shoebox by her feet. “You can put those on, but first, let me adorn you.”

  Her breath was ragged as she eyed the collar, the twenty-four-carat gold piece entwined with satin, matching her dress. Naturally, it had a D ring embedded in the front, a sign of my intentions for my bride.

  “Hold still.” Draping it around her neck, I drew the clasp at her nape, locking it in place with a kiss. “Put on your shoes and show me how you look.”

  Of course, it was insanity to even question what was patently obvious. Hilary was my every fucking wet dream in one stunning reality. Stalking to the counter, I snatched the champagne I had waiting on ice while we dressed, lifting it from the container as I eased the cork away. I turned in time to see her fiddling with the first shoe, every inch Cinderella as she balanced on the vanity stool, sliding her stocking-clad foot into the off-white sandal. She glanced up as the cork burst from the bottle, meeting my eyes before I focused on ensuring some of the alcohol was directed into the waiting flutes.

  “Here.” Dropping the bottle back into the ice bucket, I collected both glasses and sauntered back to my bride-to-be. She was securing the second sandal as I approached. “Let me look at you.”

  Nibbling her lower lip, she glanced up nervously, though why she was insecure was anybody’s guess. Hilary was hot as hell.

  “Turn around,” I ordered, lifting one flute to my lips and taking a sip as she obeyed. Teetering on her new heels, she rotated clockwise, giving me a fabulous view of her barely-covered arse before she swiveled back to face me.

  “Wonderful.” I handed her the other flute, clinking it with my own before I took a step back and admired her. “To you, my love.”

  “Your love?” Clutching the champagne, anxious eyes met mine.

  “A figure of speech, Hilary.” I shrugged, my lips curling at how self-conscious she was about her bared breasts. She tried to cover them with her sleeves but only succeeded in pushing the astonishing assets together in a gratuitous, curvaceous display. “And stop doing that.” I laughed, compelling her arms to her side. “Or I’ll be forced to tie your wrists behind your back, then you won’t be able to enjoy your drink.”

  Her chin fell at the criticism, but her nipples hardened at my tone. She wouldn’t be able to hide their reactions from anyone today.

  “As I was saying.” Edging toward her, I lifted her glass toward her lips. “To you.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her voice was loaded with emotion as she received the toast, sipping the bubbles in her glass.

  “You’re the most beautiful bride,” I assured her. “Our guests will be talking about you for years to come.”

  Her face blanched. “That’s what I’m worried about, Sir.”

  “No need to worry.” Her responses were both amusing and downright scintillating. “This is precisely how I envisaged our day. You’ll be the center of everything, and once we say I do, I’ll finally be able to get my hands on you properly.”

  “Are you going to fuck me, Sir?” Her gaze flitted to my face.

  “Oh, yes.” Taking a step closer, I pressed against her, my jacket skimming her exposed chest. “I’m going to do incredibly bad things to you.”

  “Bad things, Sir?” She blinked, her amazing chest rising and falling at the certainty in my voice.

  “Deliciously wicked,” I enunciated, relishing the way her face heated as she registered them. “You like the sound of that, don’t you, Hilary?”

  “Yes, Sir.” There wasn’t a flicker of hesitation from her now. “I’m so desperate for you.”

  “That’s what comes of all those hours of denial, gorgeous.” Snickering, I tucked the loose strands of her hair behind her ear. “All those times you’ve been left wanting while I’ve come all over you or down that lush throat.” I grinned at the memories. “Today, that all ends. Today, we both get pleasure.”

  She gasped, eyeing my lips as if she was considering stealing a kiss.

  “Today, I get to fuck you... ‘til death do us part.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Hilary

  I’D NEVER BEEN ONE of those girls who dreamed of her wedding day, never fantasized about horse-drawn carriages and white dresses, but if I was asked—before all of this torrid torment—I had a vague idea what I’d have liked. A sleek black Rolls Royce perhaps, taking me to the church or a country house for the wedding reception. Never in my darkest dreams would I have pictured this, being trussed i
n this awful dress—if that’s what you could call it—leashed with a freaking lead which matched my outfit and led around like a humiliated puppy dog.

  “Get in the car,” Sean growled in my ear, brushing up behind me as his hands reached for my breasts, tugging at my vulnerable nipples.

  Groaning, I arched my back, eyes fluttering closed as I tried to think. I wanted to bat his hands away, to stop him from drawing attention to my bared chest, but that was stupid. As if the men falling over themselves to open the door to his limousine hadn’t already spotted his half-naked bride. As if they hadn’t already ogled me. I knew it was just the beginning. I had no idea where we were headed or who would be there, but one thing was guaranteed. Sean had designed the entire day, so I would be observed and scrutinized. Not that I could have batted his hands away. Sean had put pay to that ability after I’d finished my glass of bubbles, dragging my wrists to the small of my back and securing them with some white ribbon. As ever, the man had an answer to everything.

  He marched me down to the basement of the place where I’d been held, just as he’d done when we visited Crane’s office. The long, luxury car was waiting, a selection of his men making themselves look busy as we neared.

  “Good morning, Mr. Hyland.” The same driver who’d taken us to Crane waited at the driver’s door, averting his eyes from my scantily-clad approach.

  “Good morning, Cole.”

  Sean was practically beaming. Exposing me this way for nothing but his own amusement, he was happier than I’d seen him when I’d got down on my knees and kissed his feet in the morning, brighter than he’d been after most blow jobs. Heart pounding, I allowed him to guide me into the car, slipping in beside me before Cole closed the door. At least I hadn’t been subjected to those horrendous ordeals this morning. It was something of a reprieve. Paying homage to him in the usual denigrating way, coupled with this so-called wedding gown, might have been too much.