Nolan (Dangerous Doms 3)

It was the only thing to do.

And hell, how I’ve thought about that since then. Fantasized, even?

Why?

It’s stupid as fuck to fancy myself Sheena Hurston’s savior.

But for one brief moment in time, when she looked at me, I felt like I could be. The men of The Clan are old-fashioned, high-handed. We were raised to be unequivocal heads of our households. When we find the woman we’re meant to cherish, we’re all in. My father was that way for mam, Keenan is for Caitlin, and Cormac for Aileen. Deeply embedded in who I am as a McCarthy man is the need to protect and cherish a woman who needs me.

But Sheena is dangerous, deadly, out to destroy my family, and anything that even smacks of romance between us is as flimsy as a sandcastle. One gust of wind, one wave, and it collapses.

She’s the most beautiful, dangerous enemy we have.

I have to break this woman. Tear her defenses down and find what she’s after. Make it clear that her threats against my family will not go unpunished.

But hell, if I do, won’t I be saving her, even a little? The rules of the Clan state that spies are to be killed. Everything she’s done puts my entire brotherhood at risk and her penalty is certain death.

I can’t save this woman, but I can save her from execution.

A fucking conundrum.

Once her clothes are removed, I restrain her wrists with one hand and drag her to the edge of the bed. I can tell she likes this, though, being dragged around and manhandled. Christ, she likes being used. This knowledge is as dangerous to me as a goddamn drink.

I have handcuffs in my pocket I’ve readied for this, and my room’s the perfect place to restrain her.

“You’re a kinky little doll, aren’t you?” I ask her, flipping her onto her back and taking one wrist to the ring fastened to my bed.

“I’m the kinky one? You have fucking O-rings mounted on your bed. Suppose you’ve got nipple clamps and anal plugs in the little drawer in the jacks where others store toothpaste and dental floss, hmm?”

My cock stirs to life. She knows what O-rings are. Naturally. And the mention of the other tools of the trade brings a sudden, beautiful vision.

“Ah, you have me all figured out, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. For some reason, this question sobers her a little. She watches curiously without a trace of fear or surprise when I fasten her right wrist to one ring, then her left to the other. I have them spaced apart enough so that her arms are stretched but not that uncomfortably.

Her eyes do widen a bit when I take out the spreader bar.

A moment later, she’s on display for me, a gorgeous little kitten with full breasts, dusty pink nipples that taste like ripe berries, her pussy shaved bare and her little toes painted a sheer shade of peach. Her gorgeous red hair’s all tumbled on the bed like a swath of ribbons. I stand beside her, admiring my handiwork. I can see the faintest lines of red across her thigh from where I’ve spanked her. Gorgeous.

I pace beside her, fully clothed, and observe her unhindered. Her long fingers taper like pianists’, delicate and slender, her fingernail polish matching her toes. No ink, but she’s got a birthmark right beside her bellybutton, and something else on one of her shoulders. I lean in to take a closer look.

I brush my thumb across the silver scar that runs alone one side.

“You have a scar, here. The location and size… it’s a knife wound, isn’t it?”

She pinches her lips together and doesn’t respond. I shake my head.

“Ah, right. You still haven’t gotten the message. Good that I’m ready for that, hmm?”

I open the drawer beside the bed and remove a long, slender riding crop, then turn back to her. Once more, her eyes grow heated. She tries to school her features, but she can’t. I brought this woman to my room as prisoner, and I’ve given her exactly what she fucking wanted.

But I want to test that theory.

I take the little leather squared-tip of the crop and touch her cheek with it, first the left, then the right.

“Kiss it,” I whisper, dragging it across her lips.

She obeys, her full lips placing a kiss on the leather, her eyes on my mine.

“Good girl,” I say approvingly. I drag it down her cheek to her neck, trace the outline of her jaw, then retrace down the column of her neck until I reach her breasts. I caress first the left, then the right, gently dragging the little strip of leather over her hardened nipples. Her hips jerk when I touch the tender buds.

“Fuck, woman, you’re sensitive, aren’t you?”

When she doesn’t respond, I lift the crop and slap her naked breast. She yelps, and the faintest light pink blooms on her naked skin.