“Get me sorted?” I ask. “I don’t want to be sorted. I came here for a drink, not an orgy.”
Boner guffaws and slaps my back. “Need to get you laid, boss.”
“Bite the back of my bollox,” I mutter. “Screw off.”
It only makes him laugh as the women approach us. “Give him the special,” Nolan says, nodding to me, and two of the women make their way toward me.
I turn away. “I’m here for a drink.”
Nolan sidles up to me. “Keenan,” he says, as if he’s trying to get me to see reason. “Honest to God, brother. You need a night off where you aren’t bearing the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
I don’t contradict him. He’s right, and I know it.
“Taste just a little,” he says. “It feels fucking good to take control. Tie one of them up and use them. Wear her out. Trust me, that’s why they’re here.”
The idea leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but not because I don’t like what he’s suggesting, that I’m not tempted by the idea of tying one of them up and using them well and good. All I can see in my mind’s eye is the innocent look of the woman that waits for me. None of them is the woman I’m interested in.
“Drink only,” I insist, taking my seat on one of the stools. “That’ll do.” I wave to the bartender. “Pint of the black stuff.”
He shoves a frothy mug of Guinness my way, and I empty half of it one gulp, then sigh contentedly. Christ, but it’s good. I polish it off and order a second. “Round on the house,” I say, waving to my brothers. I don’t want to be a wet blanket. I’ll drink alongside them, I’ll fucking drink them under the table, but I’m not touching any of the women.
I watch the scenes in front of me, and my mind begins to churn.
I want to bring her here.
I want to use her.
I want to tie her to one of those posts and mete out perfect punishment, to bring her to the edge of bliss before I release her into ecstasy.
Over.
And over.
And over.Chapter FourteenCaitlinI wait for him until my eyelids droop, and the book I’m reading falls on my face.
“Ow,” I mutter, glaring at the traitorous copy of The Sun Also Rises on my nose. It’s a decent enough book, and I’ve read it before, but this time it’s boring me. I place it on the bedside table when I hear footsteps outside the door, followed by the low murmur of voices. I sit up. Is he back? A moment later, the door swings open, and in the darkness, I see Keenan’s silhouette enter the room.
“Keenan?” I call out, needing to hear the reassurance that it’s him.
“Sir,” he says. “You’ll call me sir.” His words are slurred, and he walks a bit off balance. Is he drunk? His voice is laced with danger, and though I find myself a little apprehensive, my pulse begins to quicken.
Sir.
“Yes, sir.” I swallow hard. There’s something seductive in the words of submission, something sacred in the acquiescence. I watch him amble toward me, and I wonder why I’m not frightened. He’s a powerful, ruthless man, and I’ve no doubt he’s done terrible, wicked things. But I’m not scared. Maybe I should be.
I left the window open, and a gentle breeze stirs the bedclothes. He looks toward the window, when the thinnest glimmer of moonlight casts across his features. His dark brown hair looks lighter in the moonlight, the green of his eyes mesmerizing. I swallow hard when his eyes swing toward me, his look voracious.
“Where were you?” I ask, but he holds up a finger to warn me and shakes his head.
“I told you not to ask that,” he admonishes. “It’s late, Caitlin. Do you want to be punished at this hour?” He’s off kilter, as if he’s looking for a reason to punish me.
I shake my head, watching him as he reaches me and kneels on the bed, his knee beside my body. “You ought to be punished.”
“Why, sir?” I don’t know why, but this feels like a form of foreplay. The low, seductive sound of his voice laced with anger and something else I can’t quite put my finger on. He smells of whiskey and something else, something sweet and pungent like warmed honey. I note a smudge of pink on his cheek, and feel my body go still.
Is that lipstick? Did someone kiss him?
He stands, his large form looming over me, and shrugs out of his jacket. Tossing it to the chair behind him, he keeps his gaze on me. The harness comes next, as he lays one gun after another on the bedside table.
“Why spank you?” he asks, his voice smooth as silk with a note of danger. “You don’t ask me questions, Caitlin.”