Reaching around him, I take her hand. “I’m aMacTavish.Do you know who they are, you sleazy fuck? They own this club. Now why don’t you scamper off before I get to enjoy watching them slice off your fucking fingers.” We’re in a bizarre game of tug-of-war with the poor girl in the middle.
He pauses for a moment before gripping her arm hard enough to make her yelp. “I will stab ya in the throat if you don’t feck off, ya stupid cunt.” He reaches into his pants pocket and pulls out a switchblade. It’s time to scream, as loud as I can but I won’t let go of her hand.
I swear the floor shakes as someone comes storming up to us and a fist flies past my head, connecting with the asshole’s nose. Barely catching the girl as his hand is ripped loose, I get my arms around her, teetering under her weight.
“Motherfucker. Ya put your hands on my wife?” Ethan hits him again, the blood spurting from the man’s mouth a couple of teeth flying loose as he flies backward.
“Ma’am, I’ve got her, let’s go back, aye?” Patrick slides his arm around the girl’s waist, holding her up as her legs buckle. I’m still clutching her hand, staring at my husband dismantling the rapist fuck with lightning-fast, merciless blows. His eyes are pitch black, his expression cold and determined as he hauls the man off the floor and punches him in the kidney, making him drop his knife.
Ethan kicks it aside. “Ya drew a knife on my woman?”
“He drugged this girl,” I say hastily, “he was trying to pull her out of the club.” Ethan briefly glances at her before hitting the man hard enough that I swear I could hear his ribs crack.
“Bringing K into our club?” Ethan lifts the man with his hand around his throat, his shoes flying off his jittering feet as he grips Ethan’s wrist, choking. “What was your plan, ya pathetic feck? Take this girl away and rape her? Not man enough to get the girl unless ya drug her first?”
Patrick’s trying to usher me away, but I can’t stop watching this intimidating stranger that I’m married to, pummeling the man until he’s a bag of blood and bones on the floor. Ethan looks up, his eyes blazing and I should be terrified. His hands are covered in blood and there’s a spray of it marring his pristine white shirt.
“Take this prick out the back,” he instructs Patrick, and our other bodyguard hurries over to pick up the girl, who’s passed out.
“Where are we taking her?” I whisper, my mouth dry.
“James here is going to take her to an office downstairs, we have a nurse on call. They’ll make sure the dosage isn’t going to do more damage and then contact her people.”
Patrick’s the one explaining this because Ethan’s still looking down at the bloody mess that used to be a rapist piece of shit, his hands curling into fists. The fury in his expression transforms him into a blood-soaked demon.
And I have never been so turned on in my life.
“Are ya okay, love?” He blinks and seems to come back online, looking at me with concern. “Did he hurt ya?”
I don’t care that Patrick and James are staring at us, I step forward, grab his shirt and kiss him, greedily, hungrily, desperately, hoping he understands without me having to say it.
He does.
Chapter Thirty-Five
In which there is so much sex. Finally.
Sloan…
“Get out.”
Ethan’s hauled me down a flight of stairs and into an office. The man at the big desk looks up in surprise, until he looks at me, shaking his head with a grin.
“Congratulations on your nuptials, Mrs. MacTavish.” He looks like he could be a MacTavish too, tall and broad, but he still vacates the office. “Lock the door, for Christ’s sake.”
“You make a habit of debauching girls in this office?” I ask, not really caring. The only thing that matters now is his intent expression as he locks the door, striding across the room to throw me on the couch.
“Take those fecking clothes off.” He moves over to the bar area, washing the blood off his hands.
I pull down the straps on my dress, wide-eyed. He’s unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, stroking it while he watches my shaky attempts to undress.
With a growl, he fists my dress and rips it half, pulling it down and yanking my bra off. His mouth is on my nipples, biting and sucking them roughly and I sink my fingers into his hair,groaning. My skin feels too tight, like something wants to break free from me and I’m pretty sure it’s my self-control.
“So pretty, these perfect tits,” he groans, squeezing one while biting the other. This isn’t a seduction, this is a claiming and all I can do is hold on as his teeth and lips send electrical sparks spiraling from my nipples right down to my center, making my legs spread and press against his narrow hips. “What do ya want, baby?”
It feels like I’m stepping off a cliff. If I tell him, I can’t unsay it. He’ll know exactly how desperately I need his cock inside me, but as he pulls back, I panic.
“You! I want you to- to fuck me.” I lunge forward, kissing him, pulling on his hair, and biting his lip hard enough to taste the copper tang on his tongue.
