At her father’s threats—or maybe because my thumb presses a little more insistently—she gives a full-body shudder and bites into her plump lower lip. She’s going to hate me even more in the next few minutes, and I almost can’t fuckin’ wait. She deserves everything that’s coming to her for what she’s done.
“There are two things you need to remember from now on. You are a pathetic piece of shit, and she’s not yours to command anymore.” I give him a moment to shriek like a hyena, then continue. “And if you ever threaten my wife again, it’ll be the last thing you do.” I don’t think she’ll come again, but I enjoy how much she fights against it, especially as her eyes flash wickedly at my words. “Do you understand me, or will I need to speak with you in person?”
“You’re going to regret this, O’Connor,” comes his grave response.
“What I do is none of your business.” Another glance shows we’re nearing our destination. I heave a sigh of remorse and give her swollen, abused clit one last caress before I pull away. “We’re done now, Rory. Don’t threaten me again.”
Catriona pushes herself into a sitting position and yanks up the top of her dress. She can’t quite get it all the way up and glowers at me. The skirts flutter down around her thighs, blocking the sight of her cunt covered in the evidence of me.
I hang up on his outraged reply, then tuck myself back into my pants. Catriona won’t meet my eyes, which is probably a good thing. The pleased smirk pulling at my lips would only piss her off.
“Why did you say that to him?” she asks, her voice hoarse. I try not to shudder at the evidence of my torment.
“Because the only one who gets to hurt you from here on out is me.”
“Why didn’t you tell him the truth? You could have explained what I did. He’d probably thank you for it. You heard him. He’d fix this all for you in a heartbeat.”
Is the sullenness in her voice from what we just did or from her father? I push the thought away. “Did you think I’d let you off so easily? No, you forced yourself into this position. And I don’t plan to let you out of it so effortlessly. You bought yourself a husband, and I’m going to ensure you get everything that comes along with it.”
Her breath hitches, and she angles in the seat to face me, her eyes still liquid with unshed tears. “You don’t scare me.”
I lift a finger to trace the tracks of mascara down her cheeks, and she flinches but doesn’t look away. “Tell yourself that as much as you need to,bhean chéile. You and I both know differently.”
“I hate you,” she hisses.
“Then I guess it’s a good thing you’ve tied yourself to me for the foreseeable future. It’ll give you time to get over it.”
“Then you misunderstand my capacity to hold a grudge.”
“And you misunderstand my capacity for patience.”
She opens her mouth like she’s going to argue, but then the car comes to a stop in front of my place, and it snaps closed again. Much as I enjoy arguing with her, I’d rather do it in an actual room where I can get her naked and no one can interfere for a couple of hours. Twelve would be sufficient, but twenty-four hours would be ideal.
But I have a feeling once she realizes what she’s in for, she won’t let me near her again for a long, long time.
Even more unfortunate, the taste of her didn’t satiate the ceaseless hunger inside me. Like the night I had her, it only seems to make me want her more.
I attempt to return Catriona to rights, but she slaps my hands away. Hers may be trembling, her eyes thick with tears, but shehas lost none of her bite. I’d smile if I wasn’t certain she’d claw it off my face.
I take her wrists in one of my hands and grip her jaw with the other. Fire blazes in her eyes, and her ire is so intense it almost blots out the hurt. A better man would feel shame at enjoying making a woman vulnerable, but the place where my desire for her lives is the space between her anger and her ruin. Seeing her broken and vulnerable like this? I’m obsessed. Addicted.
I’d tried to save her from my attention. Wanted to protect her from everything that goes along with being mine, but she’d literally walked herself into my den of iniquity and chained herself to me.
“You’ll let me fix you up, pet. I don’t want you walking in there looking like this.”
“Then maybe you shouldn’t have practically ripped my clothes off me,” she snaps. Self-possession may be a trait I pride myself on having, but I find it severely tested each time she bites back at me. Maybe this is why I found her irresistible the night she saw me at the casino, and why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her since.
That’s not to say there haven’t been women in my life who could hold their own. Mara would skin me alive if I were to characterize her as anything other than a staunch feminist in a man’s world, but Catriona has been an intriguing combination of cold as ice and soft as silk. I can’t imagine many women who’d voluntarily walk into an arrangement like the one her father had prepared for her sister. Can’t imagine many who’d get on their knees for me with hatred in their eyes and leave me wanting more.
So much more.
And she thinksI’mthe dangerous one.
“No one is keeping you here,” I say, keeping my posture loose and unaffected. Lights burn bright inside on the first floor ofthe estate as we pull into the drive. I imagine Frances is there, preparing meals to last for the week to give us privacy. “You can leave at any time.”
Catriona stills, allowing me to release my hold. When she doesn’t make to leave, I pull up her dress and fix the crooked clasp that was torn when I yanked it down. A wince pulls at her lips as I straighten her bra and brush against her abused nipples. It takes pure physical restraint to keep me from taking them back into my mouth and soothing her into a more agreeable state. I wonder if I could make her come with my mouth on her nipples alone, and I have to force myself to think of the steps methodically, or we’ll never get out of this fucking car.
Much as I’d enjoy showing the world how much she irrevocably belongs to me, that also means I don’t want any eyes on her body but mine. The thought of anyone else seeing her like this makes me want to carve someone up, and I wouldn’t particularly care who. Thankfully, we’re left alone as I wet a handkerchief from my pocket with water from a bottle. Shivers wrack her body as the cold liquid comes into contact with her delicate skin. When her hands tremble again, she fists them by her side. Once I return her makeup to an acceptable state, I pass her the wet fabric and let her finish until she’s satisfied.
