I knew she’d like it rough, but what I did to her last night barely scratched the surface.
She was completely at my mercy with her hands bound behind her back, but I want more.
I want her body pinned down so she can’t move even an inch, unable to get away as I bring her to the edge over and over again until she’s begging me for release. I don’t want to stop until her ass is covered in me as well as that sweet pussy?—
I hiss through my teeth as I force the image of my cum dripping down her soft thighs from my mind.
Now is really not the time to be thinking of Ciara’s bare ass.
But I reach beneath the desk and run my palm over my length, groaning as it throbs beneath my touch. I’m seconds away from pulling my cock free and getting myself off right here, right now, when Callum’s name flashes once more on my screen.
With one last squeeze of my cock, I snatch up my phoneand answer the call, if only to stop my cock from hardening any more in my pants.
"Fine," I snap before he can even get a word in. "You want a meeting? You’ll get one. Meet me atThe Blackthornin an hour.”
I hang up the phone before he even has a chance to speak.
The Blackthornisthe perfect setting to meet with Callum. It’s in the center of my family’s territory and will serve as a subtle reminder to him that he’ll do well not to overstep.
I might have married his sister to bring credibility back to the McCarthy name, but that doesn’t mean I’m his fucking lackey.
Not only that, but every table in the pub is bugged, and the staff is paid incredibly well in order to keep their mouths shut, just in case.
When I step inside, the air smells of old leather and whiskey, and I take a second to inhale deeply. Although as I fill my lungs, a sudden wave of nostalgia rolls over me, so strong that my knees almost buckle.
Grief is not normally something that plagues me, considering the fact I’ve been around death my entire life. Even when my mother died, I mourned until the funeral, then that was that. But my father? It seems like his memory lingers in the air itself, and I can’t escape him.
He’s in the smells that I never took time to notice and the taste of the whiskey that I would never stop to savor.
He’severywhere.
“Mr. Sullivan?”
I blink as Hudson, the head barman, appears in front of me.
Clearing my throat, I shove my hands into my pockets,schooling my expression into one of calm indifference as the young lad looks at me with a mixture of fear and curiosity in his blue eyes.
“Your guest is waiting for you.” Hudson signals to one of the booths at the back of the bar. “I’ll have your usual sent over to you.”
I nod once before stalking to where Callum waits for me.
Of course, he is already here, as if punctuality is enough to get on my good side.
The moment he clocks me, his body straightens, and a little of the color in his cheeks fades.
Good.
I don’t rush my movements, if only to make him squirm a little. It’s clear that he wants something from me, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t fucking beg for it.
"McCarthy." I slide into the black leather booth.
"Sullivan."
I have no doubt my name tastes like poison on his tongue, especially now that it belongs to his sister.
My wife.
The woman I made a complete mess of last night.
