“Watch me,” he says, right before his hand claps down on my arse again, and this time we have an audience.
We’re walking down the street. People talk to him, and he keeps up the conversation, not even winded, as if it’s totally normal to carry your blindfolded wife over your shoulder. The next thing I know, he comes to a stop and slides me down.
“Right, now. Walk with me. Hold my hand. I promise I’ll take care of you.”
I can hear the sounds—people talking, everyone speaking to him, still with respect.
“Yes, sir. No, sir. Right away, sir.”
And it isn’t until we get inside the club that the sounds change. I recognize something that sounds remarkably similar to Cavin’s hand across my arse—a thud that makes heat flood throughmy body. Hushed voices of couples. The clink of chains. The sound of reverence.
“Daire. Lorcan.” He greets his cousins.
“Evening, lads.” I recognize Declan’s voice. “Thought you weren’t bringing her back here?”
“A bloke can change his mind,” Cavin says.
“Anything I can get you, sir?”
“The private room.”
This is where he comes. This is what he needs. This is the man I’ve married.
“Aye, McCarthy. You’ve got the Kavanagh girl.”
“She’s mine,” Cavin says in a warning growl. “Eyes off. And she’s no fuckin’ girl—she’s a woman who wears my ring and bears my name.”
“So sorry, sir. Didn’t know you got married.”
“Learn it. Spread it. Pass it on.”
We’re walking down a hallway now—I can tell because the voices are quieter. I want to ask him more questions, but I don’t want to lose the privilege of speaking.
“That’s my girl. Keep walking. I won’t let you trip. Head held high, Mrs. McCarthy, shoulders back.” His voice dips low, rough with command, and every muscle in my body tightens in answer. He doesn’t even have to touch me. The air between us feels taut, charged. My breath, traitorous, betrays the thrill that curls low in my belly.
“Here we are, love. Take off your blindfold.”
I obey and blink in the bright light. Cavin reaches for the blindfold and rolls it in his hand. “Did the mask make it easier for you? Didn’t want you to be overstimulated coming in here. It can be a bit much.”
Oh my gosh. He was looking out for me, watching me to make sure I didn’t get overwhelmed? That is so damn sweet.
“It did. Thank you,” I whisper, and my eyes start scanning the room.
There’s a flogger. Leather restraints. Mirrors and dim lighting.
He walks purposefully to the door and throws the lock. There’s a shift in his energy now. This is Cavin’s domain. Cavin’s rules.
He circles me slowly, his eyes predatory. “You’re going to take what I give you, love, aren’t you?”
I swallow, nod, and lick my lips.
“Good. That’s my good girl.” He runs his knuckle across my jaw, down to my chin, and lower to my neck. “My very good girl. Now I want to watch you strip. Make a show of it, love. Everything but your knickers.” He holds my face in his hand and kisses my forehead. I melt a little. “Leave those forme.”
“Strip?” I repeat in a whisper.
“Aye,” he says, his eyes going dark. “I’m going to show you exactly what happens when you don’t listen to me. And you’re going to thank me for it.”
I’m breathless, aroused, and a tiny bit scared. “Cavin?—”
