Chapter 26 #2
“Quiet,” he growls, his other hand coming down hard on my arse, the sting mixing with the pleasure.
I cry out, the sound muffled by the bench. His fingers continue their relentless assault, pushing me closer and closer to the edge.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he stops, his hand resting possessively on my ass.
“Please,” I beg, my body aching for release.
“Please what?” he asks in a low growl.
“Please let me come,” I whisper, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment.
He chuckles, a dark, dangerous sound. “Not yet. You don’t get to come until I say so. Not bad girls like you.”
His fingers slide back inside me, and I moan, my body clenching around him. He starts to move them in and out, slowly at first, then faster, harder.
I can feel my orgasm building, my body tensing with each stroke. But just as I’m about to tip over the edge, he pulls his fingers out, leaving me gasping and desperate.
“No,” I whimper, my body aching for release.
“Patience,” he murmurs, his hand coming down hard on my ass again. “I’ll let you come when I’m ready. When I’m convinced you’ll be a good girl again.”
His fingers find my clit again, rubbing in slow, deliberate circles. I moan, my hips moving against his hand, seeking more friction.
“Cavin, please,” I beg, my body trembling with need.
“Are you going to behave? Obey your husband?”
“Yes. Yes, I promise.”
“Are you sorry for being a naughty little lass?”
“Yes, so sorry!”
“Come for me, Erin,” he commands.
And I do, my body exploding with pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over me. I cry out, my voice echoing in the small room.
He continues to rub, drawing out my orgasm until I’m a trembling, boneless mess across his lap. Only then does he pull his hand away, leaving me gasping and spent.
“There’s a good lass,” he murmurs, his hand stroking my back soothingly.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, my body still tingling with the aftershocks of my orgasm.
“Cavin,” I whisper.
He leans down, his lips capturing mine in a fierce, possessive kiss. I melt into him, my body molding to his, completely and utterly his.
When he finally pulls away, I’m breathless, my heart racing. I look up at him, my eyes filled with love and desire.
“Yours,” I say, the words a promise.
He smiles, a slow, dangerous smile. “Mine,” he agrees, his hand cupping my face tenderly. “You’re always fuckin’ mine, woman, and don’t you forget it. Now, the night is still young, lass, isn’t it?”
I turn around and give him a curious look.
“That wasn’t proper punishment, was it? That was a warning.”
Ahh.
He spins me around to sit in his lap, and I start tapping my pocket. One, two, three, four.
“You’ve been to The Craic before, but not as my guest.”
My eyes go wide.
“You know it’s a private family club. Exclusive. But if you want to be my wife, you need to understand what this means.”
Oh, okay.
“And I want to deal with my wife properly. You disobeyed me twice tonight, on purpose. You wore that top, and you came to the fight. You think a few smacks on the arse is enough for that?”
I giggle nervously. “Um, what are we going to do?”
He leans in and gives me a wicked smile. His pupils look nearly black. “Take you somewhere where you can scream as loud as you want, and no one will come running to save you.”
My jaw drops open.
“And we’re going to start right now, love. I don’t want you to see anything on the way. I want you to rely on your other senses.”
I feel him reach down and take something—I can’t quite see what it is. A T-shirt? He slides it over my eyes and ties it at the back.
“You wear my fucking coat so nobody sees you like this too.”
And then, just like that first night by the cliffs, he drapes his jacket over my shoulders.
“Let’s go.”
Just like usual, he lifts me and slides me over his shoulder. My bag is back with my bodyguards.
“Cavin, I have to—”
His hand claps across my arse. “You have to obey your husband. That’s what you have to do, love.”
My heart beats a frantic rhythm in my chest. How can someone feel both scared and utterly safe at the very same time?
I know The Craic and the ring are within walking distance. Is he… walking with me, over his shoulder, blindfolded?
I believe he is.
Cavin!
How did he just beat the shite out of the man in the ring and still have the stamina to carry me to the club?
I feel a rush of warm air and hear a hush come over the crowd. And they go wild—clapping, screaming. They must see me over his shoulder like I’m his purse of winnings tonight.
Oh my god. I feel a bit dizzy.
“Mr. McCarthy, sir.” Someone says. “Can I help you, sir?”
“Bring my car around,” he says. “Have my cousin park it at The Craic. And as per usual, have my purse sent to the same place as always.”
He doesn’t know yet what I’ve been doing with his winnings. He will soon. Makes me feel like I have a bit of control here, even when I’m being hauled to my doom by my modern-day caveman, who’s two steps away from banging his chest with a damn club.
I've got my own secrets. And mine actually make money.
“Right away, sir.”
I can hear the sounds of music, laughter, people drinking, and glasses clinking. But his hand is possessive on my lower back, and everybody who speaks to him speaks with respect.
“Mr. McCarthy, well done, sir. Proud of you.”
“Fuckin’ honor to see you back in the ring, sir.”
And then we’re outside. The weather shifts, but I’m not cold because I’m still wearing his coat.
“Are you still half naked?” I yell out, and he pinches my arse.
“Of course not,” he growls, but I can hear the laughter in his voice. “Pulled on a tee.”
“Aye, it’s got to be near freezing, and you’re wearin’ naught but a tee?”
“I’m hot,” he says. “Be a good girl and be quiet before I take away your permission to speak.”
“Oh my goodness, you can’t—”
“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 through my 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 for me.”
“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—”
His eyes darken. He leans in closer, his forehead pressed to mine, his thick, warm fingers encircling the back of my neck. “That’s sir when we’re in this room.”
Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god.
“I’m a little nervous,” I say quietly.
“Good,” he says, turning to face me. “You should be. You were a naughty little thing, weren’t you? Testing me, right before I went into the ring.”
My heart pounds. I’m not prepared. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
This room is bathed in a deep red light, shadows dancing across the leather furniture and exposed brick walls.
Beyond the door, the music thrums low and hypnotic—something dark and primal.
The room is larger than I remembered, with a massive bed that dominates one wall, covered in charcoal gray.
There’s a wooden sideways cross, mirrors on two walls, along with one full wall of…
things. Leather straps, whips, things I don’t recognize.