Chapter 15 #2
It didn’t matter that there was no passion or real love between us. We were married to conceive Eddie and carry on the Callahan bloodline.
That was all.
Chantal calls me on my bullshit. She tells me about myself when even my men don’t usually push back.
On the outside, she’s a prissy, spoiled girl who only cares about designer clothes and vacations. But there’s a lot more to her. Maybe even more than I’ve discovered so far—
The door swings open, and Robby walks in without knocking. He’s already mid-sentence, as if I’m supposed to be following what the hell he’s saying.
“Boss, just heard from Marco that the Raguzins confirmed. Friday night at the Vodka Room, ten o’clock. They’re ready to close the deal.”
I minimize the surveillance feed, but not fast enough.
Robby’s eyes flick to the laptop screen, then back to me. A slow, knowing grin spreads across his twitchy face.
“You sure are checking on the merchandise a lot, Loch.”
My glare hardens as I pin him with it. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
He holds up his hands, backpedaling immediately. “Nothing. Just an observation. Didn’t mean anything by it.”
I’m on my feet before he can blink, grabbing him by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the bookshelf. Several dusty volumes topple over the edge and thud onto the floor. His eyes go wide with fear, his cockiness evaporating.
“You want to make observations?” I snarl into his face. “How about I observe what your insides look like splattered across the fucking wall?”
“I’m sorry! I was only saying… you sure you’ll be able to go through with the deal? You and the girl seem to be spending a lot of time together.”
“Worry about getting me intel on the NYPD!” I yell. “Don’t concern yourself with shit above your pay grade. Get the hell out.”
He nods frantically. The instant I release him, he’s practically tripping over himself to escape. I’m fuming as I watch him go, my breaths deepening and hands curled into tight fists at my side.
If guys like Robby are noticing my obsession with the brat, then that means it must be even worse than I realize.
I should be focused on the only thing that matters: destroying my family and everyone who betrayed me.
She’s making me weak. She’s nothing but a distraction.
…which means I have to actually go through with it; I have to sell her. Then I can finally get back to my revenge.
The room fills with the sound of our grunts and moans and the bang of the headboard against the wall.
I’ve got Chantal handcuffed as I pin her to the mattress and drill into her. The girl’s prissy and pampered in the outside world.
But in the bedroom? It turns out she’s a little bit of a freak.
We’re dripping with sweat as our bodies collide and her sweet cunt clenches around my cock.
No starfishing in sight—even handcuffed, Chantal actively participates. Her hips gyrate in tune with mine, and she wraps her thick thighs around me. The heels of her feet press into my ass as if she’s urging me even deeper.
All while she’s fucking soaked.
I’ve never seen a pussy so god damn wet.
It only adds to my pleasure as my cock slides in and I’m met with clenching wet heat. It’s like swimming in a vacuum where you’re greeted by rippling slick walls that only suck you in deeper.
A thick grunt rumbles out of me as I grit my teeth and fight back the urge to come. This girl is testing my stamina. She’s showing me how boring and mundane my old sex life really was.
The truth is, as a married man—as a man loyal to a fault—I never stepped out on Cara.
Ronan was always the bachelor; the brother playing the field while I was the married one, stuck abiding by vows that had long ago felt hollow.
On nights out, my baby brother would go home with a different girl while I went home to Cara.
We’d usually have five minutes of unimpassioned sex in the dark (with Cara’s top on) before she rolled over and I jizzed in a tissue.
Sacrifices I was willing to make for the family. In order to fulfill my duty.
But I’m done being the man I once was; it no longer matters that I was the heir and had a legacy to carry on.
What matters is the revenge I’m seeking, and the girl who I’ve taken captive that I’m now fucking.
The metal handcuffs clink against the bars on the headboard. Chantal moans as I switch up my stroke and rotate my hips in a new direction. I’m hitting all new spots inside her soaked cunt, and she squeezes me tighter to let me know how good it feels for her too.
I’m husking out ragged breaths of air as my hand closes around the base of her throat, and I bow my head to capture her lips.
We kiss breathlessly, bodies crashing together as we drive each other’s pleasure.
She’s close; I can tell by how her pussy walls flutter and her pretty round face glazes over. Her large tits bounce hypnotically, and I reach out to slap them, eliciting more cries from her.
Tits as huge as hers, they’re extra sensitive and easily stimulated. She likes them bitten, sucked, pinched; she likes when I smack them as I fuck her hard and deep.
Right as she’s on the edge of coming, I slow down my strokes, once again changing it up. I pound in hard then pull back slow, pausing at the head.
It drives her even crazier as she gasps and urges me to keep going.
My fingers pinch at her nipple as I fulfill her wish and sink back inside her. I hold her gaze as I go balls deep and tell her how she belongs to me.
She’s my fucking captive, and I’ll handcuff her to my bed every night if I feel like it.
“You got that, brat?” I pant, sawing away. “This sweet little juicy cunt is too good to go to waste; maybe I’ll keep you for myself after all.”
Her mouth drops open as I stroke deep and reach a particularly sensitive nerve ending inside her pussy.
I’m so close to coming myself—so damn locked into the rough passion between us—I don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying.
…of course I have to sell her.
I can’t keep her for myself. As mind blowing as our sex is, she’s my captive for a reason. She’s nothing but a bargaining chip, and now that Senator Banks isn’t coughing up any cash, I’ll need to make money off her some other way.
That way being selling her to the Bratva.
Pleasure shoots up my shaft as my orgasm arrives and my hips lose any control left. I’m stroking into her like a madman, driven only by primal lust.
But I’m not coming ’til she’s doing it with me.
My fingers slip between us, my thumb on her clit and two of my digits pushing inside her cunt.
Chantal’s eyes widen as she chokes on her next breath and her whole body convulses. She jerks against the metal handcuffs and her head tips back, so overstimulated she can’t take it.
She’s got my cock buried deep, two fingers inside her, and my thumb rubbing circles away.
Sweat rolls off our bodies as we cry out together. The loud, throaty sounds probably echo through the rest of the estate, but I don’t give a fuck.
I collapse beside her and stare at the ceiling as if I’m peering up at the galaxy. The intense pleasure’s got my brain that scrambled.
Chantal’s no different.
She releases a shaky breath and then clenches her thighs shut like she can still feel me between them.
I cut her a sidelong grin. “You know, you’re a pretty damn good fuck for being so prissy. Anybody ever tell you that?”
“You’re not bad yourself… for a psychopath,” she says. “Now are you going to undo these cuffs?”
“What if I really was serious about keeping you bound to my bed so I could have my way with you?” I ask as I reach over onto the nightstand and scoop up the tiny silver key for the handcuffs.
They click as they come undone from her wrists, and she massages each one.
“You could do that… but I’m going to need you to use silk ties for anything more than twenty minutes,” she answers.
Her gaze sweeps over the room that’s dark and masculine, with black walls and heavy furniture.
Grandpa Finn’s old furnishings. “On second thought, I doubt anything silk has ever graced this room.”
I let out a short laugh, running a hand through my hair. “You’re probably right. My grandpa wouldn’t’ve been caught with silk anything. You ever been restrained before?”
“A few times by this CEO I dated. He was sixty, but he had a thing for tying women up and eating them out,” she explains. “He had a really small dick though. I guess it was to make up for it.”
“A small dick,” I repeat with a shake of my head and another chuckle. “You really are something.”
“How about you?”
“Brat, you’ve seen my cock.”
She giggles and then shoves at my shoulder. “Not your size! Restrained—have you ever done it before or was I your lucky test subject?”
“Before this—before I went away—I was married for twenty years. What do you think?”
“Some of the people with the kinkiest lives are married,” she answers, a vague smirk quirking at her lips. “That doesn’t answer my question like you think it does.”
“It does when you’ve got a frigid corpse for a wife. We didn’t have much going on in the bedroom.”
As the words leave my mouth, I’m immediately aware how it’s too much information. I’m not supposed to tell this girl about my life; she’s not supposed to know any real personal details about me.
Telling her about how I’ve been mourning Eddie was bad enough. Now I’m offering up details on my marriage?
I get up out of bed in hopes of creating some distance. But in typical Chantal fashion, she keeps the conversation going with hardly any effort at all.
“Sounds like a depressing twenty years,” she says. “What happened to your wife anyway? Would you even still be married since you’re… dead?”
“She’s an ex for a reason. She divorced me,” I answer bitterly. “As soon as I was sentenced to prison, she started the divorce proceedings. I never told the rest of the family. It seemed like my life was in enough shambles as it was.”
Chantal’s brows rise. “Oh wow… that’s a lot.”
“Tell me about it. But she had no problem moving on. Last I heard she and her boy toy were fucking each other’s brains out.”