Chapter 21 #2
The mocking grin returns to my face, lighting it up with cruelty. “Use it against who? Be specific, princess. Your dear ol’ husband, huh? To have me killed off?”
“YES!” she screams unabashedly, right in my face.
No hesitation or apology.
It’s so raw and sincere I can’t help but laugh. The sound is dark and bitter and utterly devoid of humor.
“You’re mistaken, princess. So fucking naive.
” I hold up the card and rip it in two, letting the tatters float to the ground between us.
“If you ever believed you could get away with something like that, you’re nothing but a sheltered little princess who’s been coddled her whole life.
You think you’re capable enough to enlist the help of the fucking Bratva?
Get real, sweetheart. Learn your fucking place. ”
Her hand connects with my face in answer. It’s an eruption of frustration and powerlessness on her part.
Her attempt to get back at me for demeaning her.
The slap cracks through the room like a whip. My head snaps to the side, my cheek prickling from the contact.
Yet my grin remains as I turn my head back to face her and glare into her eyes like the brute I am. She seems to realize her error, spotting the dark humor in my gaze as she goes to take a step back.
But I grip her by the arm again to keep her where she is.
“Don’t retreat now,” I say coolly. “You think we’re anywhere near done here?”
“Yes we are done!” she insists. “I’m done with you, Callahan!”
Her defiance is such a fucking head trip. It’s such a damn mindfuck.
It pisses me off while simultaneously turning me the hell on all at once. It makes me want to choke her out all while I fuck the shit out of her.
Rage pumps through my veins like a flame torching me up from the inside. My hands itch, craving violence at the same time my cock throbs and grows hard and stiff.
The whiskey takes away any decorum I could’ve possibly had—though it’s not like me and good behavior ever belong in the same fucking sentence anyway.
In a split-second decision, I’m snatching her wrist and dragging her along with me. I’m pivoting on my heel as I stride toward my desk. We step over the shards of broken glass and scattered pens and soil from the potted plant I knocked over earlier.
I come to a stop on the other side, gripping a struggling Simone.
“Get your hands off me!” she screams hysterically.
But she’s ignored as I yank the bottom drawer open and pull out the roll of duct tape I keep for emergencies.
In the Irish mob, you can never have too much duct tape lying around.
“Are you CRAZY?!” she shrieks, eyes rounding once she sees what I have.
My grin twitches just a little wider. “Actually, yeah, I am, princess. You mean you didn’t know that when you married me?”
I tug at the tape, pulling the roll free ’til I have a strip long enough that’ll fit around her wrists. It presses into her skin as I wrap it around a few times for good measure.
“RONAN!” she screams in a panic. “What are you—”
I tear an extra strip free using my teeth and then slap it over her mouth, silencing her.
“That’s enough of you,” I say. “I’ve heard enough from that smart mouth of yours. It’s time for you to listen. It’s time for you to learn.”
I produce a pocketknife—again, standard for Irish brutes like me to carry or have lying around at all times—and clench my fingers into the fabric of her fancy dress and coat.
The blade glints as it flips out of the base, and I go straight into hacking away at her precious designer dress. The ribbed knit fabric peels away, falling open as I cut it up, and soon her bra and panties are within view.
Just like that, she’s half naked, eyes larger than ever and breasts heaving from the halted, panicked breaths she takes.
Eventually, the sliced-up dress slips to the ground altogether, and I go to work on her undergarments, using the knife to sever the band between the bra cups. Then the delicate waistband and crotch area of her panties.
I make sure to hold her gaze as I let the blade chafe against her mons pubis and the small patch of coarse hair there.
Making her understand who has the power right now; who is in complete and total control as I cut away the last pieces of her modesty and leave her bound and naked.
Simone’s truly a sight for sore fucking eyes in this moment.
Wrists taped together. More tape stretched across her mouth. Big, round breasts hanging out, and the rest of her deliciously curvy body shaking in place—whether from fear or rage or excitement, it’s anybody’s guess.
She’s naked except for her coat that’s slipped off her shoulders and is now trapped along her upper arms due to her wrists being bound.
This is probably humiliating for her.
But it doesn’t fucking matter in this moment. Nothing about what she thinks or wants or feels matters right now.
“You’ve taken advantage of me, princess,” I say bluntly. I let the knife trail back up her body, the cool blade mapping out her every curve.
The round jut of her hip and the flat expanse of her stomach. The shallow depth of her belly button, and then it’s further up ’til I’m at the swell of her breasts.
I stand behind her, my cheek pressed against hers as I torture her. As I play these mind games, letting the seconds tick by and tease the blade across her body.
“You had me defending you, did you know that?” I growl into her ear. “You had me going against my own father, who called it from the beginning—you and your fucking family were up to something. I see it now.”
She protests from behind the duct tape. It muffles any words she speaks, making them unintelligible. But again, it doesn’t even matter, because I’m past the point of giving a fuck.
…if I ever did in the first place.
The moment Oona found that damn card in her pocket, there was no going back.
“I suppose it goes back to what we were saying before, princess,” I go on with a cold laugh.
The blade’s now made its way past her full chest, inching toward her delicate throat.
“You understand something very important—sex is a weapon, and you’ve wielded it admirably.
You’ve fucking had me under your spell. Pussy so damn good you had me tripped up.
I’ll admit that. But I’m awake now, and you’re about to see there’s no double-crossing a Callahan. We will always come out on top!”
More muffled protests from her. Outraged words the tape smothers and keeps from ever being heard.
I press the knife into her throat as I use my other hand to unzip my pants and pull my cock out.
It’s rock hard, throbbing and twitching and pulsing from how much it needs release. How turned on I am even while being pissed off and furious.
At this point, the two emotions go hand in hand.
Hate and lust.
A husband and wife who are enemies so when we fuck it’s angry and violent.
As much as Simone twists and jerks against me, she understands this—she can’t resist the heat simmering between us. After stroking my dick a few times, I slide my hand around her front and cup her pussy.
Slick arousal greets me, like I already expected.
I grin all over again, my tongue licking at the side of her face. The blade remains pressed into her throat. I mash my palm against her pussy, creating a friction I know’ll drive her crazy, then I slide two fingers deep inside.
Immediately, she’s gripping at me. She’s clenching down around me, giving herself away. Giving up any pretense she’s not as turned on as I am.
A dark laugh leaves me. “Just like I thought. You like things a little rough, princess. You want me to treat you like my fucking whore, don’t you? You want me to show you what bad, dirty traitors like you get when you betray me—don’t you!?”
She gasps from behind the tape as I give an expert flick of the blade and cut the top of her right breast. It comes fast and unexpectedly, the blade shooting from where it was positioned at her throat to carving a small nick at the soft swell of flesh.
A few tiny beads of blood leak from the shallow cut, slowly dribbling down her chest.
Her body quakes against mine. She’s shuddering out a breath that seems to stall itself on its way out. Almost as if she’s malfunctioning; she can’t believe what I just did.
I pump my fingers in and out of her pussy, slowly and methodically, grinning at how fucking slick and wet she is.
…at how her pussy quickly responds to me. Her walls clench, encasing me in heat.
“You are so fucking ashamed, aren’t you?” I ask her. “I’ve got you dripping. I’ve already made you bleed. Yet you only want more. Believe me, princess, I’m more than happy to oblige.”
My fingers disappear from her wet pussy and move up her back, in between her shoulder blades. I push her further down ’til she’s practically bent over my desk.
It’s a view I always enjoy—her fat ass rounded and presented to me like a gift.
Putting down the knife, I hold her in place and stroke my cock a few times ’til I’m bringing myself up against her entrance.
She’s slick and dripping, and there’s instant electric pleasure as soon as I slam into her. I do it in a single thrust, hips driving forward and cock burying itself.
Her spine arches and she screams against the tape. But I’m encompassed by heat and tight pulsing, and I don’t give a single fuck.
She feels too good to stop now.
Hand clamped over her shoulder and another on her hip, I waste no time fucking her. From the start it’s a fast and brutal pace as I slam into her and then pull out enough to do it all over again.
Right away, our bodies are colliding, filling up the office with an assortment of sounds.
Her muffled screams and protests. My heavy grunts and pants. The scrape of the desk on the floorboards from every hard thrust, and even the slap of her breasts as they bounce.
The pleasure comes hot and all-consuming, burning me up from the inside. It travels up my shaft and then spreads through the rest of my body ’til sweat breaks out on my skin.