Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
Ashland
We're back at the cabin. My cabin. No… ours .
The fire crackles in the hearth, casting dancing shadows across the room. Lancelot weaves between the furniture, his tail held high as he curls around my ankles. Christ, it's good to have the cat back.
Her mother sent him without a word. She knows our address now, knows where we are. She doesn't acknowledge it, doesn't reach out. It's good. Bianca needs the distance.
She's curled into my side on the couch, her head tucked under my chin. I've got one hand tangled in her hair, the silky strands sliding through my fingers, while the other traces lazy patterns on her hip. She shifts and lets out a soft hiss .
“Are you sore?” I ask, unable to keep the smirk out of my voice.
“You know damn well I am.” Her cheeks flush that pretty pink I love so much.
Aye, I do. Her arse is still bright red from that spanking she earned.
And she loved every bloody second of it.
The way she moaned and arched into each smack.
The way she begged for more, even as tears streamed down her face.
Christ, I made her climax just from that. Then seven more times after. Seven.
It's a new record—one I'll set out to beat… soon.
I might have gone overboard with the aftercare, making sure she knew how much I worship every inch of her, even when I'm disciplining that smart mouth of hers that doesn't like to obey.
“Seamus gave me the week off,” I say, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “No checking in, no work. Just the two of us.”
She smiles as she tips her head back to look at me, her eyes warm and soft. “Feels a bit like a honeymoon, doesn't it? Can we get pasta from D'Agostino's?”
“Of course we can, lass. Get anything you feckin' want.” What she doesn't know is that I have a surprise for her that's coming soon. A big one. And I'm gonna wait until she has my ring on her finger to give it to her.
“Good.” She brushes her thumb across my bottom lip.
“We'll have a quiet wedding soon enough. Small, just family.”
“I'd marry you right now if I could,” she whispers, and something clenches in my chest. This beautiful, perfect, infuriating woman chose me. Loves me. Calls me hers.
“I've got somewhere to take you,” I say instead of the words that are choking me.
“Where?”
“A club. It’s called The Craic.”
I watch the realization dawn on her face as her eyes go wide and her lips part on a small inhale.
“I've heard about this club.”
“Have you?” I slide my hand up her hip and feel her shiver. “What'd you hear?”
“That I'm not allowed to go,” she says with a laugh. “Cavin and Erin go, and Erin told me, and I quote: 'It's an exclusive, high-end, curated sex club. Members only. You might find some things to explore there.'”
I can't help the low chuckle that rumbles through my chest. “Things to explore, she said?”
“Mm-hmm.” She's trying to sound careful, casual, but I can feel her pulse racing against my palm. Can see the way her pupils have dilated.
My girl loves being dominated. Loves when I take control. When I push her boundaries and make her feel things she didn't know she could feel.
“I'll explore you,” I growl, pulling her into my lap properly so she straddles me. The ribs have healed, the bruises have faded, and my knuckles are mostly mended now. Everything's healing.
She gasps and winces as she settles against my already hard cock, her sore arse pressing against my thighs.
“Ashland.”
“The club will be a fun place for us. We'll get dinner first.”
“That sounds lovely.” Her hands come to rest on my shoulders. “What kind of things are at the club?”
Ha . Of course she’s fixated on that.
“All kinds of things.” I lean in, brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “Private rooms where I can tie you up and make you scream. Open spaces where I can show everyone how beautiful you are when you fall apart.”
“I don't know if I'm into that .”
“We'll see if you are.”
“What else?”
“Equipment I haven't got here. It's impeccably clean and highly curated.”
“Is it a place you went to often?” she asks, unable to hide the jealousy in her voice .
“No, lass. I haven't been in years.”
She's trembling now. “ Would you let other people watch?”
“Only if you want. No one ever touches you but me. Only ever me. But if you want them to see, if you want them to watch while I make you come, if you want me to prove to the whole bloody world that you're mine—I'll give you that.”
“Oh my god.” She breathes. “That's so dirty .”
I slide my hand up her spine, into her hair, and grip tight enough to make her gasp. “You trust me?”
“Always,” she whispers. “Forever.”
“Then I'll take care of you. Always,” I echo.
I kiss her slow and deep, pouring everything I can't say into it. When I pull back, her lips are swollen and her eyes glazed.
“We'll go next weekend. I'll show you what it's like to be worshipped properly.”
“You worship me plenty,” she says with a smile, but her voice is shaky.
“It's never enough.” I stand and lift her with me, and she wraps her legs around my waist on instinct. She doesn't protest anymore. I love it.
Lancelot huffs and moves over to his place by the fire, clearly unimpressed by being disturbed.
“I'm going to spend the rest of this week making sure you know exactly who you belong to.”
“Oh, I already know that,” she says, but she's grinning against my neck now, that beautiful spark back in her eyes.
“Aye, but I like reminding you, don't I?” I carry her toward the bedroom, my cock throbbing with need. “And when I get you to that club, when I've got you tied up and begging, when everyone can see how perfect you are, they'll know. They'll know you're mine.”
“Yeah,” she whispers against my lips. “Yours.”