“Really? What’s to stop you grabbing me by the hair and dragging me down the aisle?”
He stood. “Nothing at all. We have a family chapel and a priest. Would you like me to do that?”
“
Gobshite
.”
“I’ll take that insult as a rejection of my proposal.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle.
“We’ll be leaving in my car,” he informed her. “Liam packed your bag while we had breakfast. Now, it’s your choice of how you get in my car. Fully dressed and willing. Or I can carry you naked. While he was here, Liam left us a gag if you choose the second option.” He crossed the room, took her case from the wardrobe, and picked up the gag that Liam had left with it.
“You—”
“Would,” he countered, making a show of pocketing the gag. “With my grandmother’s blessing.”
In the end, unfortunately, she chose to wear clothes and walk to the car of her own free will while he dealt with their cases.
His grandmother saw them off as if they were going on holiday.
“This is under duress,” Sinead said.
“Blacken his eye, then.”
He drove to the shore and met up with Logan, a manservant and boat pilot. Jack had rung Logan earlier and arranged for the man to ferry them across Clew Bay.
The weather was nippy, as he expected, and Logan pulled out a blanket. Jack wrapped it around her shoulders. “You could have let me put on a jacket.”
“Then your nipples wouldn’t have been so hard.”
“Male logic?”
“What other kind is there?”
“Your woman is beautiful,” Logan told Jack.
“Aye. She is.”
He offered her a glass of wine that she turned down. Fine with him. He preferred to play with totally sober subs.
When they landed, he helped her ashore, not at all disappointed when the wind licked at the hem of her skirt and made it ride just a little higher.
“Where are we?” she asked.
“Your temporary home.”
“Is the island inhabited?”
He shook his head.
Sinead wrapped her arms around her middle to ward off the afternoon chill. Wind whipped through the trees and spat sea water at them.
He took off his jacket and helped her into it, surprisingly, ridiculously delighted in how big it was on her. “It will be just us here. Peace. Quiet. Solitude. And your fantasies coming true. Including the ones with Logan.”
Her eyes widened. He did love shocking her.
“With Logan?”
“Indeed. You’ll have a choice in the matter.”
She
was silent.
“As to which of us you want up your arse and which you want stuffing your cunt.”
She shivered. But she licked her lower lip and glanced at the ground. She was shocked. But she hadn’t protested.
His grandmother’s words returned. What did he want from a woman, indeed? And there was something to the fact he hadn’t chosen another after Maeve. Truth was, as much as he’d loved her they hadn’t been entirely suited. Sex had been good, but kink hadn’t been her thing. After that, he’d decided not to be with a woman who wasn’t his match mentally, physically or sexually.
Against her ear he added, “Before that, if you’ve a mind, I can bend you over a tree branch and use my belt on your exposed arse. Or I can tie you to a tree while I eat your pussy. I can even use a tree branch to secure your hands above your head while I whip you for your earlier impertinence. You can scream as long as you like, as loud as you like, and the only thing you’ll disturb will be the birds. And Logan will definitely enjoy the sight.”
She gasped. “You wouldn’t.”
“Aye. I would. And I’d even let Logan have a turn while you sucked my cock. Don’t think I’ve forgotten I owe you a punishment for your behaviour at breakfast.”
Sinead stood there, mouth open a bit like a fish out of water while Logan gathered their luggage.
She rounded on Jack. “Logan knows?”
“That you’re my intended? That you’re my sub? That you’ll be punished for your behaviour? Yes, all of it. We routinely share subs. I told you about him, without mentioning his name.”
“You’re—”
“Ready to get on with it. And unless you’re wanting to strip right here and right now and take your punishment, I suggest you get your beautiful rear into the cottage.”
She scowled, then, obviously choosing her battles, she tipped back her chin—after all, she didn’t come from a line of warriors for nothing—and preceded him to the house.
The door was unlocked, and the insides were fairly inviting. He’d sent Logan ahead to prepare the place, including the playroom.
Huge rugs adorned the floors. A hearth was the focal point of the living room, and soaring windows let in the sunlight, such as it was. A settee and wing-backed chair were set at angles near the already-blazing fireplace. Leather-bound books adorned the wooden shelving. It wasn’t luxury, but it was comfortable enough and a place for him to be alone…or not, as the case might be.
“The place suits you.”
She was right. The island was beautiful in a rugged way that appealed to him. Lush, verdant, with soaring trees and wildflowers blooming in dazzling splashes of colour.
They were near enough to see the mainland and the soaring mountain that was Croagh Patrick, the most famous in all of Ireland, most of Europe for that matter. ‘Twas the place of legend and pilgrimage where thousands climbed each year, barefoot, in memory of Saint Patrick himself, who fasted for forty days and nights at the craggy, hostile summit some fifteen hundred years before.
“We even have running water. Civilisation by any standards.” He’d give up all his worldly goods before he’d give up this slice of heaven. “Provisions have already been delivered so you don’t have to forage for food.”
“Me?”
“I’m lord and master of all I survey. You’re the servant.”
“We all live to serve you, Sir,” Logan said, walking past them to carry their bags into the master bedroom.
She looked at Logan’s retreating figure, then back at him, as if trying to decide whether or not Logan was serious.
“Tell me your safe word.”
“
Dearg
.”
“Just that?” He wanted to be very clear that she knew her safe word, that if she felt out of control, she could stop. “Or will
red
serve as a substitute?”
She shook her head.
“Dearg
,” she said.
“You have your safety net,” he told her. “Really you have the control. But you also have the freedom to experience your wildest desires. If you shout no, I will not stop. That, too, gives you freedom. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
“Tell me.”
“I know…” She paused to swallow.
“Look me in the eye. I want to be sure we’re clear.”
Obediently, wonderfully, she met his gaze. “I can stop the scene by using my safe word. The word no will not stop the scene.”
“Remove your clothes.”
She blinked. “But Logan—”
“Remove your clothes, Sinead, unless you’d like me to strip them off you?” He folded his arms implacably across his chest. “I told you to expect this. I told you we could talk about it after you’ve tried it, but not before. Logan is a loyal manservant. And I’m inviting him into the scene.”
“I’ve never done anything like this.”
“There’s a lot you’ve never done,” he countered. He watched the internal struggle that waged on her face, from the way she drew her lower lip between her teeth to the way she glanced towards the bedroom, to the way a small frown furrowed her brow. Watching her closely was akin to reading her mind. “You want this,” he guessed, “and you wish you didn’t. You’re curious. Part of you hopes I’ll simply push so that you’re absolved of responsibility. And you wish the one Dom who intends to have you were anyone but the man you see as a mortal enemy.”
“You could have a job at a carnival.”
She paused. “As a soothsayer.”
She ventured a grin that he didn’t return.
The fireplace snapped and crackled. “Will there be any…repercussions if you undress me?”
“None. That question came without a penalty. But clever of you to ask.”
She looked down at the ground.
“Better yet,” he said. “Logan can strip you.”
When she didn’t protest, he called out Logan’s name.
The other man entered the living room. “Sir?”
“Kindly undress my sub while I watch. Sinead, remove your shoes and socks.”
After she’d followed orders, stuffing her socks inside her shoes then scooting them beneath the settee, she returned to a standing position. Logan moved behind her so he didn’t obstruct Jack’s view.
The other man grabbed the bottom of Sinead’s T-shirt and pulled it up over her head.
She looked so appealing standing there, her upper body bare, but still dressed in her skirt. Her nipples were already taut. His trousers were already tight. “Sinead enjoys nipple stimulation.”
“Indeed, Sir.” The man cradled her full breasts in his palms. Then, while Jack watched, the man gently pinched her nipples. “Look at me, Sinead.” He wanted to gauge her reaction, to see when pleasure became pain and pain became pleasure.
She met his gaze.
“A bit more pressure,” he told Logan.
Wordlessly the man followed the command.
Her eyes widened.
“More,” Jack said.
“Sir,” she protested.
“More,” Jack repeated.
Her nostrils flared. “Good,” he said quietly. “Lovely. Now just a bit more, Logan. Pull her nipples up and away from her breasts.”
She yelped.
“School yourself,” he told her.
She squeezed her eyes closed. She was still feeling pain and fighting it. He wanted her to move past it. “Now twist her nipples,” he instructed.
With deliberate motions, Logan did as he was told.
“Sir!” she shouted.
“Breathe, Sinead. You can take it. Logan, give her more. Harder.” He crossed the distance separating them and thrust his hand beneath her skirt, unerringly finding her pussy. “You’re drenched,” he observed. “More pressure on her nipples.” He stroked her wet folds. She rocked her hips back and forth, seeking to get off.
The tension between her brows eased. “You’re liking it more now?” he asked. “More pleasure than pain?”
“I want to come.”
“Release her,” he instructed Logan.
“Sir!”
He pulled his hand away simultaneously, leaving her on the edge. Her shoulders slumped forward. “Good girl.”
“Good girl? I want to use a curse word."
“You may not.” He kept the grin off his face. “Logan, her skirt, if you will.”
The man lowered the zip and pulled the material down, past her hips and dropped it to the wooden floor.
“Step out of the skirt,” he told her, “then kneel up.”
She moved slowly as if trying to compute his order.
She knelt. As he’d taught her, she spread her knees apart, placed her hands behind her neck and arched slightly so her chest stuck out. She cast her gaze towards the floor. “Perfect,” he said. “Now for the next position. Pay attention and repeat it back to me.”
She nodded.
“It’s called present.” He noticed her twitch a bit. She wasn’t terribly experienced, but she was fairly well read. Obviously she had some idea of what to expect. “On your back. Raise your knees, allow your legs to fall to the sides, cup your knees in your palms for support. The purpose is for me to be able to look at your pussy. I’ll be able to see if you’re properly groomed. If I requested you insert a plug, I’ll be able to see if you did that. I’ll be able to see if you are wet. And I’ll be able to show you to anyone I please. Explain the position to me.”
“Uhm…”
“No prevarication,” he snapped.
“I lie on my back, Sir, with my legs spread, my knees raised and supported by my hands.”
“You will maintain your position as you’re inspected.”
She nodded.
“Present.”
With grace unexpected in one so untrained, she assumed the position. Obviously her dance training enhanced the experience.
When she was completely exposed, he crouched between her legs. “When I tell you to shave, I expect the insides of your pussy lips to feel just like this…” He smoothed his thumbs on the inside of her labia. “Smooth and bare. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“I do like your pussy wet.” He finger-fucked her hard.
“Yes, Sir!”
“And I like to see your arsehole stretched in anticipation of my penetration.” He traced a damp finger around that puckered place. “I will do all of these things when I inspect you. Logan, inspect my submissive. Sinead, behave yourself.”
He stood.
Logan, always the perfect submissive and manservant, offered him a towel. When he had Sinead anticipating his needs and desires like this… Aye. There was a fantasy. He’d sooner meet the Banshee on the beach than he’d have Sinead trained.