Kieran
People call me crazy...how can the devil’s son be sane? Ruthless, merciless- psychopath, I revel in the fear I inspire. Those who stood against us will pay.
I have always watched out for my brothers, their pain is my pain. Nothing will ever stop my vengeance. Look into my eyes and know it's already too late. I know who I am and what I want - I don't ask for anything.
I will just take it and once claimed, I dare anyone to come at me...I am Kieran O’Shea and hell is my playground.
Copyright © February 2016,
Kassanna
Cover art by
Marteeka
Karland
Copyright © February2016
Editor:
Katriena
Knights
This is a work of fiction. All characters and events portrayed in this novel are fictitious or used fictitiously. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book, or portions thereof, in any form.
Florida, USA
***Warning***
This is fiction. This is not reality, this should not be taken as reality,
no
one in the book should be emulated or held up as an example. This people do not exist. The author does not in any condone, condemn or place any judgement what so ever on any action of behavior in this book. Should you meet a man like the hero- run- don't walk. As stated before, this is fiction, therefore, fantasy. The author appreciates your "thoughts" but is not in any way interested in hints on how to write her characters. That being said, please enjoy.
Contents
It was rare to have Kieran home for more than a few days in a row…
Soft music floated from the speakers above the headboard Kieran rested on. Rica leaned on the doorjamb staring at him. Tats covered his shoulders and both arms in full sleeves. His hair was at odd angles on his head where he’d combed his fingers through the strands. She cocked her head and let her gaze follow the lines of his body. Her man was fine. Brief giggles passed her lips, and he looked up, meeting her stare.
Roscoe once asked why she stuck around.
It was a good question. After she served her probation she should have run, not walked, as far and as fast as her feet would carry her away from Kieran. Instead she stayed, managing his club and living in the apartment he provided. And every time the thought of leaving crossed her mind she’d meet his pure blue gaze and see the man beneath the psychopathic villain everyone swore he was. Kieran was her kindred spirit.
Sometimes the people around him would give her a hard time. He never introduced her to the folks who filled the legal side of his life. That should have bothered her but strangely it didn’t. His actions leaned more toward protective in her mind. If they’d had a normal relationship, their little escapades wouldn’t have been fun, and some of the schemes Kieran and his brothers thought up were epically felonious.
Her heart thudded. He had his enemies, political and criminal, and his father, Paddy O’Shea, topped the list. She’d never met the old gangster, but his reputation was legendary in South Boston. Given their lifestyle there was one truth she held to heart. If anything ever happened to the man lying in her bed, she would take everybody out, and fuck anyone that got in her way.
“What’s the look for, pretty girl?” He rolled his shoulders and picked up the sheaf of papers in his lap, dropping them on the floor beside the bed.
“I was thinking. You look good in my bed. Too bad you don’t come by more. I was starting to think I might have to replace you.” Teasing Kieran was like baiting a beast--she could never be sure just how he would react.
His stare didn’t waver. “The Grim Reaper and I are on intimate terms. I’ll give him your new lover’s name.”
“Tsk, tsk, tsk. Veiled threats aren’t your style. Do those councilmen
and -
women you work with… I wonder if they know just what kind of man you are under those expensive suits you wear.” She sauntered closer to the bed.
“Some do--they’re in my pocket. Others--they’ll know soon enough because they will be
in
my pocket
. We can talk business later.”
Kieran was right. They could talk anytime. He had enough stress in his life. A smattering of gray was starting to appear at his temples. A slow smile lifted her lips. Tonight she only wanted him to experience pleasure. She set a knee on the mattress. “I missed you.”
“I’m here now.” He extended his open palm toward her. “It’s been a while since I had my chocolate. I’ve almost forgotten your taste. Come to me.”
Rica backed up. “Catch me.” She blew him a kiss. “If you can.”
He lunged.
She scuttled to the side and waved her index finger. “You
gotta
work for this ass, sweetheart.”
A grin formed on his lips, making his eyes crinkle at the corners. “I have a deal I’m working. After tonight I won’t be around much.” He rose up off the bed. “I’ll make sure you’re taken care off, but what I’m handling will take up most of my time, understand?”
“You make me sound like a nuisance.” She cocked her head and slowly unbuttoned her blouse. “If I am so much of a bother I could always…move on.”
“I know how you crave my attention, pretty girl.” A short bark of laughter escaped his lips. “There isn’t anywhere you can go that I won’t find you.” He leapt on the mattress and crossed the bed, catching her by the upper arm and shoving her against the wall.
“I let you catch me.” She bent her head forward, speaking against his lips.
“Like you’re going to let me fuck you?” He caught her bottom lip between his teeth.
“Something-almost like that...maybe” Her words were jumbled.
“Hmm.” Kieran ripped the shirt apart, and the remaining buttons popped off in all directions.
His erection rubbed her thigh as he ground his hips against her. She skated her palms up his back across the scars hidden within the lines of his tattoos. He released her mouth and dropped his head to touch hers.
“Fuck me like you mean it.” She traced his lips with her tongue.
“Is there any other way?” He tilted his head, rubbing his cheek against hers.
Rica brought her hands forward, skimming his ribs, and his chuckles reverberated through her mouth. She reached between them into his sleeper bottoms; his cock jerked in her palm. Kieran moved away from her mouth, dropping tiny kisses along her jaw. She angled her head to give him better access to her throat. Dammit, she should have taken her jeans off before she entered the bedroom. Quickly she yanked her hands free and unbuttoned her pants, lowering the zipper and shoving the denim over her hips.
“In a hurry?” Kieran whispered against her collarbone. His breath flowed over her skin, and a shiver rippled along her spine.
“Stop playing.” It was hard to form sentences.
He moved lower, grazing his mouth across her taut nipple. She shimmied to work her clothing down her legs. Kieran nudged the bra cup down. He nipped at the tight tip of her breast, and her knees went weak. Slowly she slid down the wall.
He gripped her waist. “Don’t fucking move.” His tone was gruff. He hooked his thumbs under her waistband and peeled the material from her limbs. Kieran straightened and pointed at his pajama bottoms. “Take them off me.”
She leaned in and pressed her lips on his chest before dragging her mouth down his sternum and around his belly button. The elastic on his sleep pants stretched the material under his cock, hiding his nuts. Rica pulled his sleepers lower around muscular thighs. His dick twitched, thumping her chin. “Little Kieran wants to have a little fun.”
“Now who has jokes?” He wrapped his hands around her wrists and hauled her up, slamming her into the wall. “Legs.”
She hiked a calf up. “I--umm--pants…not off.” She curled her arms around his neck, giddy. Kieran would be gone again; she needed to take full advantage of him while he was there.
“You took too long.” He grunted, cupping her ass and sliding his rod into her passage.
She gripped the hairs at his nape and came up on her toes as he thrust deep inside her. Kieran pinned her with his torso. She heaved her other leg up, rolling her hips. Her back scrubbed the wall, and her rigid buds rubbed his chest, adding another layer of sensation to every drive. She ground down, and the friction made her clit thrum. Rica stared at Kieran. His eyes were shut she leaned in jamming her lips against his. He invaded her mouth with his tongue, twisting it around hers in dominance.
His lunges sped up, ramming into her with jackhammer precision. Her nails scored his shoulders as she clung tight to his body. Spirals of pleasure coiled in her core. He swallowed the low wails escaping her. Her eyes drifted closed as the currents rolling through her escalated. She pumped her pelvis, meeting his thrusts. Hollow thuds added to the cacophony of noises filling the room, and Rica realized she was bumping her head against the wall.
He kissed the sensitive spot beneath her ear, sucking the spot. His shaft filled her channel. Her orgasm tore through her, making her limbs tremble. He echoed her grunts in his release, and warmth filled her sheath.
Rica dropped her head in the hollow where his neck met his shoulders and rubbed her cheek against his skin. “Take me to bed, Daddy.”
***
Patrick “Paddy” O’Shea was a bastard. He had no loved ones, no real friends. People feared him, and that’s what kept them loyal, most of the time. His iron-clad rule in the south of Boston was absolute, having built layers of snitches to watch his snitches to watch his crews. Politicians, police, even some members of the FBI were firmly in his back pocket, and he kept them there by bribery, extortion, and good old-fashioned threats of violence.
Old Man O’Shea, as he was referred to by the locals, showed no mercy. To anyone. He ruled with an iron fist and had no softness within him for anyone, including his own sons. Kieran and
Conall
were born to him from his wife, Fiona, a raven-haired, blue-eyed beauty he’d met on the Emerald Isle. Rumor had it he beat her, degraded her, and eventually killed her spirit, which then killed her body. Paddy made sure nothing could ever be proven.
Fionn
and Shannon were his children by his lifelong mistress, Gillian. At least, it was suspected she was his longtime mistress. She hadn’t actually been seen for years.
His sons had not been raised by their mothers. When each boy turned six, he was taken and raised in the worst slums by the most hardened criminal in the Old Man’s organization. Not even they knew they belonged to the notorious crime boss until they reached maturity. Paddy wanted his sons strong, tough, and utterly ruthless. He never suspected they would cling to one another and form a bond so strong nothing could break it. Nor had he ever imagined that, instead of loyalty, their upbringing would breed resentment that went beyond anger. That they would join together and combine forces to bring down the very man who thought himself untouchable…
***
Kieran straightened his tie in the hall mirror. He tugged at his cuffs, making sure they covered the tats that stopped at his wrists. His cell buzzed in his pocket. He yanked it free and tapped the screen without looking as he moved through the house. “Speak.”
“The Harbor Master has quite the nest egg set aside. I tracked the funds and sent you the information. It is quite the interesting read.” One of his crew kicked off the conversation.
“Good. And Rica?” It had been almost three weeks since he spent the night with her, and he missed her, but business first. The deal he was working on could take him and his brothers in a different direction. It would take them in a legitimate direction business-wise even if it was secured by illegal means.
“According to Roscoe her mood gets worse by the day.”
“Tell him to stop pissing her off.” Kieran laughed. “I’m on my way out.” He disconnected the call. At some point he needed to stop by Irish, the club he owned and which she lived above. If he didn’t it would only be a matter of time before she did something to force him there. Over the years it had become a game between them. He’d known the moment he saw her, no other woman would suit him.
His cell buzzed again as he reached for his briefcase. “I’m busy.”
His brother, Shannon, sighed deeply. There were four of them all together. Him--he was the oldest by two weeks. Then came Shannon, his half-brother. Next was
Fionn
, Shannon’s full sibling, and the youngest was
Conall
, his full brother. They all shared a unique bond, much to their father’s dismay. Everything Kieran did was for them, and no matter what it took they would escape Paddy O’Shea’s shadow.
“I’m having issues.” The deep timbre of his brother’s tone stopped him in his tracks.
“Which of Paddy’s cronies is fucking with you now?” Their father was a constant thorn in their sides, but lately they were experiencing more problems than normal.
“It’s the houses. Magda is giving me problems.”
That old skank? Hell, he’d figured her ancient ass had shriveled up and died a while ago. “Easiest solution--kill her.” Kieran tightened his grip on the briefcase handle. If he didn’t leave immediately he wouldn’t make his council meeting. “She’s only loyal to Paddy. A quick double tap to the temple, drop the body in a wall or foundation and its out with the old, in with the new. Her death will make your life easier.”