Page 12 of Reckless Seduction
Damn, she is tight. She will need to be trained before we can stick our cocks in her ass. It is a tight fit with just one finger.
“Now,” I spin her around until her breasts are pressed against the heated tile wall, ass rubbing against my hardened member, “come for me,a mhuirnín.”
Pressing hard against her cunt, I concentrate on her swollen nub as I ground my rock-hard erection against her luscious cheeks. Soon she is pushing back against me, grinding her pussy onto my fingers, her breaths coming in short, panting gasps as she takes her pleasure unabashedly.
Bailey sobs when I pinch her clit between my fingers, her entire body shuddering as she comes. She goes limp in my arms. I’m not far behind, my cum exploding against her ass.
Fuck. She is beautiful when she orgasms, and she makes the most delicious fucking sounds. Small whimpers and little mewls.
Like a kitten.
A kitten who needs a collar.
Keeping one arm around her for support, I rinse us both off before reaching around to shut the water off and grabbing a towel that hangs over the shower door. With quick, thorough strokes, I rub her down. She doesn’t protest; her eyes barely open as she struggles to stay awake.
I know this won’t last forever. She’s docile now, but come later, I have no doubt our little kitten will show her claws. A slight tinge of regret streaks through my conscience at having taken her like that so soon. Especially knowing she is partially inebriated, but there is no going back now. Bailey needs to learn she is mine.
And Seamus’s.
She belongs to us, whether she likes it or not.
It is the only way we will be able to keep her alive.
Letting out a long sigh, I help Bailey into my bed, drawing the covers over her naked body. There are plenty of clothes—either mine or Seamus’s—to dress her in but having her naked when she first wakes will serve as a reminder for her.
She’s not the one in charge here.
That, and what sane man wouldn’t want a woman like her running around his room naked and at his disposal?
Tilting my head, I take a moment to study her, my eyes roaming over her form and taking her in. Touch is a completely different sense from sight. Each sense tells me something different about her. My touch tells me how soft she is. How pliable.
Her voice is gentle when forced into submission, but those fiery moments deliver a delicious edge. She isn’t used to being told what to do. Bailey is no doubt used to being the one in control, but that doesn’t stop her body from sensing an apex predator. It wants her to submit to me; it’s her mind that is holding her back.
That will soon change.
Her long raven hair spreads out over my pillow in stark contrast to the white linen that lies beneath. Quietly, I sit in the wingback chair just a few feet from the bed and tug her purse into my lap. Some of the men have brought up the belongings she had in her car.
She’d been running from something. Or someone.
Bailey wasn’t lying when she stated her car had broken down in the parking lot. A quick once-over from Patrick, our resident mechanic, confirmed that. One of her spark plugs was dirty and split. It was years older than the practically new ones installed around it.
Patrick didn’t need to confirm what I already guessed.
Someone wanted her to break down.
But why?
Grabbing my phone, I snap a quick photo of her driver’s license before sending it off to Bridgett, our tech guru and personal hacker. I need more information on the raven-haired siren. Something other than what I know about her as a reporter.
A reporter…Cac.
I wonder how Father is taking the news that we’ve kidnapped one of the city’s most popular investigative journalists.Jaysus, he is going to kill us.
Groaning a sigh, I set those thoughts aside as I dig further into her belongings. There isn’t much. A recorder that belongs to the worst side of the nineties. It has a cassette tape and everything. Shit, where did she even get this relic? Better yet, why would she use this piece of shit when digital ones are readily available? Not to mention phones.
I’ll listen to it later when I’m not worried about waking her.
Gum. Breath mints. An empty bag of Sour Patch Kids. A few stray pens. Her ID badge. Nothing incriminating and nothing that tells me why she was at the club.
