Keep Me (Sinful Manor #1)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Sylvie is adorable when she’s drunk. Well, technically, I think she’s just tipsy, but it’s enough to have her telling hilarious stories at dinner, mostly about me and the idiotic things I’ve done. The group adores her. Well, all but the short-haired brunette across the table who is staring daggers at my wife.

I get the sneaking suspicion that something happened between Sylvie and Claire that I haven’t been told about. When we all sat around the table, Sylvie aggressively stole the seat beside me from Claire, who already had the chair pulled out and was about to sit.

Everyone at the table noticed. Even Angus, who has been silent ever since.

Guilt pierces my chest again. It’s like a blade stuck between my ribs that I can’t seem to remove.

Sylvie, in her usual commanding style, completely saved the dinner from debilitating awkwardness and had everyone laughing in seconds. By the time we finished our meal, her hand was resting on my stiffening cock, and I had to fight the urge to drag her up to our room right then and there.

I’ve barely had anything to drink all night. We’ve been lingering at the table for a while now, and I can see how toasted everyone is getting. It’s about that time—when things go from a tame dinner party with friends to something far more wicked and depraved.

My favorite part of the night if we’re honest, but not tonight. Tonight, I just want to make them all go away so I can be alone with my wife.

“Wait!” Sylvie shrieks with a slur in her voice.

“Jesus, woman. What are you hollerin’ about?” I ask.

“Your cake!”

“My cake?”

She jumps up from the table and scurries off into the kitchen. I can feel Claire staring at me, but I don’t look in her direction.

“She’s really amazing,” Greg’s wife, Emma, says with a warm smile.

“Yeah,” I mutter to myself. “She is.”

Just then the lights go out in the dining room, and a warm glow emits from the kitchen. Before I know it, I hear Sylvie crooning off-tune.

“Haaaaappy…” she starts while waiting for the rest to join in. “Birthday to you,” she sings when they do.

Throughout the entire song, she’s grinning at me over the candles on the giant chocolate cake, and I can’t help but smile in return. By the time she sets it down in front of me, the song is over, and she’s gaping at me expectantly.

Closing my eyes, I make a quick wish, and I blow the candles out. Everyone cheers, and I swallow my embarrassment.

While Sylvie cuts the cake and passes out each piece, I find myself watching her with wonder. This is somehow the same woman who threw hot coffee on her ex-boyfriend and broke into a stranger’s house. She’s the same woman who kissed my beesting and mended my hand when it was bleeding. Every moment I thought I had her figured out, she surprised me with more layers and beauty than I ever expected.

“We should play a game!” Sylvie exclaims, with a glass of wine in her hand.

“Not another drinking game,” I mutter.

“No…” She snatches the empty wine bottle off the table and smiles at me. “You’ve played spin the bottle, right?”

My heated gaze turns in her direction. “Sylvie…”

The party reacts with excitement.

“I knew your wife would know how to get the party started,” someone says with a giggle.

Immediately, everyone is on board, practically running from the dining room table and into the parlor. They clear a spot in the middle of the large room. Sitting right in front of the fireplace, they form a circle on the floor, and Sylvie reaches for me, gesturing for me to sit next to her.

Liam grabs another bottle of wine, and I realize how painfully sober I am.

This is a bad idea. I can feel it.

My friends and I have been kinky together in the past. These parties always lead to sex in some way or another, and I’ve always been open to playing along, although there is only one other person in this room I’ve actually fucked, and that wasn’t part of the party.

No, that was something very different entirely.

But these couples have no problem with sharing all the time. It’s almost as if my house is the safe space where they can fuck each other, and it doesn’t mean anything.

But now that I’m married, I realize that it means a hell of a lot to me. For a guy who hangs out with a bunch of swingers, suddenly, I don’t feel as if I belong here.

“Okay, so the rules are simple. If the bottle lands on you, you can choose to kiss or drink,” Sylvie explains.

“Or more…” Liam adds, making everyone laugh.

When Sylvie moves to spin the bottle, I immediately grab it from the floor and pass it along to Liam, who is sitting on the other side of her. Sylvie gives me a grumpy look as if she’s disappointed in me, but I don’t care. I sit in frustrated silence while Liam spins.

The bottle lands on Emma. Everyone claps and cheers. Her cheeks redden immediately. Then she crooks a finger at Liam, basically implying that she’d rather have a kiss than a drink. He crawls across the floor toward her, and she grabs his face, planting a long wet kiss on his mouth. Everyone reacts with excitement, even Greg, who’s laughing next to her.

When the kiss is done, Liam sits back down, and Nick is next. His bottle lands on Claire, who opts for drinking instead of kissing. After Nick, Theresa goes. The bottle spins until it lands on Angus.

“Get over here,” he says to Theresa. I notice the way Claire’s mouth sets in a thin angry line.

Theresa laughs as she crawls over to Angus, but instead of kissing him on his mouth, she dives down and latches her lips onto his neck, sucking on his flesh and making his eyes roll into the back of his head.

“Holy shite,” he mutters after she releases him. As he touches the now red circle she left behind, he mutters a low “I’m fuckin’ hard as hell after that.”

We all let out a string of laughter, and I feel Sylvie nestle closer to my side. Theresa looks downright proud of herself now.

Then it’s Claire’s turn, and I grow tense. I watch with nervous anxiety as it spins, and when it stops pointing dangerously close to me, I panic.

“It’s me,” Sylvie says, cutting off my thoughts.

“It looks like it landed right between you and Killian,” someone argues.

“No, it’s on me,” she argues. Then she glares at Claire. “So… what’s it gonna be?”

“Technically, it’s your choice,” Claire replies flatly.

“I’m not afraid of a little kiss.”

“Sylvie…” I say in warning. But she ignores me. Instead, she leans toward Claire and stares obstinately into her eyes. The tension between these two women is palpable, and I’m legitimately concerned about what my wife is about to do.

Claire leans toward Sylvie, but it’s Sylvie who makes the leap. She latches her lips around Claire’s, kissing her with passion and fire, and I see Claire’s bottom lip pinched between Sylvie’s teeth. Claire lets out a whimper but meets Sylvie’s fervor with her own, pressing back against her. For ten long seconds, the two of them fight for control of the kiss while the rest of us watch with trepidation.

When they finally pull away, Sylvie’s mouth is red, and Claire looks angry and defeated, as if Sylvie somehow won.

“I think it’s time for another bottle,” Liam says, changing the mood in the room. He immediately jumps up, grabs a bottle of wine, and walks to the wall to dim the lights. I can feel the radiating anger from Sylvie’s gaze as she glares at the other woman.

She only relaxes after Claire leaves the room in a huff.

“What was that all about?” I whisper.

Sylvie shrugs. “I don’t like her.”

“Obviously,” I joke.

“Don’t act like you don’t know why,” she replies without looking at me.

My head tilts as I stare at her in confusion. Leaning my mouth next to her ear, I softly whisper, “Is my wee little wife jealous?”

“I don’t like cheaters,” she mutters, denying that she’s jealous of another woman wanting me.

“You’re in a room full of cheaters, darling.”

“You know what I mean,” she huffs.

My hand slides along her jaw, turning her face toward me. “I like to see you jealous.”

She jerks away from me. “I’m not.”

“Then you won’t mind me kissing another person tonight?”

Her eyes turn to fire, glaring at me with rage. “You wouldn’t dare.”

I chuckle softly. “It’s not really cheating. Just a kiss.”

Reaching into the middle of the circle, I pick up the wine bottle. “My turn,” I announce, stealing the attention of everyone in the circle who are all having their own flirty private conversations.

“Should we wait for Claire to come back?” Liam asks.

“She’s fine,” Angus replies, waving off his wife instead of looking for her.

Sylvie is still shooting daggers at me with her eyes as I give the bottle a spin. After three turns, it stops in front of Theresa, the same woman responsible for the blossoming hickey on Angus’s neck.

The group lets out a collective “Ooooh.”

I wink at my wife before leaning in toward Theresa and pressing a chaste kiss on her lips before sitting back in my seat.

The group lets out a collective “Awww.”

Sylvie is still fuming. She picks up the bottle and spins it for herself. When it lands on Greg, my jaw clenches. We’ve stopped doing the drink option, apparently because she crawls defiantly toward him and grabs his face. I watch with buzzing anger as she kisses him deeply, pressing her tongue in his mouth.

“That’s enough,” I bellow.

Thinking it’s just a joke, everyone laughs. But I haul my wife back to her seat next to me just the same. When she lands on the floor, I wipe the saliva from her mouth and give her a warning glance.

“She’s been bad, Kill,” Theresa murmurs. “How are you going to punish her?”

Sylvie shoots me a tense glare, but I tilt my head back and stare down at her menacingly. “I don’t know, but I would like to punish her.”

Across the floor, Theresa bites her lip, looking as if she’s dying to see it happen. Everyone else is fidgeting, and I know they are craving to see it as much as I’m craving to do it.

I lean down toward Sylvie, teasing her with a smile.

“Go on, then, Killian,” Greg says. “Show her what we get up to at our parties.”

“What do you think, mo ghràidh?” I whisper. “Can I show them how tough my girl is? How well she takes it?”

“You hurt me, and I’ll hurt you right back,” she responds with venom.

I smile wickedly. “I’m counting on it.”

Then I take her lips, kissing her hard and reclaiming her mouth as my own. After she starts melting into the kiss, I stand from the floor and drag her up with me. The rest of the group stays on the floor, mingling together in a drunken mess until Theresa is in Angus’s lap and Emma is in Liam’s.

But to be honest, I’m not concerned with them anymore. All I can see in my mind is Sylvie kissing Greg and Claire. Her tongue in their mouths. Their hands on her body. I’m seeing red as I toss her on the couch, kneeling on the cushions as she bends over with her ass in the air. In one swoop, I lift her dress, and she lets out a yelp of surprise.

“This, my sweet wife,” I say, grabbing her ass cheeks in my hand, “is mine.”

She only whimpers in response. As I knead and massage her pale, tender flesh, I hear the soft moans of those behind me. They must be enjoying the show.

“Tell me I can punish you, Sylvie. I need to hear you say it.”

She lets out a tortured groan with her face pressed into the cushions of the sofa.

“Say it, wife. Yes or no?”

Lifting her head, I can see the arousal mingled with resistance in her eyes.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll let you pay me back, but I want to show you how good it feels first—to be claimed by your husband.”

Her head falls back, and her spine arches as she lets out another moan. “Yes,” she replies breathily.

“That’s my girl,” I reply with a grin.

Then, I waste no time. Peeling down her thin lace panties, I let my friends behind me take their fill of my beautiful wife’s cunt, glistening and pink. When I spread her folds wide for them to see, I hear a muffled “Fuck yeah,” coming from the dark side of the room.

“She tastes good too,” I mutter lowly before dipping my head down and taking a long salacious lick of her wet pussy. She fidgets and moans as I do.

While I play with her, sliding a finger inside her only to pull it out and tease her arsehole, she squirms and mumbles curses into the cushions.

“All mine,” I mutter with a sneer as I take another long lick. “No one else can ever touch you. Is that understood?”

She groans without a verbal response. So I rear back my hand and lick my lips before landing a hard smack on her right ass cheek. The sound that comes out of her is a mixture of surprise and enjoyment—a gasp and a whine.

“You liked that, didn’t you, mo ghràidh?”

Biting her bottom lip, she nods.

I let my hand fly again, landing on the opposite cheek but not giving her time to recover before doing it two more times. She howls and mewls, the pleasure fighting for dominance inside her.

“Do you understand, Sylvie? Tell me you’re all mine.”

“No,” she says through gritted teeth, shaking her head. A sinister smile stretches across my face.

“You need more then.”

Holding her dress up, I land another harsh smack on her ass. I love the way her flesh reddens with every strike of my palm. Her moans are guttural and needy as I spank her again and again, growing more and more desperate to fuck her with every hit.

“Say it, Sylvie,” I mutter darkly. “Tell me you’re mine.”

She continues to fight it angrily, and I love the way she struggles. She could easily tell me to stop, and I would, but deep down, I know this is what she wants.

“More,” she whines, shoving her hips backward.

My hand burns with every resounding slap of her ass. Inside my trousers, my cock is straining against my zipper, leaking at the tip with the thought of sinking inside her. Sylvie’s knuckles are white as she grips the back of the sofa through her pain.

Finally, on the last harsh hit, she screams, “Okay!”

I pause, breathing heavily as I wait for her to finally say what I want to hear.

“I’m yours,” she cries out in a breathless whimper. “I’m yours, I’m yours, I’m yours.”

Without a moment of hesitation, I tear down my zipper and pull out my aching cock. Shimmying my pants down enough, I drop onto the sofa and grab her from beside me.

“Ride my cock and show me, then.”

She climbs onto my lap in a rush, straddling my hips as she lowers herself over my shaft. This time, she doesn’t give herself time to adjust to my size. She winces in pain as her soaking cunt swallows my length.

I grab her by the back of the neck and hold her face to mine. When I kiss her lips, I taste the tears and sweat on her face as she starts to bounce eagerly on my lap.

“That’s my girl,” I whisper, kissing her lips.

My heart swells in my chest. There is only her, only us. And I know she could have said those things because of the heat of the moment, but in my heart, I pray they’re true.

My woman. My wife. My darling.

Her hands grip tightly to my neck as she grinds her hips on my dick, chasing her own pleasure and crying out loudly with every thrust. Her voice grows louder and higher in pitch the faster she goes, and I know there’s no stopping the cosmic onslaught of pleasure as it barrels through her.

Then it’s as if she holds me tight to pull me under with her. My cock jerks and shudders as I release my load, growling loudly with my climax.

When she finally collapses on top of me, her head rests on my shoulder, and her heart pounds against my chest.

The moans and cries of pleasure from behind her barely register at all to me. I’m so focused on her, and she’s so focused on me.

Her eyes are filled with tears, and she is staring at me with astonishment, as if she’s about to say something profound. I wait with bated breath for the words I so desperately want to hear.

“Killian…” she whispers.

Quickly, I brush the sweat-soaked hair out of her face.

“Yes, darling,” I whisper in return.

Her lips part, the words lingering on her lips. One moment after another passes by as I wait for something, anything .

There is so much torment in her eyes, as if it’s so hard for her to express how she really feels, and I know it’s there. The hatred she once expressed is gone, but for some reason, she refuses to let me have anything else.

Instead, she closes her lips and rests her head on my shoulder again. Her breath is warm against my neck as she relaxes into my arms.