Mob Bride (The O’Rourke Brotherhood #5)

Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Shane

I need the time alone in my office to calm down. I’m so frustrated, disappointed, angry… A whole hodgepodge of feelings right now. I wanted to believe Carrie would remain in the living room where I asked her—or I guess I told her—to stay. I didn’t want to think she’d spy on me, so I trusted her. I now feel like an idiot for doing it. Not so much that I believe she’s going to run and tell her supervisors what she heard.

Just the opposite. I’m more worried about what they’ll try to get out of her. Not like I expect them to stick bamboo shoots under her fingernails or put the screws to her. However, they could compel her to testify. Then she’d have no choice but to get on the stand and share everything she just heard, which includes the commissioning of murder that could put me and my entire family behind bars. We have enough shite we’re guilty of on our own without my girlfriend being the reason we wind up on death row. Well, maybe not death row because the State of New York doesn’t have that, but life in prison.

I feel betrayed even though I think I understand her motives. She’s used to a great deal of control just like I am because her life depends on it just like mine does. However, her need for control right now just created a massive weakness for all of us, and I’m trying to cut her some slack because this is all new to her.

She’s really only existed on the periphery of the syndicate world. Yeah, she might have been with Bartlomiej for several months and been privy to things going on with the Poles, but that’s not the same as living it day to day. Now she’s staying in my house with me and is potentially—I guess—my girlfriend. I don’t even know now.

It’s way different being with an Irish mobster. The Poles are certainly not a syndicate to underestimate, but they don’t have even a microscopic amount of the pull my family and I do. She’s with one of the senior-most members of the Irish mob. Not for nothing, but I’m kinda a big deal, and that’s what scares me for her.

I don’t think she understands the true ramifications of all of this, and I’m angry at myself because her not understanding falls on my shoulders. I could have—should have—explained all of this better. I made an unfair—even if I think completely understandable—assumption. Instead of wondering about what she’s going to tell her bosses about Bartlomiej, I should have thought more about what to tell her to clue her in beyond what she thinks she knows.

There’s just so fucking much more than what she thinks she knows. I need to consider my next steps, so I walk to my desk and sit. It’s one of the comfiest chairs in my house. It’s an ergonomic, everything cushiony everywhere, top-of-the-line desk chair because I spend too many hours here. Not only do I head up most of our construction projects, but I’m also in charge of our PR. Between the two, it means I make the ugly go away.

I spin the tales in the news that make us the victim when I need us to be and the heroes even when we’re not. It also means I decide what other syndicates hear about us, what false information or what truth we feed to them. While I can’t deal with what Carrie just did now because I’m too upset, I can think about the messaging we’re going to put out about her being with me.

I have to consider this on several layers because I don’t know where we stand. Maybe she’s just a houseguest or maybe she’s the future I hoped she’d be. Either way, she’s now linked to me. I wake my computer and check my email and the ones belonging to various other syndicate members.

We all have multiple accounts for the ones we don’t mind people hacking. Those are often my primary source of miscommunication. Then there’re the extra secure ones for deals we want to do with nobody knowing, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world if they leaked. Then there’s the highest level of security my twin set up to make sure nobody under the sun can crack it. The perks of having a brother with a graduate degree in national security. We always say if he can find a country’s nuclear secrets and keep them to himself, then he can keep our family secrets intact.

I don’t notice the time go by until it’s been nearly two hours since I locked myself in here. I really need to check on Carrie. That’s assuming she didn’t just walk out. I know my men would’ve told me if she tried, but I wouldn’t fault her since I abandoned her. Even though I’m still unsure how I feel, it wasn’t right for me to walk away from her in a strange house when she’s here basically under duress. I close up shop in my office and put my laptop back in the safe where I keep it.

I head out to the living room and find Carrie asleep on the sofa. I glance at my watch again. It’s too early to call it a night, but it doesn’t surprise me she’s taking a nap. Maybe she’ll sleep through the night. I scoop her into my arms and wish everything was so simple as this. I make my way up to the guest bedroom and carefully pull down the covers as best I can while juggling holding her.

I ease her onto the mattress and tuck her in. Then I move to the closet to pull out and examine the clothes hanging there. I choose one of my button-down shirts and then go to the very dresser I finger-fucked her on only hours ago and pull out a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. Since she has nothing here, she might be more comfortable sleeping in something else. I head into the ensuite to ensure there’re towels, shampoo, soap, and anything else she could need along with a fresh toothbrush and toothpaste.

I leave everything on the counter, so she doesn’t have to search. No, it’s not because I don’t trust her not to snoop. I simply want to make it easier for her. I can be at least a little thoughtful considering her predicament. I’m about to leave when I hear her groggy voice.

“Daddy?”

I freeze.

Does she realize the pet name she used? I look over my shoulder, and she’s more beautiful than I’ve ever seen before. Her hair’s a little tousled from her turning over while I moved around, and she’s a bit bleary-eyed as she comes around. It makes me wonder how long she slept for.

Her expression tells me she didn’t notice what she called me. She pushes up onto one elbow and watches me watch her. I don’t step away from the door, and it makes the silence grow awkward. I cock an eyebrow to ask what she wants, but I know there’s an element of challenge there. She reads the tone, and I can see her retreat.

“Never mind, Shane.” Her jaw clenches for a second. “Sorry. Thank you for bringing me up here.”

She spots the clothes at the foot of the bed before her gaze darts to me. Then she looks toward the bathroom.

“I appreciate it. I’ll figure something out. Can I order some clothes online? Would that be possible?”

“It is, but you can’t use any of your cards, and you can’t use your account. We’ll put it under mine.”

“No, Shane. That’s too much. You’re already giving me a place to stay. I don’t need you to buy me a wardrobe of clothes.”

“But you do. Carrie, somebody in my family or I has to buy everything because you can’t use anything that’ll trace back to your banking info, where things are being delivered, or when you purchase them. If you want, one of my sisters can order it under her account. I can always pick it up, or we can have guys bring it over. But someone has to help you out right now.”

I see the war going on in her mind. She knows what I’m suggesting is reasonable, but she’s worried about taking a handout from me after our argument earlier. I open the door wider and step into the hallway before I turn toward her.

“Let me know what you think. If you’re hungry, come downstairs whenever you want. I’m going to heat up some shepherd’s pie I made the other day. There’s that and leek soup and several other things in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever you want.”

“Shane, is that really it? That’s all you’re going to say?”

“What do you want, Carrie? Do you want me to forgive you for spying on me, for hearing things that could put me away for life, that endanger my family, that endanger you, that violated my trust? No, I’m not ready to forgive you for that. Are you ready to fully trust me and believe I have your best interests at heart and that maybe you’re in over your head and all I’m trying to do is protect you like I promised, to take care of you the best way I know how?”

It all comes out in a jumble in one breath. She glances at her lap, clearly chagrined. Yet, when she looks up at me, there’s strength radiating from her, even if I can tell she feels remorse.

“I want to believe you, Shane, but I’ve dug myself into such a deep hole, I don’t know that anybody can pull me out. I’m so used to relying on myself when I’m in situations that’re unpredictable. Yes, I’ve always had handlers when I go undercover, but they’re never there right alongside me. This feels much the same way, except the stakes are exponentially higher now because of Bartlomiej and Jacek, along with how I feel about you and what I’ve just done to sabotage any chance I had with you.”

As I listen to her, it makes me genuinely consider how I feel about a future with her. Pushing aside the anger and the hurt, I make myself truly see things through her eyes rather than merely saying I can.

I let the anger slip away because, despite how I feel now in the moment, it doesn’t change what I want in the long run for us. I walk back into the bedroom and perch on the edge of the mattress.

“Carrie, if you want a future with me, then there can be one because I still want that, too. We have a long way to go to get through all of this and to see whether we’re suited for a future together. We have to get to a point where we can trust one another and know we have each other’s best interests at heart.”

“Shane, I know that. That was never a question for me. My problem was not knowing what other people might be doing. I fear for your safety as much as I do mine. Part of the reason I listened was because I’m scared for you. I know the power your family wields, and I know how close all of you are. But a bullet is a bullet, and it doesn’t matter who your family is. It can still kill you. I want to know what’s going on in case it’s life or death for you because there’s nothing I won’t do to protect you. It’s not a one-way street between us.”

“I know, and I understand this is challenging for you. I don’t doubt you have your own skills and things you can bring to this. Can you live with me promising to ask your opinion if it comes to matters I believe are safe for you to know, then trust me when there’re things I don’t believe are?”

“That’s fair. What if you and I disagree on what’s safe for me?”

That gives me pause as I think about how I want to phrase my answer, so I don’t speak rashly.

“Carrie, that isn’t for you to decide. I hate saying that because I understand the unfairness of it. I don’t want you to think I’ll be heavy-handed in every part of a relationship with you. That’s not what I want, but that’s how things stand now. I need you to understand there’ll be consequences if you don’t listen to my advice about this. I’m not threatening an ultimatum of me walking away from you if you don’t do as you’re told, but I will punish you, little one. I will spank you until your arse is so raw you fear you’ll never sit again because I need you to accept, in this, I’ll always lead. This isn’t your choice.”

Her expression when she opens her mouth screams she disagrees. I plow on.

“I know if feels excessive to you, but that’s how things stand. If you can’t live with that, then there’s no moving forward.”

“You want domestic discipline is what you’re saying.”

“No, not in everything. I want you to do as you please or disagree and have a say in how this relationship works. However, with mob stuff and your involvement in it and your safety, it’s completely non-negotiable. I have only ever lived this life. It’s all I know. You come from a different world. Even though you now know your mom’s connected to us, it’s not remotely the same. You’re not equipped to decide like I am. I don’t make these decisions arbitrarily, even if I make them quickly. Part of what you can’t do—at least not for a very long time—is make those split-second decisions I do. I must always consider the immediate situation along with the long- term outcomes. Every decision I make is about more than just me and what I need. They’re always about an entire family and an entire organization. You don’t know all the inner workings to make those educated decisions, and you’re not used to making such massive ones in the matter of heartbeats.”

I’m not sure how she’ll receive this mandate, but it’s one I suddenly feel adamant about. I never imagined being in a committed relationship, let alone considering any form of domestic discipline. But I told the truth. I don’t want to stifle her in any way, except for putting herself in danger.

“Can you live with this, Carrie?”

Her response is faster than I expect. “Yes, Daddy.”

She leans forward and takes my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I think I’ve already earned my first disciplinary spanking.”

“Do you feel you need that to clear your conscience or because you fear without it, I won’t forgive you?”

“Mostly the former, but a bit of the latter.”

“Carrie, my forgiveness will never be contingent upon a punishment. Once we’ve worked out the situation, it’s done. The punishment stands so you accept the severity of the situation you’re entering with me.”

“I understand that, Daddy. I’d still feel better right now if I got my punishment.”

“You accept a spanking?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

“All right. Stand up. Drop your pants. No panties.”

I remember she put those back on earlier. I let it go. However, when she takes them off, I stick my hand out for them, and she gives them to me. I shove them into my pocket.

“These are mine now. You don’t have any others to put on, and there’s no point in ordering any when you get some clothes. I expect to find your pussy available when I want it. Obviously, you have to wear clothes—unfortunately—but no panties anymore.”

“I like that idea.”

“You like knowing you belong to me, and I decide how and when I use your pussy?”

“Very much. Part of the reason I need the punishment is to assure me that’s still the case. I get you forgive me, but I need this reassurance after fucking up so badly.”

“You understand this goes both ways? I belong to you as much as you belong to me.”

“Yeah, I get that.”

“There will be no one else for either of us.” I give her a pointed stare, and she nods.

“I doubt I have a job left. Even if I did, I don’t see how I can keep it. And if—by some divine miracle—I kept it, then there would be no more undercover work like what I did. I won’t put myself in a position to betray your trust. Not in that way or any other.”

“All right. Come here, little one.”

She stretches out across my lap, and I hook my left leg around hers to hold her in position. I’ll always be aware of my strength, but I intend this to be painful. It will hurt, but not be harmful.

“Carrie, you remember your safe word?”

“Yes. Digon .”

“All right. If this gets to be too much for you, say your safe word. The last thing I want to do is harm you.”

“I know you’d never forgive yourself if you did.”

“That’s right, and I definitely wouldn’t trust myself to do anything like this again. You know I’m not spanking you out of anger, right?”

“Yes, I know, and I don’t believe you ever would. I believe you are too methodical in what you do.”

That makes my legs tense around her. She twists her head to look up to me, her mouth wide open.

“Shane, that’s not—I’m sorry, that—” She finishes with a frustrated exhale. “That wasn’t what I meant, Shane. I didn’t mean to compare this to your work. I don’t see it that way. I only meant you do things with care, and you’re thoughtful about them.”

I relax. I believe she simply misspoke. To somebody else, it wouldn’t matter so much. It’s just the umpteenth reminder our situation is so different from a normal couple’s.

“I’m going to give you ten spanks on each side. You’re going to count them.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I squeeze her arse and shake it within my palm.

“Such a fine little arse for my hand, and such a pretty little pussy for my fingers.”

I slide them between her pussy lips and dip my middle and ring finger into her. She’s already wet.

“This isn’t for your enjoyment, cailín .”

“I know, but this happens anytime I’m around you. I can’t help it.”

I slide my fingers back between her arse cheeks and tap the rosebud.

“This is mine, too.”

“I know, and I want that. Can I have that today?”

“You think you’re going to receive pleasure after your punishment? I might edge you, but you won’t come.”

“I get that. It’s not for my sake that I want to have it.”

My hand lets go of her arse and runs up and down her back between her shoulder blades to the small of her back. Then I squeeze each shoulder, my thumb rubbing knots against her neck.

“I never want you to feel you have to make restitution after a punishment. This isn’t a true D/s relationship. This isn’t about you making amends to me, so I can prove I’m in control of you or to prove you’re willing to submit to me. This is purely about you understanding I won’t accept you putting yourself in danger.”

“I understand, but I also want you to recognize the level of trust I have for you and my commitment to us.”

“Thank you, cailín . Put your hands on the floor or grab my ankle if you don’t think you can keep from reaching back. If I catch your hands, I will hurt you. That’s the last thing I want. I will find an entirely different way to punish you if you do.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I love how she calls me that when she’s being playful, and I love when she calls me that when she’s being affectionate. But it tugs at my heart when it’s said in fear and she needs reassurance, or when it’s said in contrition. I hate having any emotional distance between us when things are so fragile. I don’t know where my emotions lie on the spectrum of feelings, but I know despite the difficulties we’re having right now, I respect her strength and her courage. I respect her loyalty and dedication, and I’m beyond physically attracted to her.

I lift my hand and bring it down on her left arse cheek. The sound fills the room.

“One.”

I spank her on her other arse cheek.

“Two.”

I rain down two in quick succession, so it feels like one.

“Three, four.” Her voice wavers.

I spank the underside of her left arse cheek.

“Five.”

I spank it again.

“Six.”

I move back to the other side.

“Seven.”

I keep going until she gets to twenty, making sure it’s ten on each side. She’s stomping her feet and crying. I allow her to continue even though I offer her soothing sounds and rub my hand over her arse. I let her cry out everything she’s bottled up for so long. I know it goes beyond what we’re dealing with right now for her punishment. This is about everything she has no control over. All the fear and frustration she’s had that life’s forced her to bottle up to remain professional. Eventually, her tears slow, and it’s an occasional whimper rather than sob.

I help her roll over and hold her in my arms, her arse resting between my knees.

“It’s all right now, cailín . It’s all over. Everything’s back to normal. Everything’s okay between us.”

“Are you really sure, Daddy? You promise everything’s okay?”

“Of course, I wouldn’t tell you that if it weren’t. If things weren’t okay between us, then you’d know.”

“I believe that after earlier.”

She offers me a watery smile, and I kiss her temple. She curls into me, and nothing feels better than holding her. I gaze at her as she closes her eyes. She nestles closer to me, and all the tension eases from her body.

I wonder how long this sense of peace can last. My experience is peace is but a fleeting reprieve from the unrelenting deluge that’s syndicate life. I refuse to ruin this by being maudlin, but it’s impossible to overlook a lifetime of experience. Maybe I can manifest it or something.

“How long did you sleep?”

“I think I fell asleep about a half-an-hour after you went back in your office.” Shame sweeps over her face, and she looks away.

“I told you we reconciled everything.”

“Until you think about it again later.”

“Carrie, we’ve never been on a date, and suddenly, we’re living together. It’s going to take some time to get used to each other. Today’s been worse than most. Tomorrow will be better.”

What am I? Little Orphan Annie? The sun’ll come out tomorrow. My gut says fat fucking chance. But I won’t share that when Carrie’s feeling so vulnerable.

“Come, sweet one.”

She nearly tumbles out of my lap as she struggles to get up, then backs away. “Don’t call me that, please. I hate it.”

“Little one?”

“No. You said sweet one. That’s what he called me. I hate it.”

“They’re practically the same thing, and little one doesn’t bother you?”

She vehemently shakes her head. I watch her retreat into herself as her breathing suddenly becomes more labored.

“Carrie.” I pull her into my arms. “Shh. He’s not here. I am. You’re with me. I shouldn’t have called you sweet since you’re my prickly little porcupine, not a gumdrop.”

She chokes a laugh as her arms curl between us.

“Shane, are you really going to make him go away?”

“Yes.”

I am, but I won’t tell her more than that. She doesn’t need a hint of what I’ve envisioned since I met her. Jacek’s death will be even worse.

“You can make sure Jacek doesn’t get me, right?”

If I’d known one word would affect her so much, I wouldn’t have even thought it, let alone said it.

“I have shirts in my closet from high school. Do you know why?”

“You’re a hoarder?”

I chuckle. “No. Because I take care of what’s mine.”

“Does that mean you’re going to hang me up in your closet?”

No. But I’m going to hang both of those shitbirds up by meat hooks.

“No. But I enjoy wearing your cunt around my cock.”

She laughs, but when I loosen my hold, prepared to step back, she fists my shirt. I hate how she feels right now. I hate how I can’t fix this immediately. That I haven’t fixed it yet. With my arm still around her waist, I walk backwards to the bed. My free hand reaches between us and unfastens my pants.

“Shane?”

“Come here. We both need this.”

I push my pants and boxer briefs down enough to free my cock before I sit on the bed. I lift her and bring her legs around my hips before she eases down my cock. I tuck her head against my shoulder, and we sit in silence. My need to control this situation—the one right now in this room with Carrie and the bigger one playing out in the real world—burns in my chest. I can only satisfy one part, so I focus on the woman on my lap.

I can bring her pleasure, and I will later. Right now, I need to know she’s safe physically and emotionally. I need to reassure her she is. Being inside her makes us one body. Holding her while we’re joined makes us one soul. I feel that to my core.

I slip my right hand between us and rest it over her heart. She does the same thing to me. I glance at the bedside table clock a few times, and we sit like this for ten minutes. Her cunt squeezes me from time to time, keeping me hard as a fucking brick. But we’re not trying to get off. This isn’t exactly sex. It’s not even really cock warming. It’s that reprieve—that peace—I now understand I’ll only find with Carrie.

“Daddy?”

“Yes, cailín .”

“I need this.”

“So do I.”

“Do you feel you’re in control because you could give me or deny me an orgasm?”

“There’s that.”

“Do you feel in control because you could come inside me if you want?”

“There’s that, too.”

“Do you feel in control because it’s just the two of us in a bubble right now?”

“Yes. I feel in control because you’re accepting my help while you’re upset. I don’t feel out of control when you trust me.”

“My mind is finally calm because you have that control. I’m safe with you in every way. I feel taken care of and protected in a way no one else has ever given me. For right now, can I…”

She’s holding her breath, and I don’t know why. The peace is shattering because I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m back to not knowing how to make things right.

“Carrie, you can ask me anything. I’ll always do my best to give you what you want, and I’ll always find a way to give you what you need.”

She nods against my shoulder.

“Can I submit beyond just sex for right now?”

“Do you mean you want me to decide everything?”

“Yeah. I know I call you Daddy, and you call me cailín . But we both know you’re not a Daddy Dom, and I’m not a Little. I’m not even a Middle. I don’t want a Dom per se because that would feel domineering and suffocating with the weight of everything else. I just don’t want to decide things right now. I don’t mind what we do. Just please don’t ask me to choose. I can’t.”

“I know, little one. It’s too much.”

She nods. I wrap my hand around her throat and let it rest heavily there. I don’t need to squeeze.

“We’re going to sit here for a bit longer. Then I’m going to fill your tight little cunt with my cum. You’re going to fall asleep full of it, and the first thing you feel when you wake up is part of me still in you.”

“You say things like that… Shane, I need more.”

She shifts restlessly. She yelps when I stand—her body still wrapped around me—and walk to the closet. There’re three suits hanging in here and ten ties. I grab three. Each step moves her up and down my dick. I don’t stifle the groan, but I battle the urge to press her against the wall and fuck her until she screams her safe word. Later.

Once I’m on the bed again, I use the ties to bind her wrists like I did with her bra straps, except she’s on top and not connected to the headboard. I use the other two to blindfold and gag her.

“Show me you can still snap.”

She does with both hands.

I fist her hair and yank downward. I’m careful not to snap her neck back, but she no longer controls how it moves. I pull her away from my body before I slap her tits. She screams behind the gag, but her hips move on their own. She’s riding me like I’m her prize stallion. I pinch and twist her nipples, alternating between that and spanking them.

“Don’t come, little girl. If you do, you won’t come again until tomorrow night. I’ll just edge you.”

Her muffled moan goes straight to my cock. I lift her to change positions, so I’m fucking her and not the other way around. I need to pull out for a moment to regain that vaunted control that’s at the heart of this—interlude. That sounds far more romantic than fucking like rabbits on Easter.

My Catholic grandmothers just said a rosary for me in their caskets.

But being with Carrie is divine.

I position her on her belly and climb over her. I trap her legs between mine as I thrust into her. Her shoulders come off the mattress. I watch her face, catching every furrow of her brow, every wince, every wide-mouthed muffled scream. The pain’s bringing her pleasure, and that’s what I want. I never want to go too far.

I lean forward, my abs skimming over her bound wrists. I kiss her neck from her shoulder up to her ear as I lift the blindfold off. Then I bring my lips to the shell of her ear to whisper.

“You’re so brave, little one. You’re strong and fierce. Resilient and intelligent. Can you feel how that turns me on?”

“Ymff, dddeee.”

I suppose that’s something akin to yes, Daddy.

“You’re beautiful, Carrie. And I want to devour every inch of you. But it’s your personality that draws me like a moth to a flame. Will you scorch me?”

She twists so she can see me when she turns her head. She shakes it. I realize my poor choice of words. She thinks I’m asking if she’ll betray me. Fuck. That wasn’t what I meant.

“ Cailín , I meant will you keep me and not let go?”

She nods, and I feel her body relax as her shoulders settle back against the mattress. That was a shitty metaphor that nearly ruined everything. I draw back onto my knees, lifting her hips. My fingers will leave marks from the way I grip them. I’ll know she’s mine whenever I see them, and she won’t doubt it. I can leave my cum in her pussy or jizz on her tits, but that washes away. The marks will last for a couple days. When they fade, I’ll give her another set. I don’t want deep bruises like if I caned her. Just red marks that’ll fade quickly.

“Shane! Shane!”

You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.