Page 35 of Mob Saint

“Always.”

As a friend or as someone more?

I want to ask that, but I’m scared I won’t like the answer.

I’m slipping on my shoes when someone knocks. I hobble to the door as I try to get my shoe on all the way. When I peek through the spyhole, I recognize Seamus immediately. He’s close enough that I can only see the division between his pecs beneath the open top two buttons of his shirt. I don’t need to see anything else to know it’s him. I run my hands down the dress I’m wearing. I hope he likes it.

“Hi.” I open the door and step aside.

He stares at me, not coming in, even though the invitation is clear. My brow furrows. I try to retreat, but then he’s on me. He encircles my waist and tugs me toward him. Even though I’ve pressed my body against his before, I’m unprepared for the brick wall I slam into. His pecs flex, but otherwise, he doesn’t move. Our gazes meet.

Then he pounces again. His lips meet mine as I step backwards when he passes through the doorway. He reaches behind him to push it closed. He keeps backing me up until we reach a wall, and we can go no farther. I can’t keep up. I’ve never had a kiss like this before. Not from any man. Never have I felt like someone wants to consume me whole.

I’m caught between two immovable objects, and I have no wish to escape. I open to him and relish the feel of his tongue sweeping through my mouth before I capture it and suck. The sound he makes is feral as his cock rubs my pussy. My entire body feels like it’s humming at a frequency only he and I can hear. We’re in a private lust bubble with space only for the two of us.

His stubble abrades the skin around my mouth and chin even though he’s freshly shaven. His fair complexion makes it look like he wouldn’t have a thick beard. Up close, I can tell that’s not the case. I wonder what he’d look like with facial hair. A rugged lumberjack. I don’t know why that idea pops into my head, but I like it. It arouses me even more.

He isn’t restraining my wrists like when he had me pressed against the table. I seize the chance for my hands to roam over his body, exploring every inch I can reach. He nips at me, but he doesn’t stop me. I relish every moment of my exploration. There’s nothing I don’t want more of. His kisses trail along my jaw, then down my neck before the tip of his tongue glides up to the spot just behind my ear.

“I told you once before that you’re mine. Wear dresses like this, and I’ll prove it. I won’t let you leave the bedroom until you’re too spent to want to go anywhere.”

“What?” My lust-filled mind can’t understand.

“I never imagined I was a possessive man, but apparently, I am.”

“Huh? I don’t get what you mean.”

“I mean, I’m on the edge of demanding you change into something that covers you from head to toe. I mean, I don’t want any other man seeing what I want to be mine and mine alone. I mean, I’m about two seconds from ripping that dress off you and having my way with you.”

“Yes, please.”

We both freeze. What did I just agree to? Whatever it is, I’m certain I meant it. I have to stop and think, though. The words flew out of my mouth before I knew I was going to say anything.

“Cailín, I know I have no right to demand anything because we haven’t discussed this part of our relationship, and I’m serious about not usually being possessive, even if I’m protective. But I admit I don’t like the idea of other men seeing you in something so revealing.”

Revealing? Is he out of his mind? I’m in a knee length, wrap around dress with a tank top on to make sure I’m not showing too much cleavage. If anything, I’d call it boring.

He hooks a finger down my tank top and tugs. It doesn’t take much, but he has a clear view between my tits. I feel his cock twitch against me. I’m focused on his hungry expression as he looks down my dress, so I don’t realize his other hand is sliding up the back of my dress until I feel his bare hand on my bare ass. My thong covers next to nothing. He kneads the flesh, and it feels amazing. I’m still sore from soccer practice three days ago. I pushed myself harder than usual because I had a shitty day and wanted to forget about it.

“This dress hugs all your curves and does nothing to hide how hot you are. Any person with one working eye can see how sexy you are. I might gouge out any that are looking in your direction.”

“Seamus, you’re exaggerating so much it’s not funny.”

I don’t like this. It makes me feel the opposite when he blows things out of proportion to the point where I feel like a caricature of what he describes.

He releases my dress and wraps his hand in my hair, tugging my ponytail until I have to look up at him. I can’t move my head without feeling like he’ll scalp me. I like it. He presses his lips to my ear.

“I am not. I know more about the private lives of the men we’re about to meet than you will ever want to know. Suffice it to say, I know all their predilections and proclivities. I do not want them ogling you. We’ll accomplish nothing because there won’t be a man left living to talk to. I never dreamed I would dictate what a woman wore, and I never thought I’d do it to you. But I’m asking you, please change, Tiera. Not just because you’re a distraction to me. My dick won’t go down if I keep looking at you in this dress. The men will stare and make you uncomfortable. I don’t think you’ve understood why those douches have said what they have. Until now, I didn’t understand what Gareth or the guys I could overhear meant the last time I spoke to him, and he brought you up. Their comments are grossly inappropriate, but they were never about disliking what they see when you’re around. Just the opposite.”

“You cannot possibly mean Gareth sees anything sexually appealing about me. I’m like a sister to him.”

“I don’t mean that. But he sees what I see, and he knows his men like it. He taunts you not because you’re unattractive. He’d whore you out to them if he thought he could force you.”

“Shay—”

“Tiera, I know what I heard, and it all makes sense now. Please believe me. At least for today. Find something less form fitting.”

“Like a muumuu?”

---