Page 52 of Mob Saint

“Is that what you think’s going to happen, little girl?”

“That’s what I hope will happen.”

“Right now, I’m going to fill your cunt with more of my cum. Tonight, I’m going to fill your arse with it. I think you’re going to go to sleep like that every night for the next week.”

Her eyes widen before there’s a flash of nervousness. I don’t like that. I never want her scared or timid around me. I never want her to be uncertain about where we stand or whether she can express her thoughts.

“You and I are going to share a bed. You are going to fall asleep in my arms and wake in my arms. If, after a week, you want to go back to sleeping alone, then we’ll do that. If you want to continue to share a bed, we will. If you only want me to come and fuck you to sleep, I will. Or I will leave you alone all together. But you are going to know what it feels like to be desired above any and everything else. You are going to know what it feels like to be cherished. You are going to know what it feels like to be with someone who wants to put your needs ahead of his own. I want you to have that, Tiera. I want you to know you can keep having that.”

“And if you change your mind?”

“Then we talk about it. Same if you change yours. I’m presuming a feck ton again. I want to be sure you understand you can always say no to any of these things. I might speak in absolutes because I’m used to giving orders, and I like that dynamic between us. But unlike anyone else outside my family, you can tell me no. You can tell me to stop. You can tell me you don’t like something. You can tell me what you’d prefer. You can tell me absolutely anything. I will always respect your wishes.”

“I like how you speak in absolutes. I like the commands you give because you always make me feel desirable and cherished. But thank you for reminding me I can say no if ever I want to.”

“Always, cailín.”

She kisses me, and I’m the one who feels desired and cherished. So much has passed between us this morning. I planned none of it. All because she wore a dress that made me want to fuck her and beat the shite out of any other man who looks in her direction. I don’t think my possessiveness would suffocate her, but I’ve paid attention to how she described her relationship with Aaron, especially her realization that maybe—in his fucked-up way—he was protecting her.

“After we get back, where do we stand? I mean, I know where you want us to lay. But are you just my boyfriend when you’re defending me? God, that sounds pathetic.”

She pulls back and ducks her chin.

“Look at me, T.”

She raises her gaze, but she keeps her head down. I put my finger under her chin and try to nudge it up, but she resists. I grasp her chin between my thumb and forefinger, not fighting her to raise it, but to hold her in place as I whisper in her ear.

“Never call yourself pathetic or the things you say pathetic ever again. Just like your comments about your body will earn you a spanking, so will insulting yourself. I don’t live inside your head. I can’t hear your silent thoughts. They’re yours to have. But I will not ignore the things you say. To ignore them is the same as silence means consent. You will not convince me of those things, and I will not let you think—even for a moment—ever—that I agree with them. The only rules I want to have with you are about your safety because they are about your wellbeing. But I will extend them to how you treat yourself because that’s part of your wellbeing too. You’ve seen how I react to other people speaking badly about you. I have no tolerance for it. I know you’re not perfect, and I won’t set you up for failure by believing or saying you are. But you are perfect for me. I have shirts from high school that I still wear because I take care of what’s mine.”

“Am I like an old t-shirt, then?” She grins as she lifts her head.

“I’m comfortable around you, and you’re comfy to wear.” I lean back, so she’s draped over me. “I’m inside you like I would be a shirt.”

“Seamus, you’re ridiculous. And that makes you perfect for me, too.”

I roll us, so I’m back on top. I draw back my hips and surge into her. I’m not rough like I was earlier. I’m worried that if she isn’t already sore, she will be in the morning. I know I told her I wanted her that way, and I do. But there’s a difference between being sore and being harmed. I won’t cross that line.

We move together as we look at each other. We’re much slower this time, even though we know we need to get going. Neither of us is in a rush to end this. Our hands move over each other, our touch soft and meandering. I know I’m savoring this, and I think she is, too. This isn’t lust. This is the beginning of love.

God help anyone who tries to fuck this up.

Chapter Thirteen

Tiera

I wore a dress I like this morning because I think it’s flattering, even if I still get a bit self-conscious that it shows too many lumps and bumps. I never expected Seamus to flip out about it. I hoped he’d think I look nice. I even wished for a compliment. I didn’t imagine he’d practically rip the dress from me or tell me to change because I looked too good in it.

I think he exaggerates. A lot. But I believe he believes every word he says. And that is worth its weight in gold. No one else might appreciate my looks like he does, but I don’t give a flying fuck about anyone else—well, that’s not true. If I didn’t care, I wouldn’t get self-conscious. But their opinions—if they even exist—don’t matter nearly as much as Seamus’s.

I didn’t expect to end a three-year relationship either. It lasted longer than my marriage, even though I was with Aaron for six years altogether. I couldn’t hear what Zack said to Seamus about me, but it pissed him off. I didn’t volunteer that whatever he said to Seamus probably wasn’t as bad as what he said to me. I didn’t know he had that spiteful side. I was on the receiving end of the dominance, but never the emotional hostility.

He threw things back in my face I’d confided about my loneliness. He never said anything like that to me before today. He always made me feel confident, despite my changing body. There were only a few times I got a taste of it when we argued, but that was rare. What was there to argue about when it wasn’t a romantic relationship?

For a while, he wanted more of my time because we were sexually compatible, but I didn’t have it to give because of work. We argued over that, and he was unkind about me not prioritizing him. I didn’t back down, and he eventually relented. He got angry once about me cancelling at the last minute because my mom was sick. He accused me of lying and being with someone else. I sent him photos from urgent care even though the place said they weren’t allowed.

There were a few times after particularly nasty encounters with Gareth or his men that I was distracted. That really pissed him off. Not because I could have gotten hurt by being inattentive. No. It was because he wasn’t the center of my world. I’d gone to him each time, telling him I’d had a bad day but never gave him specifics. Not names. Not things said. He just knew I was upset and wanted distracting. When I couldn’t get my mind off the earlier arguments, he tried to shame me and remind me I was lucky to still have him.

I hope I never have to share these with Seamus because he won’t be as forgiving, or at least as tolerant, as I was. I don’t want him seeing Zack. Not just because I don’t want him to hurt Zack—more for Seamus’s sake than Zack’s—but because I don’t want those two parts of my life to splatter together. I want Zack in the past, and Seamus in the present and future.

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