Page 13 of The Chief's Captive

“Yes!” I scream, my back arching and my pussy clamping down on him.

“You like it rough, don’t you, Maeve?” he growls, his teeth sinking into my neck before he sucks hard enough to leave a hickey. I claw the bed, unable to get a grip on anything, and suddenly, he pulls away. I feel the heat of his skin on mine chill instantly, but his hands slide down my sides and grip my hips. He hoists my ass into the air and continues to fuck me, now with the added leverage of a firm hold on my body.

Ronan pushes deeper and deeper, hitting my cervix at just the right angle. He knows my body better than I do. How? Each thrust pushes me closer and closer to another orgasm, and when I touch my clit even gently, I detonate. The sensations explode from my core outward in waves that drown me and then revive me all at once.

“Oh, God,” I whimper as he fucks me through my orgasm, and then he grunts, his seed filling me up. His cock twitches inside me, and I can feel it pulsing as he grunts over and over again.

Eventually, the earthquakes of pleasure subside, and we're both panting. I collapse on the bed feeling winded and limp, and he pulls out. The sex drains from my pussy, and in the wake of the second orgasm, I begin to feel the wine swirl in my head.

There is no cuddling or talking. He doesn't lie in bed with me. I shiver slightly, but I'm too relaxed to move anything more than my head. I turn and see he's already partially dressed, wearing his button-down and his slacks, though they both hang open. He's staring at me smugly, as if he took something I wasn't willing to give, but maybe I'm reading too much into it.

I remember my protest… about my life. About wanting to return to my life. And even in the wake of those orgasms, the desire remains. Sex is incredible, don't get me wrong. But fucking a bad boy and living with him are two different things. I want to return to my hospital and move into the future I have planned. I want my life back.

He must see the protest in my eyes before I can even utter a word because he opens his mouth to speak, silencing my thoughts.

"I tried to explain this, but I know you didn't understand. My hands are tied. You either stay here or you leave in a body bag. Those are the options." He drapes his tie around his neck, and rage roars to life inside my chest.

"Get out," I grunt, and I sit up and reach for my glass of wine.

Ronan stares at me as if in disbelief. He's probably used to women just fawning over him, giving him everything he wants. But not me. I'm not his fucking whore. He doesn't own me, despite what he just did to me, and I won’t be controlled by him.

The wine goes down smoothly, and I scream at him again. "Get out!" This time, louder and with more hatred, and he scowls at me.

Just as he steps through the door, my anger gets the better of me and I launch the glass, shattering it against the wall. Shame washes over my body, dripping from me like the cum he filled me with, and I reach for the bottle to drown it all when I hear the lock click.

I'm his captive. Nothing more. Just his captive.

9

RONAN

The whiskey tumbler in my fingers tips, and the amber-colored liquid swirls and churns. I stare into the abyss remembering the feeling of Maeve beneath me. Her fiery hair isn't quite as dark as the shade of this whiskey, but the similarity has me mesmerized, tortured over the way that ended. I thought she was beginning to come around and understand my position. It isn’t that I don't want to give her what she wants. I'm not an unreasonable man. I just can't.

My father built this kingdom on his blood, sweat, and tears. It isn't something I can take lightly. My future is only within the clan, and I won't allow any distractions, threats, or dissenters to exist. Maeve leaving my home and returning to her normal life will only be seen as a combination of all three, and Declan or Lochlan—hell, all of my brothers and cousins—will move swiftly to eliminate the threat even without my order. It's how we survive this game.

I can't let her go home, and she doesn't understand it's for her own safety. I'm protecting her from the life I live by keeping her alive in my home. If I allowed her to be taken, for my family toclean up the mess Eamon started, the hunt for a new medical savior would begin. For now, she's useful to us, and that leverage I have over my own men will remain.

The order to spare her and allow her to go home would only be seen as a sign of weakness both by my loyal men and by my enemies. All of them would move in at lightning speed to do what I have yet to do if I free her. She just doesn't know the rules yet.

"Sir…" I look up to see Aiden. He's holding the bottle of whiskey. I finish my glass and wave him off as I turn around in my seat to look over my men again. Most of the inner circle is here. Loch, Declan, Finn, even Connor, my youngest brother, who I've heard was seen talking with Eamon's men too. I will deal with that when we finally take a breath. I know he's only being tempted and he will never cave, mostly because he fears me.

They—like myself—have suffered a tragic loss today. I see it in their eyes though their postures remain firm. They stand as sentries, guarding over my life, the life Eamon wants to eliminate in his quest for power. Four brothers, five cousins, a few men we've bonded with along the way who've sworn the oath… All of them more loyal to me than my own heart, which battles with right and wrong concerning a woman. Fuck, I'm a weak man sometimes.

"It's a travesty," I start, and I feel the emotion clamp down on my chest. It's vulnerability at its core—to know my cousin is willing to pick us off one by one if necessary. If he can't convince them to defect, he will eliminate any and every one of us. Until he holds the power. Until the O'Rourke name and family business are his. Until there is no one left to stand against him.

We lost a good man today at Eamon's hand. A loyal man. Someone who should never have died. And while he wasn't part of the core family, only on the periphery, he was still family. Eamon knew that. He knows how to get to us, how to manipulate and twist the knife. It's distant family now, but soon it will become us, and we have to be united.

"Marley wasn't just our weapons supplier. He was family." I refuse to hang my head. Doing so would be admitting defeat. It would be saying to Eamon that he is winning, and he's not. He won't win. We won't allow it.

"Ro, we?—"

"I understand, Loch, and we will deal with it. I want every man in this place to cough up a few thousand. I'm giving Leah twenty grand. It won't touch the real issue at hand here, but it will help pay his final expenses. The family is going to set her up out of town. I'm already searching real estate listings for a nice place. We'll get her settled with her own security and protection, and Marley's kids will be raised to know the man he was."

The only thing we can do is recover from the devastation. Eamon is on a warpath, and we won't stop that without fighting back. Which is what we'll do. He clearly didn't like the message I sent when Shane showed his ugly face around here, and he's showing me his true colors. This wasn't an eye for an eye. This message is loud and clear. He's out for blood.

They all look at me with sincerity and fidelity in their expressions. Not one of us has been untouched by this. First our suppliers, then us. That's where this is headed. He'll try to choke off our trade routes, eliminate those who are loyal, and every chance he can, he'll come at us. He wants my heart on a platter.

"We'll help Leah plan the wake. I suppose next week after the garda gets done with their investigation. Then?—"

---