Page 41 of The Enforcer's Redemption

Her skin is so tender, I'm not sure where to even touch so I don't hurt her, but she revels in my touch, guiding my hands to her tits, then between her legs. Once shaven clean, she now has stubble, and I take a razor perched on the stand next to the tub. She lets me shave her and wash her, and as I do, her moisture builds. Its thick, sticky texture is vastly different from the water we're submerged in.

"Touch me," she whispers, sliding my fingers between her folds, and I set the razor to the side and kiss the side of her neck.

Isla grinds against me softly, my cock pinned between her back and my pelvis, then she sinks under the water, soaking her hair before rising back up and forcing my fingers to begin rubbing her clit.

It's so sensual and slow, so different from the past sexual experiences with her. I like it, though I can't wait to dominate her again.

I rub her clit as she spreads her legs as wide as she can in this tiny bath.

I slip two fingers inside her, and she moans, her head falling back against my chest.

"Oh, Declan… f–faster…" she pants, and I oblige her. My thumb now rubs her clit in circles as my pointer and middle fingerpenetrate her, searching for that spot. The water sloshes around us as she writhes against my dick, making it harder. Her body tenses and goes rigid, and I bite her neck hard. She shudders and cries out as she comes with a muffled moan, her vaginal walls clenching around my fingers.

I pull my hand free of the water, bring it to my lips, and lick it clean before kissing her neck. The water has washed most of it away, but I can still taste her delicious flavor. "You're delicious," I tell her huskily, "and you're mine."

"Yes," she moans. "I'm yours, Declan. I've always been yours."

When she presses her hands against my thighs and begins to lift herself up, I think she’s going to get out. Instead, she hovers, waiting for me, so I hold my dick upright, sliding it along her folds, and she lowers onto it with a satisfying grunt of pleasure.

"Isla," I groan, my eyes rolling back in my head, "fuck, you're so tight."

I reach around her and grab her tits as she begins to move on top of me, up and down on my dick like she's riding a horse. She moans, throwing her head back as she takes me deeper and deeper. I can feel her walls squeezing me, milking my cock as we fuck.

"Oh, fuck," I groan. "Isla… You feel so good… So fucking good."

It’s loud, water sloshing around, but her body is better than ever. She grips my thighs and continues riding me, rising until my cock almost springs out of her, then sinking down until I hit her back wall. Her pussy feels so incredible, and I guide her movements with my hands on her hips.

"Yes, baby… Like that… That's it…"

Her moans are music to my ears, her pussy milking me, and I feel myself getting close.

"I'm c–close," she gasps. "Oh, fuck… I'm?—"

I pull her hips down so she takes me all the way in, and she keens, her pussy tightening around my dick. I moan as I orgasm inside her, releasing my seed deep in her womb. She convulses and jerks. I grip both of her tits and pull her back against my chest and push deeper into her core. Her pussy pulses rhythmically around me, and I bite down on her shoulder again. Feeling the waves of pleasure course through her in this position is erotic, but claiming her as mine, once for all, knowing she wants it as much as I do—that’s the part that satisfies me.

Isla is mine, and no one will ever take her from me again. I just hope she doesn’t completely flip out when we tell her the whole truth. That Mick O’Connor’s legacy is darker and more dangerous than anything the O’Rourkes have ever done, and she was the key to saving his soul from the devil.

30

ISLA

The bed is cold when I wake up. I'm alone. Declan has slipped out at some point, and my exhaustion has carried me straight through to morning. Sunlight streams in the windows. I hear birds singing, and it feels good to be alive. Except for the awful nausea tainting my stomach yet again.

This time, however, I know it's due to the little one I'm carrying and not nerves over a wedding or terror from being imprisoned by horrible men. It makes me smile to think I'm going to be a mother, and I am thankful for the morning sickness that reminds me that life is good. I'm alive, and I have a fierce man who will always make sure I'm safe.

Pushing myself up on the bed, I remember the conversation I had with Declan after I had a bit of food and some water last night. I don't know what time it is, but he promised to have my parents here first thing in the morning. I'm sure they're sick with worry, Rebecca too. I wonder if she'll come. My running off had to have given them the scare of a lifetime. I know it traumatizedme, and I'll be working through some heavy emotions for weeks to come.

I slip out of bed and rush to the toilet to relieve my bladder. It's the first time I've had to pee in so long. I was so dehydrated, but Declan insisted I drink until my belly was bursting. I'm thankful he cares for me and hovered last night.

I see someone has laid out a toothbrush and toothpaste, some deodorant, a brush, and a small bottle of lotion. It makes me smile to think the large, hulking madman who guns people down, to whom I am now consummately married, is thoughtful like this. No one would ever know it judging by his appearance or reputation, but he's a romantic at heart.

After pampering my skin with the lotion and brushing my teeth, I rake the brush through my hair, slap on some deodorant, and walk my naked body back into the bedroom. When we came here the night before the wedding, the night Declan's home was burned to the ground, I brought only a few things with me. I had no intention of staying with him forever. I packed light, expecting him to force me off on some ridiculous honeymoon if my attempt to flee failed.

Now I wish I'd have had more forethought. I pluck the only thing I brought with me out of the dresser—a pair of stretch pants and a white cotton shift that falls to mid-thigh. No panties, no bra, but I'm covered, and if I know my husband, he'll send for a wardrobe fit for a queen, which is what he called me last night.

After everything I'd been through, I just wanted to be with him, not ask a million tough questions. But this morning, after a full night of sleep and a meal, a bath, and feeling clean again, I want to know. Why do these men keep calling me Princess? And why did Sebastian say I had the O'Connor heir growing in my womb?

My hand touches my belly unconsciously as I walk toward the door. It's a habit I've noticed myself doing. Every time I think of my unborn child, I touch my stomach and smile. Secrets and heirs aside, Da and Mum will be thrilled to know they'll be grandparents. Rebecca will think I'm insane until I tell her how much I've fallen for this man, the one I thought I hated but found later that all that animosity wasn't really his fault.

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