Page 54 of Irish Brute
“I can’t be… I don’t want… I’ve worked hard for the life I have. I’m valued at the freeport. I’m respected among my peers. I can’t throw all of that away, just to be your…”
“Sub. Say it. I’m your Dom, and you’re my sub.”
I shake my head. I won’t give him this.
“That’s who we are already. You just have to say the words out loud.”
Part of me aches to do what he’s asking. The words are right. They’re true. I can only imagine how satisfying it will be to say them out loud. And Braiden will be so proud of me for doing it.
But another part of me is disgusted—with the man I married and with myself. How can I be a woman who gets wet at the very thought of being controlled? How can I possibly be fighting that inner flutter this very second?
I’ve struggled so hard to get past That Night, to become the woman I am today—successful, strong, independent. I can’t give that up, not even for the pleasure I know my husband can give me.
Braiden’s thumb falls on my lower lip. Until I feel his heat, his pressure, I don’t realize how hard I’m biting down. I shift my jaw and my tongue flicks out. I taste blood.
“This doesn’t have to be so hard,” he says. “You’re only my sub when you wear the collar.”
“And when is that?”
“In this room. You’re mine here.”
I glance at my wedding band.Is liomsa tú.I’m his everywhere. But he’s offering me an out. A condition. A way to test the desperate creature scrabbling deep inside me.
“And in the rest of the house?”
“If you want to wear your collar, you’ll get no fight from me. But it will be your choice. Your decision. The only absolute is within these four walls.”
“I keep my safeword?”
“Always.”
I can’t bear the intensity of his stare. I have to look away. I find myself staring at the skirt draped over the footboard—symbol of the broken rule that got me to this place.
Its pale pink is gorgeous. I want to be a woman who deserves pink. I want to be worthy of something that pretty. Something so soft.
But that will never be possible, not after what happened That Night.
Braiden makes the rules though… If I’mrequiredto submit… If…
I pluck the necklace from its velvet bed. I center the emerald over the hollow of my throat. I pass the padlock to Braiden, and I turn my back, pulling my hair to one side so he can fasten the shackle.
The collar is tighter than I thought it would be. It doesn’t choke me. It doesn’t even cut off my breath. But every time I swallow, I feel the gemstone’s pressure, a hard-edged reminder of the agreement we’ve just struck.
“Mo chailín maith,” Braiden says as he turns the key in the lock. His lips brush against the nape of my neck, and a shudder ripples all the way down to my heels.
And then he orders, “Strip.”
“I— What?”
“Don’t make me repeat myself.”
I don’t know what he wants me to do—if I’m supposed to get undressed as quickly as I can, or as seductively as possible, or something in between. I want to do this right. I want to satisfy him.
But I also want to know what will happen if I make a mistake.
He’ll punish me. I know that. But will he spank me? Will he pinch my nipples? Will he make me come so many times my legs turn to honey?
“I’m waiting,” he says.
