Page 14 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

“Say, please.”

“Eoin.”

“Say please, or I’ll stop.”

“Please.”

Fisting my hair, he yanks my head back. “How can I refuse when you beg so fucking prettily, Miss Jones.” His smug voice is hot against my ear as he turns it up another notch.

I deliberately clench as hard as I can, earning myself a cussed slap on the ass, his movements quickly turning erratic as I break his perfect stride.

The animalistic sound of his low growl, as he finds his own pleasure, causes me to shatter once more, my gripping walls demanding that he spill his seed deep inside me, his twitching dick obliging as he empties himself in steady thrusts. We stay where we are.

Panting. Hot. Sweaty. Sated, for now.

I lean back until I’m pressed against his torso, welcoming his strong arms as they snake around to pull me close. We stay there until the sweat sheening our bodies starts to cool.

He moves one arm, and soft lights suddenly surround us. I glance around. This container has furniture in it. I can’t see it all, but it’s my guess it’s fitted out like a small apartment.

No words are spoken. He’s still too angry.

He pushes my hair away from the back of my neck before placing a soft kiss against my skin. He then pauses. I know why.

Because regardless of whether we stand the test of time or not, nothing will ever change the fact that I love Eoin O’Connell.

And I’m guessing he’s just seen my visible declaration of that as he takes in the scrolled letter E that I had Gusto ink on the back of my neck this morning.

CHAPTERFIVE

PADRAIG

The Ruocco Home, Agrigento, Sicily

“When?”

My wife looks smug as she studies my adverse reaction to the breaking news that we’ll be returning to New York imminently.

“Within the next few weeks. Luc has insisted that it’s time and that we must return together and display a united front as a family.”

I nod slowly from where I’m standing at the window of my office.

This unlikeable pair need all the extended family members they can garner, given that any immediate ones have been killed in one retaliation attack or another due to the Ruocco's untrustworthy ways.

They have a plethora of enemies, which means not only do I have the Duster ones to contend with these days, I also have theirs.

Is our return unwelcome news? I’m not sure. Even though I’ve shut myself away from everything I’ve ever known for almost a year, it still feels too soon.

Rightly or wrongly, I’ve gotten used to solitude.

Regardless of what my family may think, it was my decision to relocate to Sicily, not Sophia’s. I did what was expected of me. I took the vows with her. I refused to be backed into a corner over anything else, however, including the consummation of our marriage.

I may have fucked her once before we wed, but it will never happen again.

She knows if she’s not happy with that reality, then we can have the marriage annulled. She just has to say the word, and I’ll handle the matter both personally and discretely. That I’ll also gladly throw in every cent of my personal fortune to buy my freedom.

Don’t get me wrong; I would have attempted to give it a go. She deserved me to at least try to make a concerted effort. But while Sophia is attractive enough with her long dark hair and olive skin, her beauty is only skin deep. It doesn’t extend below the surface. Sophia has a nasty streak that makes her quite the unpleasant girl to be around.

From the moment I arrived, I’ve witnessed her treating people like shite. Adults and children alike. The more I pulled her up on it, the more she deliberately went out of her way to be a bitch toward them. I then realized that it’s a family trait. That her brother, Luc, is exactly the same.

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