Page 56 of Dirty Padraig: Dirty Dusters

“A vow that was taken as part of our marriage. A marriage that was subsequently annulled. The protection clause has therefore been removed.”

“An annulment that should never have taken place!”

I ignore his raised voice, choosing to remain calm. “But it did, and so it’s now my choice, and my decision is that I don’t want your protection, nor do I need this possessive bullshit.”

“Jaine, Eoin does have a point,” Fergal interjects.

Like father like son. I realize the risks, and they’re mine to take. They can both go fuck themselves.

“It’s not a point I’m interested in hearing.”

“Jaine is more than capable of looking after herself.” We all look at Irish as he voices his opinion. He shrugs. “I’ve seen what she’s capable of on more than one occasion, so if we need to take a show of hands, I’ll gladly raise mine in favor that says she doesn’t need to be wrapped in cotton wool.”

“Mind your own business, Padraig!” Eoin hisses.

“I’ve known her for twelve years.”

“You didn’t see each other for eleven of those years!”

Irish is unperturbed by Eoin’s blatant dig. “Moot point. We spoke on the phone multiple times a day for over nine of those years, and we messaged back and forth over two. I would argue, therefore, that I know Jaine Jones almost as well as she knows herself and way better than anyone else sat around this table, yourself included. She’s….”

He makes eye contact with me, and I give him a subtle head shake. He immediately knows why. He thinks everyone present knows about my alter-ego. They don’t. Only Dylan does.

“She’s what?”

I turn my head to find Eoin narrowing his eyes at him.

“She’s… a bit of an expert with a rifle.” Irish continues with a cocky smile and Dylan snickers.

“She’s not always going to be carrying a weapon, Paddy. You’ve been told what happened with Malky. What Jaine had to do.”

“And I’m pretty sure it’s not something that she hasn’t done before, brother. Anyway, I thought the whole point was to have a wife who could roll up her sleeves and get stuck in. Jaine’s the future Ma Duster. That’s a hands-on role. It’s not a job you can undertake with your arms tied behind your back, which is what you’re attempting to do to her. What are you going to do? Lock her up in an ivory tower and throw away the key if she doesn’t do your bidding.”

“I might.”

“On your head be it. I wish you well with trying to get Jaine to do something she doesn’t want.”

Enough is enough. I slap my hand on the tabletop. “Can you both please stop conversing about me like I’m not goddamn here!”

I pack up my briefcase. I’ve said all I came here to say, and now I know exactly what it is I have to do.

He’s left me with no choice.

Jaine’s Apartment, Upper East Side, New York

“I hate you.”

He bites my bottom lip as his strong hands slide my skirt up to my waist. My apartment's cold, stale air bites my bare skin, causing me to shiver. No one’s lived here for months.

Dec dropped me off, and Eoin followed me into the building. I pressed the button for my office, he pressed the button for my apartment, and now here I am with my back pressed against the wall as he manhandles me like it’s his God-given right.

“Liar.” His voice is hot against my ear, and I groan as he turns his attention to what’s inside my panties, his hand pushing inside the damp material to cup my pussy.

“You’re an arrogant bastard.”

“That may be true, Miss Jones, but the truth of the matter is, you don’t hate me. And why is that exactly?”

Pushing my panties to the side, he thrusts two fingers deep inside me, then finger fucks me hard and fast, the heel of his hand pressing deliciously against my clit. I grind against him. I need more. I always need more from him. I can never get enough.

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