AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He takes me over to the window, flipping me around to face the gardens below. With an aggressive hand, he tugs at the straps of my nightie, ripping it off my shoulders so the fabric pools around my waist. He pushes me up against the window, the cold glass against my nipples makes me gasp. His voice is low and syrup-like, designed for my ears only.
“See those men?” he purrs, his beard tickling the nape of my neck. With ragged breaths, I glance down at the henchmen patrolling the grounds. Cillian in the distance, trimming bushes. White, hot shame creeps over me.If anyone one of them were to look up right now, they’d see me in all my glory.“I asked a question.”
I manage a nod; there’s no air left in my lungs.
“If you don’t do as your told, I’ll fuck you right against this window, and all of my men will watch me take your virginity. Is that understood?”
An unwanted ripple of excitement makes the short journey from the pit of my stomach to between my legs. Lorcan pushes his hard body against my ass, and I stifle a groan when I feel the bulge at the front of his pants. “Yes,” I breathe, choking on the thick, sweaty tension.
“Good girl,” he purrs. There go my knees again. “I’ll be back to collect you in fifteen minutes. Don’t make me wait.”
He pulls away, leaving me to slide down into the window seat in a panting mess.
I spend five of those precious fifteen minutes getting my breath back.What the hell just happened?
Whether I like it or not, my body reacts to Lorcan Quinn in ways that make me want to dig a very deep hole and jump inside. When he’s around me, touching me, talking to me—I’m under some sort of sick, twisted spell. He does things to my body that my brain can’t—or doesn’t want to—understand. And then when I’m left alone again with nothing but a roomful of antiques and my own conscious, I come back to reality with a thump.
Lorcan Quinn is the Devil. And I’mnothere with my own free will.
I can’t look at myself in the bathroom mirror as I quickly shower, braid my hair and slip on a camisole dress. Sliding my hands over the thin fabric, I immediately change my mind. Too much breast, too much ass. The wordsclientsandcollectionlinger at the back of my mind like a bad dream. Ireallydon’t need to lean into that right now. Instead, I slip on a Ted Baker maxi dress. The floaty white fabric will keep me cool, but the long, puffy sleeves and Victorian collar cover almost every inch of flesh.
The lock rattles a few moments later, and Lorcan Quinn darkens the doorway once more. I step out of the dressing room, bunching the fabric around my thigh. I hate that I’m watching, waiting for a reaction. Like I’m seeking his goddamn approval.
His jaw sets as his eyes wash over the length of me. He moistens his lips, chest rising and falling quicker than normal. “Very good, China Doll,” he murmurs.
I hate that I feel a burst of pride when I get that approval too.
He steps closer to the door frame, gesturing for me to lead the way. Ironic, considering that I have no idea where I’m going. In the lobby, he turns away from the security screen and drinks me in once more. I flinch as he reaches around to the tip of my braid, but he’s surprisingly gentle when he pulls out my hairband. “Wear your hair loose,” he says, transfixed on my eyes. “I like it loose.”
I swallow whatever sarcastic retort is brewing in my chest. We walk through the grounds in silence, Lorcan leading the way. I learned long ago, when you say less, you observe more. As we pass the gardeners and henchmen, Lorcan’s presence is unmistakable. Eyes lower, heads bow. Nervous energy can be felt from every person we pass.
I can’t deny the power is alluring.
We round the corner and the manor comes into sight. This time, I’m not distracted by the bombshell of seeing Cillian here. Instead, I look up at it, in all of its glory, under the early morning sun, drinking in its grandeur.
It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen. An imposing, multi-story building crafted from what can only be Bath stone. No other brick has that dusky yellow hue. Endless windows line each floor, sprawling and snaking away from my line of sight. Like the building I’ve been put in, ivy snakes up the side of the building, like nature is trying to reclaim it for its own.
“It’s been in the family since my great, great grandfather came over from Limerick.” Lorcan’s voice brings me back to reality. “Built it himself.”
“It’s beautiful,” I mutter.
He offers a curt nod, revealing nothing. We follow the perimeter of the house, stopping when the endless windows give way to two white pillars, a large oak door and a set of stairs leading up to it. There’s a man standing in front of it, hands in the pocket of his suit pants. I cup my hand to my eyes to get a better look. The first thing I notice is that he doesn’t look away or fidget when Lorcan comes into sight.
He’s not one of the henchmen.
“Keys,” Lorcan grunts, taking the steps two at a time to meet him. The man’s eyes narrow. As they glint in the sun, I realize they are the exact same color as Lorcan’s.
Great, another Quinn. Let’s hope he leans more towards Orna’s personality instead of Lorcan’s.
He shakes his head. “Not unless you pass a breathalyzer. The driver’s bringing the X7 around.”
Before I can digest what he means about a breathalyzer, he pins me with his glare. “Marcus Murphy’s daughter.”
It’s not a question, and I don’t answer.
But his words add to the itch somewhere in the corner of my brain.Why does everyone give my father’s name such weight?First, the venom in Lorcan’s eyes when he mentioned him. Then Cillian’s off-handed comment in the rose garden.
His eyes are hard, cruel. I immediately take a disliking to him, and I’m not sure that it’s only because he’s clearly related to the Devil himself. He drags his attention back to him. “Need any men?”
