He grabs the handcuff key off the bar and removes the metal loops from the bar, then he takes off the right handcuff completely, only keeping one set on my left wrist. “Come here, sweetheart,” he says, turning me around, gathering my wrists behind my back and cuffing them together. “Let me show you what my love feels like,” he finishes.
I don’t get any hint of what he means until he threads my hair in his fingers, angles my head back, and then bends me over the bar in a way I can tell he’s dreamed about doing. He reenters me, one hand on the cuffs, one on my hips, and pounds into me from behind.
“You’re mine now, McKenna,” he growls in my ear. “Tell me.”
“Yes, yours,” I scream, my eyes pinching shut against the rising pleasure, as his rock-hard cock hits that perfect spot inside, over and over again. “God, yes!”
He grunts, a primal sound that weakens my knees as he takes me from behind. Over and over again, skin smacks against skin, and the scent of our sex trickles into the air, our moans turning into a single sound. All of that isn’t what tips me over the edge, sending me crashing into his euphoria, it’s the strength of his body at my back, his teeth pressing into my shoulder, somehow mingling pleasure and pain into one blissful sensation.
“Gabe!” I scream, beginning to tremble, quivering with an orgasm I can’t control.
“Yeah, baby, I like that, too,” he growls, then he’s pounding against me.
I can’t think, let alone speak, as he’s shifting his hips in a rhythm to get us both off. The strength of his presence, the way he touches me, takes me . . . reality fades away and I free-fall, screaming and shuddering while he’s bucking and jerking, roaring out his pleasure.
We fight the end, holding the climax until our very last strength is used up. Only then does the high fade, and then the only thing left is sweaty, satisfied bodies . . . and the best thing of all . . . us.
“I love you,” I whisper again.
“And I’ll love you forever,” Gabe says again in my ear, breathless.
Epilogue
Gabe
One year and a few days later . . .
Voices carry across the pub in a loud roar of drunken celebration. When the final note of the traditional Irish wedding song is sung, the crowd erupts in cheers. McKenna laughs and leans toward me, and I kiss her for all to see, dipping her back, putting on a show. Because that’s how the Irish celebrate a wedding.
She laughs again as she leans away, her hair in big loose curls, her body decorated in white vintage lace, her makeup light and stunning. She gestures at the bar. “I’ll go get us another drink.”
“I’ll be here,” I reply, smacking a hand against the table and dropping down in the chair closest to me.
She gives me another bright smile that could warm the coldest of souls, and then she’s on her way toward the bar, where there are people we don’t know working tonight for our wedding. I’d hired the catering company to handle things so that O’Keefe’s employees could enjoy the wedding after our outdoor ceremony at Crissy Field Park. From the stunning views of the Golden Gate Bridge and the San Francisco Bay at the ceremony, to the beautiful day with big fluffy clouds in the sky, McKenna had the perfect wedding, and for that I’m insanely glad.
I reach for my near empty lager, when a sudden low voice comes from behind me. “You’re so full of shit.”
Recognizing the voice immediately, I chuckle and glance over my shoulder, finding Dmitri, a CEO from Las Vegas that’s been a friend for years. Tall, blond, and exuding a heady dose of arrogance, he always did fit in with our crowd. “Pray tell,” I say with a grin. “Why am I so full of shit?”
Dmitri’s brows wing up over intense blue eyes. “I do recall you all telling me once that being locked down wasn’t for you.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his black slacks and gestures with his chin. “Now look at you all. Not one of you is single.”
I bark a loud laugh and follow his gaze, finding Micah, Ryder, and Darius, surrounded by their ladies, before I address Dmitri again. “Coming from the guy who’s come to San Francisco with all of his friends, who either have families already or are expecting babies any day now, that’s rich.”
Dmitri chuckles, his gaze falling to where all the Las Vegas crew were standing. I’m not close to Dmitri’s wife, Presley, nor any of his nearly dozen friends, only meeting them tonight for the first time, but the moment Dmitri heard I was getting married, the entire gang of them came for the trip. If I took a guess, I’d say that’s because Dmitri missed Micah’s wedding, along with Darius’s and Ryder’s too, so he likely came now out of respect to show his support of us.
We’d all known each other a long time, but hadn’t see each other in a while. Dmitri had a sex club of his own in Las Vegas, and he often sought advice from us on how to run it, because we’d all been successful in hiding our dirty little secrets.
Of course, until we weren’t.
Dmitri eventually turns back to me and slaps my back. “Love looks good on you.” He gestures again at Micah, Darius, and Ryder. “It looks good on all of you.”
“Thank you, Dmitri,” I say to him and offer my hand. “I appreciate you making the trip out here.”
Dmitri smiles, returning the handshake. “You gave us a good reason to come and enjoy your clubs out here for a few days. I think all our ladies are thanking you for that.” He releases my hand. “You should come see us in Vegas sometime.”
“We just might take you up on that,” I reply with smile.
Dmitri leaves then, returning to his group, taking his wife into his arms and kissing her.