When I walked to the kitchen and refilled my coffee mug, Cormac caged me against the counter, pressing his hips into my ass, the spicy scent of his cologne surrounding me. I flashed back to the night before, when he’d shoved me into a similar position against the dining room table. Scorching heat suffused every inch of my body, embarrassment and shame mingling with aching need as he pressed his bare chest into my back.
“Put your coffee down,” he murmured, his breath hot against my ear. Hot liquid sloshed everywhere as I set the mug on the counter with unsteady hands. “I don’t want you to forget whose slut you are while you’re working today,” he said, reaching around and unbuttoning my slacks. He pushed my pants and my panties halfway down my thighs and kicked my legs apart, baring me to him once again.
I whimpered as the ache in my core intensified, turning into painful need as he pushed my chest down toward the counter. “Rest on your forearms,” he said as he ran his hands around my ass, tracing the raised red welt he’d left with his belt, soothing the pain with soft kisses. I didn’t know what to make of his gentleness as I stood there, exposed in the fluorescent light of the kitchen.
The sound of a cap popping open startled me, and I jerked around, trying to see what he was doing. Cormac smacked me in the ass. The sharp pain surprised me, making my pussy flood with need.
“None of that,” he rasped, dripping warm liquid down the crack of my ass. He reached around to show me what was in his hand—a silicone butt plug, soft and squishy but unnervingly wide. When I felt it enter me, I moaned softly. The stretch felt good until it didn’t.
“Easy,” Cormac said, running his hands up my back and soothing me before pulling it out and plunging it in just a little bit deeper each time. “Just relax and take it like the filthy whore you are.”
My ass burned as it stretched me, pushing and pushing and then it was lodged completely inside me. I couldn’t figure out how I felt. Uncomfortable. Full—stuffed, actually, like a fucking Christmas turkey. Turned on. Absolutely fucking dripping with need. With every movement, every shift of my thighs, I felt the plug, distracting me from any semblance of coherent thought.
Cormac wiped the excess lube off of me before pulling up my pants and straightening me out. He handed me my coffee. “Up you go then. Better get to work.”
How was I going to concentrate with that monstrosity in my ass? Lord, what would the dry cleaners think when they got my suit pants, soaking wet and stinking of my desire? My body flushed pink with embarrassment. Maybe Rian was right. Maybe I was in over my head.
My phone satbeside my laptop and ring lamp, charging on a desk that faced a window. The laptop was open and plugged into a second monitor. Someone had taken care to find the best lighting in the room and create a space where I could work effectively.
One of the guys had set this up for me while I slept, after the humiliating sex we’d had the night before. Fuck. I wasn’t ready to examine what that might mean, not after Cormac had shoved a plug into my ass and then sent me off to work like the good little slut he thought I was.
Gingerly, I sat in the rolling office chair, biting back a moan as the plug nestled deeper. How was I going to concentrate on anything today? Dozens of notifications displayed on my phone. As I thumbed through them, mentally sorting them into personal, professional, and circular file buckets, I dragged myself back into executive mode.
I had another two hours before the office would open on the West Coast, giving me enough time to quickly take care of personal messages.
Sofia: Are you okay? Tell me you’re still alive.
Ginevra: Fine. Will work from their house today and sleep at our parents’ tonight. See you at dinner.
Cheryl: They rejected all of your changes to the contracts. I’m worried about you.
Ginevra: I'm not signing a contract that makes me their sex slave. It doesn’t have any protections for me! Not even a safeword!
Cheryl: Exactly. Can I call?
Ginevra: Let me speak to them first.
Min-joon: Checking in on my roomie! Blink twice if you need me to fly to NYC right now.
Ginevra: Setting a wedding date this week. Will send info soon.
Min-joon: I want pictures.
Ginevra: You’re coming right? To the wedding?
Min-joon: Wouldn’t miss it for the world.
I dove into my work messages and emails. Rarely did I go an entire day without checking them. One of the reasons my company had seen such brilliant success was because I kept my finger on the pulse of it. Thankfully, none of the issues that had come up over the weekend required my direct intervention.
Every time I shifted in my seat, the plug in my ass reminded me I’d traded my body to three Irish gangsters for my family’s security. I needed to get those contracts signed, and soon, so I wouldn’t find myself trapped like this again, making side deals in exchange for my family’s physical safety. Instead, I’d be enjoying the security those contracts would bring.
Two hours later, I was about to sign into the morning meeting for senior staff, when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder.
“Take a break,” Liam said.
“I’m about to start a meeting,” I answered, not even looking up at him.
“Is the plug starting to get uncomfortable?”