Bitter Burn novel · Chapter 2 of 24

Chapter 2: Lantern

On their Friday night Siobhan ties her husband and takes him apart, then lies when he asks what her father wanted.

I did not say a word about the message.

I picked up the bag with the gun in it and carried it upstairs to the safe in our closet.

When I came back down, Finbar had not moved.

He knelt the same way, with his eyes on the rug and his hands open on his knees.

I was twenty-eight years old.

I had a revolver in my safe, and a man on my floor who might be selling my father to the government.

I wanted him more than I had ever wanted anything.

"Stand up," I said.

He stood in one smooth motion.

He was thirty-one, tall and lean, with ink on his right hand that never quite washed off.

"Upstairs," I said.

"Hands behind your back."

He climbed the stairs ahead of me with his wrists crossed at the base of his spine.

I could see the muscle shift under his skin as he went.

In the bedroom I opened the drawer of the nightstand.

Under the lube and the spare cuffs lay the contract we had written in our first month, signed in two different inks.

I did not need to read it.

I knew every line, the limits and the pace, and the one word at the bottom of the page.

"What's the word?" I said.

"Lantern."

"And what does it do?"

"It stops everything."

"Good."

I took out the rope, the red hemp I had oiled myself, and I let him see it.

His breath caught.

I walked a slow circle around him and stopped at his back.

"Take off the trousers."

He did.

He stood naked in the lamplight, already half hard, and he did not look at me.

I loved that he did not.

I loved that he waited.

I tied his wrists first, crossed behind him, and then the chest harness, three turns above and three below.

I pulled each knot until the rope bit and he sucked in a breath through his teeth.

"Too tight?" I said.

"No, Siobhan."

"Tell me if it's too tight."

"It isn't."

I pushed him back onto the bed so that his bound arms were pinned beneath him and his chest arched up.

He lay there with his knees falling open and his cock standing hard against his belly.

I took my time undressing.

I unbuttoned my blouse slowly and let it drop.

I stepped out of my skirt, and he watched every inch of it with his mouth parted.

"Eyes on me," I said.

"Yes."

"You don't speak unless I ask."

He shut his mouth and nodded.

I climbed over him and sat on his chest, my knees on either side of the rope, and put two fingers under his chin.

"Open."

He opened.

I fed him my fingers and he sucked them, slow and wet, with his eyes locked on mine.

I rocked once against his sternum so that he could feel how wet I already was.

He made a low sound in his throat.

"You like that."

"Yes."

"Say it properly."

"I like being used by you, Siobhan."

I shifted forward until I was kneeling over his face, my hands braced on the headboard.

"Then use your mouth."

He lifted his head and put his tongue on me.

He licked long and flat, then slowly in small circles around my clit, and I dropped my forehead against the wood.

He knew exactly how I liked it.

He never rushed, and he never stopped, and when I rolled my hips down against his face he groaned into me and kept going.

"Deeper."

He pushed his tongue inside me, fucking me with it, and I ground against his mouth until my thighs shook.

My whole body started to climb.

"Don't stop," I said.

"If you stop, I swear to God."

He did not stop.

I came hard with my fingers knotted in his hair, my breath breaking apart, and he held me through it with his mouth.

When I could see again I slid down his body and took his cock in my hand.

He was leaking at the tip.

"Please," he said, and then his eyes went wide because he had spoken without being asked.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I said.

"Beg properly."

"Please, Siobhan, I need you."

"Please let me fuck you, I'll do anything."

That was the thing about Finbar.

He gave me everything, and every time it still undid me.

I straddled his hips and sank down slowly, taking all of him until I was full.

We both groaned.

I stayed there a moment with my hands flat on his chest, feeling him throb inside me.

Then I started to move.

I rode him slowly at first, grinding down, watching his face.

His jaw was tight and his eyes were glassy and the rope creaked every time he arched.

I leaned forward and bit his lip hard.

"Whose are you?"

"Yours."

"Say it again."

"Yours, Siobhan, God, yours."

I rode him faster, harder, my nails dragging down his ribs, and the bed slammed against the wall.

I reached back and cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to make him gasp.

"Come when I tell you and not before."

"I can't," he said.

"I'm so close, please."

"You can."

I slid a hand between us and rubbed my clit while I rode him, and the second orgasm hit me.

I clenched around him, shaking, and he nearly sobbed.

"Now," I said.

"Come for me."

He came with a shout, his hips jerking up, and I felt him pulsing deep inside me as I rode out the last of it.

I held still on top of him until we both stopped shaking.

Then I untied him, knot by knot.

I rubbed the red marks on his wrists and chest with my thumbs.

I wrapped him in the blanket and went down for water and tea with honey, the way I always did.

He drank it with his head on my knee while I stroked his hair.

"Better?" I said.

"Yes."

His voice was rough and small, and I loved him so much that it frightened me.

He turned his face up.

"Whatever he asked of you today," Finbar said, "you can tell me."

I looked down at the man I was going to keep alive, and I did not tell him why.

"He asked me to pick a date for dinner," I said.

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