Tully: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance: Dangerous Doms Read online

  Tully: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance

  Dangerous Doms

  Jane Henry

  TULLY: A DARK IRISH MAFIA ROMANCE (Dangerous Doms)

  JANE HENRY

  Copyright 2020 by Jane Henry

  Cover photography by Wander Aguiar

  Cover design by Popkitty Designs

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Synopsis

  Don't let her mousy appearance fool you...

  McKenna Byrne is fire.

  Hot tempered.

  Passionate.

  All-consuming.

  She seared my soul from our very first kiss.

  Once, she wanted a chance at independence.

  A life away from the Clan.

  Then danger threw us back together,

  And when McKenna and I collide...

  We ignite.

  Now I'm forced to claim her.

  To make her a full-fledged woman of the Clan.

  She might fight me tooth and nail,

  But we both love a challenge.

  This time, there'll be no escape for either of us.

  This time, we'll burn...

  * * *

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Epilogue

  Preview

  About the Author

  Chapter 1

  Tully

  I toss down a fourth pint and slam the mug on the counter. Rafferty quirks a brow at me, takes the empty stein, and wipes the counter down.

  “Need another, mate?” he asks. The Craic’s bartender knows us well.

  Lachlan chuckles beside me. “Bring the bloody keg here with a straw, will you?”

  I aim a punch at his arm, but he easily dodges. “I’ll shove the straw up yer arse.”

  “Aim’s off when you’re toasted, brother,” he says, jumping down from the chair and bouncing on the balls of his feet to demonstrate how limber he is. He’s high on life, having just passed around Cubans to celebrate the birth of his firstborn child, a son.

  Tiernan snorts beside me. He’s grinning, a proud uncle. “Come off it, Lach,” he says. “Tully toasted after four pints? You underestimate him.”

  He’s right. Half a dozen pints will warm me up, more like.

  “Then why so broody?” Lachlan asks.

  “Broody’s my middle name,” I say with a shrug. Unlike the younger men of the Clan, I like to take my time with things, whether that be a pint, a fucking cigar, or a woman.

  “She’s late,” Tiernan says under his breath. “Supposed to be here an hour ago, no?”

  Lachlan’s eyes widen. “You’re back together again?”

  I ignore him, just glance at my phone.

  No texts.

  No calls.

  I told her to meet me at the Craic, to be on time, and told her there’d be consequences if she was late this time.

  She’s exactly forty-seven minutes late.

  A part of me thrills at this, knowing she’s pushing me to see how far she can go. I’m up for the fucking challenge with McKenna.

  Always.

  My eyes rove around the small interior where the locals meet for a pint, the anteroom before the real fun begins, when I see her. So small, all dressed in black, one would hardly notice her among the throng of dancers on the dance floor. But I’d recognize her a mile away, even without her slight limp and vivid, haunting eyes.

  McKenna Sweeney, the most lovely woman I’ve ever seen.

  The rest of the sounds in the room are drowned out of awareness as I make my way over to her, snagging the leftover Cubans from Lachlan on my way and tucking the box under my arm. He chuckles and salutes me. My blood pounds in my veins as I get closer to her.

  She broke a rule.

  She disobeyed an instruction.

  She’ll be punished tonight.

  And that’s exactly what she wants.

  The men at the back step aside to let me into the private, members-only section of the Club, beyond the crush of dancers and loud music, beyond the bar, to the privacy of the more intimate meeting place of the club.

  “Tully.” One guard nods his head, letting me past, and the members part as I walk in. I’m aware of their eyes on me, the whispers and nudges, the way even the largest, most formidable men step aside to let me through. The men of the Clan are well-respected in Ballyhock, and well-known in the Craic. We’re given respect and wide berth. I’ll need it tonight.

  McKenna stalks forward, heading to the private rooms. She’s wearing a black, knee-length dress that’s damn near painted on, and a black masquerade mask with purple feathers. My belly warms at the sight, a deep thrum of need pulsing low in my abdomen.

  Christ, I’ve missed her.

  I’ve never seen her dressed like this. She favors simple clothing and flats, and often dresses her part of a schoolteacher. No one knows how gorgeous she is, how fucking exquisite. No one knows the little mousy schoolteacher’s feisty as hell and kinky as fuck.

  No one but me.

  And tonight’s a special occasion. We’re getting back together.

  I stalk through the crowd, intent on catching her. Intent on punishing her. Intent on showing her I mean what I say.

  She’s as nervous as a little rabbit as she scurries away. She quickens her pace.

  My voice booms over the noise of the crowd and speakers.

  “McKenna.”

  She freezes, turns, and looks over her shoulder at me.

  “Yes?”

  God, that voice, so soft and sweet. You wouldn’t know the temper the lass has by those doe eyes she’s giving me now.

  I snap my fingers and point. “Room two.” I’ve booked it for the night and prepared it.

  She swallows hard. Her eyes narrow, fire lit behind them. She purses her lips and crosses her arms, her full breasts like little mountains. I want to bite them, to lick her nipples, to weigh them in my hand and work magic until she’s keening with pleasure and begging for release.

  Her lips purse. “No.”

  My chest tightens. “No?”

  She blinks, as if she’s on the brink of losing her resolve. Her eyes dart to the left and right. We have a small audience.

  “You’ll have to make me,” she says, that fire in her eyes stoking a fire of my own.

  Christ, if she doesn’t know exactly how to play me.

  I stalk toward her, and she turns to run, but just as she does a large passel of people passes in front of her. She dodges left, then right, but can’t get away. I close the distance in seconds, scoop her straight up in the air, and toss her over my shoulder. She squeals when I clap my palm on her arse, the satisfying smack resounding in the air around us like the boom of a pistol. My dick hardens.

  She screams and kicks, but no one even looks our way. They know who I am, and she hasn’t called the club safe word.
/>   She’s mine.

  Christ, how I’ve missed her. We’re fire and ice, McKenna and me, and we push each other away with finality, only to ignite when we reunite. But not again. I’m done playing games.

  This time, the lass isn’t getting away from me.

  “Put me down!” she shrieks, smacking at my back, but I only walk with greater determination toward the room I’ve prepared. This little girl is in a world of trouble.

  “Tully! Tully! Put me down!” she hollers, which earns her another hard slap of my palm.

  “Now, now, lass,” I say, shaking my head as I kick the door open. “You’ve already earned a punishment for showing up late. Do you really want to compound that interest?”

  “Fuck you!” she bellows.

  I shake my head with mock regret. “Now that will earn you more as well.”

  I kick the door shut behind me, still holding her over my shoulder. She’s so much smaller, that even as she fights me, it’s easy enough to grab her wrists and secure them in the restraints I’ve prepared.

  First the left. The satin tie tightens as her struggle begins to slow, and my cock strains in my trousers.

  Then the right.

  In half a minute I’ve got her bared and stripped, kneeling on the bed with her arms restrained on a post in front of her, one wrist atop the other.

  “There,” I say, tossing the box of Cubans on the table and taking one out. “You can think about the punishment you’ve earned while I prepare.”

  I tug a stool out from the corner of the room, and sit across from her so I can take her in. I cross one ankle over my lap, cut the cigar, and light it.

  “You can’t smoke in here,” she says, her brows furrowed together.

  “Says who?” I can do whatever the fuck I want.

  She frowns, at a loss for an answer. “I thought people vaped these days.”

  I chuckle. “Vaping’s for pussies.”

  “You think damn near everything’s for pussies.”

  I shrug. “Maybe it is.”

  A ring of smoke rises into the air, and her gorgeous eyes follow it. She pulls against her restraints and sighs, as I take her in.

  Her mousy brown hair’s tucked into a bun, her glasses perched on her nose, magnifying intelligent eyes so blue they’re nearly violet. Her pretty, full lips are pursed, and her dainty little chin juts out. She’s got a smattering of freckles I want to kiss, gently arched brows, and the cutest damn forehead that’s currently creased.

  Her shoulders slope downward to the curve of her arms, secured above her head. She’s petite but solid, her body tight and fit. From here I can see the tapered waist and swell of her full arse, the gentle curves of her thighs.

  Christ, but I’ve missed her.

  “Was the mask difficult to wear with your glasses?”

  “Well,” she says, taking on that philosophical tone that gets me fucking hard. “It was a leather mask, so I custom fit the eye holes so I could wear my glasses.”

  Adorable.

  She wrinkles her nose and rolls her eyes.

  “I hate the smell of cigars.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t lie to me, McKenna. That will only get you in worse trouble. You told me you loved the smell of cigars.”

  “Changed my mind, then.”

  “Fair enough.”

  I puff out another ring of smoke. The tobacco stokes me as I prepare to punish her.

  “Now, lass. Why are you so late?”

  “Oh,” she says, looking away, her voice a little low and seductive. “Just… lost track of time, is all.”

  Right. I don’t buy it.

  I shake my head. “I think you’re lying,” I say, taking another pull.

  She blinks, then swallows, giving herself away. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “I think you’ve missed me.”

  She tosses her head.

  “As if.”

  “More than that, I think you’ve missed your punishments.”

  That strikes a nerve. A quick intake of breath, and I’d swear I can almost feel the quickening of her pulse from here.

  “Who misses punishments? The very thought’s an oxymoron,” she scoffs, but her voice wavers.

  I puff on the cigar again. “You, love. You like it when I punish you.”

  She huffs out. “Only fools would enjoy punishment.”

  A beat passes between us, and I grin at her.

  “If that’s what you have to tell yourself, then.”

  I finish the cigar in silence, snuffing it out and rising. It’s the largest room in the place, with a king-sized bed, massive windows with heavy drapes, and a private loo.

  “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice betraying her apprehension as I stalk behind her.

  “Be quiet.”

  My voice is harsh, my tone corrective. She knows I mean what I say. She knows she’s earned this.

  I shrug out of my leather jacket and toss it to the chair, then stalk in front of her again. I watch as her eyes rove over my arms and neck, McCarthy family ink covering damn near every inch. The names of my sisters were the first I got when I was still a lad, faded like the memory of them. Now, the more prominent tats are McCarthy-born. Our crest, our Celtic knot, indicators of my rank and loyalty to the brotherhood.

  “You got more ink,” she says, her voice husky with arousal. She likes it.

  “Aye.”

  She opens her mouth to speak again, but her words die on her lips when I reach for my belt buckle.

  “Tully,” she whispers, squirming, her wrists still bound above her.

  “Yes, lass?”

  “Not that,” she says, but her protests are weak. Her eyes are lust-filled and heavy lidded, her nipples pebbling beneath my unadulterated gaze. I let my eyes rove over her naked body, lingering between her legs where I can already see arousal glistening on her thighs.

  I fold the belt in two and give it a good, hard snap! She jumps and swallows.

  I walk over to her, my belt in my right hand, while I capture her chin with my left. I hold her gaze.

  “Glasses off?” she whispers, her eyes alight with nerves and excitement.

  I nod, removing her glasses, and placing them beside her on the bedside table. I go back to her, bend, and kiss her. I groan as our lips meet. God, but I missed how sweet she tastes, the way she yields to my kiss and melts with the slightest pressure.

  My fingers wrap around the back of her neck and my tongue meets hers, as I swallow her moan. I pull away, breaking our kiss, but our foreheads touching.

  “I missed you,” she whispers.

  “Aye, lass. I missed you as well.” I breathe her in. “Tis a shame I need to punish you when we’re finally back together.”

  “You don’t have to—”

  I press my finger to her lips and grab her hair. She gasps as I yank her head back.

  “I fucking do and you know it.”

  “Tully—”

  “That’s ‘sir’ to you.”

  She closes her eyes when I release her, stalking behind her with my belt in hand. My dick’s so hard it’s painful when I stand behind her and bring my arm back. I snap the leather against the fullest part of her arse. Bright pink blooms against her pale white skin. She squeals.

  I slap her again, crisscrossing the leather with one lash after another. She hisses in a breath, whimpering as I punish her. I stalk back over to her, reach between her legs, and stroke her slick folds.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “Yes!” she gasps when I pinch her clit.

  “Tell me you like when I punish you.”

  “I don’t! It hurts! Ow!” she squeals when I slap the folded leather across her arse again, my hand still pressed against her pussy.

  “Then why are you so wet?”

  “Natural instinct,” she breathes. “It’s my body’s intuitive fight or flight response!”

  I barely stifle a chuckle. She’s got a vocabulary larger than she is.

 
I spank her again, my hand at her pussy, stroking, pinching, circling. She groans and presses up against my hand.

  “I want the truth.”

  “No!”

  I shake my head and withdraw my hand. “You want this whipping.”

  She squeals, cringing, prepared for another lash, but it doesn’t come. I stand behind her, waiting. Her thighs glisten, and the sight of her reddened arse makes me nearly lose my fucking mind. She’s holding her breath, her body rigid.

  “Are you done?” she asks, unable to hide the note of disappointment in her tone. I smile.

  “No.”

  “Then get it fucking over with!”

  I drop the belt, kneel on the bed beside her, and fist her hair, yanking her head back. I shake my head.

  “You don’t tell me what to do, lass.”

  She gulps, her mouth dropping open when I pull her hair even harder.

  “Then what are you waiting for?”

  “The truth.”

  She whimpers, fighting with herself, then finally moans.

  “Fine, then,” she whispers. “I like it when you punish me. I crave the pain you give me.” Her voice is hoarse and tremulous. “And I’ve missed you so.”

  Her admission that she’s missed me makes me soften a little. I kiss her cheek, and her eyelashes flutter closed like dancing butterflies.

  “Missed you, too, beautiful.”

  I release her hair and embrace her from behind, her naked, trembling body against my fully clothed one, her breasts cupped in my hands, my cock straining against her heated, punished arse. I love the exchange of power between us. I love that she gives this to me, or more accurately, that she makes me fight for it.

  “I’ll finish this punishment, McKenna.” I unzip my trousers and take out my stiff cock and groan as I glide it across her heated arse. “I missed you, too.”