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Liam O’Grady is bored.
He looks down at the naked woman on her knees before him, a sophisticated socialite he has been shag*ing for a few months now. She is doing a very good job, he thinks, as she wriggles her skinny butt and looks up at him, begging for his approval. She has been a good little sub, he reflects as she sucks him hard, his thick member making her gag but she keeps on valiantly. And also because Liam has his large hand clamped on her head, holding her in place, unable to move. * Her pale behind is streaked with red, welts that his brother has laid across the skinny butt of the submissive they share. Finn St Just is a man who loves to mark his submissives, spanking them, using his belt on them… When she shudders, unable to breathe, Liam strokes her head and she continues happily. As he empties his load into her willing mouth, it’s more of a physical reaction. The desire is not there. With a sigh, he rises, smiling indulgently as she scrambles to her feet and grabs his arm, gasping, “Heath will be out during the weekend, Master. Shall we go somewhere?” She’s referring to her husband, the unfortunate Heath Douglas, who is unaware that his beautiful socialite wife is cuckolding him bigitme. Or maybe he knows. Liam O’Grady shrugs his powerful shoulders indifferently. & She bats her lashes coyly and adds, ‘Master Finn could come too if you wish.” The woman who had been s*cking his c*ck with such enthusiasm has been his submissive for the past few months. And yes, of course, the sub he has shared with his half-brother, Finn St Just. & They met at a kink club which Liam occasionally visited with his brother Finn St Just. The brothers have a habit of getting one woman to pleasure them. Both of them. Not something all women would be agreeable to, Finn had growled in his dour fashion but there have always been takers. & These days, however, Liam has felt that he wants something more than a submissive who gets onto her knees the minute he flicks his finger. He’s growing old, last month he turned thirty, he thinks pensively, scratching his powerfully muscled chest. And Finn, who is older by a year, also looks bored occasionally. Liam sighs; he wants, a small part of him, wants a home, a real woman… A woman waiting for him, and his brother of course; a home with kids…maybe? & He stops there, a cynical smile on his face. Any woman he took as his wife would have to agree to be shared with Finn. His half-brother. In bed. & That’s the code between them. His mother, Maggie had drilled it into him when he was a kid and Finn, older than him by a year, sat across the table, morose and dull, with his mop of dark golden hair. ‘You SHARE everything with your brother, Liam O’Grady,” she had said firmly, her hands on her large hips, her lovely face, creased in fat but still the kindest face ever, scowling at him. That was because on that occasion, he had refused to share his slice of shepherd’s pie with Finn. A hard knock on his head, a few harsh words and order was restored. His two-year-old self had agreed to his mother’s diktat. A lifelong commitment, as it turned out to be. & They grew up as thick as thieves, with Liam the hot-headed but astute one, the rough fighter on the streets, the leader; Finn his follower, protecting his brother’s back. Cool, but more of a man who kept to the background. If Liam O’Grady was light and charm, Finn St Just was the darkness, brooding, menacing. & Turned out their tastes in women were the same. So they agreed to an unusual arrangement. They shared their submissives. One woman at a time, with the both of them. No fuss, as Liam declared happily. Finn only grunted, his golden eyes glowing. But their submissives adored; nay worshipped them. And sometimes, they wept, they bawled when they were asked to leave. & Though what their long dead mother, Maggie O’Grady would have thought of the stuff her sons got up to in bed with one woman, would have scandalized her, he thinks. He pushes the thought away, aware that Helen Douglas is still looking at him, her heavily made-up face turned up to him, appealingly. & Liam O’Grady looks her in the eyes and says pleasantly, “I need to check, Helen.” And even as she stares after him, naked and confused, he has crossed to the bathroom door and shut it behind him firmly. He makes a call to his long-suffering secretary Diana Benz. “Boss?’ she asks in her sultry voice. Liam grins. Listening to her throaty, sexy drawl, no one would suspect her of being a sixty-year-old grandma. She sounds like a twenty-something hooker. ‘Helen Douglas’ he says and she sighs. her obvious infuriation is no mystery; he just finished severing a relationship with an upcoming journalist who was devastated when he dumped her. Poor old Benz, he thinks with a grin: she gets to do the hardest work!“Boss, give me a break. I just finished sending roses to Arpita Gandhi! The woman was bawling over the phone cos you dumped her!”
Liam grunts. He’s stepped into the shower and is not concerned about the women he has just used and discarded. They know the score, he tells himself shrugging. & Finn St Just looks around as his half-brother Liam O’Grady enters. Liam is freshly showered and smiling. Finn saw their shared sub of the moment, Helen Douglas, a senator’s secretary’s wife, being escorted off the grounds. She had been red-eyed and weeping, but Diana Benz had accompanied her to the car, like a caring grandma, and seen her off. He looks at his brother in exasperation. “Bro…?’ Liam holds up a hand. “I got to make some calls,” he winks at his brother as he strides off. &Liam O’Grady paced about in the hospital corridor. The sight of the little boy, a pathetic little bundle as he was cradled in Van Dyke’s big, strong arms, had made him aware of the fragility of human life; the thin line between life and death. St Just sat on a chair, his elbows on his knees, staring ahead while Dominick Delano had been an emotional mess when he saw his little brother. He had held the little fellow, Gabreil, in his arms all the way to the hospital, were Dom’s fiancé, the efficient forensic scientist, Rani, had been waiting. They had already alerted the hospital so it was only a matter of minutes before the little fellow was rushed into the ICU, to check his vitals. But the ambulance that had arrived at the spot, had been well-staffed.The little child had been put on a ventilator. The nursing assistant had studied Gabe’s pale, almost lifeless body and let out a deep breath.“Poor little f*cker,” the man had sighed.Now, O’Grady sat down heavily beside his brother.S
Bianca had been unable to sleep. Tossing and turning, she had finally given up the ghost of trying and padded to her son’s room, next door. Baby Cian lay on his stomach, his small, rounded rump in the air.Bainca sighed and stood by the little cot, her eyes misting over.Like a beached whale, she thought fondly and reached out to stroke his plump cheek. His lips parted, lost in some pleasant dream, Cian slept on, snoring slightly. Blissfully.Bianca crossed to the window to stare out unseeingly at the snow which was still falling lightly, but constantly.Leaning against ta window, she wondered what her Masters were doing.And most importantly, what had happened to poor Proserpina Delano?The other thought that was bothering her was this; what about the young boys, the twins, Alex and Gabe?Bianca had met them occasionally, strong-minded little fellows with the trademark blonde hair and the cool grey-blue eyes of the Mafia Don, Lucien Delnao. Apparently, when returning from a meeting w
It was O’Grady who received the frantic message from Claude late that evening.“Our Mumma,” sobbed the distressed Claude, who was soft at heart and not really Mafia material, as Bianca thought privately.O’Grady, who had been cradling Cian, set the little fellow down gently beside Bainca who sat in her pyjamas and getting ready to sleep. St Just strode in from the washroom on hearing his brother’s raised tones.He cocked an eyebrow and looked at Bainca, who lifted her hands, palms upwards, to show she had no idea what was going on.When O’Grady finally replaced the handset on the side table, his face was grim.“Saint, Claude just called,” he said. His brother nodded, hands on his hips, waiting, watching the Irishman.Bianca rose to her feet gracefully, Cain over one shoulder, for the little fellow had fallen asleep. She padded to O’Grady and placed her hand on his muscled arm.Ever since the murder of Heather, for Captain Ethan had grudgingly conceded the fact, since that dreadful nig
It was O’Grady who received the frantic message from Claude late that evening. “Our Mumma,” sobbed the distressed Claude, who was soft at heart and not really Mafia material, as Bianca thought privately. O’Grady, who had been cradling Cian, set the little fellow down gently beside Bainca who sat in her pyjamas and getting ready to sleep. St Just strode in from the washroom on hearing his brother’s raised tones. He cocked an eyebrow and looked at Bainca, who lifted her hands, palms upwards, to show she had no idea what was going on. When O’Grady finally replaced the handset on the side table, his face was grim. “Saint, Claude just called,” he said. His brother nodded, hands on his hips, waiting, watching the Irishman. Bianca rose to her feet gracefully, Cain over one shoulder, for the little fellow had fallen asleep. She padded to O’Grady and placed her hand on his muscled arm. Ever since the murder of Heather, for Captain Ethan had grudgingly conceded the fact, since that dreadful nigh
Serena polished off the burger which turned out to be a lot better than what she had expected. As she sat, warming her hands around the coffee she had ordered afterwards, she watched the bartender polish a row of tumblers. The bar had thinned out — just a few regulars scattered along the counter, the sound of a muted TV filling the space between words. She waited until he passed by again. “You’ve worked here a while?” she asked, casual. He nodded. “About eight years now. Why?” She offered a faint smile. “Just getting a feel for the place. I’m with The Echo North news.” She slid her notebook halfway out of her bag, enough to make it visible but not intimidating. “I’m writing a piece on that woman. “ She looked up and met his eyes as she went on, “You must have heard, the one who…” She hesitated, lowering her voice. “The one they found over in the apartment block last week.” The bartender’s hand stilled on the towel. “Yeah. I heard.” “She used to come in here, right? People said she was
Serena had chosen to disguise herself.No need to get whoever was behind Heather’s death into a tizzy, she thought as she changedThe dirty blonde wig transformed her totally, the short tendrils alien to her as she turned her head to check. The young woman had also taken care to work on her face, paying attention to her thin, pale brows. Skilfully using a pencil, she turned them darker, thicker and was amazed to see how these superficial changes had altered her face.Next, Serena set to work upon her eyes. When she was done, she sat back, thinking ruefully that they were no longer the startling green which Louis always commented upon.Instead, she had chosen a set of blue contact lenses that made her appear totally different. Studying her freckles, which were dusted over her nose and cheeks, she set ot to work on that. Using medium-coverage foundation, Serena effectively hid her trademark freckles and then chose a mauve lipstick and greyish eyeshadow to go with her new blonde look.Op







