The Irish Syndicate Book 1: Our Wicked Cravings
Author
M. L. Smith
Reads
2.2M
Chapters
41
one. š¶š¶š¶
Fidgeting with the silk tie on her mask, Mina Fitzpatrick turned down a decadent hallway of the underground sex club, wondering just what the hell she was doing here.
Dark red velvet covered the walls, the black trim blending in beautifully with the onyx tile beneath her open-toed stilettos.
She shouldnāt be here.
She should be soaking in a nice, hot bath in her hotel room, relaxing from her long flight earlier that day.
Yet she kept her steps light and confident, walking steadily into a room filled with some of Bostonās rich elite in various states of undress.
Masks of different shapes and sizes covered their faces, obscuring every single identity.
Vulgar sex acts were being openly performed around her, some people reaching out to grab at her bare arms, intent on tugging her into something carnal.
Mina ignored the grasping hands, searching the room for her friend.
She didnāt know where Lucy had gone, but she was eager to leave after less than an hour. Why had she even come to something like this?
This environment ā¦ It wasnāt her. She found it uncomfortable.
Mina wasnāt a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but she craved intimacy with her sexual partners. A connection.
That wasnāt something sheād find here.
Not only that, she preferred a girlās night in or visiting the theatre when she needed to unwind for a few hours.
Not venturing to a secret sex club in the heart of Boston where anything could happen.
But Lucille Hankins, her best friend since childhood, was the complete opposite of Mina.
She was adventurous and carefreeāas much as she could be in the world they lived in.
Sheād convinced Mina to come tonight, assuring her it would be a completely anonymous experience.
No one would know who she was, and more importantly, no one would connect her to her family.
That last part had tempted Mina into this outing far more than anything else. If Minaās mother knew where she was right now, sheād lose her mind.
Sheād tell her stepfather, and then heād tellā Donāt think about that. Just find Lucy and tell her youāre leaving.
Mina scanned the crowd of people a second time, hoping to see Lucyās long black hair, or the lingerie set sheād been wearing when theyād gotten separated.
Nothing. Not one person was familiar, each ornate face mask blending with the next.
At least Mina wouldnāt have to worry about being recognized, either.
Sheād only just returned to Boston after five blissful years away in Irelandāfirst in a private school, and then to attend college.
But at twenty-two, with a marketing degree fresh under her belt, her stepfather had insisted she return home after a rather curt phone call.
Considering he and his son, Ronan, held ties with the Irish underworld, Mina had been all but helpless to deny her stepfather.
The life sheād lived for half a decade wasnāt really hers, anyway.
Even in Ireland, so far from the syndicate, sheād still had guards watching her every move.
Sheād been away from her family, but sheād never been free of them.
She hadnāt even been allowed to tell her stepfather ānoā when heād told her to come home.
Instead, sheād booked the next available flight when heād beckoned her, knowing the life sheād had before was over.
Her degree was all but useless, too. Women that belonged to the syndicate didnāt get jobs.
They married young and popped out babies, breeding the next line of made men who would eventually take over the syndicate.
It was a miracle sheād even been allowed to attend college; Lucy had been forbidden.
An even bigger miracle was that neither of them were married, though they were both of age.
Mina had a sinking suspicion her stepbrother had played a part in making all that happen.
Sheād nearly asked about Ronan when her stepfather called earlier in the week with his ārequest,ā but had thought better of it.
After five years of nearly no contact, she was more than eager to keep it that way.
At the thought of her stepbrother, her chest constricted, an old familiar ache flaring to life as memories assailed her.
Sheād first met Ronan after her mother had announced her engagement to his father, Dougal.
Mina had been fifteen and Ronan had been a handsome and ripped twenty-two. Heād had an aura about him that sheād found irresistible.
He was dangerous, ruthless and protective, all qualities that had called to her like a moth to a flame.
Sheād been smitten with him from the start, constantly following him around his fatherās mansion when he visited, always pestering him with nonsensical questions.
When sheād turned sixteen, her questions had morphed into flirtingānot that heād reciprocated.
Heād always been a stoic, no nonsense man, and even though his father was the boss of the Irish syndicate in Boston, it was Ronan that Dougal looked to for everything.
Of course, a man like Ronan would never be interested in the advances of a young woman.
Especially not one who shamelessly flirted with him, too immature and naĆÆve to realize how pathetic she must have seemed.
Looking back on it now, her behavior as a teenager was so embarrassing. How had he ever kept a straight face when sheād all but thrown herself at him?
Given how harsh he could be with others, heād never once made her feel bad for the crush sheād so obviously had on him.
Heād never encouraged her at that age, but he hadnāt disrespected her either. Heād always treated her like a princess.
Until one fateful day, just before her eighteenth birthday. Sheād gone too far, pushed Ronan too much.
What sheād done had changed the course of her life forever.
Sheād known better than to tempt Ronanās wrath, and yet sheād done it with a smile on her face.
She still remembered the feel of blood on her hands from that day.
The smell of that metallic odor as sheād tried desperately to clean the red stain from her skin.
Refusing to dwell on that any longer, Mina stepped around a naked couple fucking on the ground, the moans and wet slaps of flesh causing small spouts of desire to rise within her.
Despite her reservations about this place, there was something so erotic, so enticing, in witnessing such raw displays of sex that Mina felt her face flush beneath her mask as her breaths quickened.
Maybe she should find a random stranger and just have her way with him. Be as daring as Lucy, for once.
What would that be like, to throw caution to the wind and just live for a few hours? Wasnāt that the point of coming here tonight?
A small thrill went through her at the thought, but it would be difficult to step so far out of her comfort zone to solicit a stranger for sex, even here.
How did one go about propositioning another? She hadnāt attempted anything like that in years. Not since she second year in college.
She wasnāt the sort to be so wanton, not anymore, and she didnāt think she had the confidence for something so blatantly carnal.
Why had she even come here tonight? The question kept replaying in her head, over and over. She should have just told Lucy she was busy.
Mina stepped into another room, this one darker than the last. The sofas were backless and wide, no doubt capable of seating multiple partners.
A few men lounged along the sectional and some luxurious looking loveseats, watching a woman on a small stage grind atop a man.
Both were naked, the man groaning as she rode him.
The woman probably would have been groaning, too, if another manās cock wasnāt stuffed in her mouth.
Still, what noises she could make were heavy with lust as she bounced on one cock and stroked the base of the other.
The sight had Minaās nipples tightening, and desire pooling low in her belly.
She quickly looked away from the spectacle, scanning the new room for Lucy.
A man in a suit spotted her at the door, and stood from the sectional, making his way to her.
His silver mask flashed in the low lighting as he drew near.
āLose your way, darlinā? Or perhaps you know exactly who you were hoping to entertain tonight?ā The man spoke with a thick Irish accent, not uncommon in Boston, but the tattoos on his hands and neck were out of place for a party like this.
In Bostonās elite, visible ink like that would make someone an outcast, regardless of their wealth.
His words sank in, and it took all of Minaās strength not to roll her eyes at his blatant ego. Did he really think sheād come here to seduce him?
Even if she was looking for sex, he definitely wasnāt her type. No, her type was brooding, powerful Irishmen who wanted nothing to do with her.
Mina sighed. It was a mistake attending this party tonight. Of course it was.
You knew that from the beginning, and yet you came here looking for trouble.
Mina shook her head, a strand of her red hair catching in the corner of her mask. āIām sorry, I was looking forāā
āI know exactly who you were looking for, and let me assure you, heās not interested in desperate women, no matter how hot you look in that silky little number.ā
He eyed her up and down, his stare focusing mainly on the swell of her breasts as he studied her.
Mina nearly bit back her retort, not wanting to piss off her new āfriend.ā But she was a quick-tempered woman, and it was easier to mouth off than to keep her cool.
Not you, and especially not whoever youāre talking about.ā He snickered at that, his voice rising above the sounds of sex on the stage.
āDid you hear that, lads? Seems the little temptress is too good for us.ā All eyes turned toward her then, including the participants on stage.
Mina took a hesitant step back before squaring her shoulders. She wouldnāt allow anyone in here to intimidate her.
She was a Fitzpatrick after all, even if not by blood.
āBring her, Finan,ā a deep Irish tenor beckoned from the throne-like loveseat nearest the stage.
She looked in that direction, squinting into the darkness to make out the figure reclining comfortably in his seat.
He sounded slightly familiar, but she was sure sheād remember a brogue that deep and sensual.
The man she assumed was Finan grabbed her arm, pulling her roughly toward the figure with the bedroom voice. āHey! Get your hands off me.ā
Mina gave a halfhearted struggle, not used to actually having to defend herself from creeps.
Usually there was a security detail provided to her, men trained to ensure no one touched her; an order that came directly from Ronanābut sheād slipped past them tonight in her eagerness for a night out.
āLet go, creep!ā she exclaimed indignantly. Obliging her, Finan shoved her forward as he released her.
Mina fell to the ground, landing hard on her knees, her chest slamming into the edge of the loveseat. She hissed out in pain, her knees throbbing.
The sharp ache was probably why it took her a second too long to realize she was at the feet of the seductive stranger, his thick, muscular legs on either side of her.
Mina lifted her head, her eyes sweeping over every inch of him as the rest of the world faded from view.
He wore a pair of black slacks, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows, revealing a plethora of tattoos covering his forearms.
He was relaxed back in his seat like a king, watching her from behind a black mask that covered nearly all of his face, aside from his lips and stubbled jaw.
Green eyes stared down at her with such a fierce intensity her breath lodged in her throat. The watch on his wrist cost well over forty grand.
A deep green silk vest hugged his burly chest, matching the emerald of his eyes perfectly. Eyes that seemed so familiar ā¦
For the briefest moment, an image of Ronan flashed through her mind.
This guy reminded her of him, but the Ronan she knew wasnāt this buff, and he definitely didnāt have tattoos like this.
His accent wasnāt so thick, either. It was subtle, like the undertones of vanilla in a good glass of wine.
He rubbed a hand over his jaw, tattoos and thick silver rings prominently on display on his hand, one more ornate than the rest.
Was one ring a family crest? The stranger was captivating and handsome, even hidden behind his mask.
Aside from his appearance, the air around him was malevolent. Dark. Mina couldnāt help but feel like a fly caught in a spiderās web as he assessed her.
Even worse, her body responded to his inspection, her pulse beating heavily in her ears, her breathing becoming uneven.
She forgot all about the pain in her knees as they stared at one another, and her thighs clenched as slick dampened her inner thighs.
She didnāt know why she had such a reaction to himāsheād seen plenty of handsome men beforeābut a large part of her hoped he didnāt find her lacking.
She wanted him to want her, and the notion was as baffling as it was genuine.
Maybe it was this place; the sex happening in every room, especially on the stage.
Sheād felt desire creeping in since sheād gotten here, and while sheād ignored it at first, now sheād fixated that energy on her stranger.
The room slowly shifted back into focus, all eyes on her and the man she kneeled in front of.
The sudden silence was so loud she could have heard a pin drop.
He leaned forward and reached out, one finger dragging along the swell of her breasts, making her hyperaware of the slip of a dress she wore.
His touch traveled up to her neck, and then he fisted the gold necklace around her throat, using it to pull her closer.
Mina did as he silently commanded, not wanting him to break the chain. It was important to her.
Her hands rested on his thighs, noting the way his muscles flexed under her palms. āPretty trinket it for a gorgeous woman. Expensive,ā he murmured.
āFrom your lover?ā āNo.ā His eyes narrowed dangerously.
āFrom someone unimportant, then?ā There was a sharp edge to his voice and Mina felt, not for the first time, that sheād bitten off more than she could chew.
āFrom my stepbrother.ā āThat doesnāt answer my question, lass.ā āOf course heās important to me. Heās family.ā
Thatās a gift from a man staking a claim.ā Mina flushed, remembering all too well her last real encounter with Ronan. āYouāre wrong.ā
Although Ronan had never played the part of her brother in any fashion, heād never staked his claim on her.
Instead, heād sent her away to boarding school the first time sheād ever pissed him off.
She hadnāt seen him since, even though he mailed her gifts like this necklace on special occasions.
Sheād told herself for years that they didnāt mean anything, that she didnāt want those gifts, yet she always found a reason to wear whatever he bought her.
The stranger cocked his head to the side, studying her intently. āAm I?ā Mina licked her suddenly dry lips, nervous that sheād overstepped. āYes.ā
He smirked, and her stomach clenched in anticipation. He looked over her shoulder. āLeave us.ā Mina heard several people shuffling out of the room.
As she turned her head, the stranger grabbed her chin, holding her still as he spoke to the man behind her. āFinan. Youāll watch, but no touching.ā
Whatā Minaās eyes widened as she slowly realized her strangerās intentions. Indignation, coupled with a fierce surge of desire, coursed through her.
āExcuse me? If you think Iām going to have sex with youāā His fingers tightened on her chin, and she swallowed down the rest of her words.
āYouāve come here to fuck, angel, and Iāll be the one youāre with tonight.ā
