Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 632(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
It was the outcome I’d hoped for considering my other options, but now as I looked down at the tall, broody man, my blood ran cold. What had I done? He must expect something in return for so much money, and even if he didn’t, owing anything to a man like him was a horrible idea.
God help me.
Tired of the conversation and the display of desperate women selling themselves to the highest bidder, I was ready to leave. Most of them were hardly worth the minimum bid of twenty dollars and the embarrassing display by those who were too shabby to be bought even for twenty bucks grated on my nerves. I’d never paid money for sex, and I never would.
My moral compass was certainly impaired, but the idea of having a woman in my bed who didn’t want to be fucked by me was distasteful. Fuck, I had pride.
I nodded at my business partners, not sure why they favored this place. These sordid establishments seemed to have a special appeal to the good Catholic, married, old men of the IRA.
“Next up, a night with a genuine Irish maiden straight from the green island.”
From the corner of my eye, I caught sight of her flaming red hair. I turned to the stage and a strange sense of déjà-vu hit me. Aislinn Killeen stumbled toward the center with big, fear-widened eyes, clutching a shabby leather purse against her chest and still wearing the same dress she’d worn in church today.
Seamus followed my gaze to the stage. Recognition flickered across his face “Lorcan, that’s Gulliver’s niece, isn’t it?”
I nodded, but my attention was solely on the frightened redhead on stage. “I think I’ll stay for another drink after all.”
He chuckled. “The priest will have a heart attack when he finds out.”
I didn’t care about Gulliver’s feelings or his health.
But I definitely cared about this auction. It was obvious that Aislinn Killeen was in over her head. I didn’t believe that she knew what she was getting herself into when she walked into this building.
Aislinn Killeen had caught my attention the moment I’d spotted her sitting in the pew in her white dress, looking like a submissive Catholic girl—except for the keen attentiveness of her expression and the curious fire in her eyes.
She had eyes like clover leaves, like the endless grassy dales of Kerry. Skin as pale as the froth on the boisterous waves slapping against the brutal cliffs of Kent. Hair as red as the sunset over Dublin. She even smelled like home—of the salty wind carrying in over the ocean, of freshly mowed grass and something warmer. Touching her hand this morning had awakened a longing inside of me I’d suppressed for a long time, a longing for the beauty of my home country and the company of a sassy Irish woman.
Aislinn was everything I’d missed about Ireland and so much more. I wanted her. Her innocence. Her body. Her smile. Everything.
Tonight, unexpectedly, a chance presented itself. Of course, I could have asked Gulliver for her hand in marriage, for a long-forgotten debt that needed to be paid, but I had no intention of repeating history. No, this was a much better way to get my hands on Miss Killeen.
I sank down on the chair I’d vacated not too long ago. The old leering fools lifted their glasses in a toast. Soon several men were in on the auction, raising the bid to over three figures.
And for the first time in my thirty years, I joined an auction at the Cunt Yard.
Aislinn’s eyes flashed with recognition upon hearing my voice, and soon those green eyes settled on me. They were filled with a potent mix of hope and trepidation.
When the gavel slammed down, and I’d bought Aislinn for the night, the same emotions played across her face.
She wasn’t sure if I was her savior or her demise.
Neither was I.
A man led me toward a room in the back of the auction house in complete silence. It was equipped with everything a good brothel required: a round bed, a sex swing, floor-to-ceiling mirrors across from the bed, and a wide leather chair; there was a shower stall and a wall full of hooks that held leather flogs, whips, cuffs, and so much more.
My mouth fell open, realizing the predicament I’d gotten myself into. But all was not lost yet. Things could have been a lot worse if someone other than Lorcan Devaney bought me. Right?
Lorcan’s deep voice sounded at the doorway where he exchanged a quick word with the guy. I faced the door, not wanting to turn my back to a man like Lorcan Devaney. He might have connections with Gulliver, but I doubted that would stop him.
My worries were confirmed when Lorcan stepped in and closed the door. The look in his eyes was eager … hungry.