Page 52 of Savage Blooms
“Your games are going to be the death of us both,” he said. “When are you going to tell that American boy what you actually want with him? I’m asking you to get it over with.”
“In time, my love. I swear it.”
Finley pressed his thumb into Eileen’s mouth, hooking it over her straight, white bottom teeth like she was a horse to be bridled. She closed her lips around him and sucked obediently, letting him hold her captive.
“Then I don’t forgive you,” he said, almost sweetly.
He removed his finger from her mouth, leaving her empty and fuming.
“We should get in there,” he said, slipping his hands into his pockets and turning to walk into the dining room. Eileen caught him by the wrist.
“Be mine tonight,” she said, voice suddenly urgent, suddenly honest. There was no artifice in her right now and that, on its own, was enough to give Finley pause. “Let them see. I don’t care.”
Finley furrowed his brows. He had always had the most to lose in this arrangement and he had always been the more careful one, reining in Eileen’s devil-may-care streak.
“We’re discreet for a reason, Eileen. They’ve seen more than enough already.”
“Hang discretion and fuck reason. I want to be yours, inourway. Adam and Nicola have no power over us. Besides, I can act how I please in my own house.”
Finley examined her for a moment, searching for the tiniest hint of a lie or the whisper of a scheme. Finding none, he put his mouth close to her ear, lowering his voice.
“You’ve always been excited by the idea of an audience, anyway.”
She laced her fingers through his, and warmth bloomed in Finley’s chest. This was a pleasure he was almost always denied, carrying on with Eileen, his Isla, in broad daylight, in full view of God and all the saints.
“I love you,” she said, the words slipping from her mouth like smooth river stones. They were words she sometimes had a hard time forming, but they were all the more precious when she managed them.
“And I love you,” Finley replied, squeezing her fingers.
Without another word, they strolled into the dining room hand in hand.
Adam did a double take when they walked into the room (a very small one, to his credit), but Nicola outright stared. Like a tiny display of tenderness between groundskeeper and lord was more shocking than the wildest carnal imaginings.
“Hey,” Adam said. “We already made a dent in the wine.”
“Fine as long as I get a glass,” Eileen said.
“I’m cutting you off after two,” Finley said, slipping easily into the weathered role of dominant. It thrilled him every time Eileen yielded to him, even if he wished she would do it a little more often without the trappings of kink. “You can have one with dinner and one afterwards.”
Finley poured Eileen a generous portion from the bottle, knowing she would get bratty if he skimped. He passed her the glass, leaned over to kiss her cheek, then took his seat at the head of the table.
Eileen, with a practiced grace, sank down to sit at his feet. Finley settled a possessive hand on the back of her neck, and Eileen smiled up at him, perfectly content.
This did feel good, he had to admit. Having her as his own not only in private, but in full view of Adam and Nicola. Adam may have a connection to Eileen Finley couldn’t compete with, but Finley had been in her veinssince they were children, and entrusted with her care and keeping for nearly a decade. That counted for something too.
Nicola was staring at Finley with a wild shine in her eyes and a strawberry hue in the tips of her ears. Even with Eileen’s skin warm beneath his hand, he couldn’t help but marvel at Nicola, how openly she wore her heart on her sleeve. It was as though she had never learned to be embarrassed of wanting things, like she had never even heard of shame.
“Have you been able to get much work done, Adam?” Finley asked, scooping a slice of duck from the platter in the center of the table and depositing it onto a bone china plate. There was a puerile delight in making Adam and Nicola squirm, but he didn’t want to make them outright uncomfortable. Best to keep conversation light and familiar. “The wifi can be spotty out here.”
It was all Adam could do to nod. Finley deftly buttered a small piece of bread and handed it to Eileen, who took a delicate, ladylike bite. Even sitting on the ground, her table manners were impeccable.
Finley speared a bit of duck onto his fork and held it out for Eileen, who ate from his hand as though she were a kitten. Finley wiped a droplet of sauce from her lip with his thumb, then brought his thumb up to his mouth and sucked it off. Maybe it was overkill. Finley didn’t much care. It felt good to show the Americans exactly who Eileen belonged to, even if such a display was a little mean-spirited.
The more time Finley spent with Eileen, the meaner she made him, and the more pleasure she took in his cruelty. Finley was sometimes worried about that, but most days it felt too good to question.
Adam shifted in his seat, draping his napkin across his lap.
“Um, we’ve been having a very nice time,” Nicola said, doing her damnedest to bridge over the awkward silence. “I’ve been able to get some writing done.”
