Cuff Me, Sir: Bonds of Worship 3

2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Rian

Not looking at Natalie’s sister all night f*****g killed me. I’d helped Jordan do a full background check on the younger woman a few years earlier, learned all her secrets, her vices, her tics. A promiscuous party animal, an abuser of the vodka on the rocks in my hand. A wild soul, broken by the loss of parents, who had filled the void with alcohol and men.

She was f*****g gorgeous. Long, silky hair, dark as night. Light brown eyes and a spatter of freckles over her nose. For the wedding, she’d painted on smoky eyes that hardened my d**k, and the red staining on her lips kept me aching all goddamn night since I’d seen her walk down the runner between chairs acting as the aisle leading to the archway where Jordan awaited Natalie.

Luna stood beyond the tent, in the shadows outside society, as though she felt she didn’t belong. She didn’t—wouldn’t—in most of their eyes, but neither did I. While I was an FBI agent in the Laurents’ back pocket, I was also good friends with Adam Laurent and his two friends who made up JAG Industries, the cybersecurity company who happened to toss me anonymous fraud tips. The only reason for the invite. f**k knew I didn’t drown in gold coins like the rest of them.

Awareness of the woman I’d fantasied about for two years—and had been ordered to ignore—raised the hair on my nape. Barely legal hadn’t stopped me from going after a woman before, but Jordan was like a brother to me. He knew me well.

Too well.

Out of honor for my friend, I’d feigned disinterest all damn night, watching her in my periphery rather than outright stare like I’d wanted to, letting her see the l**t in my eyes. Letting her see exactly what I wanted to do with those lush curves hidden behind a hideous dress.

That strange energy I’d felt whenever she passed nearby tingled my fingertips again, and I turned.

Natalie all but pulled Luna toward me in a pile of tulle and silk, one a fluff ball of white, the other wrapped in a horrid shade of yellow. A purposeful stride and determined glint carried Jordan’s new wife toward me.

I focused on the woman whose hand she clasped, dragging her along through the tent. My gaze finally connected with Luna’s for the first time, and I damn near lost my breath.

Little Luna Perez, petite Latina with lush t**s spilling from that golden dress that tucked neatly around her tiny waist. Too damn young, but too damn hot to ignore.

My d**k swelled, and I turned my focus back on Natalie, raising an eyebrow.

“What the hell?”

I’d forgotten Brock stood beside me—a close friend of mine and the JAG owners—and our pilot.

“Thought she was off-limits,” he muttered when I didn’t respond.

“I thought so, too,” I mumbled a second before the two women approached, Natalie yanking Luna forward to stand before me.

I lost myself in her amber eyes with their flecks of gold. But, Natalie had put her in front of me—I wasn’t about to ignore the gift of being allowed to look my fill.

“Luna, this is Rian,” Natalie said, not sounding pleased in the least over the introduction. “Rian, my younger sister.” She huffed an exasperated sigh. “She needs a distraction.”

I jerked my focus toward Natalie. “Excuse me?”

“A. Distraction.” Her dark eyes glinted as she scowled up at me. “I trust you can give her something to think about?”

Her words settled into my brain, jerking my d**k in my damn pants. “I thought she was off-limits.”

“I changed my mind.” Natalie didn’t sound too happy about that fact. “But if you hurt her—and you know what I mean—I’ll make you beg for death before I’m done with you.”

Brock chuckled.

I didn’t. I knew exactly what Natalie was telling me, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. My stomach f*****g fluttered like it did when I used to be a kid and was about to try something new. I shifted my attention back on Luna to find her peering up at me with blown-out pupils, the pulse in her neck throbbing, her brow furrowed.

Satisfaction sped through my system, hardening me to the point of nails. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You, too,” she said, her voice full of husk and l**t.

I clenched my teeth against a groan wanting to rumble up from my chest.

“What are you doing, love?” Jordan asked from the other side of Brock. I hadn’t even realized he’d approached us.

“Probably making a mistake.” Natalie released Luna’s hand, wound her arms through Jordan’s and Brock’s, sandwiching herself between the two men. “You have my blessing,” she told me, her pointed chin lifted and eyes flashing. “Just make sure you have her permission first.”

“Of course.”

“I better not regret this,” Natalie grumbled and turned, pulling my friends away in a rustle of silk. “Kick his a*s if he doesn’t deliver,” she shot over her shoulder at Luna.

Jordan glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes full of threat. Hurt her, you hurt my wife.

I dipped my head in acknowledgment of his unspoken threat and turned to find Luna glancing between Adam and me.

“Well, that was awkward as hell,” she muttered, craning her head back to peer up at me once more.

I studied her face, the freckles on her nose, her pouty lips, and the slight indent in her chin. Flawless—hot as f**k—and young enough I wondered if she knew what her sister had just done, what she’d given her blessing for me to do.

Having a green light, however, I wasn’t about to waste time wondering. I handed my drink to Brock without looking at him.

“Lucky f**k,” he muttered, taking the glass from me.

Ignoring him, I held out my hand to Luna. “Care to dance?”

She studied my hand, then my eyes. “Somehow I get the feeling booze might be safer than touching you.”

I laughed loudly and when I sobered, I found one of her dark eyebrows arched with the kind of sass that shot an ache through my balls.

“Give me your hand, little girl,” I said, my tone one most didn’t deny, “and I promise I won’t hurt you—unless you ask me to.”

She obeyed, her silken hand sliding against mine and jerking my d**k inside my slacks. I tangled our fingers together, my hand swallowing hers whole as a gasp parted her lips.

My goddamn heart raced. Mouth watered for a taste of her too-young mouth, her too-young p***y. I wanted to lick her from asshole to defiant chin and back down again, lingering in learning every inch of her body.

“Don’t bother waiting for me tonight, Brock,” I told my friend without looking at him. “I’ll find my own way back to Boston.”

He chuckled and moved off without a word.

Luna blinked up at me as though an innocent, and I didn’t bother holding in my groan. I tucked her hand in my arm, laying mine atop to keep hers there, and tore my gaze off her, focusing on the dance floor where we ought to go rather than where I wanted to take her. The lone building against the western woods was free for the taking that evening since Brock was flying Jordan and Natalie into Boston later that night.

No light yet shone in the church’s front window, declaring it occupied, but we’d get there—hopefully before anyone else thought to claim the playroom for the night.

I weaved our way to the edge of the dance floor, near the tent’s edge, stars and darkness against my back as I turned and grasped Luna’s neck in a firm hold, pulling her close.

She pressed in willingly, her soft curves tucked against me in all the right f*****g places. Her head came to my chest, and she tipped her chin higher to hold my gaze. Her lips begged to be tasted. Plundered.

My goddamn walls threatened to c***k at the sheer, f*****g perfection of her, but I squashed all emotion from my mind. A slow smile pulled my lips upwards as I considered where to begin my debauching of the bridesmaid in yellow.