Cuff Master (25 page)

His parents bought the townhouse after his father got home
from Vietnam. For the most part, South Boston, or Southie to those who grew up
there, had some good neighborhoods and some not-so-good areas. But it was rich
in Irish tradition, making it the right place for Ethan and his brothers to
grow up.

It was also strategically located near the waterfront,
making it a prime place for fishermen to dock and work from. A few blocks
farther over, the streets gave way to Seaport, high-rise office buildings and
the largest of Boston’s convention centers.

Their house had been built in the late eighteen-hundreds and
had gone through several renovations. At first, it wasn’t a brownstone and had
been divided into small efficiency apartments during the Great Depression.

After the Depression, the efficiencies were converted into
bigger one- and two-bedroom apartments. As the house was at the end of a row of
four town houses, entrances to the apartments had been from a side alley.

Eventually the house was sold at auction. His father had put
in the winning bid and refurbished it. The brownstone renovation was the
biggest change, making the façade resemble a true Bostonian landmark. Ethan
loved it and hoped Morgan would feel as home in South Boston as the rest of the
Maddox family.

He navigated down a narrow street leading to the line of
houses, hit his turn signal and went up to a gate for the parking lot. He
grabbed the parking pass out of the glove compartment, slid it into the
credit-card-sized slot and the gate opened.

“This is nice,” Morgan complimented, looking about the lot
while he parked in a space corresponding with the house number.

“We’re lucky to have this lot. Many residents have to fight
for street parking. When it snows, I can’t even describe the chaos of shoveling
out and avoiding snow plows. Some folks block their spaces with lawn chairs,
trashcans, whatever they can grab.”

“Does it work?”

“Sometimes and sometimes cars get towed and fights get
bloody.”

“Wow. And I thought traffic in Salem was bad.”

“You’ve been to Boston enough to know the headaches. But I
love it here.”

“I do too. It’s a big city with a small-town feel, in my
opinion.”

He turned the engine off and went around the car to help
Morgan out. They went to the trunk and he grabbed their cases.

“I’ll come back for the shopping bags,” he said when she
tried to take some of the burden. He had a brown leather satchel with some Dom
gear and sex toys he’d taken to Phalen’s place, along with the shopping bags in
the trunk.

It wasn’t that Morgan didn’t have the right to know what was
in it. But the satchel was much heavier than any of the suitcases. While he’d
never use a toy or device on Morgan that hadn’t been made by his hand or been
brand-spanking new, he didn’t know how her psychometry would be affected if he
let go of the bag or wasn’t able to touch her.

“I can help,” she insisted.

“I know you can. Let me be a gentleman for a little while
longer.”

“Hmm, someone has wicked plans.”

“How about getting inside so you can find out?”

Morgan picked up her shoulder bag from him and carried it
herself. “Fine, take the heavy stuff,” she said.

He’d put her shoulder bag in the car earlier. That thing
weighed almost as much as his satchel.

Stepping up his pace, he dragged the roller cases and led
Morgan across the street and up the massive steps to the door. He’d pocketed
his keys long enough to get to the other side of the road and took them out to
unlock the door and help her inside.

A foyer light was on when they entered. Setting their
suitcases aside, he assisted Morgan by taking her shoulder bag from her.

“Honey, we’re home,” he announced.

He drew in a breath, taking in the familiarity of the house
he grew up in. He knew every brick, every creaky step, every knickknack and
picture, every gleaming hardwood inch and carpeted area of the house by heart.

Here he could still feel Abigael and Declan Maddox’s
presence. The majority of the house and his mom’s antiques remained the same.
While he, Phalen and Taran had changed the kitchen appliances and modernized
things, they’d been certain to keep the house the way their mother would
approve of.

“You love it here,” Morgan commented.

“Sure do.”

“I love it too. You enjoyed playing house at Phalen and
Cassie’s, but here you come alive.”

“I enjoyed being in Salem because you were there. My home is
where you are. I’m really glad you like it. There’s a lot to see.”

“I expect a grand tour before deciding if I’ll agree to
whatever naughty plans you have for me.”

“Planning to play hard to get, sub?”

“If it brings out your inner grizzly, yes!”

“Naughty girls get disciplined. You know that. Be warned.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”

“Let’s put our clothes away and figure out dinner first.”

“Sounds good to me,” she agreed.

Ethan was pleased. Morgan would test him tonight. He felt it
in his bones. That was exactly what he wanted. He couldn’t prove himself as her
Master without her pushing his buttons first.

She was feeling feisty. He could tell by the way she’d sneak
long looks at him and swiftly look away before he caught her. She knew damn
well that he saw the covert, suggestive looks she’d sent in the direction of
his dick.

He wore jeans and was able to keep his erection in check.
She’d ditched her jeans for a pretty green dress.

“Ethan? Will you kiss me before we go upstairs?” Morgan
asked sweetly.

She was supposed to make an offering for such a request. He
could push her on it. He’d wait.

“Come closer,” he said, allowing her to come to him.

Morgan stepped up as he’d told her. She smelled nice, fresh
and sweet. He cupped her face, holding her still for a kiss. His mouth had just
touched hers when they were interrupted by his younger brother trudging into
the foyer from God only knew where.

“Well, hey there, little sis. Bro,” Taran greeted. “Didn’t
y’all get enough of each other at Phalen’s?”

Ethan turned his head. “What the hell, Taran?” All that
covered his brother was a towel around his waist.

“He’s almost…umm…naked,” Morgan stated.

“Get dressed and get your scrawny ass to Salem,” Ethan
ordered.

“Taran’s got the Maddox ass, nothing scrawny about him…nothing
at all,” Morgan murmured.

What the fuck did that mean? Ethan was starting to see red
and his brother was in the danger zone.

“I’m going,” Taran assured, holding up his hands. “I got
tied up in court and had to stop in at the tat shop to check on things before
coming home to clean up.”

Ethan moved in front of Morgan to keep her from trying to
sneak another peek. “Woman, that’s Taran you’re staring at. Would you do that
to Phalen?”

“I’d do it if I knew he wasn’t looking, which he always is.
Let’s face it, Phalen’s incredibly sexy and my best friend is lucky to be
married to him. That doesn’t mean I can’t see the truth about him or your
little brother.”

“I’m not little,” Taran boasted.

“No, you are not. Hi, Taran, how are you?”

“I’m good, baby sis,” Taran greeted, moving right on up to
where Ethan had wedged her up against a wall. “Come give me a hug.”

“Not when you’re in that,” Ethan objected, noticing the
towel was ready to spring open.

There was nothing sexual in what Taran wore. In Taran’s
mind, he was adequately covered and wouldn’t hesitate to come out to greet them
as he was.

“Wow. Wow, his tats alone are amazing!” Morgan’s eyes were
opened wide and her mouth formed a cute little O.

Ethan wanted to fuck that O right now, reminding her who she
answered to, him.

Taran was Taran. What did she see that made her damn near
drool?

“You’re making me blush, Morgan,” Taran lied. There was no
evidence of contrition or embarrassment on his face.

“Ethan, if Taran shows that body to Samantha, she’s toast,”
Morgan half-whispered.

Taran shrugged, glancing down at his chest and towel. “If I
thought that was true, I’d have stripped for her a long time ago,” he admitted.

“Go get dressed,” Ethan warned.

“Chill, Ethan. You’re acting all crazy. I’m not after your
woman. You said it yourself, she’s my sister. That would be sick, even for me.”

“Ah, guys? There’s no need to act as if I’m about to jump
Taran’s bones. I’m just surprised by the eight-pack, sleek muscle and tattoos.
Never let it be said that the Maddox brothers aren’t true to their Celtic
heritage.”

Ethan looked at Taran. He, Ethan and Phalen showed pride in
all things Celtic, especially their ink. Taran actually had the most ink of the
three of them. Celtic tribal designs covered his arms, his back from shoulder
blade to shoulder blade and around his thighs.

The most intricate of the scrollwork, which Ethan had done
and was based on one of Phalen’s designs, covered Taran’s right shoulder and
wound down over his pectoral, rib cage and on to his hip. It’d taken months to
complete.

Taran had Phalen tattoo their parents’ names in red over his
heart and the word
justice
on his left shoulder. When he opened his own
firm, he intended to be an advocate for families and victims of DUI accidents,
especially children left behind without their parents.

“You’re a beautiful man, Taran Maddox. I’m glad you’re my
brother now. When you do manage to win over Samantha’s heart, she’s going to be
a very lucky woman.”

“Until she actually talks to me without threatening to kick
my ass, happiness between Samantha and I will take some time,” Taran said.

“She needs you, Taran. Be patient with her and you will
see.”

“No worries, kiddo, I intend to make Samantha Riley mine.
It’ll happen when it’s meant to.”

“Okay. By the way, I’m only a year younger than you are, not
a kiddo.”

“If I called you anything else, Ethan would rip me to
shreds. I really like my body parts in working order.”

“Don’t we all,” Ethan said. “Can you finish getting dressed
now?”

“I’m off to my room. And you, Morgan, are not to tread one
foot in my territory unless I give the all-clear, agreed?”

“I won’t.”

“Good call. Fridge is stocked with beer. I went out and
found some vegetarian eats for Morgan. You two should be good for the weekend.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Anytime,” Taran said, turning and rushing up the staircase.

Morgan watched Taran’s towel-clad ass until it disappeared.
“Morgan! Cut that out.”

“Ethan, I don’t want him. I’m just stunned. He’s so
different than you and Phalen with his long dark hair and all those tats. That
kind of artistry must have taken years to accomplish.”

“He got his first ink when he turned eighteen. Phalen did
it,” Ethan said, putting his hand over his own heart to reference his parents’
names.

“I think he’s taller than you and Phalen. His eyes are
exactly the same. He’s a sweetheart. I hope Samantha accepts him soon. I
realize she has her reasons for keeping distant, but your brother would never
hurt her.”

“He’d just as soon cut off his own arm before he’d hurt
someone he loves. He can be a pain in the ass, but his heart is sincere. You’re
right about his height. Taran’s the tallest. Don’t clue Phalen into that. He
fools himself into thinking he’s the biggest badass of us all.”

“Phalen is a badass. That man can probably knock someone
into another century with a flick of his wrist. He’s also broader than you and
Taran.”

“Honey, big brother’s a pussycat.”

“He’s a papa lion in charge of his pride. It’s in his
genetic code. I’m betting he’s much like your dad, all heart and compassion for
those he loves, deadly if someone threatens his own.”

“We all take after our dad in that regard,” Ethan said,
genuinely impressed by how she viewed both Phalen and their father.

“I’ve no doubt.”

“Let’s get this stuff upstairs. Taran’s going to primp for a
while.”

“I didn’t see his Chevy pickup in the lot.”

“He must have it parked at the tat shop. It’s easier for him
to park there to get in and out when necessary. He has to balance tattooing and
law on a daily basis.”

“He’s not going to mind staying in Salem again?”

“He’s going to take care of Phalen’s shop for the next week.
I’m sure he’s arranged for it at his office.”

“Do you still do tattooing when you can? You didn’t check in
at the shop in Salem.”

“Sure I do. Just been a little busy winning you over,” Ethan
answered, taking her back into his arms and giving her the kiss she’d asked for
before Taran interrupted.

“You won me, Ethan,” she said when he lifted his head.

“Upstairs with you, sub,” he ordered, giving her a gentle
spank that would turn serious if she didn’t march up the stairs in short order.

“Going…” She picked up her shoulder bag, taking off for the
steps as told.

Ethan didn’t doubt for a minute that her calm demeanor was
about to change. When she saw their bedroom suite, she’d get confused. She was
expecting a dungeon. It was there. She simply wouldn’t see it until he revealed
it.

Morgan waited at the door until Ethan opened it for her. It
was a gesture he’d remember later. She must have realized that access was to be
granted by him. Once the invitation had been given, she was free to come and go
as she pleased.

“Ladies first,” Ethan urged, sweeping his arm out in a
grandiose gesture.

“Thank you,” she said, curtsying before entering the room.

Ethan slapped the switch on the wall to turn on the overhead
chandelier. It’d been part of the master chamber since his parents bought the
house. They’d kept it. Phalen did, so he did.

What she saw first was a cozy bedchamber with a king-sized
four-poster bed, red oak furniture, a cozy nook with a giant bow window, a
daybed and matching oak side tables and a working gas fireplace that could be
turned on and off with a switch.