Cuffed & Collared Read Online Free Page B

sister but an honorary brother, too. Aunt Sheila and Uncle Rory were gone, cut down in a double murder that still remained unsolved despite her cousins’ efforts. Ronan and Finn had started their own families, albeit a hair unconventional ones. Daire still rattled around in his boyhood home, so Regan didn’t feel terribly odd living above her father.
    Helping her father to get along, now that her mother was no longer around to do it, was no great hardship. It was more than duty. It was devotion, and if at the age of thirty, she was beginning to feel the lack of a husband and children, she only had to remind herself of how getting home at ten o’clock was not an unusual occurrence in her life. There wasn’t time for love and family.
    There was time for sex, though, she reminded herself as she stripped off her clothes, washed her face, and brushed her teeth. There were enough nights when she went home with a guy or brought one back with her to keep her itch scratched. She had even had several relationships, although work had always strangled them dead. It didn’t matter. None of those nice, young men had really satisfied her. There was always something lacking, although she couldn’t really say what it was.
    Sitting on the edge of her bed, Regan opened the bottom drawer of her night stand. Here was where she kept those men that truly satisfied her. They had beautiful faces and perfect bodies and were absolutely silent. She picked up her tablet, an expensive treat that allowed her to see thousands of men at the mere touch of buttons. She pulled up a relatively new image of a beefy blond lying naked on the beach. She hummed her approval and dipped one hand down her stomach to the junction of her thighs.
    As late as it was, Regan wanted to take her time. She studied the model and let her fingers play lightly on the outside of her panties. They were already wet, because she was wet. It seemed as if she had been wet the entire day. She made lazy circles with her middle finger, pushing it just a tad between the slick folds.
    She let her fantasy begin, imagining that she was touching not herself but the man in the picture. With her eyes half-closed, she could hear the sound of the ocean crashing against the shore and smell the salt water. In her mind, she was there, lying next to him, the sand rough against her skin. She started with his hair, she always started there, grasping and tugging the blond locks. Blond. She loved blond. It was rare and beautiful. You could get a man’s attention by anchoring your fingers through the strands and yanking back to make him look you in the eye. She imagined her fantasy man doing just that, giving her a look of invitation when his gaze met hers.
    Yet there was only so much fun to be had with hair, so her fingers disentangled themselves, slid around his jaw and down his neck to his pecs. She liked a smooth, rock-hard chest and ran the pads of her fingertips back and forth across it, the skin slick from suntan lotion. It was silly for men to have nipples, of course, but they were there, so why not play with them? A caress, a tweak, a nip with her teeth. She loved the look on a man’s face when he realized she could arouse him with his nipples. Pressing her finger in to flick at her clit, she imagined she was doing just that.
    Regan’s breath sped up, and her own breasts tingled with anticipation. Her legs moved restlessly with mounting need. Not yet, it was happening too fast, although there was a limit to teasing herself. She dug her finger in deeper, still separated from her sensitive nub by the layer of cotton, and picked up the pace. In her mind, her hand was on the move down, down, over the abs. Nice but not overly exciting. The good stuff was still to come.
    The pubic hair, blond like the head—she liked her men natural—was crisp. She gave it a quick tug and smiled when the man winced. And now she was where she wanted to be, stroking the long, thick cock while massaging the satiny