Page 55 of Primal

“Who are we seeing tomorrow night?” Finn asks as I end my call and send Uncle Sean a quick text.

“Uncle Sean is coming for dinner,” I inform him and share the details of our conversation before shooing him from the room so that I can finish getting ready for tonight.

Arriving at the club, we are both provided an envelope by one of the hostesses. Finn receives the same white envelope provided to all the members this evening, whereas I’m handed the lone red one from the stack. Finn curiously turns his over as we walk through the lounge and into the club, toward a table where his brothers and Layla are already enjoying a round of drinks.

While I receive a knowing glance or two, none of them says a word about Finn’s birthday surprise. And knowing this family, I am still in complete shock that any of them have managed to keep this a secret for the week we’ve been planning it.

After taking our seats, Finn slips his card from the envelope. I open mine and discreetly pull out a lace eye mask, which I slip on as he reads.

Club Triskelion is hosting a special event tonight.

One of our couples will be partaking in a club-wide CNC scene. Guests are asked to enjoytheir visit as usual but to kindly refrain from touching or impeding in the play of the masked submissive and her Dominant, who will be clearly identifiable by the red lipstick on his cheek.

Lifting his gaze from the card in his hands, Finn’s eyes are full of excitement when he turns to find my lace-covered face. Leaning toward him, I place a kiss on his cheek—leaving a bright-red lip print on his skin—and whisper, “Happy Birthday,mo ghrá.”

I push my chair from the table to stand, informing him, “I don’t plan to make this easy.”

Without a pause, Finn shoves his seat away from the table and pulls me into him, whispering, “Then I don’t plan to be gentle.”

My heart races as I stare up at him, excitement already coursing through me. “Maybe give me a sixty-second head start?” I request.

Finn slips his finger under my chin and tips my face up to his as a devilish smirk tugs at the corner of his lips. “You get thirty, so you better fucking run.”

I dart from the table, immediately regretting my choice of shoes this evening, as I dart through the crowd. My heels click roughly against the black marble floors, and I try to count the seconds as I put distance between me and Finn, but my heart is pounding so loudly that I can barely think. Shrouded by the crowd, I turn and run in a different direction, hoping to prolong my chase.

“Do you really think you can outrun me?” Finn’s voice booms over the crowd as he pushes through it behind me.He can’t be more than a few feet away.

A rough hand brushes against my arm, and I squeal as I spin around—thinking I’ve already been caught—only to find Conor towering over me. Knowing I gave myself away, my eyes quickly scan the crowd and find Finn several feet away, hungrily staring back at me. “There you are,piscín. Don’t run from me, and I’ll think about taking it easy on you.”

I push away from Conor and run between the bar tables toward the lounge, with my heart racing and Finn rushing in my direction. Struggling for traction on the slippery floor in my heels, I tip over empty chairs as I run, trying to slow him. But it’s futile. Finn hurdles a chair and crashes into me, taking us both to the cold marble floor with a painful thud. Breathless screams for help billow from my lungs as he climbs over me, his hard length pressing against me as he pins me face-down to the cool tiles. Even though I’m only playing along, adrenalin rushes through every synapse in my body.

Finn reaches between us and roughly pulls my dress up my legs. Struggling beneath him, I claw at the tiles as he gravelly whispers, “I should fuck you right here and let everyone see what happens when you run from me.”

My heart pounds in my throat—and between my thighs—and I struggle to breathe as Finn snakes his hand under the skirt of my dress and roughly pulls at my panties.

He wouldn’t…

I feel the thin, lacy fabric begin to tear as he tugs a second time.

Or would he?

I throw back my head, and it crunches into his face, causing him to let out a pained grunt. It hurts like hell but catches him off-guard enough that I manage to squirm from beneath him.Clambering to my feet, I shove into the crowd as he snarls, “You’re going to fucking pay for that, Catlin.”

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

FINNIGAN

“Well played,piscín,” I mutter, rubbing my hand over my sore cheekbone as I push myself to my feet.

Working my way through the crowd in the direction she ran, I can practically smell her fear—and her arousal—as I stalk toward her.

“I know you’re close,” I taunt into the crowd. “I can smell that sweet fucking cunt of yours dripping down your legs.”

Passing the viewing hall, I glance down it to see her pushing through couples engrossed in whatever’s happening beyond the windows.

That’s a dead-end, piscín.

You’re mine, now.