His Tinkerbelle: A Possessive Dark Romance (Mayhem Ever After Book 2)

by Vivi Paige

  “I accept your terms,” Hook smiled.

  In short order, my crew, sans Toots who stayed behind to helm our yacht, boarded Hook’s boat. We wound up at the party with all the well-heeled auction bidders, many of whom I waved at since I knew them. Lost and the Roger shared a lot of clientele, if you catch my drift.

  Hook and I were given authentic sabers, which he apparently kept on hand because he’s anachronistic. And a psychopath.

  “Peter, be careful.” Belle clung to my shoulder as I tried to warm up and stretch. “He was a world champion seven years in a row.”

  “I’ll be careful, my love.” I kissed her on the cheek and stepped to the line opposite Hook. I doffed my shirt before Nibs handed me the cutlass.

  “I don’t believe it’s necessary for you to remove your shirt.” Hook rolled his eyes.

  “You’re just jealous you don’t have an eight-pack.” I rippled my abdominal muscles, garnering some whistles and cat calls from the ladies. Good thing Belle wasn’t the jealous type.

  “Enough of this palaver. En garde.”

  “En garde.”

  We dropped into our stances, presenting only half of our bodies to attack. The saber was much heavier than the foils and épées I was familiar with, but the principles were the same. I tested his guard with a lunge, which he easily parried with the ringing of steel.

  “Not used to so heavy a blade, yes?” Hook taunted. “Hard to keep the tip up.”

  His arm moved with blinding speed, and I attempted a parry. I mostly deflected his attack—mostly.

  A hot line of blood dripped along my cheek, and he cackled. “I’ll make you suffer the death of a thousand cuts—stripling.”

  “Talk is cheap,” I retorted, but I was worried. Hook was way faster than a man in his sixties had any right to be. I also believed he had many more duels like this one under his belt.

  He lunged again, going high outside, but I was ready this time. I battered his sword to the side and launched my own attack. Hook gave ground before my continued thrusts, his face a mask of concentration. I grew bolder, believing I had him on the retreat.

  “Let’s hear you brag a little more about that world title, old chap,” I said mockingly.

  “Oh, I’m not interested in ancient history, Peter.” Our blades crossed and locked, both of us seeking to upset the other’s balance. I was younger and stronger, but Hook had leverage, height, and experience. We wound up in a deadlock. “I’m much more concerned with the future. And I’m afraid you have none.”

  Hook surged forward with surprising strength, catching me off guard. I spilled to the deck planks, my sword skittering away and nearly falling right off the edge of the yacht.

  The crowd murmured, apparently enjoying the show. I had noticed blood stains in the pool earlier. Maybe more blood sport went on in Hook’s auctions than I’d thought.

  “You’re finished.” Hook advanced on me with his sword tip hanging low. I scrambled back in a crab walk until I managed to get my fingers around the hilt of the cutlass.

  Hook brought his blade down in an arcing chop, which was definitely not tournament legal. I managed to get my sword up in time, but barely.

  Since he was cheating, I figured it was good enough for me, too. I lashed out with my foot and kicked him in the ankle. Hook cursed, stumbling back long enough for me to scramble to a standing position.

  “You’re good, Hook.” I advanced on him. “But you’re not a spring chicken any longer. Are you? Starting to sweat, to look a little winded…”

  “I’ll gut you like a fish, boy,” Hook sputtered, but his sword drooped lower all the time.

  “I don’t think so.” I lunged into a thrust. Hook parried and attempted a riposte, but his movements had slowed considerably, and I avoided the sword. I attacked low inside and slashed him on the wrist. He stumbled back, sword clattering to the deck. “Yield, and I’ll let you live.”

  “No,” he sputtered, his uninjured hand disappearing into his coat pocket. “No, never!”

  “Look out, Pete!” Nibs shouted. “He has a—”

  A single shot rang out, silencing all voices. I looked at Hook, who was holding a snub-nosed thirty-eight leveled my way. But his face was stark white, his arm trembling. I examined myself and found no injuries.

  Then I noticed the blossoming red stain on Hook’s white formal shirt. He touched it and then toppled over face first. Behind him, Belle stood, holding a revolver she seemed to have stolen from someone in her hand.

  “I hereby tender my resignation.” She lifted the gun to her shoulder and grinned ear to ear.

  I didn’t think it was possible to love her more than I did in that exact moment.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Even though Hook wound up dead, the show must go on, as the old adage says. A boat full of eager bidders were waiting for the auction to begin, and they were wound up by two displays of violence to boot.

  It was the first time I’d held an auction without the specter of Crenshaw Hook hanging over it like an intangible funeral pall. I felt light and airy, as if I could step off the deck and take flight.

  Peter had come to rescue me because he realized the truth my own fear had caused me to so vehemently deny. We were made for each other. Call it fate, call it destiny, call it true love. I didn’t care what label you applied. What was important to me was how I felt, and I felt positively wonderful.

  I’d come to realize the reason I had been so cavalier when Crocodile and Hook were threatening me with death. It was because of Peter. I had already felt as if I’d lost everything that truly mattered, so what was the point of going on living?

  But then he’d come for me, him and the Boyz, and Starkey too. Even Wendy showed remorse. Things would have been fine, but then my boyish, impulsive love had to go and get into a duel with real swords and a very real villain.

  While I was glad it all worked out in the end, we still had many issues to deal with. For one thing, Hook had died in front of hundreds of witnesses. Fortunately, many of them weren’t even supposed to be in US waters, let alone bidding on illegally obtained goods. For another, there were many legal ramifications for Hook’s death. His verbal contract was binding, thanks to people like Fyodor Ivanovich bearing witness. So, Peter owned the Jolly Roger square, if not necessarily fair.

  But there was still the matter of divesting Hook’s other assets, which were tied to the club. When we finally reached shore, we had no time to celebrate my and Peter’s newfound freedom to love each other. I had to go to work, dealing with mountains of paperwork involved in the transfer of ownership.

  Peter had his own battles to fight as well. He kissed me deeply and said he was off to talk to his “Uncle Lucy,” who obviously was the Mayne family patriarch, Lucian. Apparently Peter was going to ask his uncle permission to marry me.

  “Don’t you think you should ask me first?” I asked.

  “Uh, probably,” Peter scratched the back of his head. “But I don’t want to do some lame ass drop to my knee right on the spot proposal. When I propose to you, it’s going to be…” His eyes grew distant and wistful. “…epic.”

  I laughed, kissed him again, and then we parted ways for two of the longest days I’ve ever endured. On the morning of the third, I sat in the Jolly Roger’s office, scribbling away at documents that had to be signed in triplicate, when Starkey came to my door.

  “Pardon me, ma’am,” he said, his eyes twinkling with a merry light. “But the new owner is here to see you.”

  I giggled and set my pen down. “Please, by all means show in our new owner.”

  Peter appeared, his impish dimpled smile firmly in place. He wore a hunter green business casual suit with a fresh haircut and manicure. He looked like a million dollars, handsome and svelte, but the loving light in his gaze really made me melt.

  “Hello.” I pushed up on my tiptoes to kiss him. We clung to each other for a time, swaying slightly and just reveling in the feel and presence of our bodies so close together after s
o long apart.

  “Hello, sweetness,” Peter murmured softly into my hair. “I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.” I pulled away so I could look into his beautiful eyes. My hand caressed his cheek as I spoke. “Did you speak with your uncle?”

  “I did.”

  “And?” I questioned when his maddeningly inscrutable expression became too much to bear.

  “And…” He burst into a wide grin. “We’re all good, babe. Lucy says our organization could use someone of your talents.”

  “That’s a relief.” I sighed into his chest. “I had been really worried. But I guess I’ve learned a thing or two growing up in this business.”

  “Indeed,” Peter beamed a smile. “But your badassery really sold him. When I said you’d taken out six Russian hitmen, he was done—hook, line, and sinker.”

  “Don’t you guys have enough soldiers?”

  “Oh sure, but Lucy is practical. He was thinking about the future. He said, and I quote, ‘Just think of how badass your kids will be with her as their mother.’” My cheeks turned red, and Peter laughed. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed.” He pinched my cheek gently.

  I sighed, holding him close for a time before I spoke again. “Did my lawyer fax over those forms for you?”

  “Oh yeah.” He reached into his blazer and withdrew a folded piece of crisp white paper. “Sure did. Here.”

  He handed me the deed to the Jolly Roger, and I unfolded the paper. I had no problems working for Peter, and not just because he was my love. It was just great not to be under Hook’s thumb any longer.

  “Peter…” I scanned the document carefully. “This isn’t right. This says that the new club owner is me. I think your lawyer put your name on the wrong line.”

  “Nope.” Peter grinned. “He put your name on the right line. The Jolly Roger is yours.”

  “What?” I gaped. “Peter, I don’t know what to say. What about Lucian and the firm…”

  “Eh, what about them?” He shrugged. “This street’s big enough for two clubs, two auctions, two bosses. You feel me, beautiful? I’d never dream of trying to interfere with your shrewd business acumen. In fact… would you mind giving me a pointer or two? This executive thing is not my cup of tea.”

  “Oh, Peter.” I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him. Our tongues lashed, and his hand slid down to caress my bottom. Suddenly I wanted him, needed him inside of me in the worst way. “I love you so much.”

  “I love you too, Belle Barrie,” Peter said. “Maybe someday… Belle Mayne?”

  “If this is your proposal, it’s pretty much the antithesis of ‘epic.’” I arched an eyebrow.

  He had the good grace to look sheepish, so I let him off the hook with a kiss.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “The first rule of being a business owner is you gotta relax.” Laying one hand on her hip, I turned her around so she faced me. We stood on the yacht’s prow, watching as the sun sank below the horizon, its orange glow spilling over the ocean.

  I poured some more champagne into Belle’s glass and smiled. A couple of days had passed since I had given her the deed, and she’d started working as hard as I’d ever seen anyone work. I already knew I had made the right choice, but that just confirmed my suspicions. She was going to have a bright future ahead of her.

  Hell, we both were.

  I just had to make sure she learned how to unwind.

  Fortunately, I was an expert.

  “It’ll take some time to adjust.” She touched glasses with me. “But I’m glad to be back here,” she waved one hand at the clear surface of the ocean, “without having anyone trying to kill me.”

  “We have all weekend,” I continued, my smile turning into a grin. “Once we’re back on shore, you’ll be begging me to turn the yacht around.”

  “It might happen.” She laughed, and I set both our glasses aside. I hollered at Curly and the Boyz, who were messing around in the control room, and told them to keep the yacht steady on its course. Then, I took Belle’s hand in mine and led her into the cabin.

  The moment we were below deck, the yacht swaying gently as the Boyz manned the controls, I slammed the door shut. I turned to Belle, my heart swelling inside my chest, and smiled. After all we had gone through, we were finally together. At last, we were one.

  “Do they know how to pilot the boat?” Belle asked me, peering over my shoulder at the closed door. “Shouldn’t you be the one—”

  “They can handle it,” I cut her short, gently tucking a stray lock of her hair behind one ear. “And if not, it’s for them to grow up and figure out.” I took one step toward her, closing the distance between us, and my heart slammed itself against my chest. It was hard to believe this was happening. “Right now, it’s just the two of us.”

  “Just the two of us,” she repeated, her words as sweet as honey. “Peter… I love you.”

  I didn’t look away.

  I didn’t blink.

  “I love you too,” I whispered and, once more, I felt a sense of stillness take over me. My mind stopped spinning and, right then and there, I knew the truth. Just as long as we remained together, everything would be all right. “And I will always love you, Belle. Now and forever.”

  With my eyes locked on hers, I reached out and laid my hand on the nape of her neck, threading my fingers into her hair. A devilish grin spread across my lips, and I finally leaned in, eager to close the distance between us. I took my time, though, and just brushed my lips against hers.

  Slowly, I parted her lips with the tip of my tongue, my free hand wandering down the side of her body. Once I had my palm firmly nestled on her waist, I pushed her back until I had her pinned against the wall. Only then did I let my savage self out from its cage.

  I pressed my mouth hard against hers, our tongues going from a slow dance to a wrestling match, and my hand went down to her backside. I dug my fingers into her flesh, her curves the perfect match for my hand, and it felt as if she melted into me. She made a low, purring sound, and her hands shot to my chest.

  She reeled me in hard, her breasts crushed between our bodies, and something inside me came undone. The lust inside me turned from a single flame into a wildfire as boiling blood rushed down between my legs.

  “Is that for me?” she whispered against my lips, one of her hands trailing down until she had her palm flattened against my hardness. She pressed down, and I responded with a small groan.

  “If you promise you’ll behave.” I pulled back from her so I could look into her eyes. I adored the sparks there, and her smile was wicked. “If you want it, you’ll have to be a good girl.”

  “And here I was, thinking what you really wanted was a bad girl,” she threw back at me, her voice sultry and teasing. “Besides, I’m not sure if I really know how to behave. I like misbehaving, you know?”

  “Then maybe that means I’ll have to punish you.” Still with my fingers threaded in her hair, I yanked so she looked up at me. Her expression became one of defiance, and her fingers tightened so much around my cock that I couldn’t think straight. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like there was much thinking to do around here.

  “Punishment?” She laughed. “That sounds promising.”

  I kept her head still and leaned in, my mouth finding its way to her neck. Gently, I allowed my lips to trail up to her ear. “Just remember,” I whispered, “you were the one asking for it.”

  With that, I moved my hand from her ass back to her waist and undid the first button on her pants. Her body tensed for a second, and her soft purring from before turned into an anxious growl. I could almost feel the energy building inside her as electric anticipation crackled under her skin.

  She swayed her hips from side to side, half-expecting me to pull her pants down, but I wasn’t going to play that game. I turned my hand and pushed my palm against that sweet spot between her legs hard enough that her backside slammed against the wall.

  Even though layers upon layers o
f clothing still stood between us, I massaged her through her pants with my fingers, applying just enough pressure to drive her crazy.

  It seemed to be working.

  Her fingers worked feverishly, popping my shirt’s buttons one after another, and her pulse had already quickened so much it seemed like a steady rattle. Her knuckles brushed against my naked chest as she undid my shirt, but she eventually gave up on the buttons. She grabbed at the fabric and pulled with a violent gesture, forcing the remaining buttons to pop out and ping themselves on the floor.

  “That was a good shirt, you know?” Putting some more pressure behind my hand, I upped the ante, my fingers working faster over her pants. She threw her head back, a slight moan escaping from between her parted lips. “You’re gonna have to pay for it.”

  Even though I hated to stop, I peeled my hand back from her.

  I removed her shirt, pulling it over her head, and then dove straight in. My mouth found its resting spot right in the valley between her breasts, and I slid my tongue over the border where her naked flesh met the outer edges of her bra. I did that on both breasts for good measure and then pulled on the bra’s front clasp with my teeth.

  The cups drooped over her breasts, revealing a hint of her rosy nipples, and then I ripped the bra off her body. I took a second to appreciate just how fucking perfect she was and then worked my way up to her right nipple. I sucked it into my mouth, her scent and flavor working their way up to my brain, and used one hand to cup her other breast.

  The more I tasted, the more I craved.

  Driven mad by that desire, I used my tongue as a whip to torture her hard nipple in the most delicious of ways. But that wasn’t enough. I went down on one knee, my tongue sliding down her naked chest, and only stopped when I reached her waist. Hooking my fingers on her pants, I yanked them down as harshly as I could, and she responded by kicking her shoes off.

  “Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, my eyes glued to the wet patch in her lace thong. That was it—the final barrier separating me from her sweet wetness. I wasn’t going to let it stop me, so I pulled the fabric against her outer thigh, ripping it to shreds. My heart skipped a beat as I laid eyes on her pink inner lips, her skin glistening from her juices.