Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5)

by Elena M. Reyes

  No one but Ezra knows where I’m at or why, but he’ll erase every proof of our—my—being on US soil before sending a second plane for my private use. I’d left Casper with the other. The government doesn’t need that kind of information, not while investigating that bullshit wire fraud case, and Malcolm helped by letting me use his private jet and airstrip to land in Chicago after cleaning off Felix’s filth in the meantime.

  He’s also moved our money again. Every cent. Something that gives security to our suppliers back home.

  The tarmac is empty when I arrive, except for Kray who waits outside his large SUV. Once I’m close, he pushes off and holds out a hand. “Good to have you back,” he says, and I take it, shaking it quickly before tilting my head toward the car.

  It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Aliana. A day feels like too many, and although she understands that duty binds me this once, I need to see her. The daily reports that Giannis turns in are shit in comparison to being near her.

  They don’t fill that void, this ever-growing need that I can’t contain.

  “Aliana’s home tonight. It’s been a busy time at the center, and she seems exhausted.” This I knew; Giannis has told me as much. Seems the last few weeks they’ve had an influx at the Conte House, and she’s been working late to help Aurora. “Is there anywhere you want to stop first, or…?”

  “Straight to her house.”

  “Done.” After a minute, he begins to thump his fingers on the steering wheel, and I know why. I’m waiting for what I know is coming. Kray settles after a minute, exhaling roughly. “I’m sorry, Callum. I let you down.”

  “Am I angry? Yes,” I say, resting my head back with eyes closed. “However, they were at work. They take risks every day to help women in need, and I understand that. You stepped in and removed him the moment you realized what was happening.”

  Kray chuckles and I raise a brow. “Miss Rubens emptied a can of mase on his face. Direct hit.”

  “That’s my girl.”

  “I was on my way in when he ran out and into me. Those women are exemplary—tough.”

  “But…”

  “It won’t happen again. I’m working on an idea to have someone on the inside.”

  “Smart. Let me know when you have the specifics.”

  We don’t talk the rest of the way. With each turn the vehicle takes and the closer to her home we get, my body thrums. It’s a different kind of energy. Just as pleasurable as taking a life, but with the memory of her taste still lingering in my mind, I’m throbbing.

  Hungry. Pulsing.

  A heady feeling that almost compares to taking a life, and yet, this one is more. It’s everything.

  The street where her townhome sits looms close, and I notice Giannis outside when I pull up. He doesn’t say anything when I exit, but simply nods and then gets into a vehicle with a man I recognize as his better half. They drive away, and Kray does the same.

  I want no one around.

  No interruptions.

  There are twenty-four hours between this trip and my return to England, and I just want her.

  I’m at her door before both cars turn right at the stop sign down the street, my fist pounding on her door. Five hard knocks, and nothing. No sound. But when I raise my fist once more, I hear that melodic voice.

  “I’m coming!” my Venus yells, her feet stomping toward the door before yanking it open. “Giannis, for the love of God, I just want a quiet night and—” Aliana stops abruptly after I clear my throat. She’s in a cute romper set with a towel wrapped in her hair, a warm flush covering her peach scented skin, and staring at me with wide eyes and plush lips in the perfect shape of an “O.”

  “I’ve missed you too, love.”

  20

  He’s here, and it feels like I can breathe again—like what’s been missing since he left has been returned and the world feels a little calmer. Safer. For me, at least.

  I’ve been left to my own devices since he left, and I’ve wondered if he has something to do with it. Do they know about him? My family has been quiet; even Dad’s campaign manager has excused me from any of his recent events—a first, and I appreciate it heavily. He’s not in full-swing campaigning yet, just a brief base-run affair for the people who only care about money and the status quo.

  Those men whose wives get younger every three years.

  Those men that spend millions of taxpayer money to front their travel expenses and dirty secrets inside of hotel rooms.

  Because I’ve seen things. Hear things.

  My father has never hidden his cheating or how beneath him he feels the female species is.

  “What are you—” I’m unable to finish as his lips meet mine and I find myself being pushed inside, the door slamming behind us. His groan reverberates through me like a sinful caress. His touch sears my skin, and I want to bleed for him.

  But that’s what he does. I go from nothing to everything right before the floor is swept out from beneath my feet each time he’s near.

  “I needed this,” he growls against my lips, body forcing mine deeper into my apartment. Callum doesn’t pause or say anything else. He’s on a mission, and I won’t stop him. Can’t, because it’s been obvious for the past few days that I’ve missed this too.

  He’s deep under my skin.

  Strong fingers grip the back of my towel and he pulls, forcing my newly cut strands to sweep across my shoulders. This makes him pause, and I become nervous when he closes his eyes and then buries his head in my neck. Does he hate it?

  “Fuck, Aliana.” Callum’s groan brings goose bumps across my skin, the heat of his breath on my skin making me shiver. He’s breathing hard, holding me close while his lips sweep across softly. “I’m almost afraid to look, beautiful. I don’t think I’ll survive it.”

  “It’ll grow back. A few months and it’ll be like…shit!” I yelp, suddenly airborne as he stalks toward the back of my house where my bedroom and bathroom are with my body over his shoulder. A warm hand holds me in place with a firm grip on the back of my bare thigh—squeezing and caressing between steps. “What are you doing?”

  “Proving a point.” Callum doesn’t turn toward my room. Instead, he enters the large bathroom and sets me down in front of the vanity. I’m turned, our eyes meeting in the mirror while he runs his fingers down my slightly curled, dark locks. The strands are still humid, barely towel dry, and the look on his face is of a man transfixed—mesmerized.

  “Beautiful.” Voice low and gravelly, Callum pushes one piece behind my ear and then twirls another. “How is it possible for one woman to be this stunning. I loved your long hair, my Venus, but this little shoulder length cut frames your face in the most sinful way. It’s fun and sweet, and the only thing I want to do is bend you over this sink and bury myself deep. So deep that you’ll spend the next few weeks feeling me every time you so much as inhale.”

  “You like it?” It’s breathy, my body thrumming at his words.

  “I fucking love.” Pressing his back against mine, he lets me feel just how much he does. How hard he is for me, and every cell in my body vibrates for him. “You look so sweet and tempting, Miss Rubens. Like the perfect little doll.”

  “A doll?”

  “Aye.” From behind, he kisses the crown of my head and then lower until placing his lips at my temple. “Every inch of you is perfection, Aliana. How can you ever question that?” Then, he inhales deep and groans, his hands gripping the edge of my sleep top before slowly lifting it up. My stomach is exposed, the soft cotton stopping just below my breasts. “Your curves are decadent, while your scent is enough to bring any man to his knees. So sweet.”

  “Callum, I—”

  I’m cut off with a quick nip to my ear. “Just listen, baby girl. Let me tell you what I see.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good girl.” Callum steps back just enough to pull my top over my head and then he’s back, skin on skin, my back to his chest. “When I look at you, Venus, I see a future I
’d never wanted before. I see holidays all over the world. I see candlelit dinners.” Strong fingers undo the delicate bow at my waist before pushing my bottoms down. They fall to my feet, leaving me bare to his eyes. No underwear. No barriers. There’s lust in those eyes when they meet mine again, but something else pushes forward—an emotion that I don’t understand but find myself wanting to. “I see a woman who’s sweet and pure with a body I want to worship for years to come. You, my perfect girl, are a gift I plan to cherish, and you have a heart I’ll nurture. You deserve the world, Aliana, and I’ll give it to you. I’ll help you see what everyone else does when they look at you.”

  “And what’s that?” I whisper shakily, my eyes misting. “How do others see me?”

  “A smart, gorgeous, and goal-oriented young woman that doesn’t need a man to give her value, but when she allows one to stand beside her, he’ll be the envy of every bloody bastard alive. They see a woman full of so much love and loyalty. They see a woman who deserves to have the world bow at her feet, and one day, I plan to make that a reality.”

  “Thank you.” Those words fill my heart and warm my soul. To have someone like him see me like this… Jesus. With him, I feel like someone and not a commodity. “That means a lot.”

  “That’s not enough for how special you are.” Placing one last kiss, this time on my cheek, he steps back and holds out a hand. “Come take a shower with me.”

  I just took one and the proof still lingers in my hair, but I place my palm in his and let him lead me toward the shower where he turns the lever and waits a second for it to heat. Within seconds, a little steam begins to rise and he checks how hot, humming in the back of his throat when he approves.

  Then he leads me in, body behind mine. I’m under the spray while he fingers the wet strands, pushing them back so the ends all meet at the center. His warmth rivals the water, his hands massaging my back and then spreading out.

  “That feels good.”

  “And you are my heaven. My calm.” Callum reaches for my bottle of shampoo and adds a generous amount to his palm. He rubs them together, creates a little lather, and then runs those talented fingers across my hair and scalp. From the very top to the last strand, he washes it slowly and with firm strokes that feel so good.

  I’m lax. Had I not been leaning against him, I’m sure my body would be slumped against a wall. As it is, my legs feel weak and when he gives a gentle push so I’m standing directly under the rain shower attachment, I pull him with me. Reaching back, I grip his hip and keep him close, give a subtle gyration against the hardness digging into my lower back.

  “Behave, love. Let me take care of you.” A recurring theme. Each time it’s about me, but I want to touch him too. To make him feel what I do, but when I try, I’m rebuffed by strong hands and my peach shower gel that he uses to rub my chest. From shoulders to breasts and back again, he massages my skin with firm strokes and then quick smacks to the tip of each tit. My nipples are hard, and each slap borders on pleasurable pain. “And trust me, Aliana, I’m doing this for selfish reasons. All I want is to touch you. To feel you bend under my fingertips.”

  “Feel the same,” I whimper, the keening sound a mixture of frustration and bliss.

  Hands wandering lower, he washes my midsection. Pays extra attention to my tattoo and piercing, fingering the new belly-button ring I bought with a jewel in the same tone as his eyes. If he’s put it together, he doesn’t say, but when Callum gives the metal a small tug, I push back harder. Grind myself against his cock; a torture, since I want to feel him stretch me.

  To make me his.

  “Do you dream of me every night?” One of his large hands cups my core, and I stop all movement. Whine in his hold. “Do you make this pretty little cunt come with my name on your sweet lips?”

  “Yes.” Another truth I can’t deny. These last few days, no matter how tired I am, he’s the last thing I see when I close my eyes, and not coming is an impossibility. “I touch myself to thoughts of you. To the memory of your mouth between my thighs.”

  “Motherfuck, love.” A single digit parts my labia, the proof of my desire coating its tip. It’s not the water, but him. All because of him. The eyes, tattoos, and raw hunger that possesses me even when he’s not here. I’m powerless. “Such a good girl. All soaked for me. Ready for me.”

  The heel of his palm massages my clit, touch firm, and I moan. Loud and drawn out, the quickness in which he slips two fingers inside and pumps them savagely leaving me teetering on the edge before I can regain rational thought. I’m on the tips of my toes, hands on the wall now while he curves over my back, pumping two fingers deep and then pulling them out.

  In and out. In and out.

  Then they’re gone, and I’m left gasping—groaning as my walls clench in need of him.

  “Turn around.”

  “I can’t move.”

  “You will.” There’s a sound that greets my ears above the water and my entire frame pauses. It’s skin on skin, repetitive, and my mouth waters. My core throbs. “Turn for me.”

  “Please.”

  Faster. He’s groaning low. “Now,” Callum grits out and I force myself to function. Will myself to confirm my suspicions and seeing this specimen of a man pumping his cock into a tight fist is enough to break me. My knees buckle. I kneel before him and take the head between my lips and moan. He’s warm and hard and the heady fuck that escapes in that deep voice is sinful. Worth the discomfort of the tiles digging into my knees.

  I move his hand aside and take in another inch. Then another, bobbing my head along his thick length before pulling back with a string of spit connecting us. “Are you going to behave now and let me touch you? Let me feel your weight on my tongue?”

  “You have sixty seconds.”

  “And what happens after,” I ask right before flicking the tip with my tongue. “Will you punish me?”

  “Fifty.”

  “That’s not fair.”

  “Fifty-two.”

  With my eyes on his, I take him down to the back of my throat and swallow. His eyes narrow, hands clenching at his sides while I flick the tip of my tongue against the base of his length once, twice, and then pull back. This time, though, I pause at the engorged head and suck, hollowing my cheeks until I get what I want.

  “Fuck, love. You have such a pretty little mouth,” he growls. The sound is deep and reverberates through his chest, and I feel it all the way down to my core. My walls pulse—they grip at nothing. I want him. “Lips stretched. Full of me.”

  “More.”

  “You want more?” One of his large hands grips the back of my head, fisting the wet strands there. “Want me to fuck you?”

  “Please.”

  “Then take what I give you.” His hips snap forward and he strokes deep, not stopping until my lips touch the base and then he stays there, savoring the feel of my throat choking him. Callum groans deeply, shivers, and then pulls out and in. With each pump, the dark look in his eyes is hot. Exhilarating, and I let out a long moan at the sight. “You like this, don’t you? To be used by me?”

  All I can do is nod. Suck harder.

  I’m not a virgin. I’m not someone who sleeps around or needs a man to get off.

  But this, him…he brings out my inner whore.

  I want to please him. Watch him lose control.

  “Give me all of you, Callum.”

  For some reason, those words snap him back and he pulls out abruptly. The look on his face is feral, aroused and angry, but before I can ask what’s wrong, I’m up, feet off the ground.

  He’s holding my weight and core right over his hard cock, labia against the heated flesh. My wetness coats him, my right thigh lifting a bit to open myself up a little more before closing.

  I trap him against me, my thighs tightening.

  This also reminds me of the night we met, how he lifted my body off the ground and held me while I gyrated against him, my ass to his thickness. Now it’s my slick flesh that rubs him. H
e feels so good.

  “All I wanted was to hold you all night. To rest, because I’m tired, Venus. So tired,” he says, voice deep and low. Almost a growl. “I’ve missed my girl. Missed her smile. Her fresh peach scent.” And I no longer argue those words. He’s right. I’m his. With one hand, he grips my right asscheek, flexing his cock between my lips and they part, spreading to let him slide through. From clit to entrance and then poking out from the curve of my cheeks, I feel him. I’m nearly overwhelmed by his size and girth; I know he’ll stretch me to the point of pain. Because Callum is bigger than my one rebellious mistake and the toys I have inside the drawer beside my bed. “Since I left, all I could think of was coming back to you. To have you beside me again.”

  “Me too.” I’d leave with him today if he asked. No hesitation.

  “But more than that, I hate that all I get is a few hours before I’m back on a plane.”

  “It’s more than I thought I’d get,” I whisper back, the heated rush of lust receding a bit. It still lingers in the background, simmering, but it’s his sincerity that takes the forefront. To hear him, to experience his need, is heavenly. This between us isn’t easy. Hell, my circumstances are a mess, but I’ll wait. Find a way to be with him. I was leaving for Europe soon anyway. That alone is a sign. “We knew it wouldn’t be an overnight fix, Callum. I’m willing to wait.”

  “I know, but the guilt still sits heavy with me. It’s a feeling I’m not used to.”

  “Why guilt? You’ve done nothing wrong.”

  “That’s the thing; I should be here. Always with you.” His lips slant over mine the moment the last words slip through his plump lips. This kiss is less hurried and more worshipping, a slow overtaking of my senses, and I can’t stop the gentle roll of my hips. Cock hard and tight against my slick pussy, I do it again and again, earning a hiss that I taste.

  It’s need and lust and an emotion that I’m not ready to decipher. The implication alone would be the end of me.

  So instead, I give in and close the world out. I kiss him back just as eagerly, entwining our tongues and savoring a taste uniquely his. There’s a hint of whiskey and smoke, but not cigarette. This is earthier. Attractive. Drawing back, I bite his lips, dragging my teeth down the abused flesh.