“I want to know if you issued the hit at the wedding.”
“We’ve been over this.”
“Play it again,” I demand, pulling her unbuttoned dress from her tits. The perky little things bounce when I buck. And the sight makes my dick painfully erect. I like that pain—a lot—because I am a sick, twisted son of a bitch. I move, and one side of her dress falls, covering her again. “Show me your fucking tits, slut.”
“Just don’t stop screwing my hole, fucker.” Her fingers wedge the fabric between her body and the leather.
“I don’t plan on it,” I grumble, pushing in deep and stopping. “Tell me…play it.”
“I am not responsible for the massacre,” she contends as my thrusts slow to barely a nudge. “Someone else may have done it in Lotus, but it was not me. I wouldn’t do that to you. I admitted Kill Rat for heaven’s sake.”
“Maybe that was a decoy!”
“Are you high?” She realizes the idiocy of her words and giggles. “Fuck that! Are you insane? I am in love with you, Sal. I wouldn’t do something like that because it would be in poor taste.”
I furrow my brow. “Poor taste?”
“Dishonorable,” she professes. “If I were going to interrupt a wedding of the man I love, it wouldn’t be with a bunch of slugs flying through the pews. I am better than that.”
“How would you interrupt…”
“With a confession of love, which is what I did,” she sighs. “Give me some fucking credit, Raniero. You don’t have to respect me while you’re fucking me, but if you don’t respect my business, I will steal everything you own.”
I grab her hips and thrust in hard, like the relentless bastard I am. “Like Cruz...”
“My feelings for Deacon are an accident.”
“Present tense!”
“Yes,” she argues, laying her hands on mine. “Present tense because I still love him.”
“And yet, you are fucking me?”
“You are my fiancé,” she emphatically declares. “We are getting married.”
I stop again, wishing I could see her face while spanking her ass raw and fucking her twat until it weeps my name all at one time. “You left!”
“I was very hurt.”
“I want to hurt you,” I growl.
“I wish you would,” she begs. “I wish you would come unhinged and forget the rules and leave everything in the past behind.”
I glance out the back window as a cop car passes by with the red and blue lights on. “If you are in love with Cruz, why do you want this from me?”
“Because I want you both…for different reasons.”
Another cop passes by, followed by an ambulance and a firetruck. “There was a wreck.”
“Yeah,” she says as her eyes fill with tears. “There was. And do you know what happens after the crash? They come and clean it up.”
“They cover the bodies and take them to the morgue.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “Must you always be so dark?”
“Baby, if you didn’t like the dark, you wouldn’t be here on my dick.”
Her feather-fine lashes blink at me. “You’re right,” she admits. “If I wanted the light, I should just go date an accountant.”
“An accountant?”
“A white-collar type,” she corrects.
“I ain’t blue-collar.”
“No, your collar is red…blood fucking red…crimson spilling over olive skin…”
I snicker, “You’re talking dirty to yourself and turning me on.”
“And there is something very wrong with that!”
“…Deacon…” I whisper in that utterly fucked up breathless tone, “is allowed to play with brain matter and get fecal material all over his crowbar, but if I get one speck, one ounce, one stain of blood on me, you freak the fuck out.”
Her nails etch over my abs, marking them like a tic-tac-toe board. “Are you truly that dumb? Or are you just so far into the tunnel that the only thing you can see is your dick?”
I pull out, and my fist grips around my cock as I rub the head of my pierced beast ever so gently over her clit. Her eyes shutter closed as her back arches, and a gasp escapes from those damn coral lips. “I hate how much I love you.”
“Narrow tunnel.”
“Like your cunt,” I smugly claim. “Tight and dark and wet…it’s the perfect catacomb for a guy like me.”
“You are so wrong,” she mutters, lifting her fingers to my lips. I bite the pads one by one until I engulf two in my lips and suck. I close my eyes and fantasize it is Cruz’s hard cock in mouth. I rub circles on her clit and smear pre-cum down her slit as her breathing intensifies, and she bites her finger. There we go. Good girl, Iris. “You don’t see it,” she whispers. “Your need to be sanguine collared stems from your bloodline.”
My eyes dance up to meet hers as I note the presence of heavy tears. “And that bothers you?”
“Yes,” she mutters. “Because I don’t know what I would do with that.”
“But with Deacon, it’s okay…a forgivable sin?”
“I killed a girl with Deacon practically on our first date.”
Oh, it’s a date now.
I thought he paid for you, whore.
“You gave her a round of drugs, she was a junkie and overdosed. That is a little bit different from crowbars and brass knuckles, sweetheart.”
“Deacon is death.”
I glance around. “I am not life.”
“You are my life,” she compellingly says. “You breathe life into me. You are constantly challenging me. And up the game and the standard which I am expected to play. And if I don’t, then you find mosquitos to nip and bite you.”
My jaw grinds as I shake my head. “Don’t bring her into this.”
“What is she going to be? Your Mistress? Your lover?” she asks as I thrust harder, praying I don’t come so I can torture her longer. “Certainly, you cannot expect that we would be a foursome with her…Rowan, sure…Hannah Nelson, no…”
“Hannah Cruz,” I hatefully correct. “You’re in love with Deacon.”
“I am in love with you both!” She leans up and hisses, “You are the fucking idiot who isn’t willing to listen to me!”
“Because I can’t…”
“Why?” she cries, grabbing onto my ass and bracing for my thunderous impact. “Why is it so different now? We’ve had countless times, the three of us, and you’ve encouraged us together. We’re finally at a place of loving one another and you back out?” she pleads as I close my eyes and drown my tears in the drive of my cock. “Tell me why, Salvatore!”
Her fists ball, and she hits my chest, but I don’t stop. I’m fucking her to the holy shrine and praying she finds enlightenment in the journey because it isn’t me who is stuck in the narrow recesses of the sheath—it’s her. I loudly moan, getting closer to release as her body tightens around mine. “God, Iris…”
“Tell me why, you son of a bitch!” she wallows as we fuck, caught in the tenebrous seas of an invisible storm. “Tell me!” she screams as I roll and buck…harder and faster until the susurration slips from her lungs like a final gasp of air. “Tell me.”
I yield my motions, pass my turn, and resign my cock from her humid shelter. “Because he loves you.”
She curls her legs in as I plop my bare ass on the leather seat. I glance down my erection and lightly run a single finger over a vein. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
With a slouch in my posture, I wearily drift with a downward gaze, focusing on my dick, and shake my head. “Nup.”
“… You’re jealous?”
“Seven deadly sins.”
“Hate and ignorance,” she mutters.
“Envy and jealousy…the worst of the worst…festered in hate and ignorance.”
“You cannot be jealous.”
I smirk and give her a side-eyed glance. “Don’t be preaching if you haven’t been to church.”
“Deacon is your church,” she contend
s.
“Exactly,” I mutter.
“I’ve been there and knelt before his holiness!” she screams as I don’t react. If I do, I may kill her with my next choking. She scouts around the smallish limousine and grabs my right hand sitting between us. She tries again with a gentler tone. “Would it matter or even help if I said I have been with Deacon and understand this church you speak of?”
“There is only room for one in the congregation.”
“Not according to him,” she tenderly implores. “You can’t be this way over this.”
I look into her sapphires completely unafraid. “I can be any way I want to be. You don’t get to dictate my feelings on the matter. And my previous promiscuity doesn’t negate or absolve my feelings at all. You don’t get to sit there and tell me I cannot be jealous because I’m a fucking whore.”
She steams. “… Did you fuck her?”
My jaw tightens to a firm line as my lips rock against one another. “Does it matter?”
“Yes!”
“Why?” I ask, shrugging. “What difference does it make? Will it be the deciding factor on Deacon or me? Will your love change because I happened to find sanctuary with someone else?”
“You fucked her…”
“No!” I bellow. “I didn’t fuck her because I cannot get over you! Are you happy now? Did you get what you came for? Did it blow up your damn ego even more?”
On her knees, she sobs and plays with my fingers as I spot her curious glances at my finger running over the velvet flesh. “Why are you touching your dick like that?”
“Because I haven’t touched my dick since you both left me.”
“… Seriously?”
“Seriously, Iris.” Releasing my hand, she crawls over and takes me in her mouth. “Oh, Jesus Fuck, Angel…” Her lips soothe over the hurt and anguish, binding and healing with every pass of her tongue. “That feels incredible. You felt incredible. And I cannot believe I am still not inside of you.”
“We can fix that,” she consoles, straddling onto my lap. “I don’t want to be without you.”
Fix. Me. Iris.
“I don’t know that I can be…without you,” I whisper as she lifts and I guide my dick inside of her warmth. “I don’t know that I want to be, but I don’t know how to deal with this thing between you two.”
“We work on it,” she assures, leisurely riding and letting me feel all her love. “We fight. We fuck. We fix.”
“It’s exhausting…”
She deeply rolls and suggestively lures, “But it is so worth it. If Deacon were here, what would he be doing?”
“I want him to kiss me for hours,” I confide, quietly crying. “His fingers would be in my hair, and he would just kiss me…all over…for hours.”
“Now, who is talking dirty and turning themselves on?”
“Me?” I raise my brows and smirk. “Because he is so unselfish. He is so perfect.”
“God, yes…keep going…” she mutters, closing her eyes and rolling her hips. “Don’t stop! I’m going to come!”
“And he is so beautiful when his hands wrap around your thighs, and he peers up with those stunning blue eyes between your legs,” I reveal in hell as she escalates above the sludge and rises like a spawn of Satan sent to lure angels away from the heavens. “His warm tongue curls around as his fingers slide inside of your hot wet pussy. And then, he lifts onto his knees and thrusts, pounding against your walls…deeper and harder…faster as he claims what is his.”
“Yes!” she screams, coming hard on my dick as I spill without reacting. “Yes! Yes!…Deacon…Fuck me! Yes!” She collapses against my chest, completely unaware—she didn’t call out my name.
And my tears fall into her silken locks and dissipate like our love.
58
heart DRIZZLE
The Master
With sleepy eyes, I blink at the message from Skeet on my buzzing phone. The bath is running in her lavish hotel suite, and that means Iris could be in the water for hours.
“Hi! I just wanted to let you know my brothers have invited me out to the coast for a few days. Swain is going with me.”
My fingers tighten around the phone as I pause before my typical reaction of blowing a gasket. I gulp down a bottle of water, take a deep breath, and then I respond with, “Please keep in contact with me. Swain will update, but I want to hear from you.”
I know, I know. I slipped last night. Hell, who am I kidding?
Val was murdered.
Bad decisions are my forte.
I am in Iris’ hotel suite. Family is mandatory. Funeral is unavoidable. Grim isn’t on its way; it’s here.
This shit is going to be fucknasty, and there is not a goddamned thing I can do about it. I understand I need to fix these triggers that blast off like fireworks on the Fourth of July, but it ain’t going to happen today. I doubt it’ll even happen this week. Or next month.
Progress takes time.
It sucks, but it’s also the truth.
Interestingly, I’m aware enough to know what happened last night despite my triple-treat of intoxicants. I heard her…Deacon…loud and clear. Her words weren’t just a warning sign, but a—Get Out Now, Asshole! You’re about to bleed out from all your orifices, melt the skin from your muscles, and then maggots will feast upon your meat like little hungry children before a pack of wolves comes to gnaw up your bones.
We’re well past warning labels.
It’s a hot zone, life-altering with no possible return. I will never un-hear the sound of his name coming out of her mouth while she was riding my dick. I am also conscious that we—collectively as three—brought this on. We, the same three, did things to navigate our way to this unsavory place.
However, I am Sal.
Bad is my middle name.
And while I’m descending into hell, I want to know how far she’ll go. She’ll fuck me in the back of a limo in an alley and follow my white lines like a pro. The competition never stops. I should pull the emergency brake for her safety and mine, but the fucked up part is I still need her, especially now.
I send another message to Skeet. “I’m sorry.”
She responds, “For?”
“Being me,” I admit.
“It’s why I’m here.” She adds, “If you think I thought this would be easy on you and I would run scared, then you clearly don’t understand how much tenacity I possess. Just don’t kill yourself. We can repair everything when I get home.”
I have two days—Tuesday and Wednesday—to spend with Iris.
A random text from Anna lights up my screen.
“I’ll be here for you.”
After fucking Iris twice—once in the shower and once before dinner, we get in her limo and head over to Cesario and Lucilla’s house. They’re having a big family dinner before tomorrow’s wake and Thursday’s funeral. What little remains were available of Val will be in the closed casket. We have two nights of mourning that I am expected to attend, and I will.
I’ll just keep my head in the clouds.
I no longer have four sisters.
I get they’re Aunts now, but I grew up believing those girls were my sisters. It is a harder transition for me to make than accepting Stella as my mother. Mama Lucilla and I had our fair share of problems, her always choosing Cesario over her only son, now grandson, ranked high on the list.
We do a couple of lines in the back of the limo. She and I. It’s strange because my Mistress (Amber) was a fucking snow plow, and we hardly ever partook of anything together. I seem focused on contaminating Iris as much as possible before saying fuck you, goodbye.
We end up fucking…again.
Four times in twenty-four hours. We may be going for a record. It’s ironic because she is nothing more than my tension relief specialist. And damn she is good at it.
But what comes around…
She is just another easy fucking lay.
And maybe that makes me the asshole, but I’m not the one getting pounded
by a cock and thinking about another guy.
That is on her.
We’re sitting at a full dining room table with two eight-foot tables in the living room. We’re packed to the gills when I make the announcement that I talked to Cat and her doctors today. We decided it is in her best interest to move her to the rehabilitation center in Colorado with Dale Archer.
The best-case scenario is Cruz and Cat reignite their spark, and I get the girl to my right back. The worst case is…I don’t know that there is one.
Surprisingly, her parents (my grandparents) agree without debate. Cool. Great. No probs.
Meanwhile, my inner demon is going—what the fuck gives with this easy peasy bullshit?
We finish dinner and dessert, and Aunt Michelle (now, step-mom) asks if I want to have a smoke before drinks.
“You going to be okay?” I ask Iris.
“She’ll be fine, son,” Stella says as Iris smiles. I kiss her cause I’m still her presumed fiancé. I glance at Vinny and give the nod. He does the same. Now I don’t know why I know he has my Lotus in his favorable crosshairs, but he does. And I trust he isn’t going to let anything happen to her.
I step outside, pull a cigarette from the pack, and Chelle flicks her lighter for me. My hands are jittery from the cold. “You need to watch yourself.”
“Why?”
“Because tensions are bad at RE since you’ve been trying to sell off your shares with Stella. Dad is running scared, dumping clients we’ve had since Luca, and shit is coming back on us.”
“Okay,” I say. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“I’m divorcing Vinny.”
“Why?”
“Because for over thirty years, I’ve stood by his side and turned the other cheek while he fucked your mother.”
Ouch. Too much therapy during a smoke break.
I nod and glance out to the road. It’s crowded with cars, mostly ours, but I notice one across the street with only the turning lights on. The headlights are off.
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 48