Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  Standing up in a daze, I cannot believe what I just did. I shiver uncontrollably as Cas tosses her bulky sweater over me. I want to cry. I want to scream. I want to run back to our bubble at Dom’s house and beg the almighty Sal to forgive my reprehensible acts.

  “Drive,” I whisper, handing her the keys and feeling like I need to puke.

  “Of course,” she says, putting the blanket into the trunk, “Are you okay?

  I aimlessly nod, utterly not okay. It isn’t insecurities, but the harsh word of cheating that comes to mind. We ride back to the rehab facility in silence, but the ride lags on forever. Finally, we arrive and Cas gets out and comes to open my door before politely escorting me over to the driver’s seat.

  With her elbows on the window, she leans down and says, “Look, I won’t apologize for what happened at the park. I have no regrets. I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. If I could have made New Year’s just you and me—going on forever—I would in a heartbeat. But I love you and I love Sal, so I have to give you this.”

  Placing a note in my hand, Cas gazes at me until I ultimately break and look up at her for the first time since she made me come. “He asked me to give it to you. I haven’t read it. I’ll see you soon.”

  She squeezes my arm and disappears behind the glass doors—gone.

  Any chance I had of a true, meaningful relationship with Sal just walked away with Hope.

  IRIS

  I head home as the note burns a hole in my purse. I want to read it desperately. But I know I can’t. Not yet. I cannot read words from Sal and still face Jack. So, I play the role of submissive who had a lovely day with her friend to award-winning actress perfection. Although I can barely stomach to eat between Cas’ admissions of love and Sal’s note, I make it through half of my fettuccine Alfredo before Jack sends me to bed exhausted.

  Heading upstairs, I think about tomorrow’s grand event at Juliet and hopefully, I will see Sal. I strip off my clothes in the bathroom as the smell lingers on the sweater. I am filled with the scent of Cas and…is that Sal?

  Closing my eyes, I inhale deep and find myself turned on all over again. I wash quickly, putting my hair up in a towel and staring at the sweater, sitting on the counter. Sliding it on over my naked breasts, the rough fabric conjures up thoughts of Cas taking the lead. Walking through the bedroom, I take the note from Sal out of my purse and head to bed.

  “Iris, I cannot take not talking to you. Find me on social media, RideTrotter. Write me there. I love you, Sal.”

  I pick up my tablet and bookmark the address noticing Cas is online. I type, “Thank you for the day.”

  The response comes instantly. “You are welcome. We should do it again, soon. ;)”

  Clicking off the light, I slump into my bed and toss the blanket over my head like a child hiding in the dark. “I have on your sweater.”

  “That good?”

  Taking an opportunity to confront her without being face to face, I type, “Why does it smell like Sal?”

  I know she won’t say it. She will not tell me me—the self-professed Queen of Crush on Salvatore Raniero—that they have been carrying on. And she doesn’t have to because I already know. Everything makes perfect sense, the jagged edged puzzle fitting snug together. It’s so fucked up. And wrong.

  I want to ask how long they have been exploring—the depth of their shared love of a woman I am growing to hate—together. Cassidy is her baby sister; Sal was her husband, her care giver. I cringe at the thought of how the insanity seeps into our present, a vehement, volatile infection surfacing with a necrosis all its own. If left alone, it will kill them both.

  Suddenly, I understand her guilt and his swift, manic rages. Her cutting proves a manifestation of her harbored secret—her love of Sal. His temper adds to an already tangled theory of lies, deceit, and betrayal involving absolutely everything he touches. He believes running to Sugargrove saved him, but I am uncertain it won’t be the death of the man I love. His love billows and erupts, flowing through a haphazard trail of hurt—all leading back to Kacilyn Hope.

  Cas avoids answering the question in her quick response, “Is that all you have on?”

  Reluctantly, I find myself succumbing to her inquiry only to further my own investigations. They won’t give me the answers, so I will play their game sacrificing my own heart for the truth. “Yes.”

  “Perfect.”

  The night continues well into the early morning with my muffled giggles and some very risqué pictures sent. And now, without a doubt, I have added one more to my list of lovers—only this one is just like me.

  At 2:32 AM, my door cracks open. I have been expecting Jack for some time. With his escorting, me to Roses & Thorns, I know we will be having a hefty session soon. Tonight, will be the warm-up. My back faces the door as he slips into the bed with me.

  “Hello, beautiful Angel…”

  “Sal!” I squeal as his hand collapses over my mouth. His naked body presses to mine as I roll over and spread my thighs. I hate him for being so sexy. I hate him for being so charming. And I really fucking hate how good he is in bed.

  Within seconds, Sal seduces my flesh with his warm lips and slips inside of me as his muscular body hovers above mine. Bracing himself with one hand, he never removes the one covering my mouth. It is crazily hot, enticingly deviant. Leaving my fantasies too close to the edge of ravishment.

  Thrusting into my slick folds, he snarls and growls with a primal threat. “Are you going to be quiet for me?”

  In the moonlight, my eyes blink as he forgives and liberates me. “What are you doing here?”

  “I just got home,” he advises with his strict jaw line set firm. “I need to fuck you.”

  The words drip from his lips like he is desperate. My wetness saturates around his hard shaft, begging and pleading for him to make me come. Underneath his cock, I am pinned. And I cannot believe I let myself do what I did with Cas. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid girl. “Oh, my God I missed you…”

  His beard scratches as he nuzzles and licks my neck. “You smell like Cassidy… Wait, why do you have on my sweater?”

  With one effortless move, we are up. He kicks back onto his heels, bringing my straddling body as I ride along his smooth, rigid cock. “I went and saw her yesterday…”

  On the bed, my phone flashes to life with a text from Cas. Before I can grab it, Sal snatches it. Furrowing his brow, he reprimands, “I told you to put a security code on this damn thing.”

  His finger sweeps the screen open, revealing the contents of my indiscretion. Scanning the pictures, he holds me close, refusing to let me run. “What the fuck are you…doing?”

  “I could ask the same of you,” I whimper as he tosses me like an empty beer can. “She is in love with you. So… You tell me—is she your wife’s replacement?”

  With a dreadful gaze of contempt, he roars, “You fucking bitch.”

  Putting on his pants, I latch onto his back, holding onto him for all I am worth. “Tell me how long have you been fucking a Hope, Sal?”

  With one swift move, he pushes my body away and I land on the bed. I am relentless, bounding right back and lacing my fingers under his belt. His fingers grip my arms—tight—digging into my tender flesh as he yells, “Get the fuck off of me and leave me the fuck alone! Leave me alone!”

  Pulling onto his shirt, I plead, “Sal, wait!”

  “I said get the fuck off of me!” The back of his fingers swish across my cheek. “You do not—ever—fucking talk about my wife that way again. Ever!”

  I lay my hand on my swollen cheek. The sting and burn of the slap hurts more emotionally than physically. I am crying hysterically, but no amount of bargaining tears can halt our downward spiral. I reach for his arms, scratching his flesh with my stiletto nails. “You need to talk to me! And stop walking away from this if you are ever going to get better. You aren’t even giving us a fighting chance.”

  “Really, Iris?” His smirk reeks of hatred. “Is that why you are
fucking Cassidy? Stay the fuck away from me. Stay the fuck away from her. And leave us the hell alone!”

  His extreme madness poisons my veins and aches in my heart. This love I have for his monster contorts into my own insanity. One minute, we are loving and whole; the next, we disintegrate and shatter into a million pieces.

  “Why don’t you just whip me already, and call it a day?” I egg him on, trying to get us anywhere else emotionally, but no matter what I say, he is going to run away. We aren’t going to get anywhere as we continue to spin in our typhoon of angst. Pieces of our past float by, razor sharp and ready to take one or both of us out at any given moment. His chest heaves as he stands immobile, frozen by the haunting past. My mascara stains over my cheeks as I cry, “You think you are such a big bad Dom, why don’t you come and blow my fucking heart out?”

  Taking two mammoth sidesteps towards me, Sal barrels into my body with his solid wall of muscle. We are on the bed, clawing and wrestling as he tries to pin my serpentining body down. He rips his belt from the hoops and hastily cinches it around my wrists. Snug and secure, I cannot get out from underneath his stocky, chiseled body. His skin damp from sweat, he yanks his zipper down and thrusts into me hard.

  “I fucking hate that I love you. I don’t want to,” he warns, bucking into my walls. “I can fuck and run with everyone else but two people in this world—you and Cas. She understands my pain because she was there. But you—all you fucking want to do is analyze and log my bits so you can put me back together again. You are not an archaeologist and I am not your fossil. I don’t want to be together again. I tried that once and do you know what happened?”

  “What?” I meekly whimper.

  “She fucking died on me, Iris,” he crumbles as his flesh trembles and his eyes drip tears of pain onto me. “She fucking died. She fucking died. She fucking… died.”

  Seeking solace from his raging storms, he curls onto my body, nestling into my neck as he breaks down. I want to wrap my arms around him and keep the past away forever. “Undo me, now… Sir,” I counter with sweet surrender. Breathing heavy, he loosens the belt and I make my way free. “I love you so fucking much, Salvatore…so fucking much.”

  “But why?” he begs with a scarred turmoil. “I am such a friggin mess. I am a fucking asshole. If you think I can stay whole, then you don’t know me.”

  “Do you think after almost a year that I don’t know this?” I sarcastically question as I cradle his mutilated spirit in my arms. His wet sweater clings between us soaking with forward progress. It may not be much, but it is something. “I knew you were ruptured in the beginning, and I accepted it because I love your defects. I welcome you and your fragments even though I know I will get hurt because I love you. Love embraces the shattered. And continuance and care will rebuild you flawless.”

  Laying his head on my chest, Sal admits, “I slept with Cas…”

  “I know…” I comfort, petting his hair. “So, did I.”

  “And her nurse Hazel…”

  “Well, I didn’t do that,” I add, holding his head. “But I am not surprised.”

  “And my bottom, Lady Mae…”

  Strangely, what sets me off isn’t the sex, but the word bottom. I expect the sex from my manwhore—using sex like a fucking junkie—but his Dominant taking another submissive pierces through my soul like a knife to my heart. My fingers grip and twist in his hair as I grimace with a sickening churn in my belly. “You have a…submissive?”

  With his dick buried in my tomb, Sal confesses, “Ya, I have since Kace was sick.”

  Everything is so fucked.

  In saving this love, I think we both may drown.

  IRIS

  The next afternoon, I wake up to an empty bed. Immediately, I check my phone, but the only messages are from Cas. My battery is at 45% when it rings.

  In a panic, Cas asks, “Are you okay?”

  It’s such a loaded question, but I decide to tell her the abbreviated version, keeping his tangoes with Hazel and Lady Mae a secret. They are incidental, and I want to believe they are nothing more than a byproduct of his loss. Cheap and useless, I need to think they will cease if I can repair his broken, black soul.

  I take a very long bubble bath and doze in the water. He is such a beautiful mess of fuckedupness. But I still believe I can heal him.

  I am half asleep when my phone sitting on the edge of the tub wakes me up. The ID reads unknown, but I get an excited rush thinking that it must be Sal. After all, half the time he calls me from the burner phone.

  “Hey there, handsome… Are you getting dressed?”

  “Why would I?” the voice on the other end says. “You’re not!”

  I panic, knowing it isn’t Sal, but my sociopathic stalker. I haven’t heard from him in weeks—but I haven’t been in Sugargrove either. Suddenly, he laughs that horrible cackle and screams, “Dead whore. Dead whore. Iris Kettles, you are going to be a dead whore.”

  “Leave me alone!” I shrill as Jack slams open the door, and I shove the phone at him in tears.

  “Who the fuck is this?” Jack flares with a fury I have never witnessed. “There is a place reserved in hell for pranksters like yourself, and I will escort you there myself if you do not fucking stop.”

  The line goes dead as his hand drops low still holding the phone. I shake with worry. All I want is Sal and our untouchable love bubble back. “Get out of the water, Precious. I am not letting you out of my sight. You can get dressed in my room.”

  An hour later, we are on our way to Juliet when Sal calls Jack. I listen in as he gives him the run down and ends the conversation with be ready. It is an ominous sign I fear.

  Jack and I walk into the party as the focal point in our antique, romantic attire. With Jack’s gray tweed frock coat, black silk puff tie and hat, I try to bask in the moment. The red silk and black lace dress fits wonderfully.

  We bloom out of place in our whimsical nostalgia amongst the tuxedos and ball gowns of the crowd. But neither of us care about what anyone else thinks as we dance and dine until the auction.

  The slew of submissive up for auction range from second semester freshman to those in the Dom program. Although it feels slightly off for Cas to not be there, the new and some of the old girl crew is, including Zoe as she walks the stage for a night away from her new owner, Delarte Cristos. Bidding is silent via the app, and no one is aware who will go where.

  “And for the last auction, we have a special treat tonight, Ladies and Gentleman,” Devereux announces, having taken the Master of Ceremonies position from the recently deceased Gregory Mullins. It is odd at first, not hearing the raspy voice of the man so many of Juliet had come to think of as a dear friend.

  “Bidding for Mr. Salvatore Raniero is now available on your app.”

  Sal struts out on the stage, and I am stunned. He isn’t wearing the standard tuxedo fare of the others. My mouth drops open as he shows off his attire similar to our own.

  In a mechanical engineer coat and vest, complete with goggles perched atop his wet curls and mad black pirate boots with spats, the crowd goes wild. Squeezing my hand, Jack informs, “We won’t lose. Happy Valentine’s Day, Precious!”

  We rush up to the stage and cheer as Sal works it for the crowd. I glance at Jack holding up his phone. He whispers the most splendid words, “Done. He’s yours.”

  Hugging Jack, I cannot believe he did it. As Sal gyrates in the steampunk pirate attire, Serene approaches in a vintage white corset dress. Reaching her hand out for Jack, she winks knowingly. They have planned it all along. “Go, go… The house and the dungeon are yours until noon.”

  Before Jack lets go, he whispers, “But Iris, just one thing—You are his.”

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  The sexy pirate helps me up on the stage, amidst the uproarious crowd, and we dance close and slow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know until half hour ago, Angel. I didn’t even think we were coming until Serene threw a b
ox at me and said shower and change.”

  “You look incredible,” I mutter, locking my fingers with his.

  “So do you, beautiful girl,” Sal says with a smile. “Let’s bust this joint.”

  We run off the stage, back through the labyrinth behind the cabaret, past the stables to the parking lot to Sal’s truck. As soon as we get there, he pushes me to the truck, stealing a passionate and lingering kiss from my lips. I feel his erection harden against me almost immediately. Within seconds, he has the truck door open, lifting me inside before we barrel down the highway to the dungeon for some steampunk inspired roleplay.

  SAL

  Wasting no time in getting back to the farm, I understand we have a limited amount of undisturbed time. I caught way too much flack for my last attempt at running off with the girl of my dreams—and sometimes, nightmares.

  “You are so beautiful,” I mumble, caressing my girl in the dungeon. “And this outfit is insane.”

  “Me?” she whispers with a smile. “What about you?”

  Trailing my fingers over the curve of her breast, I ask, “May I take this off of you?”

  “Yes,” she replies.

  I toss my goggles as her fingers graze over the cross dangling on my neck. Her touch sends a madness pumping into my veins. I want this girl—bad.

  Taking her fingertips, I escort her over to the St. Andrew’s cross. Aside from the kneeling bench, the cross is one of my favorite pieces of furniture to engage with subs on. I latch her legs and wrists into the cuffs, carefully buckling her in. She is snug, but not cinched.

  “Master Nero?” Her formal training from New Orleans blossoms, and I won’t have long before her garden of submission spills over in every which direction, taking over in an uncontrollable blissful manner. It is heaven to watch the blossoming of a submissive.

  “Yes, baby?”

  “My safeword is dandelion.”

  Tilting my head, I laugh at her sly humor. “Yes, Dandy…I am very well aware,” I say, still giggling. “You’re scared…”