Lifting up, I run into his hard body and gasp. I never saw his stealth, fast moves as his arms wrap around me tight. He turns my body hastily and we run into the thick glass. The look in his eyes is all I need to know he is going to fuck me right here against the window on the top floor of the hotel.
I want to ask if this is safe, but that is my inner anxious nature speaking. I have no doubt, I am and we are. If some freak accident were to occur and I fall, he will follow. “You’re going to fuck me, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” he growls low, unzipping his jeans. “I want you on my cock all night long, Iris…”
My hand curls around his magnificent pierced beast and I am startled by how hard I actually make him as he backs away briefly. I am voluptuous and I cannot deny these curves that inhabit my body, but still Sal chooses me. I am humbled and honored and slick with lust.
“Get your hands up,” he snarls as his jeans land on my pile of clothes. “Higher baby girl cause you are going for a ride.”
His body pummels against mine as I shimmy up the pane, trapped between the glass and his sculpted frame. His lips caress against mine, biting—hard—and running his tongue over the pulse in my neck. I cringe as his teeth sink into my flesh. It is one of the most erotic things anyone has ever done and so simply attainable. No equipment needed. He comes built in with the sharp darts, drawing up a descent welts.
I have had a fair number of encounters with Sal boosting my ass up against—walls, refrigerators, tile. Seeing the raindrops hit the windows and gazing at the ground below, I envelope into his enigmatic, spiritual daze. In this magical and mystical moment, I believe we can conquer the world and nothing will keep us down.
Lightning strikes and thunder erupts outside of our protective bubble, but I am safe here, held within his taut, inked arms. His mouth drops to my nipples, rolling slow against his tongue and heightening my awareness as my body naturally searches for his. His fingers find the other and when I cannot take anymore he switches.
“Put your legs on my shoulders,” he commands. I give him that look of doubt that rejects his notions. With a scowl, he warns, “Do it.”
Balanced on his shoulders, I lean back and prepare for where he is determined to go. I don’t want to stop him, but holy fuck—literally. His tongue flicks against my clit ever so gracefully, the lightest of touches sends wave after wave of pure pleasure through me. I want more. I need more.
Gasping and moaning, I plead with my hands in his raven curls, “Please, Raniero…please.”
His hand becomes a part of the chorus, strumming against my opening and sliding in deep until he finger fucks me senseless. Suckling at my ripe clit, he catapults me through an incredible journey against the sands.
“Oh god, I am going to come…” I whisper, gripping his hair.
Within seconds, my legs flutter off to the sides as he thrusts his cock inside of me. It takes no time at all before my body clenches against his, dousing his dick in my waters. He is relentless, demanding even more as he bucks into my womb deeper and faster.
His hands pin mine against the window as he asks, “You like it when I fuck you, baby?”
“Yes, Sir,” I whimper, helpless beneath his savage. “I like it when you take me.”
Kissing my lips passionately, he sends us on a roller coaster ride through his house of fun. His kinky, playful nature coasts against my willingness to surrender my all.
“I love you, Sal,” I breathe against his lips.
“I know you do.”
I giggle and ask, “How?”
“You put up with my shit,” he declares, claiming and marking my body as his. His thrusts are so intense I bite his forearm. His cock erupts, spilling into my hollow as I chase after him and ride his waves. “Fuck! Fuckin’eh, Jesus motherfucking shit!”
Giddy with delight, I laugh, gazing up and laying my hands on his shoulders. He pants and smirks like the devil who just ate the angel and her cake as I remark, “You're all sweaty.”
“It takes a lot of energy to fuck you.”
“I’m sorry I bit you,” I say, feeling a tad guilty.
Touching my face, he says, “It's ok, you can bite me.”
“I never knew.”
Pulling my used body into his arms, he says, “You never asked.”
Laying down on the comforter, he sinks back into my saturated pussy hastily. His eyes close as he starts the ride again.
Biting my lip, I admire his strides as he makes no apologies. He is so beautiful. Wrapping my legs around him, I mold to his frame and let him lead the way. “I’m falling in love with you all over again.”
“That’s alright my gorgeous princess,” Sal growls against my lip as we chart our course. “I am fucking high on your drunk love.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A War, A Dance, and A Walk of Shame
SAL
I HAVE TO ADMIT Iris might be right about an intervention with Cas as we head home early Saturday afternoon. Our romantic night away has been nipped in the bud way too soon by a need to try and save the unstable.
What am I to do?
Say—No, honey Cas is on a short track to a death wish? I cannot do that because I refuse to say no to Iris—at least in this instance.
We swing by the hospital and pick her up. In the driveway, Serene rushes out to greet us, but pulls me aside. “You need to get out of here. I am serious. Take your girl and go.”
“What the hell is going on?” I quickly defend.
“Get out of here now, Trotter,” she warns with a hint. Gritting her teeth, she scowls, “Go! And get Ains…”
I grip the bridge of my nose for half a second before ripping through the backroads to Juliet. Most of the roads are dirt and rock as we go zipping carelessly towards Anna’s.
I quickly pick up my phone and call the grand dam matriarch. “Ains, back door please.”
I pull up close, but leave the truck running as I have to give Anna a hug. “Salvatore, my boy, you have no time.”
“What is going on?”
“You have no time left, get in that truck, and go!” she scolds, grabbing onto my biceps and planting a kiss on either of my cheeks. “The witching hour is upon us and you’re out of time.”
“What?” I suddenly realize what she is saying to me. “Oh, my fucking god… Iris, take my truck to the loft. I’ll have Jaid send directions. Go!”
Sliding into the driver’s seat, Iris gazes at me with those dripping sapphires as Anna grabs my hand and pulls me away. “Let her go. Here are the keys to my car. Do what you need to do. But for heaven’s sake Sal—be safe.”
Rushing back to the farmhouse, I bust into the door. “What the hell are you doing here? I told you to go!”
“I sent Iris to the loft. Jaid is there.”
“That isn’t the problem, Sally,” Serene cautions, following me to my bedroom. “The problem is you.”
“You have Amber?” I ask, grabbing my emergency bag.
“Yes, she is staying in my boudoir, but you cannot,” she warns, chasing me down the hallway.
“Oh yes, I fucking can…she is my submissive.”
“Wait!” her authoritative voice beckons and I cannot say no. Latching her hand under my arm, she leads my ass out to the Cardinal-S dungeon. “Not another word. Come on.”
As she clicks on the lights, she says, “Take off your shirt.”
“Why?”
“Because I am covering for your ass,” she says, “If you have bloody welts on you, no one is going to be any the wiser as to where you were last night. They will automatically assume you were with me. They won’t even question.”
“…And that is what we want?”
“Exactly,” she says with a nod and a smile, “And that is what we want.”
“Give me a minute,” I request, thinking about what Serene and I are about to do.
“It’s getting harder for you to do this,” she acknowledges as the stress shows on my face. “You are growing out of your masochism, Sa
lly. And because of that—you are not mentally as prepared for this as you once were. I cannot tell you how to conquer your issues, but what I can say is how bad this is going to hurt.”
“What am I going to do?”
“You are going to let me do this and no one is going to be any the wiser,” Serene whispers, taking a mean looking stock whip out of the cabinet. “Then you are going to go fuck your submissive and go do your job—you, instructions, task—in that order. Get in. Get out. Survive. Do not falter now when we need you most.”
Hesitating, I tilt my head away, thinking of everything I’ve been through—the rights, the wrongs, the missed steps of accidents. My wife’s death. Her sister’s lamenting drug addiction. My own sisters. And my blessed mother for putting up with that son-of-a-bitch all these years. All the women I have tried to save and sometimes, failed miserably—Nina. Ainsley. Bertrand.
Iris.
I think of dark alleyways and bloody churches and the priest to absolve it all. I have sought solace in the hands of another for far too long. Shredding off my shirt, I grab the thick rope and open up the wooden case of straight blades, tying the razors symmetric along the fray.
“Sally…” she pleads with a tremulous voice.
“Don’t,” I warn, casting a glance. “You cannot save me anymore. And you know I am right.”
“Babe…”
“Look, you can go or you can stay, but you cannot coddle me any longer,” I allege, knowing the only way out is the way I came in. “You cannot be held responsible for another Master’s actions. And Iris, she is all on me.”
“Be careful,” she says, crossing her arms. “I won’t stop you.”
“Kill the lights.”
“Yes, Sir…” Serene whispers as I lower down and pray for forgiveness of my sins. I seek a salvation so much greater than they know. A garden of splendor exists where there is no pain, guilt, or ill.
“In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost,” I hush and make the sign of the cross as I lift up and impact with one decisive strike against my flesh.
The rope welts and bites as the blades chew into my skin, but I cannot feel a fucking thing in the endorphin-fueled high. The worst is when the blades gouge into my body and I pull the rope only to run a nice cut line until it removes itself. I hear Serene, breathing and crying in the corner.
The self-torture doesn’t stop as I focus everything into one point—Iris. If they think she is out, they will kill her. I imagine her maimed body, lying on the ground—dead.
I close my eyes as light illuminates on her corpse from above. The whispers of my haunting angel brush against my cheeks as the lashing provokes my insanity and her calling from the grave.
“Do you hear me, Pretty Boy?
You gotta go,” Kaci sighs, swirling about in a haze effervescent colors and dancing luminosity.
“Come on, I am going to show you how to blow…”
“Is that all there is to this?”
“Did you expect complicated?” she mumbles,
“The blood comes up easy, the fallout is hard.”
“Where will you be?”
“I am always here… I built you for her…
I built you for her…
I built you for her…
I built you, Raniero, for Kettles.”
Crashing down to the cement floor, I awaken from my meditative trance in a puddle of my own blood. “You need a shot!”
“I don’t want a fucking shot…” I grumble as Serene blurs into a massive amount of red hair.
“Then I have to call Jack because dear God, Sally! You are fucking bleeding everywhere,” she implores, rolling my body over and holding white towels against my lacerations. “Jesus fuck, Kid. I said be careful!”
White towels. Red blood.
Red blood. White towels.
“I am sorry.”
Serene asks, “For what?”
“Your daughters being sick.”
“How the hell did you find out?” she cries with a harrowing fright.
With a gentle smirk, I admit, “I do really good research. Your sister was sick, too. And you took her out. You killed Jaqueline, and they tried to blame your grandfather.”
Tears fall effortlessly out of her eyes as she licks her lips and beats on my arm seeking justice for her temptations. “I hate you sometimes.”
“The feeling is never mutual,” I grumble in pain. “I have always loved you.”
“I had Kaci when I was barely seventeen,” Serene confesses, “Six years later baby Cas came along. My dad paid for a doctor to forge the birth certificates and put Jaqueline as the birth mother. The Neves family worked for my family for years. We put them somewhere safe. I never dreamed I would lose both of them.”
I mumble, “You haven’t lost Cas yet…”
“She is a lost cause and we both know it. I fucked her up good,” she scoffs, feigning a smile. “How long have you known?”
“A long time…”
“Did…” Serene halts, gazing down at me in her arms. “Oh god, Kaci knew didn’t she…”
I lift my brows. “Kace knew, and she told me to never to say anything. But if I don’t, you are going to lose Cas and she wouldn’t want that.”
Her expression opens up with an astonished enlightenment. “… You’ve been carrying this all these years?”
“Yes, Ma’am,” I say, “But what I really want to know is… Who are the other two?”
The shift on her face continues the deceit. “Somethings are better left unsaid, Sal.”
Sitting up, I state, “They aren’t Marshall Hope’s kids.”
“No, they are not.”
I grimace as her hands compress the wounds. “Is he alive?”
“Marshall?” she says, clearing her throat. “Yes. And he saw her on your trip to Norway, but he didn’t want to get involved.”
Stuck in amongst the lies, I ask, “What happens when you run out of hope?”
“You die from despair,” she replies as we are trained, “So, you best not run out.”
Lifting my left hand, I look at the Hope tattoo, trickled with blood. “I will never run out of Hope.”
“You have made a real mess,” she admonishes with a laugh. “This place looks like a crime scene.”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I am going to be fine,” she says, but I know she is lying. “This better make you better.”
Standing up, I gaze at the pile of towels soaked in sanguine and I know I will never be the same. In breaking my oath, I did the one thing I swore I would never do.
I watched the Pixie walk away from guarding my gates of eternal damnation and promised myself to an unforgiving hell.
IRIS
With Cas and Ainsley in tow, I floor that bitch all the way to Houston. We do not stop for gas. We do not stop to get a drink. And we do not stop to piss which is why Cas is hovering over a cup in the back seat as I tick between ninety-three and ninety-six.
In the derelict part of the industrial section—on the outskirts of town—Jaid opens the large gate and I cautiously pull in Sal’s wide beast of a truck. The ceilings hang low in the garage and I am terrified.
“Hop in the back, Kettles,” Jaid offers as I roll down the window. “Let me do it. I’ve done it before.”
“You’ve driven his truck…”
Smacking her gum, Jaid says, “Ya, babe.”
I scan over her petite, but incredibly well built frame in the driver’s seat. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled back into a sloppy bun. With little to no makeup on, she is fucking beautiful. And deadly.
Pulling into a parking spot, she eyes us all—the ragtag bunch of Sal’s broken dolls. He is collecting us, but I have to wonder how many more will he shelve before the weight of us all causes him to buckle and collapse.
Cas is the most obvious. She is his Kace’s sister and that alone poses a threat to me. With her new haircut, Cas is a freaking doppelgänger to the pictures I have seen in the shrine.
On the other hand, Ainsley’s presence here disturbs and rattles my core. Gennaro groomed her with me. I know what she is capable of, but if she gets in my way… Well, Sal isn’t the only one with a black soul.
Heading upstairs, I am well-acquainted with Sal’s decorative choices. Now, Jaid’s arsenal scatters the tables and her research litters the floors. She makes haste quickly eliminating any evidence of such.
Cas bolts for the fridge and the freezer, digging for something. I cannot imagine this will fare well. “I found it!” she chirps, producing an old, small coffee tin. “I found it!”
Slamming drawers in the kitchen, she hunts, rustling silverware and cooking utensils. I stare at Jaid with a blank expression as she furrows her brow.
“Bingo! Blades!”
Without so much as a pause, she sits on the leather sofa and pops the top on the tin, revealing a large block.
“Oh…Jesus…” Jaid mumbles, racing towards Cas. “You really do not need a block of snow.”
“Fuck you, whore,” Cas seethes with an anger. “Leave me the fuck alone!”
“Fine, fucking kill yourself for all I care. Be one less mess I have to worry about cleaning up for him,” Jaid sasses, stomping off to Sal’s bedroom, slamming the door.
An hour later, I have made biscuits and gravy in an attempt to self-soothe as Cas does countless lines. Ainsley sits nearby, scrutinizing the whole event with an evil eye. She would never touch the shit. She is way too fucking vain. In fact, I would be willing to bet her consumption of alcohol is limited to one sip of champagne on New Year’s Eve. But she wouldn’t touch my drug of choice either—carbs.
Finding a couple jars, I attempt to be cute and toss a couple biscuits, gravy, and slabs of butter in each. I top it off with a spoon in each and head to the bedroom. Knocking lightly, I crack open the door.
“I made you something to eat.”
“What is it?” Jaid grumps from the bed. Her hair falls around her face as the laptop perches on her thighs. “Is that biscuits?”
“Yes,” I say with a genuine smile.
“I hate that girl,” she imparts with an unexpected honesty. “She has been nothing but a bitch for years.”
Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1) Page 40