Empires and Kings (A Mafia Series Book 1)

by A. C. Bextor

  “We’ll never,” he mockingly finishes. “So it’s a moot point.”

  No longer boiling in clouded anger, I’m now enraged and completely furious. I don’t have many friends. I don’t have any true family. For Vee to threaten someone I love and trust as both, and do it for no real reason, infuriates me.

  Collecting myself as best I can, I ask with eerie calmness, “Rueon, do you by chance have a gun in here?”

  “A gun?”

  “Yes. In here. With you. A gun.”

  “Klara, you know I’m required to carry one. Why are you asking?”

  “Because I don’t think I can smother Vee myself. I’m going to shoot him instead.”

  Turning my head with furious tears burning my eyes, I’m met with Rueon’s undeniable boyish smirk. The look of his relief does nothing to assuage the irritation burning me from the inside out.

  The jerk!

  An hour and thirty minutes later, Rueon parks his car next to the black town car Vee took as he was leaving.

  “This is where I drop you off,” he tells me. “I can’t chance helping you inside and still come out breathing.”

  “Thank you, Rueon. I’m so sorry—”

  Lifting his hand between us, he leaves the other on the steering wheel and shakes his head. “Go to him, Klara. Even he’ll get why I disobeyed if it was to keep you safe.”

  “I really didn’t know he talked to you,” I tell him, still feeling a small pang of guilt for forcing Rueon to do something against orders from Vee.

  “I got that. Now go,” he pushes. “While I still have a chance to get away.”

  Grabbing the door handle and taking a deep breath for courage, I nod my good-bye.

  The cabin isn’t anything that I’d expected it to be. In fact, it’s hardly a cabin at all. If the outside weren’t shrouded by trees, the location set far off the beaten path, and the building itself built of logs, I would consider this more of a luxurious vacation home.

  I turn the heavy handle of the wooden door and step inside.

  Nothing about the main room shares a woman’s touch. There are no family pictures above the stone fireplace. No beautiful or comfortable-looking furniture. In fact, there isn’t much furniture at all. The walls are wooden and plain. An oversized, beaten-up brown chair sits across from a wood-filled fireplace alone.

  My eyes scan the area while comparing the emptiness in this room to the solemn man who lives inside it.

  As I turn my gaze to search the house further, a dark shadow captures my attention.

  There I’m met with the haunting image of the man I’ve cared about all my life. Vee stands in front of me and, from the looks of it, he’s wet from a shower. With only a towel wrapped around his neck, his chest is bare and glistening. He’s wearing a black pair of running pants that hang low on his hips, giving me a glimpse of the trail of hair leading to where I nearly got to touch weeks before.

  My insides shake with anxiety and nervousness. But more so with desire. For weeks, I’ve thought about being alone with Vee. Alone in a way that he gives me what I never believed I truly wanted until he left.

  I want all of him.

  The fear of being with a man as powerful as he is.

  The frustration and anger he brings out with his unwillingness to face what’s between us.

  The safety he offers in sheltering those he loves the most.

  But more than anything, I want what Vee keeps so guarded.

  I want his heart.

  Pulling me out from my study of his beauty, Vee snaps, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  “I…,” I start to explain, but can’t.

  What am I doing here?

  “Klara, tell me you didn’t drive alone out into the middle of nowhere,” he harshly scolds. “Tell me you at least had the common sense to have someone escort you.”

  Reminding me of the ridiculously threatening discussion Vee had with Rueon, I slam the front door behind me. The decorative pictures tremor against the wall, but I don’t wince at the sound. The blood rushing to my ears is all I hear.

  “Why did you do that to him?” I hiss, leaning forward, still several feet away. “Why would you tell Rueon he isn’t allowed near me?”

  Cocking his brow, Vee says nothing. He offers no explanation at all.

  “You threatened him! I want to know why!”

  “Watch your tone when you address me, Klara,” he growls in warning.

  Ignoring his order, I press, “Rueon is my friend. I care about him.”

  He takes three large steps in my direction. My back meets the door when the front of Vee’s body slams against mine, stealing my breath as well as my courage. The cords of his neck are strained, his jaw tight, and his breathing shallow.

  “Why did you come?” he hisses with added agitation.

  As his fingers lift my shirt to explore the skin of my waist, his heated gaze gives way to what he’s thinking.

  What he wants.

  “Tell me exactly why you’re here, alone with me, when you know you shouldn’t be.”

  My voice is small, but after licking my dry lips, I manage to get out, “I’m here for everything. Everything you promised each time you kissed me.”

  “Klara,” he seethes, taking a step back as his nostrils flare and his eyes blaze in fury.

  “I want everything you promised when you touched me,” I continue goading, standing in front of him with a liar’s confidence.

  When I inhale a deep breath, our chests meet. Vee looks down, studies the connection, and then states, “Don’t fucking push me.”

  “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Afraid?” he returns with a mock laugh.

  “Afraid,” I confirm, then assume, “Vlad Zalesky is scared of caring about a woman.”

  “Say that again,” he clips, his hands balling to fists while his entire body tenses.

  “You’re scared.”

  Stepping forward again, Vee backs me fully against the door. Every part of him is touching every part of me. I feel small, dwarfed in being this close. But safe. Always safe.

  His hand trails my side, his fingers curving around my waist.

  “My name,” he utters, looking down and watching his thumb trace the base of my breast.

  Warmth spreads through my body as I gasp for needed air. My hand lifts between us, my finger tracing the strong and stubbled line of his jaw.

  “Vlad,” I test.

  His eyes turn molten. They scorch my body with each pass up and down my chest, neck, face. My skin pebbles beneath his scrutinizing glare.

  Somewhere inside him, Vee is fighting a war of truth versus temptation.

  He wants this.

  His threat to Rueon was meant with a specific purpose.

  My beautiful girl.

  I want this.

  Knowing Vlad could break my heart, shatter it to unrecognizable pieces and leave me regretful of my decision to come here, I don’t waver. I want each brutally beautiful piece of himself he’ll give me.

  When he steps back, I say again, “Vlad.”

  His chest rising with an inhale of breath is the only warning I’m given before I’m lifted off my feet, cradled in his arms, and laid to the floor.

  She said my name. She said it as a woman, not a child. No longer am I the monster Vee I once was, but a man she came here to find.

  If Klara were to attempt an escape, I wouldn’t let her. I couldn’t. A woman as beautiful as she is, as smart and perceptive, must have already come to this foregone conclusion.

  The moment she willingly stepped foot inside this cabin, Klara became the helpless prey to my animalistic desire.

  The startled lamb caught in the ravenous lion’s den.

  The heuristic angel imprisoned within the arms of the demoralizing devil.

  She’ll no longer be a young woman, lost amidst a carnal world of men who look at her as they do, want her as they desire. No one will ever touch her as long as she’s in my bed. For as long as this is to l
ast, she’ll only ever submit to me. The power in this knowledge is my undoing.

  “Vlad,” she whispers again, her voice tense and shaky.

  Ignoring what could be her second thoughts, my hand trails down her thigh. With the hem of her dress within my reach, I pull it up and slide my fingers beneath it. She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise as I push the material aside, aiming for the soft flesh.

  “You do this to me,” I seethe, thrusting myself against her and closing my eyes to maintain control.

  Prying apart her thighs, I fist the scrap of material between them and viciously yank it from her body. Klara cries out, her neck arching, and her eyes slamming shut.

  “This is what you came here for,” I taunt, roughly covering her sex before thrusting a single finger inside. Her body pulsates upon invasion and this time she doesn’t gasp—she sighs.

  “Vlad,” she whispers.

  Reaching through the tight space between us, Klara slides her hands down my stomach until finding purchase on my aching cock, her caress so light I jolt in place.

  The feel of her touch is nearly painful.

  The faint mist of her breath on my lips begs for me to taste her.

  The familiar scent of lilacs once again ruins all my resolve.

  Covering her mouth with my own, I swallow her sharp moan and thrust myself farther into her small hand, forcing her to touch all of me.

  “Spread your legs,” I instruct, reveling in the inexperience of her play.

  Once again my name crosses her lips. This time she says it as she never has before—with the passion of a woman thirsting for gratification.

  “Offer yourself to me, Klara.”

  Klara does as I’ve asked. Without hesitating, she positions me at her entrance. In one long and furious drive, I push forward, finding purchase inside her warm, tight, wet center.

  Biting down, she clenches her teeth and gasps for air. Her neck arches, unintentionally ripping her mouth from mine.

  “Look at me,” I clip, pulling out of her only to slide back in with more force than before.

  When she doesn’t do as I’ve told her, I reach up to gather a handful of hair. Before unintentionally causing her pain, I stop and take in a needed breath.

  My voice softens as I direct, “My beautiful girl, give me your eyes.”

  Klara drops her chin where her face stills below mine. Our eyes meet. Our breaths mix together. Our bodies rouse in sync. Finally, all the answers to all the questions I’ve ever asked about Klara are answered.

  I was meant to have her.

  “More,” she whispers, a small smile claiming her lips as a tear falls to her temple. “Don’t slow down, and don’t stop.”

  Bending down, I kiss the tear away. My hips thrust forward, feeling every inch of her insides pulsating with guttural need.

  “Greedy,” I tease, the curve of my lips forming a smile.

  Her eyes shine with sexual anticipation as I lift her thigh, showing her where to rest it.

  “Wrap your legs around me. Tight. Don’t let go.”

  Nodding, she does as I instruct, but more. Her hips begin to match every measure of mine. Her breathing labors, and she whispers my name again and again between the scattering of quiet kisses along my throat and chest. I continue driving deep without relent.

  Her body tenses. She shudders, digging her feet into my back, bringing her entire body flush against mine as I push into her again and again. Carnal moans and feral growls echo between us as I grab the flesh behind each of her thighs, lifting them further in order to drive deeper, harder than I can nearly withstand.

  As her body releases, her face flushes red. The vision of her beneath me is nothing in comparison to what I’ve seen in my mind’s eye so many times before. The image itself spurs my own release, coaxing me into emptying inside her.

  To savagely take her again and again.

  To thoroughly mark her until I’m all she’s able to remember.

  To undoubtedly claim her in ways she’ll never want to be free again.

  In every way possible, I’ve shattered the same innocence I’ve tried so hard all her life to protect.

  He’s taken me completely, invaded my body in ways I’ve only heard or read about.

  During my life with him, Vlad’s caused me pain, anguish, and regret. But with that, he’s also been the pillar of his family’s strength, the base of my confusion, and now the one man I’ll compare to every other.

  I was wrong before. So incredibly wrong.

  I didn’t come alive the night Vlad kissed me on that hotel bed; I was merely awakened. Without a doubt now, though, I feel each and every breath I take.

  Now I’m alive.

  I’m sitting up in bed and looking around the barren room filled with dark furniture, drapes, and bedding. There’s a dresser at the foot of the bed. All it holds is a black shiny box. Vlad’s watch sits on top of it, along with his wallet and some change.

  Last night, after his patience finally snapped and he gave in to what I had hoped was what we both wanted, neither of us had much to say. My head was tired from lack of sleep and worry. Not to mention my body was deliciously spent.

  Not much was said after he carried me to bed. I wasn’t sure if there was anything to say, so I stayed quiet. He must have felt the same because he did, too.

  “Finally, she wakes,” Vlad greets quietly, sounding relieved as he stands at the door.

  Taking a few steps into the room, he heads straight toward the heavy dark wooden dresser at the end of the bed.

  “Hi,” I manage to nervously utter, suddenly feeling exposed.

  Bringing the hunter green sheet to my chest, I drop my chin and half-smile to myself.

  I’m in Vlad’s bed.

  At his cabin.

  After he lost control and….

  “Put this on,” he instructs, standing over me holding a plain black tee shirt that smells like him. On Vlad, its fit is tight, straining under his chest and arms. On me, it’s sure to fit like a sheet.

  “I have clothes,” I tell him, not wanting to wear that. “In my bag. In the other room. I can—”

  Bending over me, Vlad places a fist on either side of where I sit. The bed dips with his weight. He’s close. I smell the soap from his shower. His hair is damp, his face freshly shaven. He looks younger from this angle—eye to eye and mouth to mouth.

  Nodding to where the shirt now sits near my leg, he directs, “You’ll wear that and nothing under it.”

  Instinctively, my eyes narrow. No one likes to be told what to do, especially a woman my age about what she can and cannot wear.

  “You’re ridiculous,” I challenge.

  “You won’t deny me.”

  “Deny you?”

  His hand slides up my thigh where his fingers curve between them both. Without touching me at all, I know exactly what he’s meaning to say.

  “I’ll wear that,” I snap, grabbing it from the bed as instructed, but also add, “For now.”

  “Good girl,” he soothes, sending now familiar shivers sliding down between my legs. After kissing me quick and hard, Vlad pulls back. “I’m making lunch. We’ll eat and we’ll talk.”

  He’s making lunch?

  “You’re making lunch?”

  The side of his mouth tips, forming an evil smirk. “I’m good at more than making you moan my name,” he states.

  I gasp in surprise.

  “Though after last night I believe I may be better at that than anything else.”

  I gasp again, this time while holding my breath.

  Releasing it, I advise, “You’re not ridiculous. You’re outrageous.”

  Last night as I was sleeping soundly beside him, my back tucked safely against his front, Vlad’s mouth came to my ear where he kissed it sweetly before thrusting his awakened cock against my lower back.

  I wasn’t sure if I could take more of him so soon, but as he slowly and carefully pushed himself inside, stretching me to fit around him, I wanted him again. />
  “When I take you again tonight, I aim to be even better yet.”

  Now I’m speechless.

  Outright smiling, Vlad turns in place while saying, “Up, my beautiful girl. Kitchen. Ten minutes.”

  Shower: Shave. Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

  I’m stalling. Fearing what this talk with Vlad will entail.

  Fearing his version will be an apology for his temporary loss of control. Twice.

  Once again, I’m fearing his rejection.

  Grabbing the black shirt from the basin, I slip it on, not bothering to dry my hair. I’ve already taken too much time. No question the ill-mannered, quick-tempered brute is fuming at how long I’ve been in here after being timed.

  Ten minutes?

  Gathering as much of my courage as I’m able, I make my way down the sun-lit hall before turning left into the large L-shaped kitchen and dining area. With the shiny silver appliances and the dark ceramic tile floor, I assume it was Faina who must’ve had a hand in decorating.

  Vlad’s sitting quietly at the kitchen table reading notes written on several tabs of paper all stuck to a larger one. When I lean against the wall and clear my throat to announce myself, he looks up. And when he does, I’m reminded that not only am I wearing his shirt, but because of its size, hanging so low in the front, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination.

  Dropping the paper, Vlad sits back in his chair and positions his hands to his lap. His eyes peruse every inch of my exposed skin, starting at my face and dropping to my thighs.

  His broad chest coaxes my attention, but even a sight so beautiful can only hold it for a moment.

  Visions invade. Particularly those of Katrina as she sat astride his thighs while I stood as witness of him taking her so aggressively. Our time together wasn’t the same, and I’ve been left wondering if it should’ve been or not.

  “Klara,” he calls as if sensing my doubt.

  Before giving myself another confusing moment to think, I blurt the first thought—more so demand—that comes to mind. “No more whores.”

  A moment passes before he responds with angry confusion, “What did you say to me?”

  “I said no more whores,” I state again, this time louder. “I don’t know what any of this means,” I continue, gesturing back to the bedroom door, “but I know I couldn’t bear the thought of you and—”