Every Minute I Love You (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 3)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  I ease my head back to her lap, thinking of all the things I’ve done for Sal, and I briefly wonder if it’s all been worth it. “I’ll take his discipline.”

  Her crystal blue eyes graze over mine as she coddles her arms around me. The brush of her hand over my hair relaxes me. “No one will ever know, Deacon. This stays between you and I.”

  It was the most foolish thing anyone ever said to me.

  After three days under her complete care—my malnourished and underdeveloped boy grew into a new man. I suckled on Serene’s nipples for three days like her starved newborn.

  In some ways, I was.

  With every suck and swallow, I watched her get turned on and quickly realized none of this was about providing for Kade—but feeding one of the sons—Saint. Her intense instruction manual for life in our world fueled my soul and ignited my spirit.

  I laid in her arms while she masturbated, and then I asked if I could do the same. Stuck in the web, I was somewhere between unbelievably turned on and fighting for my freedom.

  I never saw Iris again.

  Our two-time dance was a test to pass into the realm of Serene, and I finally understood why Sal revered Mistress Serene the way he did. She was nothing short of a goddess with a steady resolve and a cracking whip.

  She was the mother of The Unholy.

  And I never saw it that way until I experienced the world beneath her hand. Kaci inherited her manipulative mastermind from Serene, and she was diabolically seductive. Her fetish resided in training young men—Sal, Nico, and now, me. The only one she didn’t have was Dom, but she didn’t need him because house majority rules.

  I was the swing vote.

  And what Serene wanted, she got.

  I welcomed her riding around on my back, popping my ass, and spanking my dick at will. I never planned on fucking Nico’s wife in a cellar, but I did as she brought kink to a whole new level in my mind. While Sal blazed with a sensual eroticism to our lovemaking, Serene escalated it to an inferno. It wasn’t he who had been holding out but me.

  It took two to tango.

  And the Master could only be as good as the slave would allow.

  I hadn’t been properly prepared until now. My brief moments under Dom’s high protocol held an insight to the future I always longed to have. And even Sal hinted with the idea, but with Serene at the command, I flourished—fully, capable, and aware. The D/s relationship was fluid, ideally 50/50, but sometimes the shift in life altered that. I often failed in that regard, but Serene undid the kink in my kink.

  Sometimes all it took was the right teacher.

  In short, I was lucky and blessed enough to do a crash course in submissive training under one of the best female Dominants in the world. “Lick this. Kneel there. Suck this. Stop that. Fuck this.”

  I ran my tongue over her boots and ate more pussy than I have in thirty years. I was humiliated, tortured, and objectified.

  And I enjoyed every damn minute of being used.

  Admitting her tutelage was for her Buttercup—the Lotus Queen—Iris, Serene handed off the most pivotal lesson in the religion she practiced—the feminine mystique and the power sparked by women. I was to be subservient—for the right person—man or woman.

  That wasn’t to say I couldn’t be Dominant, but the best Masters maintained a dedicated vigilance to practiced self-discipline, where Sal often shone like a star.

  In submission, I learned the value of respect, integrity, and honor from D/s and D/D and even s/s. With the skills placed in my toolkit, my self-worth and confidence went through the roof because after all these years I understood their art.

  Serene wasn’t just the mother of The Unholy; she was the ultimate Queen, stealing the motherlode of surrender in those damn thigh highs. She wielded her short stature like an imposing succubus from the depths of lust. I didn’t fight it.

  I learned to love it.

  In my spiritual journey to the dark side, I discovered what Sal already knew—women were to be held up on the pedestal and worshipped because they could nurture like no other.

  In my last days, trapped in the Lotus cellar, Master Deacon was born.

  And Master Nero was in for a helluva surprise.

  42

  The Sacred Stain of Sanguine

  A week later, I’m sound asleep on my desk at home with a string of drool coming out of my mouth when the phone wakes me. Dom instructs, “Meet me in Little Bee. ASAP.”

  Click.

  From Boston, I take the first flight to Houston and rent a car. I have no idea what in the hell was going on, but it doesn’t matter. When Daddy calls, I listen. I stop in an abandoned gas station lot between Sugargrove and Little Bee and send a text to Dom. “WRU?”

  His response is immediate. “The Old Warehouse District, second building, pull around the back into the bay. Do not bring company.”

  Oh. Fuck.

  In the dark of night, I roll through the ghost town of Little Bee. Less than three hundred people live here now and I don’t see a single soul on the way to the warehouse. We bought the entire block for storage of…sundry illegal things…for which we do not discuss.

  Dom is waiting by the enormous garage door bay which an 18-wheeler can easily pull into. I spot his Bronco and Nico’s Escalade.

  Oh. Fucknasty.

  “What is going on?” I ask after pulling inside.

  He closes the door. “You cannot stop it.” He opens his phone to a picture of Trudy, beat up with lacerations.

  “What the fuck happened?”

  “She got wind of Nissa knowing where her son—Diablo— was and went after her. Less than twenty-four hours later, two guys jumped her in Sugargrove. Roughed her up good, Boston.”

  “Where is she?”

  “At Scarlet House with Anna, Lula, Swain, and most of the table from Reckless Rebellion.”

  Lifting a finger, I grab my phone. “X…listen to me…you shoot on sight, don’t fuck around with this.”

  “I got it, Boss.”

  “… Is Cruz there?”

  “Nah, man, he’s with Nicky.”

  I hang up the phone and go running for the door. “No!” Dom scolds, chasing after me. I pull on the door, but it’s locked. I howl out. “No! You need to let him do this. Those two guys raped his Ma.”

  I open my mouth, but the words won’t come out. Unfortunately, my eyes express it all as I cry in anger and hurt. Things are out of control and Deacon is doing things he shouldn’t be.

  My boy…

  “How would you feel if it was me?” I yell at Dom. “In there with Nico…”

  “I would let you do it if the circumstances were right.”

  “… Two wrongs…”

  “I know, but this is the game we play. We didn’t make the rules, Sal.” He puts his hand on my shoulder. “I can take you inside, but you are not going past the office.”

  With trembling fingers, I pull out a cigarette and Dom flicks his lighter. “If he’s… I can’t…”

  “I don’t know what he is doing,” Dom informs as the sounds of screaming echo through the building. “I came to get you. I called you as soon as I found out Nico nabbed Nissa.”

  “Let me in,” I urge, working myself up to handle whatever horrors I may see coming from Deacon. “I’m good.”

  I’ve seen him kill someone, but there is a fine line between sociopath and vigilante. I know where Nico falls and I accept it. Deacon isn’t dangerous unless provoked. The rape of his mother and his missing twin brother are enough to trigger his descent into madness.

  Dom unlocks the door as we step inside.

  Nissa is tied to one of the old iron cages from Juliet that we offered to store for Anna. She slumps over, weary and broken from their actions. I note the black stilettos on her feet and her torn dress. Backing away, Deacon gives a heavy sigh as his nostrils flare and he gives a hatred filled stare towards me. He zips his pants and backhands the woman.

  Quiet tears cascade down my cheeks because I know what he did. I
know who he is. And I know…this isn’t right.

  Sitting with his legs crossed in a chair is Nico, filing his nails. He is wearing sunglasses and a bright teal dress shirt. “He’s going to lose it.”

  “I know,” Dom says, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you cannot stop it.”

  “Let me go in there.”

  “… Are you insane?”

  “Not yet,” I reply, “But if I watch Cruz murder her, I might be.”

  “If you go in there and participate…”

  “No one is more qualified to question this whore than I am,” I say, playing up the resume I’ve been ignoring for months. “Let me do it.”

  “If I think for one-second that you’re about to cross the line, I’m going to drag you by your dick out of there.”

  “I got this, Dom.”

  He moves to the door and unlocks it. The stench of blood and piss hit my nose as I grab a chair and place it in front of Nissa. I sit down, lowering my elbows on my knees. Deacon gives a concerned look and I lift a flat hand for him to wait.

  “Nissa, I need you to tell me where to find Diablo Cruz.”

  “Fat chance, fucker,” the mumbles. “He’s ours. Not yours.”

  “I can only ask you this so many times before I let Nico make art out of you. For the love of Victor Cruz, please tell me where his son is.”

  “His one son is right there.” She spits towards him. “And he soaked me… Why doesn’t his lover boy come lick it out?”

  Twisting my ball cap around, I take two steps towards her and slap the fuck out of her cheek. I grab her arm, threatening to snap the bone with my bare hands. “If you say that again, bitch… I will kill you myself. Where is Diablo Cruz?”

  “Sal!” Deacon shouts. “No!”

  “Fuck you!” She hysterically laughs. “Fuck all of you!”

  I let go of her arm and pull the blade from my pocket as I lift her head by her ratted blonde bottle job hair and press the sharp edge to her neck. “Where is Diablo?”

  She shivers under my grasp as I push harder. “Please…”

  “Where is he, Nissa? I know he was adopted by Muerte.”

  “… Juarez Herrera?” Deacon mutters, stunned. “Immortal.”

  “Where is he?”

  With a sigh, she relents. “Last I checked, he was in Florida. He hates the cold. Looks the spitting damn image of his brother but gruffer, dirtier. You can’t miss him.”

  “Is he going by Diablo?”

  “Naw…he’s running with a biker gang out of Mississippi or Alabama.”

  With gritted teeth, I growl, “Do you know the name of the gang?”

  “Naw…”

  Getting closer to her face, I whisper, “Who did you hire to attack Trudy Diaz?”

  “One of Saint’s old contacts in Austin hired the guys.”

  I tilt my head one way and the other. “Name?”

  “Why should I tell you?”

  “Because you are going to die one way or another.”

  “His name is in my phone at home.”

  I backpedal a few steps and turn to Dom. I give a nod and I know he is on it. Walking towards the door, I say, “Bitch is all yours, Cirque King.”

  “Nero,” Deacon yells, hastily moving towards me. “Don’t go.”

  “You fucking raped her…”

  “No, I took a piss on her. I was fucking angry… She had my mother raped in the alley behind the bar, Sir.”

  I pop my jaw and gaze down, peering over my nose, to the cock I love. “If you ever do that again, we are through. Wait…what did you say?”

  “The alley, behind the bar on Main Street.”

  “The ones over by Creekside Loft Apartments?”

  “Yeah,” he says. “I sent Cody to run it.”

  “… You didn’t rape her?”

  “Fuck no! I pissed all over her!” We both glance at Nico, methodically taking off all of his clothes and folding them. Deacon points towards him. “He’s going to rape and maim her.”

  “I don’t give a shit what Nick does.”

  “You gotta smoke?” he asks as I slide onto the table. I hand Cruz the pack and he lights two as Nico opens his tool kit. After selecting a scalpel, he pivots in our direction and grins.

  I give the nod.

  Deacon exhales. “You realize you just gave him the order…” Nissa wails in horror as he begins the process of destroying her. “For him to kill her.”

  “It won’t be the last time.”

  “This is justified,” he acknowledges as Nico wastes no time feasting upon the wounds of the flesh. Blood splatter spews like a fountain. “He’s kind of mad.”

  “I love him,” I snort, turning on some music on my phone. “He’s got a talent.”

  “For killing bitches…”

  Covered in red, Nico bops along, shaking his rump as the art of Nissa takes shape. “How long do you think he’ll do this?”

  “Until I tell him to stop.”

  “What did he just toss over his shoulder?” Deacon asks as Dom emerges from the office.

  “That was her tongue,” I say, unwrapping a piece of gum. “Look at him go…”

  Dom lights a smoke. “You guys are really sick to be in here watching this spectacle.”

  “You’re in here too, asshole.”

  “I’m an adult,” Dom replies as Nico turns to us. His mouth drips in blood. “We may need garlic.”

  I snicker. “You know how to make fresh ravioli, Dom?”

  “Yeah, why are you asking me that right now?”

  “I’m fucking starving.”

  Deacon lays his hand on my thigh and bumps my shoulder. “Baby, I know how to make them, too.”

  Nico takes a bow as I hop off the table and Dom says, “Oh, God… You’re going to look…”

  “Of course, I am!” I spin back to them. “Gotta pay my respects for his creativity!”

  Underneath both of her eyes, he sliced perfect triangular cuts like a clown’s tears. He scraped the flesh from around her mouth for the smile and cut deep slashes into her arms and legs. The killing move was the butcher knife shoved into her heart.

  “She looks like a puppet, Nicky.”

  “I know!” He grins, licking the blood from the scalpel. “Isn’t she pretty?”

  “We’re going to need a janitor crew, stat.”

  “Already on standby,” Dom informs, keeping his distance with a putrid scowl on his face. “I will go call them.”

  “If you will excuse me, I need to…” Nico mutters as I notice his erection. “Apologies.”

  “It’s alright.” I wink and lock my arm into Deacon’s as we spin away. “Take your time.”

  With a gravelly whisper, Deacon says, “He’s going to jack off on that old dead bag.”

  “Yeah,” I mutter, protecting him, as we keep walking. “Just think about the shower I’m giving you when we get to your Ma’s. Don’t look back.”

  “This is really fucked up, Nero.”

  Hearing Nico’s grunts, I shrug. “It could be so much worse.”

  In the darkened living room of Trudy Diaz’ house in Little Bee, the coffee table is covered in remnants of our feast—one piece of frozen pizza, two pan fried dumplings, and three chicken wings. We ran out of bleu cheese or those would be gone.

  I’m flipping channels with Deacon’s head on my thigh. “Do you ever get used to it?”

  “Nick?”

  “The killing…”

  “Depends,” I say, offering the blunt to his lips. “Nissa deserved it.”

  “I never get used to the victims—the innocents,” I reply, stopping on some bridal show. “I’ve avoided Georgia’s cases long enough.”

  He rolls onto his back and looks up at me. “You need to get back to it, but what was I going to say…”

  “I’m about to tell you to suck my dick.”

  “And I will,” he eagerly replies. “Are you going to ask me about Japan?”

  “Not tonight,” I mutter, getting blazed. “N
ot tonight. I just want to forget all this shit ever happened. I got enough crap on my plate without thinking about what is coming. I got a girl running willy nilly all over the country, a girl wanting me to blister her ass, and a girl I want to marry… And I can’t stop any of it, so tonight… Just tonight, I’m going to pretend like none of it exists.”

  “I love you, Sal,” Deacon mumbles, brushing his finger under my chin, as I run my hand along the chain around his neck, symbolizing the collar and bond of our intimate, kinky love affair. “So much.”

  “I know you do, Cruz,” I respond, praying with all that I am that he never leaves me. “Now take me like the good little bitch you are.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  V

  The Flight of Unrecoverable Cuts

  Part I of 2018

  43

  Fucking Unforgiving Forgetting (FUF This Shit)

  The one thing I’ve learned over the years is things evolve—relationships, people, and dynamics. Deacon Cruz took the job as Police Chief of Sugargrove and started dating everyone he thought was hot.

  Dom stayed involved in an abusive relationship with Ashley and maintained they could make it work without intervention.

  Nico was happily content since having the chance to be artistic and trying to persuade Serene to have their second child.

  And I went in my new truck with a pregnant Amber to Nebraska to meet my best normal friend, Abel, and his lovely wife, Poppy, for a late winter vacation. Abel was going to help me with some construction on the house. Longtime best friends, Poppy and Amber, planned on having girly time.

  I’d honestly had too much girly time, which brings me to…

  Emily and Maka traveling overseas to talk to fabric manufacturers in China, Korea, and Japan. Yes, Japan. When they decided on who to use, an order would be placed, and her new business—Ever Hope—would be up and running. Her plan was to have the business producing before we married in a matter of months.