The Pope: Cards of Love

by Lovell, LP

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  Her gaze strays back to me, eyes softening as she places her hand on my arm. “Not here.

  Just let go for me.” Slowly, my fingers respond, releasing his neck. He falls to the ground in a heap, sucking in huge gulps of air.

  “I warned him,” I explain, my voice not as steady as I’d like. Rage courses through my veins, spiking my adrenaline until it’s all I can do to remain planted in front of her.

  “I know.” Her fingers brush my lips, nails scratching over my jaw. “But I’m not letting you go back to prison. You have to let him walk out of here.”

  I want him dead, but I’m not going to pull the trigger for her. This needs to be her decision. Nathaniel is her problem, and there will come a time when she can handle him. I have to let her so she can blossom into everything that she’s meant to be.

  There’s a hacking, choked laugh from behind me, and I close my eyes, grinding my teeth over each other.

  “What, you didn’t fancy fucking a dealer anymore, Delilah? Thought you’d move up the food chain?” Nate rasps.

  “Shut the fuck up,” I growl.

  He takes a step toward Delilah, and she flinches back, pressing herself to my side as though I’ll protect her from the big bad monster. And I will. Always.

  “Does he know?” Nathaniel sneers. “That it was you who killed Isabelle? Here. In his club. It was you who got him shut down.” Delilah’s nails dig into my arm, and she drops her head, allowing her hair to blanket her face. “Enjoy it while it lasts, baby. When he’s done with you, I’ll be waiting.”

  I step forward, but she tightens her grip, latching onto my arm. “Let him go,” she whispers.

  “Tick tock, Nathaniel. It’s only a matter of time,” I say with a smile.

  As soon as he walks out of the door, Delilah releases me and steps back. Her hands cover her face, and her shoulders tremble.

  “Hey.” I sweep her hair behind her ear, and she slowly lowers her hands from her tear-stained face.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” she chokes. “I’m not this person, Judas! I’m not the girl caught between rival drug dealers and getting beaten up by her boyfriend, or…or…” She breaks down, sagging against the wall.

  I pull her to me, wrapping my arms around her small body. She’s breaking, and it’s so precious because as she splinters apart, she’ll reform into something stronger. Every time her conscience and morality plague her like this, she gets just a little further from them. She’s driving herself right into my arms, and I don’t have to do a single thing.

  I‘ll be her white knight with dark intentions.

  “I shouldn’t do this with you,” she sniffs.

  “What would you have me do? Walk away and leave you to the wolves.”

  “You are the wolf, Judas,” she breathes, burying her face against my chest.

  I stroke over the length of her hair and drop my lips to her ear. “But I’m your wolf, little lamb.”

  A choked sound leaves her lips and her arms wind around my back, fingers gripping handfuls of my suit jacket. She holds on like I’m her lifeline, and my heart thumps unevenly in response. Long moments of silence stretch between us, and I press my lips to her hair, inhaling the sweet vanilla scent that I’ve missed so much.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should have told you that it was me, that is was here...”

  “Delilah. I knew the second you told me what you did.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to kill me or something?” she sniffs. “For messing with your business.”

  “You’ve been watching too much Godfather.”

  Backing away, she lifts a trembling hand, dragging it through her hair. Her fingers grip the strands, pulling hard enough that I’m sure she wants the little sting of pain. Her makeup is streaked down her face in despairing lines like she’s melting away.

  “Come on, let’s go.” I offer her my hand, and she stares at it for a moment. “I’m not going to hurt you, Delilah.”

  Her gaze lifts from my hand to my face, eyes filled with unshed tears. When I first met her, I thought she looked so beautifully broken but so innocent. I wanted to ruin her, and I think that maybe I finally have. Now I’ll unleash her.

  “Trust me,” I practically beg.

  “No more secrets?” she whispers.

  “No more secrets.”

  On a deep breath, she places her hand in mine, and I tug her forward, leading her down the hallway to the fire exit at the end. When I shove it open, an alarm starts blaring, but I don’t care. My car sits in the car park only a few feet away.

  She says nothing as I drive through the London traffic to Hammersmith. The silence in the car brings with it a certain finality. Our secrets are all out, and they’re ugly and twisted, but we’re here. She’s here, which means she’s accepted the depravity she knows I’ll bring. She’s finally succumbing to it.

  Once inside my apartment, I go and find an oversized t-shirt and a pair of workout shorts, tossing them to her where she sits on the couch. “You can wear that.” She looks between the garments beside her and me, her brows furrowing in confusion. “More for my benefit,” I say.

  “You want me to cover up?” she asks, and fuck, she sounds so innocent.

  I force myself to remain rooted here, across the other side of the room. My eyes roam over her long legs, the exposed skin of her stomach, her tits straining against the confines of that ripped up tank. Fuck no, I don’t want her to cover up.

  I groan and drag a hand down my face. “Delilah.”

  She pushes to her feet, her head tilting to the side and spilling waves of shiny dark hair over her shoulder. “You said no more secrets.”

  She moves closer. “It’s not a secret that I want you, little lamb.” My eyes are fixed on her chest, my dick hardening with every step she takes, each lethal swing of those hips.

  “Judas.” My eyes snap to her face, and she blushes, her gaze dropping to the floor for a moment. I love how unsure of herself she is, that she still doubts this hold she seems to have over me. “I’m done fighting this.”

  19

  Delilah

  Judas lingers across the other side of the room, his expression guarded and his body tight with tension. His hands are shoved deep in the pockets of his black trousers, and his forearms are roped in veins, exposed by the rolled up sleeves of his shirt. A muscle in his jaw ticks against his skin, and I can practically time my heartbeats to it.

  “I’m done fighting this.” Four words. Four words that change everything. I’m taking a sledgehammer to this wall that I’ve forced between us because I don’t care anymore. Everything is out in the open now. He knows what I did, the deepest, darkest parts of me. I know what he did, and I know why.

  “You’re still wary of me,” he says, taking a slow step towards me.

  I nod because I won’t lie to him. “I’m scared of who I am when I’m with you.” A girl without morals. A girl who sees things that were once wrong, as acceptable.

  “Don’t be. She’s the real you, the one you hide from everyone else. But you can’t hide from me.” A small predatory smile works over his lips.

  “I don’t want to.”

  He closes the remaining distance, stroking his fingers over my cheek as his eyes land on every inch of my face, studying me. “Be sure about this, Delilah. I’m not the sort of guy you change your mind with. I won’t just let you go.”

  “I don’t want you to let go,” I say on a shaky breath.

  He moves at the same time as I do, our bodies colliding and our lips sealing together. He steals my breath. He steals every part of me until I feel like I exist solely for him. His arms enclose around my waist, shielding me from the world, and I’ve never felt so safe, so cherished. I want every part of him. I want to be possessed and branded, for him to always want me, to always keep me safe. He’s my wolf. My tamed savage.

  My fingers fumble with the fastenings of his shirt until I lose patience and yank the material apart.
The buttons scatter across the wooden flooring like fat raindrops of inhibition tinkling to earth. Grasping my waist, he wrenches me off the floor and tosses me on the sofa. I watch him like a hawk as he unfastens his trousers and pushes them and his underwear down. Heat creeps into my cheeks and then spreads over my entire body. He truly is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I decide right then and there that Judas should never wear clothes.

  He peels my clothing off, one painful item at a time until I’m panting in anticipation. His stare alone makes me feel worshipped in the most reverent of ways.

  He tugs me from the sofa cushions and sits, forcing me into his lap. Warm skin brushes mine, and that static current that always seems to exist between us crackles to life in full force. Cupping my face, he presses his lips to mine in a way that steals my breath and has my heart galloping in my chest. I expect rough and brutal. I expect to be torn apart from the inside out. I expect his destruction, but as he slides inside me, it’s like he’s collecting all the fractured little pieces of me, and keeping them safe.

  My forehead touches his, and our heavy breaths intermingle. That dark corner of my soul sighs in relief — like its found a balance — like its finally been accepted.

  “You feel like heaven, Delilah,” he breathes against my mouth. And then his hands are on my hips, forcing me over him, contorting my body like a puppet master. I don’t recognise the sounds falling from my own lips, or the way my nails rake over the skin of his chest. I’m possessed…by him.

  “Look at me,” he demands, and my eyes snap open, meeting his. So intense, so full of desire. He drags his thumb over my bottom lip before he leans in and nips it. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he groans.

  It’s too much. He’s too much. My lungs strain for air and my pulse is hammering so loud that it’s ringing against my ears.

  His arms slide up my back, biceps locking either side of my waist as his fingers wind into my hair. My head is wrenched back, my spine bowing and my body allowing him deeper. Soft becomes hard. Tender becomes brutal, and I welcome it because I want the storm that is Judas. I want lashing rain and howling wind. I want to have my foundations shaken and ripped up. I need him to pull me from the wreckage and allow me to be reborn: stronger, better.

  His teeth sink into the tender skin of my neck, marking and claiming. He takes everything I have to give, and I offer it freely, hoping that he’ll care for those little pieces he’s holding. Knowing that if I just surrender, he’ll glue me back together.

  I cling to him, riding out the storm with him, his name falling from my lips like a prayer.

  “Break for me, sweet Delilah,” he rasps.

  My body tightens and pleasure tears through me so hot and fast that my vision dots and my head spins, and all those little pieces he’s holding: he scatters them to the wind. He watches me crumble to dust before his eyes and replaces everything I once was… with him, until he infects every cell, every breath, every thought.

  A feral growl sounds from his throat and Judas stills beneath me. Wrenching me forward, he holds me against him and touches his forehead to mine. Hard breaths wash over my face.

  “So beautiful.” His hands cup my face, thumbs swiping below my eyes, catching stray tears that I didn’t even know were there. “So pretty when you cry,” he whispers over my lips.

  Releasing me, he throws his head back against the couch, his chest rising and falling on heavy breaths. His lashes cast shadows over his cheeks and full lips part as he sucks in deep breaths. I’m still staring at him when his eyes flash open, and he lifts his head. Fingers trail over my stomach, making me shiver and flush with goosebumps. The steady thrumming of my heart pounds against my eardrums so loud that I’m sure he must be able to hear it.

  This isn’t just sex. This is something else entirely. He said he wouldn’t let me go, and I feel it. I feel like I’m splitting apart for him, inviting him to live inside me.

  “You’re mine now, Delilah. There’s nowhere you can hide. I see you.”

  I nod, feeling the vulnerability, sensing the change in the air. I just gave Judas Kingsley the power to break me entirely, but I know he won’t because he’s my salvation.

  I shower and step into Judas’s room, finding some clothes left out on the bed. Smiling, I tug the soft material of the t-shirt over my head and step into the boxers. Then I go in search of him.

  He’s in the kitchen, his hip propped against the counter and his phone in his hand as he types something out on the screen.

  A pair of joggers rides low on his hips, and I can’t help but stare. He’s just tanned skin, and ink, and muscle. So much muscle. I could truly believe he is the devil because how can one man have a body like that coupled with a face so perfect? I’m sure it defies some kind of mortal law. It takes me a second to realise he’s stopped typing. When I meet his gaze, a cocky smile dances over his lips, and he folds his arms over his chest. He takes me in slowly, and I blush, fidgeting on the spot.

  Pushing off the counter, he stalks toward me, sliding his fingers beneath the hem of the boxers and cupping my arse. “I like you in my clothes,” he murmurs against my ear, making me shiver. He moves past me, and I glance over my shoulder at him. “Help yourself to anything you want,” he says before leaving the room.

  I hear the shower start just as I open the fridge, spotting the bottle of white wine. I pour myself a glass and sit at the breakfast bar, taking several large gulps as I think of the gravity of my new situation. Maybe I should be scared, to be so consumed with a man like Judas...but I’m not. It feels right.

  I jump when fingers glide over my waist. “That bad?” Judas laughs, the sound a low rumble.

  I turn on the stool and hold the glass of wine up. “You make me nervous,” I blurt.

  “I know.” His teeth scrape over his bottom lip in a half smile. “Come on.” He tugs me off the stool and leads me to the couch, sitting and pulling me into his lap. I clutch my wine between us like a weapon, and he laughs, plucking it from my hand and taking a sip before he places it on the side table.

  “You’re supposed to be nervous.” His hand drops to my chest, and he places it over my heart. “That nervous titter in your stomach, the racing of your heart; its survival instinct. It’s your mind telling you to run.”

  “But my heart won’t let me run from you, Judas.” I tried. I did.

  His lips twitch. “Because it knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  He lifts his hand, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. His eyes take in every detail of my face as though committing it to memory. “That you’re mine. That we’re the same, you and I.” The little knot of anxiety in my stomach releases slightly. He kisses my forehead. “I told you. I won’t let you go, Delilah.”

  I wind my arms around his neck and press my lips to his. This desperate debilitating feeling wraps around my heart, squeezing tight.

  “I love you, Judas,” I confess on a whisper.

  A small smile touches his lips, and a certain peace washes over his features. “Only a tainted soul would love the damned.”

  * * *

  I don’t want to move. I’m warm and comfortable with Judas’s chest beneath my cheek and his arms around me. The heavy thump, thump, thump of his heart is like its own melody.

  Reaching up, I trail my fingers lazily over his chest, and after a few moments, I realise there are bumps on his skin. Not bumps, lines. Pitching up on my elbow, I glance down at his chest, pressing my fingers to the lines that are cleverly hidden amongst the angel’s wings, but there nonetheless. When I look closer, I see they are a tally.

  “Scars,” Judas murmurs.

  I meet the clear blue of his gaze. He’s watching me intently. “From what?”

  “A knife.” He smooths his palm over his pec. “One mark for every sin.”

  My eyes widen, and I look at the marks from a different perspective. “There are hundreds. Judas, that’s…”

  “A lot. I know. My brother and I have been accruing them
since we were ten years old.” I notice one that disrupts the ink rather than being embedded in it. The skin is a faded pink line through the black. I brush my finger over it. “A newer one.”

  “Why?”

  “Our dad was a gangster, our ma was a borderline cult Catholic, and my brother is a psychopath. Saint thought it was better for his sins to mar his body rather than his soul. I just went along with it because it meant I got to take a knife to my brother.” Dear God, how messed up is his family?

  “Wait, so you do believe in God?”

  He smirks. “Is that so hard to believe?”

  “Uh, you’re a drug dealer, Judas. Yes.”

  “Are a man’s occupation and his faith mutually inclusive?”

  “You’re turning this into a conversation on morality?”

  “I believe in God. I just don’t believe quite in the same way that others do.”

  “So, what? You have a private agreement with him?”

  A grin stretches his face. “Something like that.”

  “You have to give me more than that, Judas. You’re cutting sins into your chest, dealing drugs from a church. Don’t they say that to go against the church is to go against God?”

  “Well, the bible would have you believe that the world is black and white. Good and evil. God and The Devil. But there’s always darkness in light.” He sweeps my hair away from my face, fingers trailing delicately over my skin. “You’re the perfect example of that, Delilah. Such depravity amongst so much purity.”