Monster Inside Me: Volume II (A Dark Mafia Romance Book 2)

by Faye Byrd

  I wave my hand. “Bring on who the fuck ever you want, but know this,” I say, jabbing my pointer finger at him. “I hold you responsible for any errors in their judgment. Not only will they pay if they double-cross me, but you will, too.”

  He visibly swallows. “I understand.”

  “Good.” I relax back into my chair. “Now the final request doesn’t necessarily have a time limit, but I’d also like it to be something you begin work on immediately.”

  He presses his pencil to the pad. “Go ahead.”

  “I need you to locate a specific person, who I barely know anything about. My assumption is that he’s connected, he’s at least twenty years older than me, possibly even thirty, and he only has one eye. The other would’ve been injured with a knife.”

  Once again, his pencil is paused as I speak. “Is that it?”

  “That’s all I have,” I say with an apologetic shrug. “A one-eyed man shouldn’t be that hard to locate. Right?”

  “That’s subjective, Boss, but looking through the files I’ve gathered on the other organizations may be a good place to start.”

  “That’s exactly where you should start. Pay special attention to anyone who my father had issues with in the early nineties.” I grab the other glass and pour it back. “This is important to me, Parks. All of it. Use caution but also expediency. These matters are crucial.”

  “Yes, Boss. I understand. Will that be all?” he asks as he stands from the sofa. At least he chose a fucking cum-free spot. Jesus, that fucker has to go.

  “That’s enough, don’t ya think?” I ask, standing to give him a handshake. “I’ll be awaiting any information you have to share.”

  “Is there anything specific you’re looking for that I should notify you of immediately?” he asks as we walk to the elevator.

  “Any leads on the man, or if something catches your eye with the Miami situation that you feel I should know. Otherwise, I’ll expect your full report in two weeks.” I give him a slap on the shoulder as he steps inside and turns to face me.

  “Will do, Boss,” he says with a nod.

  I stand there until the elevator closes before retreating into my penthouse—which suddenly feels too empty. With a heavy sigh to expel some of the fucked-up-ed-ness that’s been today, I move to my office and fire up the PC. One thing that’ll make me feel better is ordering a new fucking sofa. So much so that I’m probably going to get something straight from the showroom floor instead of custom. Fuck waiting two months. That motherfucker needs to be gone now.

  After a couple hours of surfing and selecting a subpar option, I’m finally able to shut down the fucking computer with a sigh. It’s been a long goddamn day, and I can hear my bed calling my name—and my duvet better be clean.

  I head to the end of the hallway and turn off most of the lights, leaving a few key ones on in case I get up in the middle of the night—you never fucking know. Afterward, I begin sliding my suit jacket from my shoulders as I enter the bedroom. I pause and take in the bed. It’s neatly made, and if Julie values her job, it’ll be just as fucking clean.

  Bypassing it all, I go straight for the bathroom and shut myself inside. Thirty-five minutes later, I reappear with steam wafting from my naked skin as I walk back toward the bed. Pausing at the nightstand, I lift the remote and aim it toward the city skyline spread beyond my window. Slowly, it all fades to black, and the room darkens to just the light coming from the small bedside lamp.

  I stretch my muscles and rotate my left shoulder a couple rounds, working out the soreness before climbing beneath the duvet. I pull the material against my nose and inhale. The fresh scent of recently dry-cleaned goodness fills my senses. I emit a soft fucking sigh as I close my eyes and shut down my mind.

  My dreams are filled with fucked up obscure images of one-eyed men and little girl screams amid a forest so thick I can barely see around me. But then the whole scene changes, and I’m floating on a pillowy cloud with a goddess hovering above me. Her long dark hair cascades over her luminescent skin, and her eyes, though dark, seduce me with their intensity.

  They roam over my face and chest, singeing my skin and sending my blood thundering through my veins. The anticipation of her touch has taken my breath, only allowing shallow pants to escape. My whole body is rigid, fucking tense and ready for something—any fucking thing.

  Ever so slowly, she settles over me. The heat that sparks as our skin touches is electric, sending a shockwave of fucking want rushing through me. My hands find her thighs, gripping firmly, desperate to settle her heat over my cock, but she holds firm. Instead, she pushes her hands up my chest as she lowers her face closer to mine. Each move causes my desperation to soar. I just need … more.

  Her lips skim over my chest and up my neck with intermittent swipes of her tongue. My perfectly trimmed nails dig into the skin of her thigh as her lips get closer to mine. I’m on the edge, ready to drown in her essence and burrow beneath her skin.

  When her lips ghost over mine, a spark ignites, and my hands slip up her naked back, pulling her down and holding her to me. Shockwaves of sensation arc between our skin. Her breathing accelerates, and her teeth latch on to my bottom lip, leaving her open and vulnerable to my attack.

  My tongue thrusts inside, and her taste overwhelms me, sending my senses into a tailspin that I never want to end. I’m delirious from a drug I hadn’t even known existed before now.

  Passion.

  It throbs through me in clear and decisive beats, bending me to its will, dominating my every action. But I’m not the dominant one here—she is—and she proves it by disrupting the most intense kiss I’ve ever experienced.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” she breathes, lifting and taking her lips with her, but I can’t be bothered to care. The pale skin of her tits glows as they settle at eye level.

  I swallow to rid myself of the drool, yet before I can act, she leans closer, her lips at my ear. “You’re injured. Let me take care of you,” she murmurs, her voice husky and seductive. Her lips and tongue dance along my neck, smothering my instinct to resist.

  A satisfied rumble builds in my chest but lodges in place as she lifts her lower half and positions her slick pussy atop my straining cock. My eyes roll back in my head, even though I wish I could keep them open, and the grumble turns into a grunt as she slowly moves over me.

  “Jesus fuck, solare.” I lift my hips to gain more friction. “Sto morendo di fame per voi.”

  Her thrusts slow, moving over me at a torturously slow pace as she leans down, her skin shimmering. “While your voice is beautiful in Italian, I want to understand your words.”

  “I said I’m starving for you.” I grind against her again. “Please, Piper.”

  She presses a kiss against my lips and leans up, emitting her own sigh as the pressure against her clit increases. “That’s it, baby,” I croon, attempting to snake a hand down her stomach, but she stops me short.

  Lacing our fingers, she seeks my other hand and does the same, pinning them on either side of my head. Now she has the leverage she needs to dish out as much punishment as she likes, but as long as she’s fucking touching me, I’ll be fine in this divine hell.

  Instead of cloudy white softness, we’re now encased in darkness, her pale skin glowing in the near nonexistent light. Braced over me, she is ethereal as her lips open and a low moan escapes. Her pace quickens as her hips rock in an exotic rhythm. I’m a happy voyeur under her control.

  She lifts swiftly, her head lolling back, and I eagerly provide the required leverage by raising our entwined hands and pushing her to keep pace. I’ve never seen a sight so beautiful in my life as her body tenses above me. Her lips fall open, and a series of sexy sounds begin to slip from her mouth. She shudders, and I urgently rock her against me, desperate for her completion.

  As her passion begins to dissipate, she swiftly changes direction.

  Removing one of her hands from mine, she barely misses a thrust as she lifts and positions me. My cock fills her in o
ne solid thrust. I almost lose it, as I can feel the spasms of her lessening orgasm, but I grit my teeth and fight to maintain control. This can’t be over. I haven’t had enough.

  Her body comes down and covers mine, our lips like magnets. My hands are free, and they roam her curves, caressing and grabbing and worshipping and possessing. My fingers burn to feel every radiant inch of her at the same time my head is clouding with her taste.

  I’m drowning in her, and I don’t even fucking care. My psyche has created perfection and is reluctant to allow it to slip through its fingers. Time is suspended, unmoving, as two minds and bodies connect.

  Two souls intertwine.

  Slowly and efficiently, we discover every aspect of the other. I briefly wonder if this will matter in the real world but quickly discard that notion because it’ll never exist in the real world. A monster lives there, and he’ll never allow me to feel as I do right now.

  I realize more than Piper is glowing. A rose-colored hue has surrounded us, a blanket of something unfamiliar to me, but I absorb it anyway. It feels too good to ignore. I take everything this goddess is offering because in the light of day, it’ll only be a warm memory.

  As the passion explodes around us, I tangle our legs and grip her shoulders from behind, locking us in a tight embrace. Her slick luminescent skin slides against mine as short, powerful thrusts connect us on a level that is foreign to me. Her lips lean in and mimic the motions of our bodies, her tongue forceful yet slow, creating a kiss so deep I’m afraid I might drown.

  The intensity explodes and an electric spark arcs between our lips. She snatches away only to release a desperate whimper. My muscles tighten, holding her closer, driving deeper inside as her peak closes in once more.

  “Dante,” she moans, her fingernails digging into my skin. “Please.”

  “Dimmi come ti piace,” I say, and then repeat. “Tell me how you like it, solare. I need to hear you.”

  “So good, Dante,” she says on a low moan.

  Everything spirals in a swirl of euphoria as our bodies climb to the highest pinnacle. Her vocals become more pronounced as she tightens around me, causing a quiver to erupt in my stomach and race downward. I chase her orgasm before allowing my own, but when I do release, it’s with a startled grunt as the rose glow blooms to a bright burst before fading into nothing.

  Everything goes black.

  When awareness settles over me, before I even open my eyes, the vividness of last night’s dream is already pulsing behind my lids. Skin clashes and emotions war as the scene replays through my mind. My chest constricts as I witness the couple express pure emotion with their bodies.

  The monster growls and pushes the feelings away, but as wakefulness settles in, a couple of things begin to fuck with my head. Normally, my bed is smooth and cool, but I’m unusually warm. Do I smell flowers? And what is that fucking noise?

  I open my eyes, but when I move to stretch my arms, something is weighing my left one down. With caution, I carefully work it free as my heart starts hammering in my chest. I’ve been here before, sort of, and it was just this morning.

  Terrified of what I’ll find, I pan my eyes to the left where there’s an additional mound under the duvet. My blood feels like ice as it races through my veins. The monster roars, but my chaotic thoughts overwhelm him.

  No!

  With trembling fingers, I switch on the bedside lamp and lift the duvet as gently as possible.

  Lying naked and blissfully asleep is Piper.

  My stomach churns at the implication. I switch off the lamp and throw on the first clothes I can find. Grabbing my wallet, I make a beeline for the elevator and the safety of Antonio’s apartment. On the way down, I rescind Piper’s thumbprint permission for access to the penthouse. Leaning against the wall with my mind in turmoil, I slide to the floor.

  What the fuck happened last night?

  FIVE

  PIT OF CONFUSION

  I snatch the bottle from my lips, infuriated that it tastes like water and enraged at the fire-breathing dragon who dares to stare me down. “The fuck you doing here, Ivan?” I intend to growl, but it comes out as a slur, my voice dragging due to misuse and a lot of alcohol.

  His too large forearms cross over his too wide chest. “What the hell, Dante? I haven’t heard from you in three days! Your phone’s been off, you haven’t been to the club, and your penthouse hasn’t had anyone access it, aside from Julie, since Piper left three mornings ago.”

  My stomach churns at her name, but the monster takes over and locks that shit down. “Good fucking riddance.” I snort and take another gulp of the water-flavored vodka.

  “Ahhh,” he says, his whole form vibrating with the motion. “What happened?” He’s all soft-talking now, nothing like the bulldog who came in here demanding answers.

  I ignore his question and ask a few of my own. “How did you find me? Better yet, how the fuck did you get in? There’s no electronic mumbo-jumbo for you to override here.”

  He shrugs—I think he does anyway—and looks away. “Yeah, about that. You may need to replace the door.”

  My head thumps back against the wall. “You broke down my fucking door?” I ask, accepting the inevitable. He’s found me. The jig is up. My alone time is over, and I haven’t figured out a goddamn thing.

  He shakes his head—I can tell because it vibrates ten times more than the rest of him—and moves to Antonio’s small kitchen. “My brother dropped off the grid for three days. Of course I broke down the door.” He walks over with a glass—of real fucking water, I suppose—and kneels beside me. “I’m just happy you’re alive.”

  “Cazzo,” I swear and take the glass, because even though they’re blurry behind the large square frames, those puppy dog eyes of his are begging. As I gulp the water, I realize that no, the vodka doesn’t taste the same. This is refreshing and cold and just what I need if I’m going to clear my head.

  When the glass is empty, I hold it back out to him. “More, please.”

  “Let’s get you off the floor first,” Ivan says as he lifts my right arm and slips his beneath it. My eyes widen as I take in his words and focus on all the shit around me.

  I am on the floor.

  Jesus Fucking Christ!

  What has she done to me?

  My legs are wobbly when I finally do stand, because God knows how fucking long I’ve been down there—it all blends into one long episode of confusion.

  Think and drink.

  Get slapped around by the monster.

  Think and drink some more.

  I’ve come to terms with the realization that it did, in fact, happen. I just don’t know where that leaves me or what I’m supposed to do next. If the monster has his way, we’ll clip her on the way home from the club and make it look like a mugging.

  That forceful thought causes my chest to constrict so tightly that I find myself gasping for air. I’m clawing at my throat as strangled, oxygen-reduced gurgles are the only sound I can make. Slender, wiry arms wrap around me from behind and crush my chest even more as they squeeze and release.

  “Dante! Dante!” he yells as he pumps his arms.

  Darkness starts to seep into the edges of my vision as my heart rate spikes due to the terrifying prospect that I may never again inhale oxygen. The monster cackles and pushes images of a lifeless Piper, dead in the alley, into my mind. I choke out a gasp and use that little puff of air to slam that motherfucker against his cage.

  For the first time in days, I’m in complete control. I unleash my fury on the part of me that’s run rampant for far too fucking long. Once he’s sufficiently been caged, the next thing I do is burst from the choking effects of my brother’s skinny yet surprisingly strong grip.

  “Gesu Cristo, Van! Are ya trying to fucking put me in the grave!” I growl—once I’ve taken a few deep, fulfilling breaths.

  He straightens his glasses from where I about knocked them off his nose. “You were choking, man. I had to do something.”

 
“I wasn’t fucking choking,” I reply, resigned to the fact that I just had a goddamn panic attack.

  Me.

  Dante Fucking Simone.

  Apparently has fucking anxiety over some chick’s proposed death.

  Fuck!

  I flop back onto the sofa.

  She isn’t just some chick. She’s fucking Piper Tate, and the thought of something happening to her makes me sick to my fucking stomach. Shit! That only deepens the pit of confusion I’ve been swimming in for the past three days.

  Ivan drops down beside me. “What’s going on, man? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this. You’re always cool, calm, and in control.” He tilts his head down and eyes me over the rim of his glasses. “And you’ve never hidden from anything.”

  “This isn’t just anything, Van. I fucked up.” I shake my head, which makes everything go fuzzy. I prop my elbows on my knees and grip my head to stop the spinning. “I slept with Piper,” I say to the floor.

  Ivan barks out a laugh. “Yeah. So?”

  My stomach churns at his nonchalance—it was anything but. “So?” I let out an ironic chuckle and stand swiftly, pinning him with an incredulous stare—I think. “So, I don’t do that!” I spew like a madman. “I thought it was a dream! An incredibly amazing dream, but a fucking dream!” I start pacing. “One minute, I was asleep, dreaming about something from a long time ago, and the next, I had this beautiful goddess hovering over me. I gave in. I let her do what she wanted with me. It was … ” I flop back on the sofa, exhausted, and cover my face. “Jesus fuck! It was … it was like nothing I’ve ever felt.”

  “So the goddess was Piper, not a dream,” Ivan says gently, and it’s not a question, either. He claps me on the shoulder, his hand gripping tightly. I think it’s meant to offer comfort, but it only sets me on edge.

  I don’t need his fucking pity party. I need to get myself together and move the fuck forward. I shake off his hold. “Get me some more fucking water!”

  “Whoa,” he says, holding up his hands. “I don’t mind getting you some water, but you need to chill.” He shrugs. “So it wasn’t a dream. What’s the big deal? You’ve already fucked before.”