by Rose Harper
12
MATEO
D raped with warmth and softness, I slowly come out of sleep. First, the feeling of a dainty arm wrapped around my waist greets me, then a delicate yet juicy thigh over the top of mine. My hands find purpose as they trail up and down the smoothest back I’ve ever felt in my life. The curves, dips, and rises taunt my fingertips as a small smile plasters across my face. Damn, I don’t know when I retrieved her last night, but she feels fucking good lying next to me.
Heaven. Who knew lying beside someone for more than a quick fuck could be this rewarding. Pulling her into me, I turn on my side, keeping my eyes closed as I bury my nose in her curls, inhaling deeply. Squinting my eyes, confusion assaults me when it’s not the honeysuckle and mango combination I was expecting. Instead, it’s jasmine, which can only belong to one person. And I know for a fact she knows never to overstay her welcome.
“Camille?” My eyes shoot open, then narrow.
Smiling, she blinks her sleep-laced eyes at me in obvious pleasure. When the fuck did she get here last night? The last thing I remember is dropping her off at her room. She wasn’t too pleased with it, but she conceded nonetheless. The only reason I did is because I wanted to see if Carina was as much of a spitfire last night as she was when she peeped in on Camille and me bumping uglies yesterday afternoon. I never intended on actually doing it.
“What the fuck are you doing in my bed?” I grit out, pushing her away from me.
Swiftly getting out of bed, I hurriedly gather sweats and forcefully push one foot then the other through the legs. Snapping the band around my waist, I turn around and glare at her. Much to my surprise, instead of hastily getting out of my bed, like she should be doing, she’s lounging back against the feather-down pillows with a pleased expression lining her features.
Did the women in my life all lose their ever-loving minds? First Carina, now Camille. What’s going to happen next?
“I’m just playing back last night, dear,” she coos, stretching. More times than not, I would allow myself to rake my eyes all over her luscious body, but today, she fucking repulses me. There’s one thing I ask the people in this house not to do, and that’s come into my room—period. I don’t care if I’m plastered six ways from St. Patrick’s Day; you never come into my sanctuary.
“‘Dear’? When did you think it was okay to address me so informally?”
“Last night,” she gushes, jumping up to her knees. “When you asked me to marry you?”
Hold. The. Fuck. Up.
“I did what?” I quip, mentally shaking myself.
“You asked me to marry you, silly. And I said yes!”
I’ve got to be losing my mind. That’s it. This is all just a nightmare; a nightmare I’m about to wake up from any second. Resting my fists on the side of the bed, it’s hard to push the scent of sex and sweat from my nostrils. The smell, much like the woman lounging on my bed like she has every goddamn right, repulses me. There’s a reason I don’t do the deed in my bed. A logical stand-up motherfucking reason.
“I know I was drunk last night, but I can specifically remember that the words ‘will you marry me’ did not come out of my mouth.” This has to be some sort of joke, and if she’s playing me, I’ll fucking ruin her. I don’t have time for the mind game shit. My matrimonial status is saved for one person, and that person is more than likely still kneeling on the kitchen floor.
Snapping her gaze to me, her eyes clear of all their euphoric bliss. “You most certainly did. You even put in a call to the papa at around four this morning.”
“I. Did. What?!” I thunder, jerking up. Every muscle on my body is clenching with the need to destroy something.
“I’m telling the truth, Mateo. Look on your phone if you don’t believe me.”
Peering around the room, I finally locate my cell next to my discarded trousers. Stalking over toward it, it takes me two tries before I’m able to gather enough balance to sufficiently collect it off the floor. Fumbling to unlock it, I start sifting through the contact list, my main objective being the recent calls. Please, let her be lying. At least I know how to deal with that.
My breath freezes in my chest. Bile rises in my throat. My entire body quakes with disbelief. There, like a sore thumb is a recent call made to the priest himself. At four motherfucking fifteen this morning. The call was only five minutes in length, which is plenty of time to damn me to hell and back—twice.
“Not happening, Camille.”
Running my hands over my face, I wipe the rest of the sleep from my eyes. Glancing out the windows, I see the sun is just now starting to rise over the eastern sky, filling the room with delicate rays of purple, pink, and golden hues. The trees are frozen from the arctic blast that swept through here last night, causing the lights to bounce off their icy exterior, giving the land before me a whimsical glow of that of a frigid kingdom.
“But you promised,” she cries out, slipping off the bed. “You said you loved me; wanted to be with me. You want to have a little bambini to chase around the house.”
“I must have been more fucked up than I remembered,” I ghost out a whisper. “Because I can assure you, marriage is most certainly not on the table.”
“But—”
“There are no buts about it, Camille. I am not going to marry you. Period. Furthermore, I ask again: why the fuck are you in my goddamn bedroom?”
With snappy movements, she grabs her clothes off the floor with fury rolling off her in waves. Probably shit talking me inside that ditzy head of hers, which I can’t say I blame her. But, hell, something has to be wrong with her if she believes that shit show from last night. Me—marry her? Bullshit. I’m being forced to marry as it is, I sure as fuck don’t see myself getting hitched voluntarily.
“I’m in here because you’re the one that dragged me in here. You forced me. So, if it’s anyone’s fault why I’m in here, it’s yours.”
“You drank one motherfucking glass of wine last night!” I yell, taking my anger out on the wall. Drywall and dust fall all around me, coating me in a sheen of white mist. “I drank a half a bottle of Sambuca and barely managed to get up here, let alone, force you. Your excuse as to why you’re in here is bullshit, and we both know it. So, I ask one last time. Why the fuck are you in my bedroom?”
Throwing her hands in the air, she screeches loudly. “Fine! This is the only room in the house that’s off limits besides the basement. The only room. Yet, you use me as your own personal fuck bag, and I’m not allowed in here. When you forced me against the wall and started tongue fucking me, touching me in places you’ve been the only one to touch, I couldn’t say no, even to this request. You are the one that invited me in here, and I wasn’t about to deny you, even if you were bombed. It was just my luck you asked me to marry you. Now, I’ll get to spend all my nights wrapped in your arms.”
“Not. Fucking. Happening,” I roar, causing her to startle in surprise. “If you say one more goddamn word about marriage, I’ll slit your fucking throat.”
Smirking, she carries her clothes to the door before turning toward me. “Well, you’ll have to do something, because you’ve already put a phone call into the papa. He’ll be expecting you to stand beside him within the coming weeks ready to say your vows. You know how he gets if a person goes back on their word. It’s never pretty.”
As soon as she shuts the door behind her, I pick up the nearest thing to me, throwing it. The sound of glass shattering doesn’t do much to calm the rage swirling within me. So much self-hatred I have toward myself causes my stomach to lurch painfully as I fight to swallow the knot that’s made its permanent residence in my throat. In the span of one night, I’ve managed to fuck up a twenty-two-year deal between my father and Carina’s. One pussy threatens to obliterate everything that I’ve worked so hard for. And for what? Because I got drunk and let my guard down one time.
“Fuck!” I bellow, launching a vase across the room. Rage. Rage. And more rage eats me alive as I think of what I’ve
done. I’ve made the call, so there has to be something done. The priest will not think highly of our family if I go back on my word, drunk or not. He will see my family as disgraces, outcasts. He will turn his back on us, taking with his loyalty, his allegiance. He will take everything from us if I don’t fix this.
13
CARINA
“W ake up, Kitty,” Dom whispers, nudging my shoulder.
Glancing up from my spot on the floor, my bleary mind takes a moment to focus on where I’m at. Sitting up slowly, I sigh as the bones in my back pop one after the other. Stretching my hands over my head, I relish in the tautness of my muscles, moaning as the stiffness leaves me. It wasn’t the most restful night’s sleep, but after Dom left, it was peaceful.
“Good morning,” I reply, tossing him a hint of a smile.
“It’s not going to be for you if you don’t get back into fucking position,” he whisper-hisses.
Clearly confused, I ask, “What?”
The door to the kitchen slamming open causes my shoulders to stiffen, and I turn my wide eyes back to Dom. He’s slowly shaking his head down at me, tsking me for not complying with what he told me to do. Heat meets my back, and I can’t bring myself to glance back over my shoulder. I know who it is, and I know the exact face he’s probably donning. It’s Mateo, and by the feeling of his gaze on me, he isn’t happy.
“Care to tell me why I find you on your ass instead of your knees, pet?”
“I, um,” I stumble over my words.
“Get the fuck up. Now!” he roars; the decimal of his voice echoes off the walls, reverberating around inside my brain.
Faltering to my feet, I keep my back toward him, never once bothering to right my clothing. The dress I put on for dinner rests just below the curvature of my ass, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. I teeter in my heels, almost turning my ankle, as I wait for his next directive. The silence that extends between all three of us in this room is stifling. It causes perspiration to dot along the contours of my neck, slipping down between my shoulder blades.
“I-I’m sorry,” I chance, the words feeling like acid on my tongue.
A shuddering breath escapes me when all at once, like a thief in the night, he’s upon me. Licking my bottom lip, it takes everything not to react to his proximity and heat; a delicious heat that’s strictly Mateo. Taking my bottom lip between my teeth, I worry it until I taste a hint of copper tantalizing my taste buds, before releasing it, licking the wound my sharp teeth caused.
“You’re sorry?” his words wisp across my heated flesh, the action causing my mouth to fall open. I catch Dom’s eyes, watching the area around his eyes crinkle in obvious enjoyment. He looks at me over the rim of his coffee cup, finishing it off with a smirk. Why is the bastard laughing? This clearly isn’t a fucking laughing moment.
“Y-yes,” I whisper, gulping. His anger is different today than it was yesterday. Yesterday, I could get away with it. Today—I have a feeling I’m about to pay for everything that’s pissed him off since he was born.
“It’s about time you remember just who you’re dealing with,” he seethes, spittle dotting along the back of my neck. A forceful hand slips into my hair, gripping tightly as he pulls me back against him. A gasp I can’t hold in even if I wanted to escapes. He’s so fucking hot—so goddamn hard. I don’t know what this insane part of me thinks I’m going to get out of this, but damn, as long as he does more of what he’s doing right now, I don’t want to go anywhere.
“Most men would let your little indiscretion slip with your head in their lap and their cocks down your throat,” he whispers, and my breathing speeds up as his tongue licks along the shell of my ear, before bringing it into his mouth, biting hard. “But I’m not most men. When I demand penance, I demand it in blood.”
Wrapping his arm around my midsection, he squeezes so hard there’s no room for anything to come between us, let alone air. Smoothing his hand along my ribs, a huff of air rushes from between my dry lips. I may hate him, but the feel of his hands is magic. He doesn’t second guess his actions, he merely does what he wants to do, taking no prisoners. Tipping my neck to the side, I’m absolutely convinced this is a reward instead of a punishment as he ghosts his lips over the column of my throat because nothing that feels this good could ever be wrong. Ever.
“Mateo,” I vaguely hear Dom say through the rush of blood in my ears. “Something has you heated, and I can tell it’s not Kitty. Maybe you should calm before delivering her punishment.” Goddammit, Dom. I inwardly scream, spearing him with my seething eyes.
“No,” Mateo grunts, taking a mouthful of skin into his mouth, sucking.
“Mateo, remember yourself,” he tries once more, carefully putting his cup down on the counter. Stepping around the island, he slowly comes toward us while I stare daggers at him, before a cavernous moan slips past my lips as Mateo’s strong hand covers my aching breast, kneading it through my dress and satin bra.
“I said no,” he growls, kneading harder, causing me to cry out in nothing but mind-numbing, spine-tingling pleasure. He knows just the right places to touch me to have my crying out in surrender. It’s pure fucking perfection.
“Shut the fuck up, Dom,” I moan out, not remembering when I started rubbing myself against him, but find myself doing it nonetheless. He rocks against me, his stiff erection pressing into my lower back.
“Mateo, can’t you see you’re giving her pleasure instead of a punishment?” Dom says sternly, ripping me away from him.
Tumbling into Dom’s chest, I continue panting. I’m burning, quaking to find some type of relief from Mateo. Turning away from Dom, I make to go back to Mateo, seeing his eye dilated almost fully black. The wild look in his eyes has an entrenched memory trying to break through the haze of my mind. Me in water, him hovering over me, screaming something over his shoulder. Only, that’s as far as it goes. It stops, like a movie clip that’s been cut right in the middle.
Pushing it to the back of my mind, I struggle against Dom’s hold, wanting nothing more than to receive the punishment Mateo’s promised me. I need it; I need him. Goddammit, let me have him!
“If you don’t want to lose your arms, you’ll let her go, Dom,” he threatens, widening his stance.
The movement causes me to take in just what he has on and … oh, my God, my mouth salivates at the thought of running my tongue down his muscular chest, abs, then landing at his waist where his fully hard shaft is tenting his sweats. He’s even more handsome like this than he has ever been before. Mateo angry, fuming, and rigid is the hottest motherfucking sight I’ve ever seen.
“Give me,” I say in a moan, reaching for him.
“Honey, you don’t want him right now. He’s not in the right headspace,” Dom soothes.
“Right enough for me.”
“Let. Her. Go. This is your last warning.” As Mateo takes a step closer, Dom pushes me behind him. What the hell is he protecting me from? Hell, I want this. Please, Jesus, I want the punishment swirling through Mateo’s mind right now.
“Calm down, and you can have her.”
“I am calm, Dom. I’ve never been calmer in my life.”
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“Then what has you so upset you were going to take it out on Carina?”
Sighing, Mateo rakes his hands through his hair like a man on the edge getting ready to teeter over. “The only thing you need to know, asshole, is that I need a new bed in my room, and I need it now.”
“A new bed? Why?” he asks, confusion lacing his voice.
“Because,” Mateo licks his lips, meeting my gaze. Something undecipherable shines through his eyes, but he never once looks away from me while he answers Dom. “I woke up this morning with Camille lying next to me.”
Just hearing her name washes over me like a cold bucket of water as fire blazes in my belly. Narrowing my eyes at him, I grit my teeth, growling, “Camille was in your bed?”
Dom sighs. “Fuck.”
<
br /> With a half-assed chuckle, Mateo continues, “That’s not all.”
“What else is there, Mateo?”
Hearing the infamous clinking of heeled shoes, our gazes break away long enough to see the devil’s mistress herself step through the door. Her gaze goes to all of us, down to Mateo’s still noticeable erection, then back to me, her lips thinning. As she sways up to us, my anger goes up another notch as she wraps her hands around Mateo as if she’s staking her claim right in front of me and there’s nothing I can do about it.
“Mateo,” Dom thunders, getting out attention once more. “What else is there?”
All of a sudden, displeasure leaves her face as a maniacal grin takes over. I want to ask Mateo why he’s allowing her to hold him when he was just fondling me into a frenzy. I want to ask what the fuck she thinks she’s doing touching what’s not rightfully hers. He didn’t bring her here. He merely keeps her around so he can have a quick lay. She wandered in off the street into their family restaurant about a year ago, homeless, wet, cold, and seeking shelter. That much I overheard yesterday while they were gone, some of the veterans in Mateo’s group was telling a few of the newbies when they saw her walk past them as if she owned the world, and everyone needed to bow down to her.
But now, she acts like she has some claim over him; like she’s the fucking queen of the cock house? Bullshit. As far as I know, Mateo only puts up with her to get a piece of ass. There’s nothing significant about them.
“Oh, he didn’t tell you,” she gushes. “We’re getting married.”
14
CARINA
“M arried?” I ask, stepping out from behind Dom. “As in, ‘do you take this woman to be your lawfully wedded wife’ married?”
“The one and only,” Bitch Face gushes. What I wouldn’t give to smack the fake right off her face right now. Mateo doesn’t seem like the type of man to marry just anyone, and now he’s marrying this wicked witch of the East? I have no words that could possibly describe the turbulent nausea racing through me.