Little Dove

by Layla Frost

  No.

  I needed to know.

  “I had it disconnected the morning after I watched you slide your hand between your legs. Seeing you touch yourself while you were wearing my sweats? It made me come harder than I ever had before. What were you thinking about?”

  If I was wearing his sweats at the time, then it was the first time I’d thought of him while I’d touched myself. The night he’d carried me from the couch to my bed.

  Licking my suddenly dry lips, I lied, “I don’t remember.”

  His tattooed fingers around my throat gave a small squeeze. “You’ve already lied enough, Juliet. Do you want more punishment?”

  A moan forced its way out. Seeing our reflection in the blank monitors was almost as exhilarating as feeling his hand around my throat.

  “What were you thinking about?” he repeated.

  “You,” I admitted on a soft breath.

  He groaned his approval, sliding a finger through my wetness. “Good. Because every time I stroked my dick, I thought of you.”

  Arousal shot through me and I tilted my hips, wanting him to touch me more, but his fingers only teased.

  “Don’t ever think,” he continued, “even for one damn second, that I don’t want you. I’ve always wanted you, even when I shouldn’t have. All of you. Everything. Every piece of you.”

  Like only Maximo could, he overwhelmed me with his size, his touch, his obscenely sweet words.

  I couldn’t take any more. “Maximo—”

  “Hush. You had your time to talk, now it’s time to listen.” Turning me to face him, he cupped my head with both hands, tilting it back. “Been obsessed with you since I saw you in that dump. The more time I spent with you,” he jerked his head toward the monitors, “or watching you, the more that obsession grew. The more I needed you. I could never have better than you because there is no better.”

  It was too much. More than my brain and my body and my heart could take. “Maximo—”

  “I said hush. Do you know why I started calling you little dove?”

  I shook my head.

  His cock jerked against my stomach. “Because I knew I was going to keep you in my cage. Even back then, I knew I’d never let you go.”

  And then he took my mouth, his kiss just as hungry as mine. His tongue speared in, demanding and greedy and hot.

  Lifting me, he broke the kiss and began walking. Unable to keep my mouth off him, I kissed and nipped his jaw. When I bit down on his neck, wanting to mark him like he did me, he froze. I wondered if he’d just fuck me on the hallway floor, but after a brief pause, his long strides sped up.

  My ass had barely hit the bed with a stinging ache when he had my shirt and bra off. I lifted onto my knees but didn’t have time to undress him. He beat me to it, throwing his clothes off to land with mine before taking me down onto my back. His body covered mine, his hips between my spread thighs and his hard cock pressed against me.

  But he didn’t enter me. His hard length glided along my slit. It rubbed my clit, tormenting me until I had no choice but to beg.

  “Please,” I pleaded.

  “Who am I?”

  That time, I didn’t hesitate. “My Daddy.”

  His eyes closed, his pleasure more than purely sexual. It was important to him. I was important to him. “Again.”

  Leaning up, I touched his cheek, his stubbled jaw, and down to the pointed crown that was inked on his neck. “You’re my Daddy.”

  In one thrust, he filled me, slamming to the hilt and stealing my breath. “Who owns this pussy?”

  “You do.”

  “Who owns you?”

  Again, my answer was immediate because, dysfunctional or not, it was the truth. “You do, Daddy.”

  His movements were frantic and unhinged, his eyes wild at my words. With each powerful, savage thrust, the tension in my lower belly tightened. He pushed me closer to the edge until every nerve ending in my body was oversensitive and overwhelmed.

  And then he stopped.

  His thick cock buried deep was almost enough to launch me into bliss anyway.

  Almost, but not quite.

  Restless and needy, I rocked my hips with wanton abandon, happy to fuck myself on his length.

  His weight pressed into me, pinning me to the mattress so I couldn’t move those meager centimeters.

  Maximo’s voice was rough and harsh when he ordered, “Tell me you love it.”

  God.

  Looking at him, his face far from blank or cold, I saw the blatant earnestness. The hurt. My words earlier were meant to be destructive, and they’d achieved their goal.

  “I love it. I never hated it.”

  His hand moved from the bed to the base of my throat, his fingers curling around my neck. Although his touch was featherlight, the hold was intoxicatingly controlling and I wanted more. “Tell me you need it.”

  “You see what three days without this did to me. I’m a mess. I need it.”

  He started moving again, though I wasn’t sure if he was even aware he was doing it. “Tell me you need me.”

  For all intents and purposes, I’d been on my own for as long as I could remember. Shamus had taught me early and often not to rely on others. Not to trust them.

  Not to need anyone.

  And I’d lived by that for a long time. Until Maximo had shown me what it was like to be taken care of.

  “I need you,” I told him, hoping he knew how difficult it was for me to willingly make myself vulnerable. “More than I’ve ever needed anyone or anything.”

  I should’ve known he’d get it.

  Dropping his body tight to mine, he kissed me, long and hot and fierce. His pelvis rubbed against my clit as he ground into me. When we were both breathless, he tore his mouth away and tilted my head to nip my neck.

  “Harder,” I demanded, wanting the love bites back.

  I missed them.

  Maximo groaned against me before biting harder and sucking the sensitive skin until I gasped. Raising himself, he moved his hand back to my throat, his thumb stroking over the spot.

  So close.

  “No one takes you from me, little dove,” Maximo growled. “No one opens your cage.”

  God, so close.

  “Even you.” His thrusts grew vicious, making my eyes unfocused and my thoughts hazy. “I decide when this is over.”

  My lids drifted closed, my neck arching.

  “And it’ll never be over. I’ll never let you go because I love you, Juliet. ‘Til the day I die.”

  What?

  Did he really…

  Try as I might to fight the crashing waves, I lost my thoughts, my breath, my mind. My orgasm tore through me, shredding me until I didn’t think I could ever be put back together.

  But one wasn’t enough.

  Maximo moved his hand from my throat to shove between us, his thumb stroking my clit how I liked. One orgasm barreled straight into the next, his thumb and dick working together to wring everything from me.

  When I’d given him all I had physically, he brought his hand back up to grip my chin before he demanded more of me.

  All of me.

  “Tell me you love me.”

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt familial or platonic love. I’d certainly never been in love.

  Not until Maximo.

  It was why I was so petrified. Because if Maximo lied, cheated, or let me down like everyone else, it wouldn’t be an annoying disappointment. It would destroy me. Shatter me.

  Admitting I loved him would hand him all my trust. There’d be no walls, no distance, no holding back.

  Just like he wanted.

  Like we both needed.

  “I love you.”

  Lids closing, his head dropped back, exposing his strong neck. His shoulders were bunched, tense and taut with exertion as he slammed into me over and over. Rough and raw, he gritted out, “Again.”

  “I love you, Daddy.”

  His low groan made goosebumps spread acros
s my skin. He continued driving into me as he came.

  Once he was done, he gave me his weight, burying his head in the side of my neck as we caught our breath.

  When he tried to lift away, I wrapped my limbs around him, whispering, “Just another minute, please.”

  “As long as you want,” he whispered back, his lips teasing my neck. “Forever.”

  Surrounded by him, my meandering thoughts bounced all over.

  Maybe I should’ve been disturbed by the fact he’d watched me.

  Maybe I should’ve been horrified he’d killed the Sullivans’ goon.

  Maybe I should’ve been scared by his possessive declarations.

  And maybe it was a sign of how fucked up and dysfunctional I was that none of it bothered me.

  Not at all.

  In fact, I liked it.

  I didn’t need a charming prince at my side. I needed a villain at my back. I needed someone who would love me with obsessive reassurance. Someone who wasn’t afraid to get his hands dirty because I knew firsthand that the world was far from a fairy tale.

  I needed Maximo.

  My silence must’ve stretched too long for my villain because he lifted to look down at me. His brow was furrowed and his muscles tight, as though he were bracing for me to take it all back. “We good?”

  Smiling, I ran my fingertips across his stubbled cheeks. “Perfect.”

  Relief flowed unfettered before he took my mouth in a bruising kiss. When he pulled away, he stroked my hair back, studying me—including the bags under my eyes. “You need rest.”

  He rolled to the side and tried to gather me to him, but I kept the momentum going, shoving him onto his back before straddling him with my ass on his abs.

  His eyebrow quirked and an amused smile pulled at his lips.

  I inhaled deeply. My shoulders were light, my chest was loose, and I could breathe easily.

  Maximo gave me that.

  So I wanted to give him something in return.

  More of me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  A Deal’s A Deal

  Juliet

  “MY MOTHER WAS a dancer at a strip club in Buffalo.”

  Maximo’s eyes flared at my sudden admission, but he didn’t speak.

  “My dad met her when he went to celebrate a win. After a weekend together, he convinced her to move in with him. Used his charm and big talk, and she bought into it. She probably thought the next Ali or Holyfield was rescuing her from the trailer park. Instead, she ended up pregnant by a man who had problems with rage, gambling, alcohol, and fidelity.”

  She thought she was getting a prince but ended up with the villain. At least I’ve always known who I’m with.

  “Nine months later, I was born on Valentine’s Day. And in the most obvious omen to how their love affair would end, my mother named me Juliet because she thought Romeo and Juliet was romantic.” I shrugged. “I don’t think she ever read the book.”

  “Still a beautiful name,” he said. “What happened to her?”

  “She took off three months after I was born. Having a baby didn’t soften Shamus. It didn’t slow him down. He was still out drinking and fighting and fucking while my mother was stuck in a tiny apartment with no money, friends, or family other than a crying newborn. Claiming she had to get groceries, she left me with a neighbor and never came back.”

  “You sure she left on her own?”

  I knew what he was asking. Before I was old enough to know better, I’d built up a fantasy that Shamus had forced her away and she was searching for me. Or that he or someone he owed had killed her. It was a gruesome thought for a kid to have, but it was better than my mother abandoning me.

  “I’m sure,” I said. “I found her online when I was twelve and made the mistake of reaching out.”

  “That bad?”

  “Worse. She didn’t ask how I was. She didn’t ask if I was safe even though she knew damn well how Shamus was. She just fed me excuses about how she was too young to be stuck at home with a screaming kid. Then she told me not to contact her again because she had a new boyfriend and she’d lied about her age and didn’t want him to know. And then she blocked me.”

  His palms glided up my sides. “Christ, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I looked her up a couple years later because I hoped time would make a difference. It had, but not in a good way. She’d racked up arrests for DUIs, theft, that kinda stuff. I’d lucked out. Going with her would’ve been jumping out of the pan and into the fire.”

  Maximo sat and wrapped his arms around me. I greedily soaked in the comfort and attention before leaning back.

  Taking another of those easy breaths, I unloaded the last bit of weight from my soul and shared something I’d never spoken out loud. Something I’d barely allowed myself to think. “I was happy you killed him.”

  A flurry of emotions ran wild across his handsome face. He opened his mouth, but I put my fingertips to them.

  I needed to get it all out. Let it all go.

  “Shamus being dead meant I wouldn’t have to be on guard against his fists or his enemies’ knives or his buddies sneaking into my room or bill collectors or any of the other shit I dealt with because of him. When you brought me here, it was the first time in my entire life I could sleep through the night. That I could relax. That I didn’t look over my shoulder.” Tears blurred my vision, slowly sliding free. “It was the first time I felt safe and like I had a home.”

  Even with loathing burning in his gaze, his touch was gentle when he cupped my cheek and wiped away my tears.

  “Thank you for giving me that,” I whispered through the lump in my throat.

  When I dropped my cheek to his chest, he wrapped me tight in his arms and pressed his lips to my forehead. “I’ll always give you everything, Juliet.”

  “I just want you.”

  “Always give you that, too.”

  Feeling emotionally drained, I’d shared all there was to share. It was his turn. “Tell me about your family.”

  I didn’t think he actually would, but with only a brief hesitation, Maximo said, “My old man was a lot like yours. Greedy. Always out for more. Blinded by it. He never appreciated what he had,” he gave me a pointed squeeze, “and he lost it all.”

  “How?”

  “Remember I told you I inherited three of my casinos?” At my nod, he continued. “My great-grandfather built Moonlight and Star. My Grandpa Sal took over and added Sunrise. When he died, he didn’t leave them to my father. He left them to me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my father would sell out at the first decent offer. He was an entitled bastard who had no interest in putting in the work, whereas I’d been learning the business since I was a kid. Grandpa Sal knew I’d die before I let our family’s legacy go. Unfortunately, he was the one who died when I was sixteen, so my father got temporary control anyway.”

  Maximo got a faraway look in his eyes, the shadows of ghosts haunting him.

  “We can talk about something else.” I shifted to climb off him but didn’t get far.

  His palms slid to cup my breasts, the shadows in his eyes growing into a different kind of darkness. “Having these perfect tits right here is very distracting.” He pinched my nipples, squeezing to the point of pleasure-pain.

  When he released them, I moved fast, rolling before he could grab me again. A moment of panic widened his eyes, making my heart pang with guilt and regret. But I wasn’t running. I just grabbed his tee off the floor and pulled it on before straddling him again.

  He ran his thumb across his bottom lip. “You wearing my shirt is not helping me focus.”

  At his tell, I had to know… “What’re you thinking?”

  His lips curled into a hot, wolfish smirk. “That I can feel my come mixed with your sweetness dripping out of you.”

  A tremor went through me. He’d made me come so hard, there was no way my body could handle more. But I found myself willing to take the pain.

 
; There’s a reason I put on the shirt, and yet I don’t remember why…

  Oh. Right.

  “Now who’s being distracting?” I asked.

  “Still you.”

  I understood if he didn’t want to talk about his family drama, but I still wanted to know about him. “Tell me more.”

  He stroked the flyaway hairs from my face, his gaze landing on my messy bun and his jaw clenching. “Put your hair in a ponytail first,” he shot back, like we were in some bizarre negotiation.

  “That’s all? And here I thought you were some big shot businessman. I’d have negotiated for more.”

  “In that case—”

  “Nope, too late.” I undid my bun and shook out my hair before refastening it in a high ponytail.

  “You’re a fucking wet dream,” he murmured as if I’d performed a striptease rather than a hairstyle change.

  “You keep this up, it’ll be me with the unreal, massive ego.”

  “Good.” His fingers absentmindedly played with my hair.

  “A deal’s a deal,” I prodded when he remained silent. “Tell me more.”

  “Control freak,” he teased, tugging my hair gently. Inhaling, he launched back into his story. “My father couldn’t get over the insult of not inheriting Black Resorts. Sal left my parents an insane amount of money, but he wanted the power. Rather than letting Sal’s experienced team run things, he took over.”

  “Which didn’t end well,” I surmised.

  “He had no clue what he was doing. And since learning would’ve been too hard, he threatened, blackmailed, and double-crossed. He got in over his head and nearly lost everything. And then he died—alone and despised.”

  My eyes widened. “You didn’t…”

  “Kill my old man? No.” He stared me down, unapologetically honest. “But I was going to, Juliet. I was going to pay him back for every punch, knife, and bullet I took thanks to his bullshit. And then I was going to put a bullet between his eyes. But there was a long line of people in front of me and one of them got to him first.”

  “You took punches, knives, and bullets?” My anger and outrage grew as I leaned back and scanned his beautifully-marred torso.