On the Rocks: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Nikki Belaire

  “Well, they sound like fucking idiots to me.”

  An embarrassing noise hiccups in my throat. Not sure if it’s a sob or laugh. Kind of both. So much like Drake I want to hug her. Instead I wrap my arms around myself.

  “I’m glad you’re part of this family now. We’ll always take care of you.”

  Tears burn my eyes, and all I can do is nod to keep them from trickling out. But they break free when she embraces me. Spilling hot and fast on my blazing cheeks from her consuming grip. No words could be more welcoming. Or terrifying. So close to being real I’m terrified to blink, or I’ll lose sight of this sanctuary that I pray is more than just a mirage.

  “What the fuck? Why the hell is she crying?”

  The rumble of Drake’s voice thunders next to me. Strong and fierce just like his mom. Who I can’t let him be angry with.

  “They’re happy tears. I promise.”

  Regardless of my assertion, he pulls me out of her arms and into his, swiping at the wetness on my lifted cheeks. Smiling at him yet failing to reassure him as his gaze scans over me looking for the reasons behind my distress.

  “Patrice, what have you done to this poor girl?”

  Much more jovial than Drake’s expression, his father Edward epitomizes restraint and an indulgence of his wife’s buoyant personality. His hand slides around her waist, drawing her closer. Still protective and loving after all these years.

  A quick kiss brushes Edward’s cheek before she wags her finger at her son. “I was just telling her how furious I still am with you. You run off and have some tacky Elvis impersonator wedding without telling anyone, and I think I only get to meet her now because I’m throwing you this party. Were you planning on hiding her from us forever?”

  Although I know she’s teasing, I have to defend Drake. He’s never been anything but wonderful to me, and she has to know how good her son really is. “It wasn’t like that I promise. We had a beautiful chapel with lots of flowers, and the minister was normal and really sweet.”

  “I still say you deserve better.” She taps Drake’s forearm. Giving him a deep frown that reflects the true depth of her hurt feelings. “And you know better.”

  “I’m sorry Mom.”

  “I forgive you, but I’m going to make sure you feel guilty about it for the rest of your life.”

  I laugh while he rolls his eyes, seemingly unsurprised. She must have a penchant for holding grudges.

  “Come on Edward, I need some champagne.”

  His Dad’s eyebrows fly up, wiggling at us in exaggerated fear. Alcohol is probably the last thing she needs with her agitation, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he nods to us and wraps his arm around hers, escorting her toward the expansive bar decorated with sparkling lights, cranberry calla lilies, and trays of pillar candles to match the rest of the ballroom. Already waving to another couple striding in their direction.

  “You want to freshen up?”

  Not a question. Need pounds in Drake’s voice stronger than my racing heartbeat from his lips on my ear. His body brushing mine in his craving to be closer. "Yes, please."

  He tucks me against him. His possessive hand so tight on my waist pain radiates up my rib cage as we wind between the round tables and into the empty corridor. Reminding me this is my favorite place. With him. Alone.

  We pass an endless line of closed doors in the main hallway of this historic resort. Finally stopping at a small cubby carved out of the corner. Providing privacy for personal calls. Coiled wires still visible from long gone wall phones.

  He jerks the door shut behind him, shaking the window in its frame from the force, and lifts me to sit on the shelf. So overcome to watch this man, my husband, manic in his urgency to unbuckle his belt and slide down his zipper. Mesmerized by his hands disappearing under my dress. Wetness pools in my thong from his fingers driving up my thighs, spreading my legs apart for him. My panties rip off in one quick jerk, and he yanks me to him. Filling me up so fast and completely I almost explode, arching from the pleasurable invasion.

  Yet, he stills. His broad shoulders droop under my hands. A deep breath rustling against my throat. Relief seeming to wash over him now that he’s inside me. His green eyes meeting mine with a worry he doesn’t have to bear.

  "I'm sorry I didn't give you a dream wedding."

  "A wedding isn’t my dream." His face falls, not understanding my meaning. I've hurt him. Which hurts me even more. The last thing I would ever do. "You are."

  No more words. Just his mouth on my lips. His tongue in my throat. His hands in my hair. Kissing me hard and deep as he thrusts into me. I grip his jacket, holding on tight to withstand the force of his apology. My heart and my body soaring from his ferocious touch.

  People can probably see what we’re doing. Figure out we’re making love behind the prismed glass. But I don’t care. Not about dignity. Or morals. Or class.

  Just him. I have to give him what he needs. What I need. Assure him that I'm okay. We're okay. We’re together, and no one can separate us.

  Something about her tears fucks me up. None of my usual irritation with women and their indulgent and overwrought hysterics. Because this – she – is real.

  She deserves so much more than being fucked against a wall. But I couldn’t make it to our suite. Would never have lasted the elevator ride. Because when I’m inside her is when I know she’s mine. Exposed and defenseless. With all the bullshit falling away. It’s just me and her. With nothing getting in the way.

  Petite fingers move from my waist to my cheeks. Cupping my face, watching me while I plunge into her. Heavy lids fighting against closing to keep the connection between us. Plump pink lips parting with sharp breaths encouraging me to drive harder and deeper. To bury myself in the only place I love. The only woman I’ve ever loved.

  I can’t fucking help myself. My grip on her ass tightens, my fingertips digging into the delicate skin from the love and beauty and devotion staring into my eyes. Almost bringing me to my god damn knees with the brutal honesty shared between our bodies. Of the enormity of the feelings I cup in my hands. All mine. All for me.

  Sweat rolls down my back. Dampening my dress shirt already plastered to my skin. Her sweet head nuzzling my shoulder while I pound into her, over and over like a fucking animal. Blind to everything but her. Oblivious to anything but my sunshine filling my vision.

  “Infinity.”

  Jesus Christ.

  A whisper against my hair that makes me come. Hard, hot, pulsing streams that feel like hell melting heaven. She takes it all, squeezing my cock with her own climax. My name cried into my shirt right above her mark on my skin.

  As soon as I can fucking think straight again, I wrap my arms around her. Holding her tight against my stupidity and selfishness from needing her so damn bad. Thank fucking god her grip on me is just as strong. “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. But you win. You ruined me first.”

  She snuggles deeper into my jacket. Her dress and hair be damned. Which doesn’t matter because she’s fucking gorgeous regardless of how messy she may be. “I’m sorry. But I couldn’t wait any more.”

  “I know.” Her relaxed laugh blows on my throat. “I could kind of tell.”

  Fuck me if she’s not incredible. “Do you know how much I love you?”

  “Yes.”

  No reluctance or doubt. Just pure acceptance. That I’ve wanted for too fucking long and finally have. Fuck me if I’m not god damn giddy that my wife finally trusts in my feelings for her. I kiss the top of her head, when really all I want to do is take her again. “Good. Now I better get you back, or my Mom will have my ass.”

  “Okay.”

  I swipe her destroyed panties from the carpet, captivated like a fucking idiot to watch her gently wipe our arousal from her thighs and pussy with the beige fabric. Too fucking dangerous for me to touch her again. I clean myself while she straightens her dress and slips pins into her hair, using the metal plate from the long-gone phone as a mirror. I sheath he
r back while she fights her stubborn curls. Still needing to be near her. Touch her for as long as I can. Probably in her fucking way while she works, but she doesn’t complain. Her blissful grin never wavering.

  After a few minutes, she sighs and throws her hands in the air. Frustrated and so god damn achingly beautiful. “It’s fine.”

  “It has to be. I can’t do anything else with it.”

  “Then let’s go. I need a drink.”

  Despite our efforts, we look and smell like sex. But I don’t give a damn. I love fucking my wife, and I don’t care who knows it. And with her radiant smile and sparkling eyes, I don’t think she does either.

  Once inside the reception, I nod to the bartender. “Whiskey neat and a gin and tonic, on the rocks with lime.”

  Her small hand squeezes mine with validation that I’m correct. But I don’t need her confirmation. I know what my girl likes and will make damn sure she always gets her favorite drink. As well as anything else she wants.

  A joyous shriek bursts louder than the string quartet accompanying the cocktail hour. Trinity laughs and gestures toward my mom squeezing the shit out of my brother and sister-in-law. Her tears mimicking theirs.

  “I guess they’ve shared their good news.”

  She sets her glass on the table but before she can sit down, I pull her onto my lap. Next to me is too damn far away. I stroke over her knee. Well aware I shouldn’t go any higher or my cock will be poking her sweet little ass through my pants. Nodding toward Trish and Noah, I nuzzle her neck. “That will be us soon.”

  “You think so?”

  I fucking love the anticipation in her voice. My dick stirs up anyway despite my precautions. I can’t fucking wait to have my baby in her belly. “Yeah, I think you’ll have my son by this time next year.”

  “How do you know it’ll be a boy?”

  So fucking cute when she challenges me. “We only have boys. All the way back to family records in Scotland. Deveraux men only produce boys.”

  She shakes her head. The smile, I’d give up all my money to always see, covers her beautiful face. “I bet I can give you a girl.”

  “A bet, huh?” Her arms slide around my neck, and she twists to snuggle closer. Her amazing tits shoved against my chest. Her seductive mouth inches from mine. So close I can almost taste her goodness. “Terms?”

  “If I win, I get to tattoo your name on me anywhere I want.”

  Although I don’t think I can stand watching her suffer the pain of the needle, her desire for my brand on her skin is sexy as hell. Just like her. Which is the other reason I have her sprawled across my legs. Checking to make sure no one is paying any attention to us, I slide my hand under her dress. A long caress along her toned legs before I slip down between her thighs and stroke the moisture covering her sweet pussy, just barely accessible with the tight fabric stretched across her hips. I keep my other hand curled around her waist, preventing her from arching up in pleasure while she bites her lip. “And if you lose?”

  “I - I’ll get it anywhere you want.”

  “Deal.” I dip inside and fucking love her eyes sinking shut. The hard shudder driving me farther in. “Do you want to shake on it? Because I’m more than willing to make our agreement official. But then I’d have to quit pumping my fingers buried so perfectly knuckle deep inside your wet pussy.”

  “N-no.”

  Fuck me she’s going to come right on my hand. Riding me as much as she can manage with me holding her in place. I shoot a quick glance toward the stage. Everyone still focused on my brother, while I’m utterly absorbed in my wife. “No what, sunshine?”

  “Don’t stop…”

  She fists my shirt, twisting the linen as she climbs higher and higher. I slide in one more finger and tease her clit mercilessly. Making her buck even harder against my palm. “Nothing’s more fucking magnificent than watching you get off. Come for me Trinity.”

  One hard press with the pad of my thumb, and she explodes. Her arousal dripping over my fingers, probably leaving a huge spot on my pants. Which I don’t give a damn about after seeing her beautiful release. Jerking one more time against my forearm pushed against her stomach before collapsing, her head falling to my shoulder. Panting breaths warm my skin, already blazing from watching her in ecstasy. Only an appetizer before I take her upstairs to really celebrate our marriage.

  6

  Chapter Six

  “The guys will be right outside the door the entire time, and Mom will be just down the hall.”

  I hate the doubt laced through Drake’s voice. Certain I’ll embarrass myself. And him. Which I worry about the exact same thing in this fancy spa. With Patrice’s elegant friends who all seem to know exactly what to do and say. Unlike me. The stray mutt in a room full of pedigrees. “I’ll be fine. I’m looking forward to it.”

  He frowns at my forced smile. Knows too well that I’m not fine at all. But I want to be. I want so badly to be strong and confident like his mother. And Trish. And him.

  “Everything’s taken care of, but if you want to tip someone or need anything, use this.”

  Until Drake I’d never even seen a hundred dollar bill before. Let alone touched one. He lays a small stack in my palm like they’re a second thought. Rather than a month's rent I used to scramble to give to Trish every first. Hiding my discomfort from him, I stuff the money in my dress pocket. “I don't think I'll‒”

  “Come on, Trinity!” Trish squeals in the doorway, gesturing furiously to me. Impatient for our girls' afternoon to begin. Missing me as much as I've missed her. After living together for four years, we've both had to get used to being apart. Moving forward with our new lives. "They’re ready for us, and I've got your robe for you."

  “Okay, thank you. I’ll be right there.”

  Once she steps back into the Lounge of Tranquility, Drake threads his long fingers through my hair, cupping the back of my head. Tingles speed across my sensitive skin from his possessive touch. I can’t move, and honestly, I don’t care. Maybe it’s wrong that he dominates me. That I allow myself to be controlled by him. But I know he would never hurt me. I’m his. I truly belong to him.

  “Do you remember what I told you?”

  My body clenches from his husky voice. From the memory of him inside me this morning as he reminded me over and over how much he loves me and wants to give me everything. Basking in his affection. Relishing the sincerity in his eyes as I watched in the mirror as he took me from behind. Captivated by his skilled hands pleasuring my breasts and between my legs before he slowly pushed into me and I couldn’t hold myself up any longer. Giving myself over to him completely. “That you don’t care about the money or how long I’m gone or what I drink.”

  He nods from my whisper. “Because?”

  Widening his stance and scrunching down so we're eye level, he tightens his grip on the strands wrapped between his fists. Delicious torture spreading through me from the tug against my scalp. That only he generates. That only he can relieve. “We’re infinity.”

  “Who?”

  With a shaking hand, I point to myself, then him. Brushing over the smooth fabric covering his heart. "Us."

  A small groan vibrates in his throat, and he slides me closer. "Are you as wet as I am hard?"

  It takes everything I have not to press myself against him. To prove to him beyond my words what he does to me. "Yes."

  "Good. Then you'll be thinking about me while I'm gone."

  He smirks from my laugh. "You're terrible."

  "I know." A chaste kiss before he releases me. "Have fun."

  "You too."

  My grin grows despite myself. Dumb and giddy. Still in awe he's mine. Amazed that a man this perfect loves me so much.

  One last glance back before I join the party, and, of course, he's still there. Watching me. Licking his lips. Twerking his left eyebrow. Absolutely sexy and smug and seductive. Another heart-pounding image to lust over in my thoughts until I see him again tonight.

  My contentmen
t only dampening a bit from Drake's bodyguards standing in the narrow lobby, along with the men for Patrice and Trish. All of them nodding in deference to me as I pass. The reverence always making me feel like an imposter. Respect I haven't earned. Only given because of my marriage. Out of obligation to my husband.

  I quicken my pace, almost scampering toward Trish who seems oblivious to the security Noah provides for her. I wish I could be so composed.

  She leads me into the dressing rooms, plush with dark cherry wood doors and swirly ivory and sage carpet. Reminiscent of the era in which the hotel was built. We strip and don gorgeous pink silk kimonos.

  "Patrice has really gone all out. She has massages - prenatal for me of course - and pedicures, manicures, and facials. We're going to be gorgeous at dinner!"

  So much. Too much. More than I expected. But I don't know how to protest or ask what to do. I grab some of the money Drake gave me and slide the folded bills into my pocket. Hopeful I have enough.

  Once we're back in the salon, Trish pats the cushion next to her. Grateful my best friend always looks out for me. Most of the ladies have mimosas or bloody marys. The waitress offers me my favorite drink, and the butterflies swirling in my stomach finally land. Drake. Taking care of me even when he's not here. Patrice leans forward and clinks her champagne flute against my glass.

  "Are you having fun, honey?"

  I smile at this kind woman, with so much concern filling her eyes. Wanting me to be happy as much as Drake does. I’m quick to agree and alleviate her worry. "Yes, thank you."

  And surprising even to myself, I'm actually telling the truth.

  “Just relax ma’am. You’re here to enjoy.”

  "Okay." Not so easy when I’m completely naked, lying face down on a cocoon of towels and sheets, with my head resting in a plastic circle providing a limited view of only the buttery yellow tile below. “Thank you.”