Covet (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 2)

by Elena M. Reyes

  Fast and hard. Almost punishing.

  Only he can invoke this painful pleasure; I choke on a scream as I tremble and my wetness wets us both. It’s quick and nothing I was prepared for.

  “That’s it, love,” he grunts above me, lips at the back of my neck. They part and his breath is a caress on my skin a second or two before his teeth lock down. The bite hurts in the most blissful way, taking me higher as he pistons in and out. “You feel…motherfuck, you’re my ambrosia. My heaven and hell.”

  But it’s those words that put me over the edge. That destroy me.

  Between his cock, my fingers against my clit, and how honest he is in his need for me…I’m done.

  I’m his. Completely his.

  My wetness coats us both, soaking the fabric of my loveseat, but nothing registers more than the pure groan of pleasure from his lips after another pump of his hips. I’m limp beneath him, taking everything he gives, but as I feel that first rope of his come release inside of me, I come alive. My back arches and walls hold him tight as another orgasm rocks me from head to toe.

  It’s explosive and I’m gasping for breath.

  I can’t register anything around me but the blissful wake of this release.

  “Casper.” It leaves me on a reverent moan so low I doubt he even hears me. My eyes are drooping, and sounds are becoming muffled. I’m weightless and falling.

  And yet I still hear his whispered words a second before all goes black.

  “I’ll never let her go.”

  19

  “YOU LOOK MIGHTY at home in my kitchen, Mr. Jameson.”

  “I look mighty everywhere, love,” he replies, not missing a beat or turning around; instead, he continues to put food on a plate. My eyes shift to the counter beside him and they widen, taking in the crazy number of Chinese cartons on my counter. It smells amazing and my stomach growls. “Grab something for us to drink, and back to the living room you go.”

  “Aren’t you bossy, too.”

  That earns me a wink from over his shoulder. “Always, so behave.”

  My thighs clench. “And if I don’t?”

  The items in his hands are put on the counter and he turns, leaning back against the granite. “Would you like another time-out, Gem? Want me to put you to bed?”

  “Please.”

  “Tease.”

  “You’re the one looking delicious in my home.”

  “You’re the one looking at me with hungry eyes, sweetheart. That’s an unfair tactic.”

  “All’s fair.”

  “Dangerous,” he mutters under his breath, but I hear and giggle. “That’s it. You brought this upon yourself.” I blink twice and he’s striding my way, reaching me before I can run, and picks me up. Automatically my legs wrap around his waist, exposing my naked core. The shirt I found of his on my side table—where the picture frame now lying in pieces on the floor once was—is doing a horrible job of covering my body. “Just a bad little girl.”

  “Is that a deal breaker for you?”

  “More like seals the deal.” Then his lips are on mine and a hand is exploring lower, over my ass cheek and between my thighs where he encounters my desire for him. Two fingers slide between my slickness, spreading it around before slipping them inside. “But you already know I’m wrapped around your tiny little finger.”

  “Are you?” I moan as he pumps those digits in and out slowly.

  “Irrevocably.” But instead of making me come, he pulls those fingers out, dragging them against my walls before circling my entrance twice with the very tips. “And it’s because of that pull on me that I’m going to lower you to the ground, pat your arse, and send you to the living room. It’s late, and you didn’t eat after I attacked you. Let me rectify that.”

  “Okay.” Because what else can I say when he’s looking at me with warmth in his eyes? “What would you like to drink? Beer or a Coke?”

  “Lager would be lovely.”

  Nodding, I walk over to my fridge. “I got you.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “How do you spend four months out of the year in Chicago and have never done the Gangsters and Ghosts tour? This is a staple, dude!” I ask him a few days later after being wrapped up in each other for the last forty-eight hours. The people around us continue to walk diligently behind our tour’s host, but we pause with two very different expressions on our faces. I’m almost appalled by this and it shows. “Seriously, I just can’t with you right now.”

  “Gem, think about it.” He’s chuckling, shoulders shaking as the guide stops at another location on his map of The Loop, this ones near the Asher Building. From where we stand, I can hear him talking about a specific incident that made the headlines in the late 1920s. “Why would I need information like this? I was born into this life. It’s who I am.”

  “Oh, come on! Everyone needs this in their life.” At my exasperation, he puts his arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close, pausing while the others doing this tour gasp at the information being given. They’re listening intently to the history of this city’s most notorious gangster and how prohibition laws brought forth the reign of these men as the need for certain illicit activities grew to high demand.

  It’s like any business.

  If you tell a consumer no, they want it all the more. Good or bad for you; people want what the government says you can’t have.

  “Sweetheart, look at me.”

  “Say please.”

  He turns to fully face me, the hand on my shoulder dropping to my waist, fingers grabbing onto a belt loop. “I’m going to enjoy putting you over my knee.”

  “Is that so.”

  “Yes, you lovely little thing.” One tug and I stumble forward, chest to chest, leaving no room between us. His heat sears my skin and my nipples tighten, stiff little peaks that poke through the thin material of my bralette and vintage band T-shirt. “But you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Bad girl.” His lips meet mine for a quick, passionate kiss before, in a move I’m not expecting, he turns me around and guides me forward. Our group has continued to walk down the street and is currently in front of what used to be a speakeasy owned by the biggest mobster of that era.

  “Oh, this is an interesting story from that time.” Grabbing his hand, I yank him with me toward the tour guide, forcing myself to ignore the lust he awakens in me with each simple touch. Ignore how right his hand on my lower back feels. “This one is all about alcohol, prostitution, and guns.”

  “Aren’t they all?”

  “Just pay attention, Jameson. He’s getting to the good part.” My voice is louder than I intend, and an older lady with a fanny pack looks back at me with a stink eye. “Sorry.” She nods with pursed lips, wrinkles on point and full of displeasure, while I try to fight back my own amusement. “And you…” I shift my eyes to my date and elbow him in the ribs “…don’t provoke me.”

  “What’s the fun in that?”

  “Learn now and I’ll give you a special kiss later.”

  “That’s all you had to say.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I get a preview of that kiss now?”

  “Listen to the middle-aged guy retelling our past.”

  “And I’m the bossy one, love?” Casper says, then tilts his head to the side, those green eyes still showing mirth. “By the way, how many times have you done this tour?”

  I shrug. “A few.”

  “Dozen?”

  “More like five or eight.”

  “Five or eight?” he whispers, raising a brow.

  “We liked the ghost part a little bit more, and it became a tradition to do it every year around Halloween after I turned sixteen. It was our thing, you know?” I look away from him and focus on the building in front of us. There’s so much history in this city that people tend to ignore—forget the ways in which it molded who we are today. It’s one of the reasons Mom and I did these crazy tours. In a sick way, it keeps us conn
ected to who we are and where we come from. Especially with who my father is and what he represents. “We did corn mazes, old jails, or an asylum or two if the time permitted, and then at the end of the month, this tour. We knew all the monologues by memory, but it’s still fun in a morbid sort of way.”

  “We?”

  “Mom and me.”

  “Sounds like your mum was a lot of fun.” The small chuckle that escapes him is a bit wistful, and I can understand it. Mine’s been gone a few years, while his has only been a month; thirty days is nothing in the grand scheme of things. “Mine was a chicken when it came to anything like this. Dad, though, he’s got issues.”

  “A fan?”

  “A wee too much. Even my curiosity has limits.”

  “Folks, I’ll give you a few minutes to take pictures and wander the area. Our next stop is in fifteen,” the guide says, and the murmurs around us grow. People take off in different directions, yet stay close enough to hear further instructions. Us, though…

  We stay right where we are. For the third time today, Casper has wrapped an arm around my shoulders and pulled me in to his side, nestling me against his much taller frame. While cameras go off and questions are asked, we breathe in and out while just being.

  It’s our second official date and while not the norm and probably silly for him, I love that he let me pick our activity. That he’s letting me indulge in something I haven’t done since my mother passed away, and while it’s not October, it’s close enough that I feel festive.

  Fall is just around the corner, and this year doesn’t seem as heavy as the ones in the past. Or maybe it’s because I don’t feel alone.

  I have him here at the moment and that’s all that matters. All I will allow myself to focus on.

  “How do you feel about blues music?” I ask after a minute or two, trying to hide my smile when his stomach rumbles.

  “It’s very relaxing when I’m cleaning my guns. Why?”

  “And Creole cuisine?”

  “Never had it but I’m liking where this is going.”

  “Good.” Turning to face him, I rise to the tips of my toes and nip his chin. “Let’s skip the rest of this and get a late dinner. There’s an amazing Blues Club not that far from here that serves the best gumbo I’ve ever had outside of Louisiana.”

  “You sure? Cause I’ll wait until—”

  “Come on. Let’s get you fed, big boy.” At my words, his eyes darken and that cocky smirk spreads across his lips.

  “Can I eat you instead?”

  “I’m definitely on the dessert menu.”

  “I really hate goodbyes.” I also hate the gut feeling that this separation will be a long one.

  “Then don’t say it.” Casper wraps his arms around me tightly, pulling me against his chest as I wipe away a few stray tears that have escaped. “Because I won’t. This is more of an I’ll see you later kind of thing. Besides, we have a date coming up soon and I’m very much looking forward to this Skype sex you mentioned.”

  At that I look up and find that cocky little smirk on his face. “You’re a pervert.”

  “When it comes to you…” he shrugs “…no doubt. But you already know this, Gem. I don’t hide my hunger from you.”

  No, he doesn’t. If anything, the man is the opposite of what I expected in that department. His need to touch—to feel me close at all times—is adorable in the sexiest way possible.

  It matches his ruthlessness. The darker edges of his persona that always loom within my fingertips, but I’m yet to fully grasp. But I’ve heard it, seen the change in his expression when he speaks to those who work for him. Especially Callum, his cousin, who I’ve yet to meet but have heard them talk on speakerphone when he thought I was still showering the day of the mobster tour.

  “What are your plans, Casper?” I ask instead of pulling him into the bathrooms here and bending over a final time before he leaves. We’re at the airport now, waiting on word from his employee that the private jet is ready, and holding on for just a little bit longer after five days of normalcy.

  Of bliss. Of minimal outside interference.

  I took the time off while he delegated. Being the boss has perks, and Ali was nothing short of ecstatic to help me. More so when she heard his voice in the background the morning, I called in. Then there’s Casper, and while I know men like him never travel alone, his guard was always out of sight. He kept his distance and I appreciate it—enjoyed every last second because I don’t know when I’ll see him again.

  Something that just last week I thought to be for the best, but today makes me sad. A bit bitter because I wish things—our lives—were different.

  In another place and time we would’ve met, made eye contact while exchanging numbers and then made plans. Then, that one date would’ve turned into two and then three—months and years with a proposal thrown in the middle—that leads to the elusive happily ever after that all women dream of since childhood.

  He would be my prince and I his princess.

  However, reality isn’t that easy. Nothing in life really is.

  I live here, and he’s in England.

  I want nothing to do with my familial ties, while he’s the head of a British mob family.

  I promised to never make my mother’s mistake, while he is the physical embodiment of a catastrophe waiting to happen.

  Would I ever be able to accept him like this? So much like my father?

  “Quit overthinking, love. It’ll be hard, but we’ll make it work.” I look up and he’s smiling, looking calm and without a care. Nothing like the killer I know he can be.

  “Why are you always so sure?” I ask and inhale deeply, pulling that rich scent of woodsy man in that I’ll miss like crazy when he’s gone. “This is a disaster—”

  He cuts me off with a bone-melting kiss.

  Casper fists my hair and pulls my head back, slanting his perfect mouth over mine and parting my lips. His tongue caresses mine and I shiver, greedily slipping my fingers through his hair to pull him closer. To express my urgency.

  Something he reciprocates.

  An animalistic growl builds in his chest and I tug on the longer strands at the back again, nipping his top lip. “Why do I need you so much?” I ask him, but his answer comes in the form of his hold tightening, keeping me in place.

  Its sexy and dominating and I whimper for him like the desperate girl I am.

  It’s the kind of kiss that robs you of all your senses and stops time. The kind where everyone else in the world disappears and it’s just you and him.

  No one else. All alone and savoring—drowning in each other’s taste.

  Casper nibbles on my bottom lip, teasing little nips that bring goose bumps to my skin before he trails across my cheek and lower. There’s a low whine that comes from me, my need to have his mouth back on mine, but that’s silenced quickly as he sucks on my pulse point.

  It stings, but I enjoy his marking. Can’t find it in me to deny him this.

  “You know why I’m calm?” he asks against my neck, tone gravelly. “Know why I can get on that plane without a single shred of doubt?”

  “Please.” It leaves me on a whimper as he nuzzles my sensitive skin. I need his confirmation. His word that we won’t be another repeated story.

  “I can do this because I trust us.” He nips my earlobe, and the quick sting travels straight to my clit. My thighs clench. “I can do this...” Casper swallows hard “...because for the first time in my life, I want a relationship. Look forward to this journey and coming back to you, Gem. And lastly, I can do this because in a not-so-distant future, we will always be together.”

  At his words I freeze and then pull back. Heart racing. “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I need you to trust me. That you’ll have faith in me.”

  “How long will you be gone this time?”

  “I’ll be back the moment I put a bullet between the eyes of those responsible.”

  “And I’ll wait.�
� His conviction—trust in us—helps me make the decision without a single second of hesitation. If he believes, then I will try my best to push all doubts back. I’ll give this an honest try.

  “And I will come back. Always.” Leaning forward, he presses his lips to my forehead and breathes me in, lingering for a minute before walking away. He only looks back once before going through the small tunnel to the plane, and that one look made my heart thump with excitement.

  It says he’ll be back.

  For me. For us.

  20

  THERE’S NOTHING WORSE than being roused from a deep sleep by the blaring of your phone in the middle of the night. Your restful dream is interrupted, and the world comes crashing back in full force, startling you. Your heart races, palms begin to sweat, and you immediately begin to think the worse—fear that someone you love is hurt or…

  In my haste to grab the small device, I reach over and knock my lamp over where it crashes to the ground and the glass part breaks. I need to invest in plastic home furnishings. Since meeting Casper, things break all the time.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath, fingers tapping all around the nightstand until they skim over the screen, and just as I fully grasp it, it stops ringing. I don’t move and wait to see if a voicemail or another call comes through…

  Nothing. I’m surrounded by absolute silence once more that brings no comfort.

  Sitting up with my cell in hand, I bring it toward my face and unlock the screen, directly searching the incoming call log. The last call came from an unknown number; a 609 area code that I’ve never heard of before.

  Seeing that it’s not someone I know gives me immediate peace and I calm down. My breathing begins to normalize, and I relax.

  They don’t call again, and I put the cell back in its place atop my nightstand without giving it a second thought. It’s early and I have to be at the home by eight for an early meeting. That, and I’m due for a Skype date tonight after having to cancel last week.