Stealing Iris: A Dark Mafia Romance (Blood Ties Book 1)

by Sahara Roberts

  Iris. Her name rolls across my mind, gaining traction. The woman-child hasn’t moved from the register. Gone is the cute, scattered look. She’s not self-conscious or second-guessing herself, either. Instead, her eyes are open wide, a wariness about her as if she senses danger. She’s waiting, a doe caught in the lethal gaze of a leopard.

  Blinking, she leans away, breaking the spell. Apprehension is carved into her features. With a quick glance from Conrado to me, she clears her throat. “I’ll go clean up the mess in the back.” Pushing off from the counter, she’s out from behind the register. A quick tug pulls the end of the smock down to cover her ass. The space between the smock and the back of her legs tells me there’s more to see than meets the eye. The lovely Iris is hiding some killer curves.

  She turns into the first aisle and, within a second, she’s out of view. Her head and ponytail are barely visible above the top of the shelves. Checking the mirror is another disappointment. Her features are shadowed, masking her expression as she hurries to the back of the store. Pushing through the swinging door, she disappears into the darkness without a backward glance.

  Conrado shifts, dragging my attention away from the intriguing Iris. While I’ve been watching her, every step of the way, he’s been watching me. He knows. A shot of anger tightens the muscles along my shoulders. I almost forgot he’s there. Even if it’s for a second, in my world, that could be enough to end me. I haven’t been so careless, in a long, long time.

  Conrado heads to the register, and my heartbeat speeds up. My only weapon is a short blade. I reach toward my belt buckle as I watch his hands. He stops at the conveyor belt and snatches up the bill I dropped. “Here.” He offers it up. “No charge.”

  Dammit all. I uncurl my fingers, letting my hand drop to a nonthreatening position at my side. If there’s one thing I hate, it’s being in somebody’s debt. While I wouldn’t mind giving the hundred to Iris, I couldn’t leave him the money. He’d probably stash it away and give it back to me as part of the hundred-thousand-dollar membership fee.

  Fuck. Fate’s a bitch. “Look.” I give a sharp exhale, resigned to losing time on someone I know won’t make the cut. “Maybe we can discuss your interest in the group.”

  “Oh yeah!” His face lights up then so does everything around us, bringing the building alive. “Let’s head back to the office.” He turns on a heel. The door slides open and two customers come in, chatting about the inconvenience of the power outage.

  “It’ll have to be later,” I warn him, eying a woman who dashes by. My gaze goes to the back, where Iris disappeared, but there’s no sign of her.

  “You know what?” Conrado follows my gaze. “I got a place we can meet up.”

  “Great.” I think I managed to mask my disdain. He hasn’t figured it out, but the guy’s wasting my time.

  “Hang on.” He holds a hand up while he backs up to the register again. Reaching across the machine, he tosses up the cover and drags out the receipt paper, pulling loose the roll to hit the floor and leave a growing ribbon across the tile. He tears off a piece and scribbles something before folding the scrap and rushing back over. “Here. Go by the office and they’ll hook you up.”

  Taking the note, I shove it in my pocket and scoff to myself.

  The little troll grins. “I’ll make it worth it for you.” Then he did the one thing that can change my mind: he looks over at the door where Iris disappeared.

  CHAPTER TWO

  IRIS

  “Strip,” Conrado says as he goes past me in the same room he always gets at the pay-by-the-hour motel.

  My eyes widen as dread rips through me, twisting my stomach into knots.

  “Why?” The question slips out before I can stop myself. In the time I’ve had to submit to his twisted appetites, Conny hasn’t bothered with having me take my clothes off completely.

  “Because I said so.” He tosses the button-down shirt on the extra bed then pulls the wife beater over his head. The edge of his striped boxers are sticking up from his waistband, making him look like the gangsters on TV.

  The gold chain around his neck clinks as the medallion slides down his chest to land on the name tattooed over his heart: Olga, his mother. He’s always been a mama’s boy, and she gives him everything he wants, including me. Though she made him stop screwing me…at home. Oh, it’s not because she objected to what he made me do. Rather, she was afraid the neighbors might find out and think she raised a pervert.

  Something’s up. Conny’s antsy, and it’s putting me on edge. He turns on the old TV, set to a porn channel. He likes that, Asian porn in particular. Small-breasted women with narrow hips, tight butts, and straight hair get him off. They’re the total opposite of everything about me, yet I’m the one he drags to the room when he’s in a mood.

  For my part, I concentrate on the framed poster over the bedside table as he fucks me. Five different kinds of fruit. Three types of grapes, two peaches, two plums, three strawberries, ten raspberries. I keep meaning to check the library to see if two types of grapes can really grow on the same stem. It’s the kind of thing going through my mind when I’m trying not to think about what I have to let him do to me.

  “Come on, bitch. Get naked.”

  Moans filter in from next door while tacky porn music fills the room. My shoulders tighten until they ache. I let the messenger bag with my writing tablet and borrowed library book slide down onto the bed before I toe off my shoes. He goes to the dresser and pulls out a mirror and baggie from a pocket in his cargo pants. My heart sinks. He’s going to get high. I can barely breathe as he keeps shaking the bag. If he takes too much, he may not be able to finish, and that’s never good. Sometimes he blames me and smacks me around. Other times he’s left me bleeding or unable to sit comfortably for a couple of days. He’s a pig, but I have no real choice, not since he and his mother set me up.

  “Let’s get this party started.” He sniffs, pulling the powder into his nostril then whoops as the drug hits his system.

  I fumble with the first button on my top then go to the next one. My heart’s in my throat as I drop the blouse on the bed and push the jeans and my high-cut panties down my legs. The whole time vivid images flash into my mind: the first time…, the pain, blood. His laughter when I said I was telling his mother and threatened to call the police. The sickening feeling when they showed me the film. The humiliation when I had to do it again.

  Conny tosses his pants and boxers next to my clothes. He’s hard. Hopefully that means a quick night. But then he wouldn’t want me naked. I work the clip on my bra with a heavy heart.

  “Come on, come on.” He’s jittery, shifting from one foot to the other as the drug pumps through his veins.

  I pull the scrunchie off my ponytail, slipping it over my wrist. No need to give him something to hang on to. I drop my arm over my breasts. I can’t help feeling exposed, but he doesn’t bother to look at my body. Sometimes I’ve wondered what his deal is. Considering what he prefers, he might swing the other way. Which would mean he only does this to punish me for being my father’s daughter. That hurts more than it should considering he’s the reason I’m in this mess.

  “Okay, let’s see here.” He jams two fingers between my legs, startling me into taking a step back. No, no, no. I fight the urge to bat his hand and run away. I spent too much time in my head instead of trying to relax and think about something, anything to help me get wet because Conny doesn’t like to use lube.

  “Shit.” His hand curls into a fist, and I try not to flinch. “Okay, get on the bed.” I place my knee on the mattress, shifting my weight while he gets a condom from his pocket. Ripping open the package, he rolls the latex on then gives himself a long stroke. The way he sucks in air sounds like a quick sizzle, and it’s all I can do not to have my stomach roll. I hate that I have to do this, especially with him.

  His head snaps back toward me, his eyes narrowing. I look away, coming back to the fruit, but it’s not working for me this time. “Turn around.”
My back muscles stiffen, and I swallow hard. Desperate, my gaze darts around, looking for something that will open a space between me and the ugliness I have no choice but to endure. Light slants in from the window, dusting the green leaves in the painting with gold specks. Dante. My mind scrambled for every detail of that hot afternoon: his gaze, like a caress across my breasts, how he made my pulse skip ahead and my tummy flutter without even touching me. Something deep inside me wants to believe Dante is different, and I close my eyes, losing myself in that thought.

  A loud clap fills the room a moment before the sting of Conny’s palm spreads over my right cheek. My hand goes to the painful spot as I turn, my legs still folded. “Open up.” He drops, squatting at the foot of the bed.

  I pull back my hair, shoving a strand behind one ear as I spread my legs. Dante. Dante. Dante. Conny’s fingers spread me wide and his head goes down between my thighs. His mouth covers me, and my body jerks. Not because this is so hot or because of the rasp of his wiry, meager facial hair against my skin. It’s the instinct to get away, to fight this as I struggle to accept what’s going to happen. Why can’t this be Dante, someone I actually want touching me?

  As much as I’ve read about how good oral is supposed to be, I don’t get it. All I’ve ever known has been Conny’s mouth sucking hard or the rough pull of his fingernails scratching long enough to leave me burning for days. My body eventually surrenders and releases the moisture he wants before it finally ends. Then he flips me over and—

  The electronic lock on the door clicks, startling me. Then the knob turns, and the door swings halfway open. My arm goes to my breasts, trying to cover myself as Dante comes straight out of my memory to fill the doorway. With my heart beating out of control, I watch as he checks the room, including the door to the bathroom before his attention settles on us…on me. Heat rushes across my face and down my body. Mortified, I push back, trying to scramble away.

  Meanwhile, Conny sits back, unaffected. “Come on in, man.” He signals to the bed next to us. “We’re just getting started.” His hand grips my ankle, giving me a hard stare, a warning about going against him, so I’m left with no choice but to move back. “Iris, you remember Dante.” He spreads me open again, his nails digging into my flesh as his mouth comes down on me. I wince, unable to control my reactions with all the emotions running through me right now. The door shuts then, a few seconds later, the mattress on the other bed creaks, taking his weight.

  Tears sting my eyes. It’s one thing to have Conny do this to me, it’s another for Dante to witness it. Yet I’m achingly aware of him close by, and my body reacts as I hoped. All I can do is let my head fall back so I don’t have to face either of them. I shut my eyes for just a moment to escape into my little fantasy world so I don’t freak out over Conny inviting someone to watch.

  “That was quick.” Blunt fingertips slip inside me, taking moisture to rub into my puckered hole. Clenching my teeth, I bring both hands behind me, bracing myself while he sucks at my clit one last time before pulling back. “Go on.” He gives me a light smack so I’ll turn as he comes up off the floor. Now, Dante is in my peripheral vision, his presence dominating the room. I can’t help but glance over. Conny chooses that moment to rub himself against me. I look away, my neck and shoulders stiff. Relax. Relax or it’ll hurt so much more. He spreads my cheeks, pushing into me. The first second is the hardest. Once things get easier, I can lose myself…except this time I have an audience. “It’s been too fucking long since we did this.”

  It had been a while, and I fooled myself into thinking he’d gotten tired of me. Obviously, I was wrong.

  Seconds tick by while Conny fucks me. He adjusts his angle, giving a single thrust.

  “Hey, join in, man.” My brain stumbles over his words. How can he do that? The blood’s rushing to my head, making me dizzy.

  “Iris needs to practice giving head while I go to town on her.”

  My heartbeat echoes in my ears, but Dante’s deep voice breaks through. “Are you good with that, Iris?” Conny grinds into me, his fingers digging into my flesh, where Dante can’t see. Tamping down my emotions, I assume the blank stare I’d mastered for those times when my thoughts risked earning me a beating, and nod. Dante leans forward, cupping my cheek while his thumb rubs my lower lip. He tilts my head up ever so slightly. “Let me hear you say it.”

  My gaze shoots to his, and I swallow hard again, knowing the wrong answer isn’t an option. “Yes.” The word is little more than a whisper. Dante hesitates, his brows drawing together. “Yes,” I repeat, keeping my voice steady. The sound of his zipper fills my senses, and something between dread and anticipation takes over.

  “Holy shit,” Conny exclaims. “You’re loaded, bro.”

  He settles in front of me, and I finally dare to look. Conny’s right; he’s big enough to suffocate any woman.

  *****

  DANTE

  I wasn’t sure what Conrado had planned, but I sure as hell didn’t expect to find Iris with this idiot. Still, I’m damn glad I came. The ugly smock hid a lot. She has a body on her. Breasts that will more than fill my hands, a narrow waist, and an ass that’ll make any guy forget his lunch.

  This isn’t my first rodeo, and, granted, I prefer to drive, but I’m not about to turn down an opportunity this tempting. Not when my cock jumped to attention at the doorway. Things only got more uncomfortable as I sat on the bed watching her. Sinful breasts pointed to the ceiling, her belly a smooth slide down to where shapely thighs cradled the guy eating her out.

  Still, it bugs me that Iris keeps her face turned away. She did the same at the store, not facing me until she was caught off guard by the power outage. Her hesitation means she didn’t expect anyone to show up. Is it me, a stranger, or is this her first time with two guys? Or both? That’s why I asked, to make sure she’s okay with taking my cock. She said yes, and despite seeing my size, she didn’t backpedal.

  Her hand surrounds me, stroking my length, like I imagined earlier. When she gets to the base again, her tongue darts out, tasting me, once, twice then swirls around the sensitive head. “I’m not very good at this,” she says on a whisper.

  I run my fingers through her curls, watching the curtain of hair sway, its silkiness brushing against my palm. “You’re doing fine.” I can wait him out. From the jerky moves, the guy doesn’t have long to go then I can enjoy her. Truth be told, I’d like a lot more, but this is his game, and all he offered was a blow job, so I’ll have to be good with that…for now.

  My thighs and abs move with her play. Laying her soft cheek against my inner thigh as she figures out where to use her touch and her tongue. I want more.

  Putting my hand to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder, I bring her in, having her take more of my cock. Her reflex kicks in, and she exhales in a rush, her thumb tightening against my balls.

  The pleasure is short-lived because Conrado finishes with a sudden push, sending her sliding over my leg. “Watch it,” I snap, the steel in my tone unmistakable. My focus is on her, despite the fact she could have done some real damage. “Iris?”

  “I’m okay.” Even having her hair in her face, the grimace is hard to miss. I help her regain her balance as soon as Conrado’s off the bed. She settles in, her gaze following the soft caress of her hand. “Show me.”

  Show her? What I like? What I want? How inexperienced is she?

  Her mouth comes down over me, and my questions fly out the window. She takes me in as far as she can while her velvety tongue runs the length of me. Her hand cups my balls while her hair dances over my thigh. The minute she adds pressure, my eyes are ready to roll back in my head.

  I shift forward, needing to be closer to her mouth. She loses no time adjusting, her mouth going lower while taking me deeper.

  She’s a vision, doing everything she can to please me. Her spine dips, and I follow every move to where it meets her waist and her hips flare out to the shape of a heart. If she’d been at the edge of the bed the view in t
he mirror would have been perfect, showing me more than the underside of beautiful breasts.

  I held back too long. My blood rushes, and my muscles tremble. “Iris…” I barely choke out her name before my orgasm rips through me with the power of an explosion. It’s all the warning I can offer because she can’t want a guy she just met coming in her mouth.

  Though she’s quick, she doesn’t clear in time. She’s singularly focused on me, using her hand to wring every last drop from my body. I run my thumb over her chin, wiping the spot clean. She tilts her head back, and the eyes that looked at me with such innocence earlier hold raw need and something deeper. Whatever it is she wants, I want to be the one to give it to her. Heat coils low in my gut. Fuck. Even though she just finished me, I push up, ready to stretch her out on the mattress.

  Conrado comes around to pull on his clothes. “Damn, dude, rub that shit all over her tits.” In that instant, the window into her soul slams shut. She pushes up on her side. “Hey,” the asshole barks. “He’s not done.”

  Iris stiffens, keeping her gaze focused on the sheet. “I need to clean up.” Her swollen lips make her pout that much more pronounced.

  “Go ahead. We’re done.” Something isn’t right here, but I can’t put my finger on it. Despite that, I’m distracted by the sway of that perfect ass until she disappears into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. The click of the lock echoes in my head.

  “You sure?” Conrado holds up his hands. “I got the room for another hour.”

  Hmm, the things I could do with Iris in an hour. But they didn’t include Conrado in the background. In seconds, I fit the pieces of a plan together in my head. “Yeah, let’s go have a drink, and we can talk business.” As expected, the guy’s face lights up. It’s what he’s been hoping for, and if it gets him the hell out of here, I’m willing to give up the time. He moves around the room, struggling to contain his energy as I put my clothes in order. Reaching the dresser, he snatches up a small mirror and shoves it into his pocket.