The Syndicates: A Dark Mafia Romance Collection

by Raven Scott

  Draping himself over me, Oran wrapped a powerful forearm around my neck to hoist us up, and my pants morphed into hoarse wheezes. His cock twitched inside me as I shuddered weakly, and I clamped down on him as his harsh breaths tickled my ear. The veins, the thick ridge of his head, coaxed pleasure from me, and he flicked the clamp on my right nipple as he thrust hard. My cry crackled faintly, and I arched sharply in a silent plea for more.

  Pain . . . was glorious. And only Oran could make me suffer in just the right way.

  Sweat drenched my body, dripping off my nose and chin and soiling his blanket to the point of being noticeable, and I hissed when he pulled out of my channel. Yanking me onto my back, he stood on the edge of the bed, and my mouth watered as I reached greedily for his cock. The veins bulged so clearly, his head throbbing and red and ready, and he gasped as he thrust down my throat. My head hung off the side of the mattress, and I gagged violently as his pelvis ground against my chin.

  Pulling back to set a brutal, hard pace, Oran grabbed the clamp on my clit to release the pressure, and I lifted my hips in mindless need. His cock tasted like me and him, us together, and my taste buds tingled to the point of numbness with satisfaction. Bracing his knee by my head, he buried his face between my open legs, and I choked around his head.

  Air invaded my skull when it couldn’t make it to my lungs, and he licked and sucked and slathered my slit and bead ravenously. Oran’s grumbled of pleasure reverberated up my body, and the friction of his thrusts agitated the clamps on my nipples. The rawness of my skin only added to the euphoria my brain swam in, and I gulped around his cock as his grueling pace sharpened.

  Jarring thrusts colored the edges of my blurred vision, and Oran slipped his tongue into my abused channel as the lack of oxygen made my lungs scream. He pulled back just enough to let me breathe a ragged breath, and I gasped loudly as saliva dribbled down my cheek.

  The only sounds were pants and groans and strained noises as I caressed his shaft with my lips, and Oran straightened to circle my flaming clit with calloused fingertips. I didn’t even try to stave off my release, shivers gripping my spine in a vice as my whole body spasmed, and I ground my teeth faintly.

  Oran took off all the clamps, and a guttural, low moan thickened the atmosphere as pain exploded from those spots. I made the mistake of opening my eyes, and the world spun when he flipped me onto my belly. Flames skittered under my skin, and tears fell from my eyes in an unstoppable flow as he climbed behind me to hold my thighs shut with his knees.

  His head tore my entrance as he jammed into my channel, and I cried. It was so good. It was too good. Lying flat, I couldn’t even grab the blanket, I was so weak, and he thrust hard to grind against my ass cheeks. Oran’s grunts as he shoved himself in me wildly, harder, harder and faster, rang in my ears while the rest of the world fell away from the rapture. He pushed down on my lower back, and I could only gasp when his thrusts sharpened and became erratic. The slap of his taut skin on my fiercely stinging cheeks, the burn of his leg hairs against my thighs, I couldn’t withstand it while the pain threatened to tear me apart.

  The whole time, he said nothing legible, and Oran hovered over me to grip the edge of the mattress as he pumped his hips furiously. His hot, heavy breaths ruffled my hair, and he thrust one final time. Just the rippling up his shaft was enough to make me cum. Heat flooded my abdomen, and he strained and sputtered as he emptied himself inside me. The bed trembled with his shakes, and I gasped shallowly when he pulled out of my channel.

  Clammy palms slipped on my biceps when Oran grabbed me to stop me just slithering off the bed, and I whimpered when I clenched and agitated my entrance. Falling back into a sweaty, quivering heap, he wrapped himself around me and all I could smell and taste was him.

  “Are you okay?” Rasping the question, Oran tangled his hand in my hair to knead my scalp, and I could only groan in reply. He was warm and hard, secure, and I savored the feeling of him as he reached his free hand to wipe my face ever so gently. “You look beautiful.”

  “I am . . . ” My voice crackled harshly, and Oran’s huff against my face dried my lips as he brushed his thumb along them. Inhaling a surprisingly deep breath, I hissed lightly when my nipples rubbed his chest, and he shuffled down to slather them with saliva. “Oh-h God.”

  “I have something for this.” His murmur warmed my chest, and Oran shuffled off the bed to do something that sounded suspiciously like open a dresser drawer. My eyesight right now was probably as bad, if not worse, than his, and I rolled gingerly onto my back with a soft groan. Holding myself still when the bed dipped, I tensed when he slathered something cold on my nipples. Hissing softly when the pain soothed almost immediately, I sunk into his bed and he wiped the gel-like substance on my abdomen next.

  “Just relax, May. This stuff works magic.” Cracking my eyes open, I watched blurrily as Oran screwed the top of the bottle back on. It could’ve been mistaken for a tube of toothpaste or something. He tossed it carelessly back onto his dresser with a harsh clatter, but I barely heard it when he laid down on his side next to me. “Are you going to stay the night?”

  “What time is it?” My croak earned me a shrug, and Oran sluggishly got up again to reach over me and grab his glasses.

  “It’s almost ten p.m.” Just as quickly, he set them down again and I couldn’t resist reaching up to trace the words scrawled on his ribs. My question must’ve been written on my face, and he covered my palm with his as he sat cross-legged beside me. “It’s not from the Bible. It says ‘There’s worse people to be’. This was actually one of my first tattoos.”

  With the script and the size, it seemed like the quote was longer than that, and I hummed softly in acknowledgment. Dragging my palm to the tall, blooming stalk-like flower on his sternum, Oran sighed softly.

  “Gladiolus. It symbolizes a lot of things— honor, strength. It’s also a flower of remembrance.” Inhaling a deep, leisurely breath, I held it as I trailed my hand up to his shoulder, and Oran frowned slightly. The spider was a work of art, but the way his muscles rippled under his skin, I couldn’t help but wonder if he didn’t like it. “My brother and I got matching ones. He hates spiders. When we were teenagers, I asked him if he would get one tattooed on him with me. We were still at the point of our relationship where we were brothers, but that got lost somewhere.”

  “Are you afraid of him?” Oran barked a surprised, short laugh, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, but he ended up jerking his head in a nod, anyway. My lips twitched, and I wiggled to rest my head in his lap so he could stroke my hair and cheek.

  “I think the only person that’s not afraid of him is his girlfriend. Carlyle isn’t a man to mess with.” Out of the corner of my eye, he rubbed his cheek, as if he was remembering an instance in which he did just that, and Oran glanced down at me through glazed eyes. “He takes after our dad too much. My old man is a diagnosed sociopath, and Carlyle has strong tendencies. I’m pretty okay, most of the time.”

  I kept my mouth shut at that. Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I recognized that lilt in Oran’s tone. Whatever it was, it had to do with Kara, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to open that door again.

  31

  Oran

  I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t get over this stupid fear that May would be gone when I woke up, so I wrapped my arm around her more firmly. She cuddled against my side, leg over my abdomen, hand on my chest, but she still wasn’t close enough for me. The television mounted on the wall opposite the head of my bed spewed out color and low noise, but a hurricane could’ve been coming through, and May probably wouldn’t wake up.

  Was that all there was? An apology and a gift and some rough sex— that was all that was needed to smooth over the crap that happened earlier? Disbelief clung to the roof of my mouth and soured my tongue, and I licked my teeth absently.

  A heartfelt apology.

  A thoughtful gift.

  Meaningful sex.

  So, why did I feel like
it just wasn’t enough? Why did I feel like May forgave me too easily? In fact, she not once said the words ‘I forgive you’, and she didn’t actually say she was okay when I asked. The troubling thoughts creased between my brows, and I inhaled deeply as I got sucked deeper and deeper down. If that’s not enough, I don’t know what is.

  “I can feel you thinking.” May’s tired mumble made my cheek twitch, and that gross taste on my tongue intensified when she held me tighter. “What’s wrong, Oran?”

  “Is this how easy it is, or am I just fooling myself?” Fiddling one of the clamps in my free palm, I frowned at the television as May nuzzled my chest.

  “It’s that easy.” Grumbling lowly in acknowledgment, I set down the clamp to turn to May, and she moaned softly when I caressed her upper thigh. The strange sensation of weightlessness made breathing so easy, as if I had struggled with every inhale up until now. The laziness slowed my movements, and I wanted to savor this for as long as I could. Holding my breath, an airiness invaded my skull, but I wasn’t tired. Sleeping meant ignoring the incredible buxom body against me.

  May was asleep again in seconds, and I clenched and released my jaw absently as my mind wandered. Despite Carlyle’s insistence, he grilled me about May, not the Italians. It took every ounce of integrity I had to keep my mouth shut. I only gave the shallowest of answers because I’d be damned if Carlyle was going to avoid apologizing himself. I wasn’t positive, but I couldn’t remember a time when he apologized, even when something was his fault.

  He’d asked me if May knew about the Syndicate, but of course, she didn’t. He’d asked me if May knew about Kara, what really happened, but . . . she didn’t. He’d asked me if I was prepared to lie my way into old age to keep May with me, but I couldn’t answer.

  May forgiving me for not standing up to my brother was one thing, but being what essentially amounted to a crime lord? She would leave me— there was absolutely no doubt in my mind of that.

  My ships moved millions . . . billions . . . of dollars of illegal shit— guns, drugs, women, weapons of any and all kinds, from bombs to chemicals to whatever fucked up shit someone with enough money and time could think up.

  “Maybe I do want out. I would get out for you, huh.” My murmur was met with a soft puff of her exhale, and I thought on that as an ache sprung up behind my eyes. The question plagued me, and it became hard to look at the television, so I stared at the ceiling.

  I would break away if May gave me an ultimatum, but that would mean I’d have to tell her in the first place.

  If she were smart, she wouldn’t give me that option.

  My cell phone started to ring, and I rolled over to snatch it and silence the ringer as May groaned in protest. Carefully untangling myself from her, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and squinted at my phone. I could barely make out the bold, and I scoffed lightly at my terrible eyesight.

  “Hello?” Standing up, I rounded the bed and grabbed my glasses before leaving the room, and I held my phone to my ear with shoulder on my way down the stairs. “It’s one a.m. What do you want?”

  “Hey, Oran.” Pausing in surprise, I gripped the bannister as that voice I hadn’t actually heard myself filtered through the phone, and I sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Mateo? Why are you calling at one a.m.? Is everything okay?” I mean, yeah, he was the baby of the family, and a little shit most of the time, but he was still my brother. Carlyle might see Mateo as less than useful than the bag holding garbage, though. I couldn’t exactly do anything about that, and he sniffled over the phone, like he was outside in the cold.

  “I’m okay. I think. I just . . . I don’t know. I felt like calling.” Resuming my way down the stairs, I frowned as sadness stabbed my heart over and over again. Mateo wasn’t the same kid he’d been a year ago. I shuffled into the kitchen as an intense silence stretched between us. “Uh, so, are . . . are you available to . . . talk?”

  “Yeah, Mateo, what’s up?” No one knew it, but I’d tried so damn hard to get Mateo to talk to me while we were both in New York. Mateo was just a kid, and what Carlyle forced him to do was barbaric even by Carlyle’s standards. Sure, Mateo had made a mistake, but going about it like that— I didn’t know how Mateo was still alive, frankly. Sitting on the sofa, I grabbed the Bluetooth device out of the little basket sitting on the glass and connected it to my phone.

  Clasping my hands together, I propped my elbows on my knees as Mateo took a shuddering breath.

  “I wish I didn’t think so much.” That fake-ass Spanish accent he tried to carry was absolutely gone, leaving only sadness and emptiness behind, and my nails dug in between my knuckles. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Oran. I hate New York City, and I hate Mandy, and I hate being alive.”

  The thing was, his voice didn’t wobble. He didn’t sound like he was going to burst into tears or anything. Mateo just sounded sad— so, so very sad. I grimaced as he took a breath, but it didn’t shudder, and he sounded like he was smoking a cigarette judging by the big exhale.

  “Dad offered me a way out. I’m going to take it. I’m gonna move somewhere where no one knows me and nothing happens, and I’ll be the neighborhood freak who never leaves his house.” I had a nagging feeling Mateo didn’t actually want a reply, so I covered my mouth as disgust glued my tongue to the roof. “I was never cut out for this, you know. But I had to do it because, well, I don’t know why I had to. I just couldn’t not. There was never another option, you know? It was easier to just go along with it. I was never expected to do anything but move out of the way, but ever since that bitch tricked me, Carlyle’s taken it upon himself to try to make me like him. Or even like you, Oran. I’m not like either of you.”

  “Dad was in the city last week and we had a really long talk. I think, for once, he accepted that force wasn’t going to work. When he told me I could walk away, I think he really felt bad about how I turned out. I mean, I don’t even know if he’s capable, or if he’s just that good a liar, or if I’m just really bad at spotting a liar. It really doesn’t matter in the end, I guess.” Clenching my jaw, I ground my teeth at the self-depreciating laugh Mateo spewed out, and he started coughing violently. He wheezed and I wondered how much he smoked a day or if this was a one-off and he wasn’t used to it. “S-sorry, I’m outside and it’s cold.”

  “That’s alright, Mateo.” A curious notion hit me hard— Mateo hadn’t said a single derogatory word this entire conversation. My brows furrowed as he cleared his throat roughly. “Mateo, you’re not a screw-up. You’re just a kid, and trust me, I know what it’s like to grow up in Carlyle’s shadow. He and Dad are the worst, but that does also mean you’re better than them. Granted, it’s not all that difficult.”

  I fucking sucked at this pep talk shit, and Mateo chortled in my ear at my sad, sad attempt. Even his laugh was strange, wispy and tone-deaf, and I cupped my chin hard.

  “Yeah, I’m gonna move somewhere where it’s nice all year ‘round. I was thinking Georgia. I was gonna plant a garden again. Dad always used to say that Mom loved gardens.” My heart twisted at that and I chuffed softly as the declaration knocked the air from my lungs. Mateo always had this fantasy about Mom, but I guess it was easy when Dad would tell him stories about her. She died before he was a year old, but she was so important to him. “I gotta go, Oran.”

  “Yeah, okay. Call me anytime, Mateo.” I refused to hang up first, and Mateo stayed on the line for several seconds as I held my breath. Pulling the device from my ear, I clenched it tightly in my fist and exhaled a shaky breath. “God damnit.”

  32

  May

  Holding my phone to my ear as I stood in line at the coffee place, I tried not to clench my butt cheeks, but the prickles zinging up and down my thighs made it impossible.

  “Hello?” Sarah slurred from sleep and I frowned under furrowed brows.

  “Sarah, hey. I’m just calling to check on you. I’m sorry for waking you up.” Strong hands kneaded my shoulders and I glanced back at Ora
n as his eyes sparkled brightly behind his glasses. “Okay, so I wanted to talk to you before I went into work about what we talked about last night.”

  “Talk? About Mom and Dad or the less illegal stuff?” The double bed hotel room we’d been forced to get because of my apartment situation didn’t charge for phone service, thankfully, and I tilted my head thoughtfully. Noticeably rustling as she rolled over, my sister groaned into the receiver, and I switched my phone to my other ear.

  “Not about Mom and Dad. I just want you to put some serious thought into what you want to do with yourself. I’m working on getting a new job somewhere else, and I already told you we might need to move to another part of Washington. When I get back, we’ll talk about it some more.” Sarah was half asleep, I got that, but I was kinda pissed when she just hung up on me without answering. I was trying to give her some slack, and I huffed softly as I stuck my phone in my purse. The huge file I now kept on my person permanently took up almost my entire bag, and Oran squeezed my shoulders gingerly.

  “I’d miss you if you moved.” The murmur close to my ear made my heart flutter, and I twisted only to wince when the tender flesh on my abdomen stretched. Satisfaction flashed in Oran’s brown eyes, but I only shook my head before he spoke up again. “Listen, May, about last night . . . ”

  “You’re not gonna say it was a mistake, are you?” The day after was usually worse, and I reached around to rub my lower back gingerly as Oran shook his head, his lips thinning. “Good.”

  “I don’t regret it in the slightest. I bring it up because Carlyle wants to take us, and Natasha and her husband, out to dinner. I told him I wouldn’t bring it up unless I had his word that he was going to sincerely apologize to you.” I almost rolled my eyes at that, and sourness twisted my expression as Oran and I shuffled forward with the line. “Please. If there’s two things you should know about Carlyle, it’s that I have never heard him apologize, not a single damn time, and he likes sitting in places that shouldn’t be sat on. He’ll keep his word— he knows he was wrong.”