A Dark Place (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 5)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  I sigh and take it as Ma laughs. “It’s so good to see you guys together. I was worried you were never coming home.”

  “We’ll be here all the time soon,” Sal declares, taking a spring roll. “Fuck…”

  “Don’t do that!” I warn, seeing the emotion in his face flare. “No!” I scold as Ma’s brow questioningly twitches. “Iris and Sal love Kim’s spring rolls.”

  It was far more than that, but it’s a good enough answer to pacify her inquiry. She grabs his hand. “Iris is a smart cookie. She’s like this perfect fortune cookie.” She pops open the plastic, and the cookie shatters. I blink between her and Sal, who is getting worse by the second. She tries again, and it busts. I close my eyes as she screams, “Fuck!”

  Carefully, Sal picks one up and opens it with his hands wrapped in bindings to his first set of knuckles. He safely deposits a whole cookie in Ma’s hands. “There.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “Robot hands,” he replies, sticking the chopsticks in the rice. I shake my head, and he notices. “Don’t fucking tell me I am unrefined, biker boy.”

  I hold back my laughter with my lips locked in a tight smile. “You’re unrefined!”

  “I’m taking this shit back to the Swamp Shack.”

  “Are we going to make it back there tonight?” I ask, lighting a smoke. “Cause last night was…interesting.”

  “Mae refused to let us leave,” Sal informs, swiping a smoke from my pack. “And she slept between Deeeee and Sally all night. Little shit is a kicker.”

  “What a reunion!” Ma laughs. “You boys need some time alone.”

  “The only reason we got out of there today was because I said we were having dinner with you,” I inform. “And then she threw a fit and wanted to come.”

  “You should’ve brought her!” Ma booms. “I love Mae. Kade is distant. I see a lot of Nicky in him.”

  Sal leans back and props his bare foot on my leg. I glance down and back to him. “You want me to do something with that?”

  “Love me!” He sticks his tongue out at me. I grab his fingers, and we hold hands. “Love me!”

  “You guys are so fucking precious together.” She admires our affectionate display, starts clearing the table, and deadpans, “I’m sleeping with Francis Gregory. Since you are leading the club again, I thought you should know.” She rapidly stands up to run away.

  “Sit down, Ma,” I reply as Sal’s eyes twinkle at mine. “Now!”

  “Trudy, get your ass in the chair, bitch.”

  She sits down fast.

  What the fuck?

  I repeatedly blink and curl my lips. “How do you do that?”

  “Gotta know how to talk to women,” Sal gloats, breaking open the perfect fortune cookie. “Depending on what type of woman they are. In some circles, that would get me slapped, but Trudy is good for it. She always loved it when she was on all fours, and I’d call her names…”

  I chide, “Lucas Salvatore Raniero Cruz, shut your fucking mouth!”

  He laughs and flips me off. “Now back to this, you are sleeping with Tank? What happened to the youngun’?”

  “Dragon couldn’t handle the,” she says, holding up her hand with Cristos’s enormous rock. She hits her vape and smiles. “Tank laughs about it.”

  “I believe,” Sal comments, nibbling on the cookie like a rat. So unrefined. “Your other lesser important son wants to know how Tank managed to tap that.”

  “He threw me on the church table and fucked the piss out of me.”

  I smack myself in the face with my fingers spread wide like an octopus’ legs. “Please tell me it’s just a term, and my mother didn’t piss on the table…”

  “Oh, she probably did while getting fucked in the pussy by Tank’s big rig.”

  “Jesus…” I slouch into the chair. “This isn’t happening.”

  “It could be worse!” Ma excuses as Sal gives her a high five.

  “It coulda been me.”

  “That’s it,” I reply, shaking my head. “No dick for you.”

  “What the hell? I am only playing translator between mother and son. You don’t want to think of your mother as a hot, sexual being…”

  “Especially at my age,” Ma adds to his argument.

  “But she’s a fucking MILF…”

  I can’t stop shaking my head. “She better not be your fucking MILF anymore.”

  “She’s always gonna be my MILF,” he argues. “But, I will keep my pierced beast away from Ma’s hoo-ha.”

  “I cannot believe we’re having this discussion.”

  Sal laughs, and Trudy grins as they conspire to embarrass me. She returns to pick up the mess and nudges me. “You don’t want to say no to that dick, honey. He’s got a good one.”

  The blush rises on my cheeks as Sal’s ego blows up his cheeks with a shit-eating grin, and she walks away. “I hate you,” I say. “So much.”

  “Hate fuck me,” he propositions.

  “Ma is bad,” I whisper, and he shrugs. “Tank?”

  “Be happy she’s alive and kicking it,” he urges, tossing a cookie to me. “Open it.”

  “What did yours say?”

  He reads the tiny piece of paper, “You’ll find what you need in the palm of your hand.”

  “Does that mean your dick? Cause it’s always in your hand.” He laughs, and I crack open the cookie. “You’re the only one I’d share popcorn with.” My emotions churn with a riptide of a current as I grip the arms of the chair.

  “You okay?”

  “We watched a movie and ate popcorn,” I confess, crying hard. “And then, we made a fucking baby. I’m never eating popcorn again.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask as he straddles on the back of the bike. “If anyone sees us…”

  “You’re so fucking paranoid,” Sal replies. “I’ve swallowed half of the guys in this county.”

  “Gee, thanks?” I remark as Ma snickers. “I always knew you were into bukkake.”

  “Fuck you! Ewww! I’m teasing!” He grimaces and grins at me. “Just take me home.”

  “I’ll bring your truck tomorrow,” she says, waving. “I love you, boys!” She kisses her fingers and blows the love on us. “Be careful!”

  “I love you, Ma.”

  “I love you too, Ma,” Sal adds as I speed down the driveway. “Just remember who your favorite son is!”

  “Where are we going?”

  “Take the long way,” he insists, not holding on. I gun it, and he latches on for dear life. “Crazy son of a bitch, trying to kill me!”

  That’s better.

  “You’re the one who wants me to make the loop. We’re going out of the way so that you can flaunt your flamboyance in Sugargrove.”

  “I’m kinda hoping you’ll need to get in a fight.”

  “You’re such a bitch, Raniero.”

  As much as I don’t want to admit how much I enjoy going fifteen miles out of my way, I do. It’s a beautiful fall night with a clear midnight blue sky sprinkled with shimmering stars. I haven’t ridden like this in a long time. It feels good to be home.

  We pull into Sugargrove at about eleven. “Stop at the corner store.”

  “You mean the only store that’s still open?”

  “Ya!” he says as I pull in.

  “What the fuck do you need?”

  He hops off the back and lowers to whisper, “A box of condoms, size extra large, ribbed.” His brows dance. “And some Coke.”

  I squint with a do-not-fuck-with-me-boy glare. “Just make sure they’re non-lubricated.”

  The tip of his tongue sticks out as he jogs off. He’s damn near perfect but full of himself tonight. I watch over him like a hawk as another car pulls in two spots over.

  A middle-aged woman I don’t know gets out of the white BMW. I stare into the store, making sure she doesn’t rough up Mr. Panache-y.

  “What the fuck?”

  He’s hugging her…kissing her cheek…and smiling like he’
s banged her forty times in a three-day weekend sex romp at a music festival.

  After paying for his items, he heads out with a small, brown paper bag. No way he bought soda. “Who the fuck was that?”

  “Possessive, much?”

  “Maybe,” I counter. “Who is she?”

  “Sophie Stevens,” he says like I should know who that is. “She lives in a mansion out between Honey Cove and Citadel.”

  With my hair blowing in the breeze, I blink. “Who the fuck is she?”

  “She’s on the board of directors at the school.”

  “What school?”

  “Juliet.”

  Oh. Shit.

  “I just don’t understand,” I remark in the shower, “how you do it.”

  Why we didn’t shower together, I don’t know. Things are different. We’re talking like old times and flirting like even older times. It’s good. I’m not complaining; I’m waiting. There is no point in forcing it. It’ll happen when it happens if it happens at all.

  “I could say the same thing about you and bikers, Cruz,” he says, munching away. “I socialize well with hoity-toity. It’s no different.”

  “What the fuck are you eating?”

  “Your potato chips,” he says. “But I couldn’t find any bleu cheese dressing.”

  “Nasty!” I counter. “You’ve always been a damn chameleon.”

  “Fair enough,” he says as I cut the water. “But it’s not like you couldn’t be. You choose not to be.”

  I modestly stay inside the stall and wrap the towel around my waist. I slide the old rickety door to find Sal, leaning against the cabinet in gray sweatpants and his glasses. His curls are wet and tossed as my eyes scan over the inked guns and the ripples of his abdomen to the prize package down below. He may as well be walking around naked because the shaded outline of his dick pronounced with a mushroom head and his prominent piercing.

  Fuck.

  I want to slam the fucking door closed.

  But I bravely step out.

  “Give me one of those,” I request as he peers in the bag and feeds me one. “Are we crashing?”

  “Nah,” he replies. “I need a drink.”

  I follow him into the living room where a giant bowl of popcorn and beer waits. On the flat screen, he’s turned on the movie menu. “You bought fucking popcorn?” I ask, shaking my head. “We are not doing this.”

  “Ya, we are,” he persists. “You’re eating popcorn if I have to pin you down and shove it in your mouth.”

  Oh, heavens, no…

  “Then you can shove something else down my throat,” I bounce back.

  “I plan to.”

  “Let me go get some pants on.”

  “No,” he declares. “Sit.”

  I listen, and we’re watching the previews when lights beam into the living room. It’s not like we’re up in town. We’re out in the boonies. “Are you expecting anyone?”

  Without a sound, he shakes his head as I grab the gun from the drawer. “You don’t need a fucking gun, Cruz,” Sal says, getting up to answer the door. “Calm the fuck down.”

  “Shit,” I mumble in a towel. “Why didn’t you let me get dressed?”

  “Who is going to come way the fuck out here? Who even fucking knows we’re here? The place looks derelict and abandoned.”

  “Yeah, except for the fucking Lambo sitting in the garage and your sixteen other toys!”

  “It’s Bamber!” he announces, grinning and swinging the door wide on fucking open.

  “… Seriously?”

  “Yep,” he says. “And here she comes. Damn, we need a parking lot. She had to park four cars back.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ve been telling you that. I’m getting some pants on.”

  “Sit your ass down, hussy.”

  “Hi!” I hear her say. “I just wanted to bring you breakfast for tomorrow morning. I made it—apple cinnamon coffeecake.”

  What?

  Since when does Amber bake?

  I mean, she gets baked a lot, but culinary skills have never been her forte. She was looking for an excuse to come out here after midnight.

  “We were just about to watch a movie.”

  Oh, God. No. Please.

  “Fuck it,” I mumble, running for the bedroom. I throw on some shorts and a shirt. When I return, they’re standing in the kitchen, eating cake, and laughing. I interrupt, “Hi…”

  Sal smirks and lifts his brows.

  Asshole.

  Amber offers me a bite, but I refuse. Things are awkward when I leave and flop in the reclining chair. And even weirder when she sits on the sofa, and he puts his head in her lap. We watch two movies—one scary, one sad—with her rubbing his head and playing with his curls.

  And my internal dialogue shifts from—can Sal share me to can I share Sal?

  I’m not sure I can.

  At the end of it all, I realize—there are mental obstacles far worse than an emotional snag on popcorn.

  And I ate the whole damn bowl.

  I wake up the next morning asleep in the recliner. They’re both missing. I anticipate—maybe expect is a better word—that they’re in my bed fucking like horny teenagers.

  Peering outside, I notice his Raptor is gone, but her car is still sitting behind my truck. I head to the bathroom to take a piss right as Amber is getting out of the shower.

  “He told me I could take a shower,” she quickly says with a look of panic. “I’ll get out of here in just a minute. I’m sorry.”

  “Hey, hey, hey…it’s okay,” I say. “You don’t have to go.”

  “I do, though, we’re going up to Austin today,” she says, lowering her eyes. “And I don’t belong here.”

  “You do belong here.”

  “I gotta take a piss, and unless you want to hold it for me, I suggest you wait in the bedroom. I’ll get you some fresh clothes in a minute.”

  “And if I want to hold it?”

  “Then, you best be prepared that I am putting my dick inside of you.”

  Her eyes slowly pivot until she finally blinks up to meet my gaze. I strip off my shirt and let my shorts fall. “Dear God, we’re doing this…”

  “We are,” I dryly say. “But last night…last night was unbalanced.” I stand in front of the toilet, and she reaches down, holding my dick. “You’re going to have to look. You’re going to have to aim.” I secretly give her instructions on how to live with the two raging alpha males. “Or you’re going to be on all fours, naked, cleaning my bathroom while I eat coffeecake with a massive fucking erection.”

  She points, and I piss. I give her a side-eyed glance with a grin, and she smiles back to me. “I’ve never done this before.”

  “You’re doing great,” I snicker.

  “We’re unbalanced because one is missing,” she whispers. “If Iris had been here, curled in your lap, you wouldn’t have felt so disjointed.”

  “Sal needs you,” I admit as she shakes my dick and flushes the toilet.

  She washes her hands, and in the reflection of the mirror, she confides, “He does.”

  “I have a kid.”

  “I know,” she mutters. “Jaid told me, and I cried for months. It made sleeping with your brother a lot easier.”

  “Did you think about me?”

  “All the fucking time,” she mutters, struggling. “But what was I going to do? You hated me. Sal wasn’t real fond of me. I had to make my case. I went all over the globe to dig up dirt for him. He’s known Delarte was in with Allegiance, and Dale Archer was following his footsteps. I had to prove it.”

  “Are you going to hurt him?”

  “Sal?” she asks. “No. But it’s strange you ask about him and not you.”

  “He matters more than me,” I reply, laying my hands on her shoulders. “You hurt him, and you and I have a problem.”

  “I am not going to hurt anyone.”

  My fingers ease down her sides, loosening the towel and tossing it onto the counter. In the mirror, I wa
tch as the back of my hands, caress her nipples and arouse them to peaks. I kiss her neck, sucking and biting as she falls into my chest. “Do you like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to be my dirty whore?”

  “Yes,” she breathes erratically. “Use me, Deacon.”

  Laying my hand in the middle of her back, I push her forward and rub my hand over the flesh of her ass. She’s soft and smooth. I pop her once—hard. She only moves because of the force of me. Her eyes blink to mine for reassurance. God, she’s so well trained. And I know who made her this way.

  “I am going to fuck you now.” Mesmerized by it all, she nods and bites her lip as I thrust deep inside her warm, wet pussy. “I want to tie you up and whip you good.”

  “I want you to do that, Sir.” Her mouth drops open as I jab my dick repeatedly against her walls. We’re riding hard and fast, and the closer we get to the precipice, the more I slap her ass. I reach around with my left hand and pinch and twist her nipple. She’s writhing on my dick and begging for more in stolen glances.

  “Damn, you feel so good, babydoll!” I moan as she drenches around my shaft. She’s soaking me…flooding me…leading me deep into her erotic well. And just when I feel this might be our last time, she lays her hand on top of mine, offering something poignant and real.

  “Fuck my ass on the second round,” she whispers the invitation. “Fuck it good and hard like I know you can.” She skirts the edge but never crosses the threshold, knowing the line is charged with love and rigged with razor wire.

  I flip it, surprising her, and growl, “You want me to fuck you like I do, Sal?”

  “Yes!” she cries out as her voice echoes against the old tile. “Please! Do it!”

  I cum like a monster, filling her with my vacant seed. I pull out fast, just as fast as we began, and passionately kiss her pout. “Let’s do it!”

  “We just did,” she laughs in my arms.

  “Let’s go to the courthouse and make this a thing.”

  With a startled expression, she quizzes, “Are you asking me to marry you?”

  “What would you say?”

  “I’d say Sal is stopping by Anna’s for coffee and going to see Nicky. We don’t have time.”