Filthy Dark: A SECOND CHANCE/SECRET BABY, MAFIA ROMANCE (THE FIVE POINTS' MOB COLLECTION Book 3)

by Serena Akeroyd

  His clenched jaw had me smirking a little, and satisfied by his reaction, I wandered over to the door and locked it.

  Grateful that the bedrooms were the only part of the apartment with walls, I returned and saw he had his hand on his cock. Through his shorts.

  Arching a brow at him, I tutted. “Thought you said you’d only move your hand.”

  “I am.”

  “It’s moving.” I watched it bob and sway, a little mesmerized by the sight because I wanted that dick in my mouth more than I could stand.

  “Why would I touch my cock when I can touch you?” He arched his brow right back at me. “Get that sweet cunt over here and I’ll start behaving.”

  Oh, God.

  Inside, I just melted.

  Those were not the words lovers shared, but just like always, his roughness hit me like a lemon meringue pie to the face. Maybe, in the future, I’d prefer a cream pie to the face… but that wasn’t for today.

  Before, I’d have pretty much danced over there. Maybe have made Usain Bolt’s record look like he was a slowpoke. Instead, I did something nuts. I wandered over to the paintings and I looked at them.

  There was something glorious about being naked in front of them.

  Yes, crazy.

  But right, somehow.

  “Did you know Richard DeLorenzo used to work on his counterfeits in the nude?”

  A smile bobbed on my lips at his words. “Really?”

  “Really. Said it made him feel closer to the work. I’m just sitting over here wondering how a decade-long obsession with these paintings is paling in comparison to the sight of your ass.” A growl escaped him, and the sound had me twisting around to look at him. When I did, when I saw he was sitting up on one elbow, I did something even crazier.

  I took a step back from the wall safe, pressed my hands to the edge where the slots would slide in and out once the mechanized shelves retracted, and bent over. His groan—totally worth it.

  Spreading my legs some, I breathed in the scent of oil and paint and years’ worth of this masterpiece existing.

  Knowing what it was, where it had come from, that Declan had it, I knew I was sopping wet.

  I also knew I was weird, but I was happy with my weirdness.

  Twisting to look at him, I purred, “That better?”

  “Much better. Picture perfect,” he replied, and his hand was back on his cock again.

  I gulped at the sight, because I had to agree. His cock, his hand around it, much better than even the Vermeer.

  My heart stuttered at the thought, and though I teased him by sliding a hand between my legs and rubbing my clit before slipping a finger inside, I watched his eyes darken at the sight.

  Declan was masterful in bed. He’d been careful with me, but over the many nights I’d been rutted on by useless lovers, I’d recognized the skill in him.

  He’d been preparing me.

  From the very start, he’d been giving me what I wanted, teaching me all along what he wanted me to know.

  He was dominant in bed. Rough. He’d owned me.

  I hadn’t figured that out until too late though. I hadn’t realized that until someone else had fucked me and it had been like eating frozen yogurt with fresh fruit instead of Cherry Garcia.

  “One day, I’m going to fuck you like that,” he grated out. “And I’m going to take you to my box at the opera, and I’m going to fuck you there, and at the ballet—”

  A moan escaped me.

  How was my rough lover so deeply into the arts that he had a box at the goddamn opera?

  I closed my eyes, unable to look at him, unable to think of anything but my fingers on my pussy.

  “If I could get out of this goddamn bed, I’d spank you for taunting me,” he rasped, making heat shiver up and down my spine.

  “You’d have to catch me first,” I whispered, arching up onto tiptoe as pleasure whirred through me. Not just at my caresses, but at his words. Which, to be fair, were far more incendiary. My pussy and my right hand were best friends… His dirty talk had been sorely missed for nearly fifteen years.

  That thought made everything hit home though.

  What the hell was I doing over here, taunting him, when I could finally have an orgasm that wasn’t totally self-administered and that rocked my goddamn world?

  Why was I over here when he was way over there?

  Because I recognized I was insane, I straightened up, and then he murmured, “Go to the window.”

  Surprised, my hair whipped my cheeks as I twisted to look at him.

  “Go to the window,” he repeated calmly. “Look in the last jade box.”

  I did as he asked, heading for the window seat. Staring out onto Manhattan was heady stuff, especially when I was naked and I had two hundred million dollars’ worth of stolen art at my back.

  Talk about a sweet ‘fuck you’ to the city I’d been born and raised in.

  I bent over, smiling when he groaned, and let my fingers trail over the jade box. As I tugged it open, I asked, “What’s with the jade?” The apartment was Japanese in style. Not Chinese.

  “The apartment’s Japanese, I know, but I have a thing for most Asian things.”

  “Why?”

  He shrugged. “Don’t know. I just love the complicated simplicity of it all. The paradox pleases me.”

  Well, those were wet dream-inspiring words.

  Declan, back when I was young, had been rough around the edges. Never in a million years, without knowing him like I had, would anyone have known he had a fetish for the arts. Of course, he’d been scared of Aidan Sr. back then. Which, I figured, made sense.

  It wasn’t like the patriarch of the line was in any way normal.

  He was insane. If anything, from what I’d seen at the makeshift ER, he’d mellowed out over the years.

  Age… the great sanity maker.

  I peered down at the box’s contents, and seeing a string of beads, I returned the box to its rightful place then moved around to show him what I was holding.

  He didn’t direct me to put it on, so I didn’t, just returned to his side. I knelt down, handed the cold jade beads to him, then watched with wide eyes as he twisted it around, decorating his cock with it.

  Instantly, he hissed, but even though the chill had to have affected his ardor, the inferno raging in him seemed to burn me.

  I stared at him, wanting so desperately to jack him off. But even though a hand job wasn’t as arduous as fucking, I had to reason that it was the act of ‘peaking’ that wasn’t all that good for the heart either.

  Having found him now, I didn’t want him to die on me.

  Even if he was a jackass for all the mistakes he’d made.

  I licked my lips at the sight, and asked, “How old is it?”

  “Six hundred years old.”

  The reply had me gasping as I rocked back on my heels. The jade was a pure white, so white that each bead was like frozen milk. There were faint lines in it, but they were faded with age.

  “Stolen?”

  He smirked. “What do you think?”

  That had me swallowing as I whispered, “Don’t think it was meant to decorate your dick.”

  “No? Shame. I think it looks pretty.” His grin was wicked. “Don’t you?” When he tipped his head to the side, I knew his words were going to be filthy, and I waited on them, waited and wasn’t disappointed. “I’m going to come all over these beads one day, and then I’m going to wrap them around your throat and we’re going to attend the theater. These things are meant to be worn, but they’ve been waiting for you. Only you would ever suit them.”

  I wasn’t stupid. I knew, in all the years we’d been separated that if I’d had lovers, he’d had hundreds of them. Even though it was ridiculous to be jealous, I was a little. But something in his tone, combined with the words themselves, told me that no one had ever replaced me.

  No one could or would.

  “Would you like that, Aela? The beads saturated in cum, touchin
g your skin, making you smell of me all fucking night?”

  I let my gaze drift from his dick, which was hard and proud and throbbing with an intensity that I knew wasn’t good for his heart. The bright red flesh looked obscene against the milky white jade.

  “You’re very presumptuous.”

  “Always was with you,” he admitted. “Mo bhanphrionsa.”

  I gritted my teeth at the endearment. “You have no right to call me that.”

  “Not yet, maybe, but we both know the feelings haven’t gone anywhere, Aela. We both know that they never will.”

  Tipping my chin up, I whispered, “And what are we supposed to do? Just fall in love and live happily ever after?”

  He ignored my scoffing sound and asked instead, “Why not?”

  Could it be so simple?

  Really?

  Truly?

  “You think you want me now,” I argued, “but I won’t let you drag Seamus into this world. Not without a fight.”

  He reared up at that, and stunned the crap out of me by grabbing me by the back of my neck and hauling me down to the bed with him. When his tongue plundered my mouth, I got it.

  I got it, and I wanted to weep.

  My eyes grew misty as he kissed me in thanks, in gratitude for doing for our son what his mom hadn’t done for us.

  I didn’t blame Magdalena. She was a woman of her generation, a woman tied to a powerful psychopath. What should she have done? Run away? Aidan Sr. would never have let her go.

  Declan had let me leave the country.

  There was a distinct difference between father and son. But, even so, the apple didn’t fall far from the tree. If he’d known I was pregnant, he wouldn’t have let me leave. Just like his da.

  He fucked my mouth like he couldn’t fuck my pussy, and before I knew it, he was on top of me, one knee speared between mine, separating my thighs. His hand was there, his dick with the cold beads at my side, hot and cold scorching my flesh with equal measure. His fingers went to my clit, rubbing me there as he thrust his tongue against mine, not letting up, not stopping until he twisted his hand around and plowed two digits into me.

  He caught my sharp cry in his mouth as he ground the heel of his hand against my clit. My head fell back, but he didn’t let me go. He moved with me, his other hand urging me to kiss him again. Because I wanted to scream, because I needed to come so badly already, I let him.

  The last thing I needed were thoughts of Seamus breaking in on this moment, a moment that was better than every sexual encounter since I’d left him.

  He swallowed my whimpers, my moans, taking them into him until I knew he had to be in agony with his own need. But he didn’t grab my hand, didn’t urge me to touch him.

  This was all about me.

  All. About. Me.

  And it messed with my head in a way he could never have foreseen.

  As he let me fly, as he let me soar, he also tethered me to him. He didn’t know he did it. But he did. Bindings appeared between us once more. Bindings that had been broken when I’d left and he’d let me.

  They weren’t as strong as before. Couldn’t be. There was too much time between us, too much distance, but with patience, they’d return.

  They’d whisper around my heart, around my being, until I knew I wouldn’t be able to live without him. Until what I’d gone through as a stupid teenager would pale in comparison. Because I knew what it was like to live without him.

  Hell on earth.

  And the last thing I wanted was to be thrust back into it, when here, there was a promise of paradise. The only paradise a sinner like me, and like him, would ever be able to reach.

  Thirteen

  Declan

  Before

  I was tired, and I wanted nothing more than to make my way to Aela’s place, but before I could, I had one last errand to make.

  The docks, like usual, stank, and because I knew my way around them better than I knew The Cloisters, I knew where I was going with very little light.

  I’d picked up a tail somewhere along the way and had taken a few corners to get free of whoever the fuck it was. We were having some beef with the NYPD thanks to the shit going on with the Haitians, so I figured it was an officer, which meant I couldn’t wait for them around a corner and beat the crap out of them, just had to lose their asses which wasn’t hard.

  I’d heard the tap-tap of their feet, but all was quiet now.

  This particular dealer liked to do shit in the dark, and when I said dark, I meant it. His warehouse, though small, was usually in the pitch-black until I walked in with the merch and he deigned to put a light on. He only did it, though, because of who I was.

  Ah, the lauded O’Donnelly spawn… it was like being a prince in New York.

  I’d take being a peasant any day of the fucking week.

  As I hefted up the briefcase in my hand, grabbing the handle tighter, my boots thundered down the rain-slick sidewalk before I finally made it to the door. I didn’t like this place. It had no gate, no exterior security, but what the fuck was I supposed to do?

  He sold to the celebs, and until our supply lines were in order, we needed these fucks to sell our merch. Because it was a big account, worth over two hundred thousand a month, Da sent me or Brennan along.

  I tapped on the door, and a minute later, the opening gave way, sliding sideways as I stepped into it. Though I shut it behind me, I never knew whether I’d prefer to lock it or keep it open because this place was decidedly creepy.

  Not that I was supposed to admit to shit like that.

  The sole illumination in the pitch-black warehouse came from a puddle of light from a single overhead lamp in the center of the space. It put everything else in shadows, and my theory was the dealer was either a vampire or he had a bunch of heavies waiting in the dark to pop my ass if I dared pull a wrong move.

  I understood though. I’d be cautious too, even if he had to be insane to think that I’d pull a move on him… Not all dealers were smart. Some sniffed a little too much of their own product than was wise, and I had a feeling from the way Reggie was always hopping up and down like he was a bunny fucking rabbit, he was that garden variety of dealer.

  “Yo, my man,” Reggie greeted, when I finally made my way to the puddle of light.

  There was a crate there, and I placed my briefcase on it before I said, “Hey, Reg, how’s it hanging?”

  “Business is gooooood. You called at just the right time. I ran out last night.”

  I arched a brow. “Christ, you ran out already?”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his fingers together, finally stepping out of the shadows to meet me. We slapped hands together, shook them like we were brothers, then he beamed. “Might need to increase my order. Got a congressman’s daughter who likes a little too much blow than is good for her.” He jacked his dick. “Sometimes she pays in kind. Just the way I like it.”

  I smiled at that even though I thought he was a prick, and replied, “Well, you just tell me what extra you need and we’ll get it to you.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Fuck, I love working with the Westies. So much more organized than those fucking Colombians.”

  “Couldn’t organize a piss up in a brewery, as Da likes to say.” I always liked to drop his name because everyone, even this dumbfuck, knew to be terrified of Aidan Sr.

  As expected, his smile turned nervous. “Your pop okay, man?”

  “He’s doing well. Be happy to hear about the increase in your order.”

  Nerves abated, Reggie grinned at me, but I saw a few beads of sweat appear at his temples. Yeah, that was the power of my father… capable of making grown men sweat.

  I was too over Da’s hype though. Maybe a long time ago, I’d have felt the pressure as well, now, I was the monster he’d made me.

  When I clicked open the briefcase, four two-hundred-and-fifty gram bags of coke gleamed in the lamplight.

  Reggie whistled under his breath, reached into his pocket, pulled out some ke
ys, and tore the bag open. When he dipped the tip in there then tasted it, he smacked his lips before he let out a whoop. “That’s good shit, man.”

  “The best,” I told him, in full-on sales mode.

  Eyes alight with satisfaction, he clicked his fingers, and ordered, “Bring me the money for my main man, Jack.”

  Jack, like he usually did, appeared from the shadows, but as he did, I heard the faintest of sounds. The slightest creaking of the door as it was pulled open.

  All three of us froze and, after shooting each other looks, I knew I needed to own this situation before one of them got trigger-happy, blamed me, and decided to put me down.

  “You got someone waiting on me, Reggie?” I ground out, my tone dark. So fucking dark I knew I sounded like my da.

  “No, man,” he whispered, eyes wide, and I knew I’d shoved the suspicion onto him. “I promise!” Then he grabbed a gun from the back of his jeans, and hollered, “Whoever the fuck that is, get your ass over here now before I send Jack to get you for me.”

  No answer.

  I squinted into the shadows, wondering why the fuck we were in the dark when this was a business deal. Then, before I could grumble too much, the lights blinked on, cluing me into the fact that Reggie did have other men in the warehouse as I’d expected. My eyes strained, but I reached for my gun just as Reggie knocked his elbow into Jack, silently ordering him to make a move.

  With the lights on, I saw a fuck ton of crates, the contents of which I’d never know—and from how he kept this place in jet-black darkness whenever I rolled around, I figured Reggie didn’t want me to know about their existence either—but when Jack dragged someone out from behind one, and my gaze grazed over Deirdre’s scared face, my nostrils flared in surprise.

  My tail.

  Fuck.

  A thousand scenarios flashed before me in the space of ten seconds, but most of them ended up with me dead, and there was no way I was going to die for this cunt.

  I saw a chance at freedom, so I dove for it.

  “Who the fuck’s this?” I snapped, and watched her eyes widen as her skin blanched. “This some fucking Fed or something?” My fingers tightened around my weapon and I turned it on Reggie. His eyes were blown, something I could see now that we were in the full light, and I growled, “Who the fuck is this?”