Rhapsody: Interracial French Mafia Romance (The Butcher and the Violinist Book 1)

by Kenya Wright

  He yanked at the top of my bathing suit and tore it away. The fabric fell down and exposed my breasts. He grunted. He was so close. So intoxicating. His warmth and protection wrapped around me. And I didn’t want to share him either. He felt so damn good.

  “I could’ve killed him for making you so nervous.” He slid his fingers underneath my chin and lifted my view to him. “I didn’t buy your will or freedom. Punch him in the face, if needed.”

  “I…I’m not doing that.”

  “Rafael won’t touch you. He’ll take the punch and walk away.” He kissed my lips. “Trust me.”

  I leaned away from him. “What did the test mean?”

  Jean-Pierre glided his fingers over my cheek. “Rafael is protective of me. He wanted to make sure that you weren’t just around for the money.”

  It didn’t make any sense. If I was supposed to play the prostitute, then wasn’t money supposed to be a chief concern?

  I raised my eyebrows. “Rafael wanted to know if I liked you?”

  “Yes.” He slipped my swimsuit down. The material dropped to the ground. It felt so naughty being exposed as he remained in his suit. Humor carried his accented voice. “Do you like me, Eden?”

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  “I definitely like you. Some would say that my liking you is an understatement.”

  “And who would that be?”

  “That’s a discussion for another time.” He moved his hands to my back and cupped my bare ass. “Tu n'es pas prêt pour la vérité, mon amour.”

  I’m not ready for the truth? What did he mean?

  It didn’t matter anyway. Rafael had left. The uncomfortable situation followed. Jean-Pierre held no anger toward me. If anything, he clarified that I would be respected among his cousin and men.

  Due to that, I didn’t need to talk anymore. I wanted him inside me. Craved it. All of him filling me over and over, pushing away the darkness, warming me from the inside out.

  I whispered back to him in French about how much I wanted his cock inside of me. “Je veux ta bite en moi.”

  He groaned, “You’ve been practicing your French?”

  I responded in French, telling about how much I wanted to suck his cock. “Je veux te sucer la bite.”

  “You’ll suck it soon, but not now.” He turned me around and bent me over the table. “Tonight, I want to be deep inside of you. Feeling you wrapped around my cock. Knowing that you’re aware of whose pussy it is.”

  I widened my eyes. “I didn’t know that was going to be this evening’s lesson.”

  “There will be a quiz at the end.”

  “I like your tests.”

  The sound of clothes rustling came from behind me.

  I smiled, although knowing that joke might’ve been too soon for the moment. And then I had nothing else to think about as Jean-Pierre cupped one hand over my ass. With the other hand, he guided his cock to my entrance and then pulled away.

  I almost begged for him to return, until I heard a packet crackle. I glanced over my shoulder. He’d opened a condom and slowly slipped it on that big length.

  “God,” I muttered. “You’re so beautiful.”

  Grunting, he pulled me close to him.

  I faced away from him and leaned my back against his hard chest, now bare after tearing off his suit.

  “I’ve been called many things, Eden, but beautiful has not been one of them.” He rubbed the condom-covered tip around the mouth of my pussy.

  “Please,” I moaned.

  “Je veux posséder ta chatte. Ton corps. Votre cœur. Ton esprit. Je veux tout garder pour moi.” Jean-Pierre thrust his cock into me.

  “Oh!”

  He moved his hands to my hips. “Oh, sweet Eden.”

  I held the edge of the table, barely able to hold on.

  The stars glittered above in the dark sky. The pool glowed at our feet. And the city continued to party down below. But all I could do was focus on Jean-Pierre moving inside of me, balls deep, expanding and filling.

  It was definitely a lesson that he taught by the pool. Moving in and out with skillful strokes, he fucked me from behind, eliciting strong shivers from my core.

  “Jean-Pierre.” I closed my eyes, relishing in the sensation of being filled to the max.

  I felt whole.

  More complete.

  Joined.

  United.

  It was just supposed to be sex, but my body melted with him. It went hypersensitive.

  He whispered, “I almost lost control.”

  And then he buried himself deeper into me with hard, fierce strokes.

  I descended into him.

  The moment.

  His cock.

  The rhythm of our bodies moving together.

  By now we’d done this dance many times before. I knew his body and what every stroke, every grunt meant. I could tell when he was close to coming, with how he slowed the pace and gripped my hips, grunting with each thrust. I could tell that he was pacing himself, when he pulled out, cursed, and bit my shoulder.

  “I’m supposed to teach you a lesson,” he whispered. “But maybe you’re teaching me.”

  Panting, I opened my eyes. “And what’s the lesson?”

  “That you’ve always had the control.”

  I pushed back against Jean-Pierre, testing the truth of those words.

  “Damn it, Eden.”

  Jean-Pierre smacked his hand over my ass, startling me, but the sensation wrenched a groan from me. He thrust harder. Rapid. Stroking deep, the friction so Earth-shattering that the sky and stars spun around in an illuminated circle above my head.

  I arched my back and begged him to go faster. “Plus rapide.”

  Jean-Pierre powered into me, picking up speed. His hips slammed against my ass. My orgasm crashed into me next.

  “Oh, Jean-Pierre, I’m coming.”

  In a dark, sensual tone, he groaned, “Moi aussi.”

  I rode the orgasm.

  Moaning some more, he went rigid against my ass, burying himself deep while his body jerked. “Je ne te laisserai jamais me quitter. Jamais.”

  I didn’t get his translation. He spoke so fast and I drowned in pleasure.

  Catching my breath, I rose a little as Jean-Pierre slipped his cock out of me. I thought he would move further away, but he landed a sweet kiss to my shoulder.

  I whispered, “That was amazing.”

  He slipped his hands over my hips and landed soft kisses on the back of my neck.

  “What did you say, when you came?”

  “I say many things, when it comes to your pussy.”

  I turned to him. “That’s not an answer. Could you tell me, please?”

  He pulled me back into his arms and hit me with an intense gaze. “I said I will never let you go. Never.”

  His words hit me, warming me more than his touch or the orgasm. Those words should’ve put me on edge, but instead they settled into my heart, spreading feelings I’d be better off not examining.

  His body stilled against me. “Any other questions?”

  I gave him a weak smile. “Do you always say. . .possessive things, when you come?”

  “Is that really possessive?”

  “I would say so. Never letting me go is a clear claim.”

  “I agree.”

  “That’s possession.”

  “Or the truth.”

  “But. . .” I leaned away. “But, what does that mean?”

  “I have no plans of letting you go, Eden.” He slipped his fingers through my hair. “Now, whether you decide to go is your decision.”

  Rafael ducked his head out. “Eh! Put some clothes on.”

  Jean-Pierre grumbled. “What now?”

  Rafael put his back to us. “A couple of friends are downstairs, inquiring.”

  Darkness covered his face. In that moment, he shifted to something else. Power and violence radiated from him.

  “I’ll be right back, Eden.” He put on his pants, walked off, and mum
bled to himself, “Will that damn woman ever give me any rest?”

  What woman? And I don’t want to stop this conversation! Forget those people downstairs.

  Those words that he’d said was something else. It had nothing to do with a girlfriend experience. Unless this was some twisted form of mental play. Would he play with my mind like that? Shalimar hinted that he would. And how was he defining never let go? Was it never let go in the sense of never let me go before the remaining days? Or was it never let me go at all?

  I watched him walk away, more confused than I’d ever been since meeting him.

  Could it be that this situation was going somewhere else? Did he really want something else?

  I’d never thought that was an option. I wasn’t sure what was going on, but there was one thing I was certain about.

  I needed to know more.

  Chapter 25

  Best Friends Forever

  Three years ago

  Jean-Pierre

  We spent a few months at the Candy Shop, renting out the fourth level.

  Rafael made it his mission to put a few spies around Celina. The best candidates would be her closest girls. Therefore, he spent every night dining and drinking with all of them. He spoiled the lot, buying them jewelry and taking groups of them off shopping.

  However, Rafael focused on Shalimar the most. She had Celina’s ear and knew more about the woman than anyone else in the brothel.

  Rafael spent many days and nights with Shalimar, helicoptering her out to an island for dinner dates. Making love to her on a yacht for the weekend. Lavishing and spoiling like only a true French gentleman could.

  The rest of the men enjoyed our residence in the brothel.

  Giorgio had two women that he kept close. Surprisingly, they wore all leather body suits and carried around whips.

  One night as we dined, Rafael watched Giorgio walk off with the leather-covered women. “I’m pondering something.”

  “What are you pondering?” I asked.

  “Do you think Giorgio is paying the women to hit him while he’s naked?”

  I gave him a hard stare. “Never ponder that around me again.”

  “You’re never any fun, Jean-Pierre.”

  Louis stayed close to me during the day, to only go completely invisible at night as he gorged on women left and right.

  The men enjoyed those weeks.

  I remained to myself.

  Watching Eden on my laptop had become the best moments of my day. She pleased my eyes. Filled the long days with more sunshine, no matter how much it stormed outside. Through her apartment, she strolled with grace. Even when it came to cleaning and regular day-to-day things, she did it with finesse.

  Or had I just fallen deep in this obsession?

  It made me crazy to know even more about her. I envied her roommate and friends. People who were able to stand in her presence. Reach out their hands and touch her.

  One morning, I sipped my coffee, ate my croissant, and watched Eden begin her day.

  “Don’t worry about me, Dad.” She held the phone to her ear as she walked into her small living room. “Aunt Celina has been a major support system here. I’m safe here with her.”

  Don’t I know it?

  Of course, I couldn’t hear her dad’s response.

  Rolling her eyes, she strolled over her small fireplace. The cat I’d bought her lay on the couch next to our violin. She’d called the little furry thing, Vibrato. As far as I was concerned, Vibrato didn’t entertain or cuddle with her enough.

  Should I get her a puppy?

  “Dad, I don’t like it when you talk about Aunt Celina that way. She is not crazy. I am being careful in Belladonna. Yes, and with Aunt Celina.” She sighed and listened to her father lecture her some more. “Really, Dad? There is no demon inside of Aunt Celina.”

  I really like her father.

  She paused on the side of the fireplace’s mantle and picked up a tiny figurine. It was a little porcelain black girl with pigtails and chubby cheeks. She wore a painted on pink dress with white ruffles. In the little girl’s arms was a tiny brown violin and a bow.

  More figurines of children from various races rested on the mantle. Each held a different instrument, but when Eden stood by the mantle and talked on the phone, she always toyed with that little brown violinist, in the pink dress.

  “Okay, Dad. Yes. I’ve got it. Hell and damnation.” She set the figurine down. “So, I would love to drive down and see you this weekend or—”

  She paused.

  Her father must’ve interrupted.

  “Dad, you keep wanting me to wait until the church is built. I would love to see you.” She placed her hand on her hip. “That’s been two years. Do you not want me to come? What’s going on down there?”

  Should I have someone check on him?

  “Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll wait until you’re done. Yes. Yes. I’m excited to see the church…and you.”

  A sad expression lay on her face. “Okay, Dad. I love you too. Talk to you later.”

  She hung up and headed to her bedroom. The cat rose, stretched, and jumped off the couch. Both entered her room.

  I switched to the next camera as she shut the door.

  My phone rang.

  I picked it up and spoke in French, “Yes?”

  Louis replied, “Rafael will be up to your room with Shalimar.”

  “Does Shalimar know anything?”

  “No. Rafael left the talk for you to do.”

  “Good. What about Shalimar’s step-father?”

  “I did what you asked.”

  “Every detail?” I asked.

  “I have the bloodied suit to confirm it.”

  “With a job like that you should wear a rain coat and boots.”

  Louis failed to keep the sarcasm out his voice. “I’ll remember that next time.”

  “Just send them up.” I turned the phone off and returned to my laptop.

  Eden had taken a quick shower and just stepped out.

  My cock jumped in my pants.

  No, Eden. Don’t get naked now. I have a meeting.

  Leaning forward, I curled my fingers around the arms of my chair and gripped them.

  Her long black hair was wet. My hands itched to grip those soft locks.

  My cock grew at the thought. I’d already jacked off in the shower this morning, thinking of her, and now I yearned to do it some more.

  Eden unwrapped the towel and threw it on her bed.

  Goddamn it.

  Every time I saw her naked body it took my breath away. There would never be a moment, when I could tire of looking at her.

  I’m an addict. How long can I see her, but not touch or taste her?

  My mind dizzied with the insanity of it all. My body unraveled out of control as it always did, when she went naked on my screen.

  I ran my fingers through my hair.

  I had to fuck her. There was no way I could turn around and forget about it all. Her aunt Celina would need more than Russians to keep me away.

  On the screen, Eden grabbed a bottle of lotion, put some in her hands, and began to lather it along her legs. I gripped my chair tighter and licked my lips. The view of her pussy was not good enough for me. But then it would never be good enough unless that paradise lay right in front me.

  I’m going to spend my lifetime licking that pretty pussy.

  Squirting more lotion on her hands, she cupped her breasts and smeared it along those full globes. Desire filled her eyes as she touched her nipples.

  Oh, Eden. How good does it feel to touch yourself?

  The door of my room opened.

  Rafael walked in with Shalimar.

  Goddamn it!!

  “Give me one minute.” I glared and turned off the laptop.

  Rafael smirked. “Still binge-watching your favorite show?”

  “Yes. I always like to get caught up with my favorite character.” I rose from my desk and walked over to where they stood. “Right
now, I would like to talk to Shalimar.”

  Rafael nodded. “I explained.”

  She gave me a weak smile and then turned to Rafael. “But. . .you’ll be here?”

  “I’ll be right outside the door.” Rafael landed a kiss on her cheek and left.

  When the door shut, I gestured at the bed. “You can sit.”

  “I would rather not.”

  “That’s fine.” Nodding, I walked over to my desk, grabbed the file, and brought it to her. “You’re an interesting woman, Shalimar.”

  She grabbed the file and opened it. A baby picture stared back at her.

  I continued, “Born in China. Your sister and you were adopted by a nice American family.”

  Shalimar shut the file. “I know my life.”

  “Your adopted father died from a work accident. Your adopted mother went into depression and drug addiction.” I took the file from her, set it on the bed, and opened it. “She later married your step-father.”

  “What is this about?”

  I lowered and flipped the next sheet. “Why did you run away at such a young age, Shalimar?”

  She studied the picture on the bed. Her bottom lip quivered.

  A family portrait stared back. Her mother and sister stood on the left. Her step father remained in the middle with his arm around a scowling, young Shalimar.

  “I don’t know what you’re doing, but we’re done.” She rose and walked to the door.

  “I think Ella was dealing with the same problem you were.”

  She turned around and scowled at me. “You don’t know anything about—”

  “Sit down, Shalimar. We’re friends.”

  “No disrespect, Le Boucher, but—”

  “Sit.”

  She trembled as she walked back to the bed and sat down.

  “Flip the picture.”

  She did.

  A recent family portrait stared back. Now her stepfather stood in the middle of her mother and sister Ella. Now Ella wore the scowl and look of discomfort as his arm wrapped around her shoulder and not her mother’s.

  Shalimar’s fingers shook. “Mom said that he’s not doing. . .that. . .anymore. that it was me. That. . .that he’s. . .better.”

  “Flip the picture.”

  Fear filled her gaze. She placed her hands in her lap. “No. I don’t want to. Just tell me.”

  I went over and turned it over. “He doesn’t give Ella your letters or checks.”