by L. Steele
A-n-d, that’s it. I’ve had enough of her mouth that threatens to never stop spewing words. How many insults can one tiny woman hurl my way? Answer: too many to count.
"You—"
I lower my chin, close my mouth over hers.
Heat, sweetness, the honey of her essence explodes on my palate. My dick twitches. I tilt my head, deepen the kiss, reaching for that something more…more… of whatever scent she’s wearing on her skin, infused with that breath of hers that crowds my senses, rushes down my spine. My groin hardens, my cock lengthens. I thrust my tongue between those infuriating lips.
She makes a sound deep in her throat and my heart begins to pound.
So innocent, yet so crafty. Beautiful and feisty. Exactly the kind of combination I don’t need in my life. Complications, I hate them. I prefer the straight and narrow. Gray and black, that’s how I choose to define my world. She with her flashes of color, pink hair and lips that threaten to drive me to the edge of distraction, is exactly what I hate.
Give me a female who has her priorities set in life. To pleasure me, get me off, then walk away before her emotions engage. Yeah. That’s what I prefer.
Not this…this bundle of craziness who flings her arms around my shoulders, thrusts her breasts up and into my chest, tilts back her chin, opens her mouth, and invites me to take and take.
Does she have no self-preservation? Does she think I am going to fall for her wide-eyed appeal? She has another thing coming.
I tear my mouth away and she protests.
She twines her leg with mine, pushes up her hips, so that melting softness between her thighs cradles my aching hardness.
I glare into her face and she holds my gaze.
Trains her green eyes on me. The skin over her cheekbones flushes a bright red. Her lips fall open and a moan bleeds into the air. The blood rushes to my dick, which instantly thickens. Fuck. Time to put distance between me and the situation. It’s how I prefer to manage things. Stay in control, always. Cut out anything that threatens to impinge on my equilibrium. Shut it down or buy them off. Reduce it to a transaction. That I understand.
The power of money, to be able to buy and sell—numbers, logic. That’s what’s worked for me so far.
"How much?"
Her forehead furrows.
"Whatever it is, I can afford it."
Her jaw slackens. "You think…you—"
"A million?"
"What?"
"Pounds, dollars… you name the currency, and it will be in your account."
Her jaw slackens, "You're offering me money?"
"For your time, and for you to fall in line with my plan."
She reddens, "You think I am for sale?"
"Everyone is."
"Not me."
Here we go again. "Is that a challenge?"
Color fades from her face, "Get away from me."
"Are you shy, is that what this is?" I frown. "You can write your price down on a piece of paper if you prefer," I glance up, notice the bartender watching us. I jerk my chin toward the napkins. He grabs one, then offers it to her.
She glowers at him, "Did you buy him too?"
"What do you think?"
She glances about her, "I think everyone here is ignoring us."
"It’s what I’d expect."
"Why is that?"
I wave the tissue in front of her face, "Why do you think?"
"You own the place?"
"As I am going to own you."
A series of expressions flits across her face, embarrassment, recognition… Anger. She sets her jaw, "Let me leave and you won't regret this."
A chuckle bubbles up. I swallow it away. This is no laughing matter. I never smile during a transaction. Especially not when I am negotiating a new acquisition. And that’s all she is. The final piece in the puzzle I am building.
"No one threatens me."
"You’re right."
"Huh?"
"I’d rather just act on my instinct."
Her lips twist, her gaze narrows. All of my senses scream a warning.
No, she wouldn’t, no way—pain slices through my middle, sparks explode behind my eyes.
To find out what happens next read Sinclair and Summer's story HERE.
Want more of the Seven? Binge read the Big Bad Billionaire Series here
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Read an excerpt from Mafia King, Arranged Marriage 1
Karma
"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…"
Tears prick the back of my eyes. Goddamn Byron. Crept up on me when I was at my weakest. Not that I was a poetry addict by any measure, but words were my jam. The one consolation I had that when everything else in the world was wrong I could turn to them, and they’d be there, friendly steady, waiting with open arms. And this particular poem had laced my blood, crawled into my gut when I’d first read it. Darkness had folded into myself like an insidious snake, that raised its head when I least expected it. Like now, when I looked out on the still sleeping London city, from the grassy slope of Waterlow Park.
I could be the last person on this planet, alone, unsung, bound for the grave.
Ugh! Stop. Right there. I drag the back of my hand across my nose. Try it again, focus, get the words out, one after the other, like the steps of my sorry life.
"Morn came and went—and came, and brought no day…" My voice breaks. "Bloody, asinine, hell." I dig my fingers into the grass and grab a handful and fling it out. Again. From the top.
"Morn came and went—and came, and…."
"…brought no day."
I whip my head around. His profile fills my line of sight. Dark hair combed back by a ruthless hand that booked no measure.
My throat dries.
Hooked nose, thin upper lip, a fleshy lower lip, that hinted at hidden desires, Heat. Lust. Sensuous scrape of that whiskered jaw over my innermost places. Across my inner thigh, reaching toward that core of me that throbbed, clenched, melted to feel the stab of his tongue, the thrust of his hardness as he impaled me, took me, made me his.
"Of this their desolation; and all hearts
Were chill'd into a selfish prayer for light."
Sweat beads my palm, the hairs on my nape rise. "Who are you?"
He stares ahead, his lips move,
"Forests were set on fire—but hour by hour
They fell and faded—and the crackling trunks
Extinguish'd with a crash—and all was black."
I swallow, squeeze my thighs together. Moisture gathers in my core, how can I be wet by the mere cadence of this stranger’s voice?
I spring up to my feet.
"Sit down."
His voice is unhurried, lazy even, his spine erect. The cut of his black jacket stretches across the width of his massive shoulders. His hair… I was mistaken there are strands of dark gold woven between the darkness that pours down to brush the nape of his neck. My fingers tingle. My scalp itches. I take in a breath and my lungs burn. This man, he’s soaked all the oxygen in this open space, as if he owned it, the master of all he surveyed. The master of me. My death. My life. A shiver ladders away my spine. Get away, get away now while you still can.
I take a step back.
"I won’t ask again."
Ask. Command. Force me to do as he wants. He’ll have me on my back, bent over, on the side, over him, under him, he’ll surround me, overwhelm me, pin me down with the force of his personality. His charisma, his larger than life essence that will crush everything else out of me and I… I’ll love it.
"No."
"Yes."
A fact. A statement of intent, spoken aloud. So true. So real. Too real. Too much. Too fast. All my nightmares… my dreams come to life. Everything I’ve wanted is here in front of me. I’ll die a thousand deaths before he’ll be done with me… and then, will I be reborn? For him. For me. For myself. I live first and foremost to be the woman I was… am meant to be.
"You want to run?"
No.
No.
I nod my head
He turns his and all the breath leaves my lungs. Blue eyes, cerulean, dark like the morning skies, deep like the nighttime, hidden corners, secrets that I don’t dare uncover. He’ll destroy me, have my heart, and break it so casually.
My throat burns. A boiling sensation squeezes my chest.
"Go then, my beauty, fly. You have until I count to five. If I catch you, you are mine."
"If you don’t?"
"Then I’ll come after you, stalk your every living moment, possess your nightmares, and steal you away in the dead of midnight, and then…"
I draw in a shuddering breath, liquid heat drips from between my legs. "Then?" I whisper.
"Then, I’ll ensure you’ll never belong to anyone else, you’ll never see the light of day again, for your every breath, your every waking second, your thoughts, your actions… and all your words, every single last one, will belong to me." He peels back his lips, and his teeth glint in the first rays of the morning light. "Only me." He straightens to his feet, and rises, and rises.
This man… he was massive. A beast. A monster who always gets his way. My guts churn. My toes curl. Something primeval inside me insists I hold my own. I cannot give in to him. Cannot let him win whatever this is. I need to stake my ground in some form. Say something. Anything. Show him you’re not afraid of this.
"Why?" I tilt my head back, all the way back. "Why are you doing this?"
He tilts his head, his ears almost canine in the way they are silhouetted against his profile.
"Is it because you can? Is it a…a" I blink, "a debt of some kind?"
He stills.
"My father, this is about how he gave up on the mafia right? You’re one of them?"
All expression is wiped clean of his face, and I know then I am right. My sorry shambles of a past… why does it always catch up with me? You can run, but you can never hide.
"Tic Toc, Beauty." He angles his body and his shoulders shut out the sight of the sun, the dawn skies, the horizon, the city in the distance, the rustle of the grass, the trees, the rustle of the leaves all of it fades, and leaves, me and him. Us. Run.
"Five." He jerks his chin. Straightens the cuffs of his sleeves.
My knees wobble.
"Four."
My heart hammers in my chest. I should go. Leave., but my feet are wedded to this earth. This piece of land where we first met. What am I but a speck in the larger scheme of things? To be hurt. To be forgotten. To be brought to the edge of climax and taken without an ounce of retribution. To be punished... by him.
"Three." He thrusts out his chest, widens his stance, every muscle in his body relaxed. "Two."
I swallow. The pulse beats at my temples. My blood thrums.
"One."
Michael
"Go."
She pivots and races down the slope. The skin of her dress streams behind her, scarlet in the blue morning. Her scent clings to my nose, then recedes. I reach forward, thrust out my chin, sniff the air, but there’s only the green scent of dawn. She stumbles and I jump forward. Pause when she straightens. Wait. Wait. Give her a lead. Let her think she has almost escaped, that she’s gotten the better of me… As if. I clench my fists at my sides, force myself to relax. Wait. Wait. She reaches the bottom of the incline, turns. I surge forward. One foot in front of the other, my heels dig into the grassy surface, mud flies up, clings to the edges of my £4000 Italian pants. Like I care? Plenty more where that came from. An entire walk in close full of tailor made clothes made to measure, to suit every occasion, with every possible accessory needed by a man in my position to impress… everything except the one thing that I had coveted from the time I had laid eyes on her. Sitting there on the grassy slope, unshed tears in her eyes, and reciting… Byron? For hell’s sake. Of all the poet’s in the world she had to choose the Lord of Darkness.
I huff. All a ploy. Clearly she knew I was sitting next to her… no, not possible. I had walked toward her and she hadn’t stirred. Hadn't been aware, yeah I was that good. I’d been known to Lynch a man from ear to ear while he was awake and in his full senses. Alive one second, dead the next. That’s how it was in my world. You wanted it, you took it. And I… I wanted her.
I increase my pace, eat up the distance between me and the girl… that’s all she was. A slip of a thing, a slim blur of motion. Beauty in hiding. A diamond waiting for me to get my hands on her, polish her, show her what it means to be… dead. She was dead. That’s why I was here.
Her skirts flash behind her, exposing a creamy length of thigh. My groin hardens, my legs wobble. I lurch over a bump in the ground, the hell? I right myself, leap forward, inching closer, closer. She reaches a curve in the path, disappears out of sight. My heart hammers in my chest. I will not lose her, will not. Here, Beauty, come to Daddy. The wind whistles past my ears. I pump my legs, lengthen my strides, turn the corner. There’s no one there, huh?
My heart hammers, the blood pounds at my wrists, my temples, adrenaline thrums my veins. I slow down, come to a stop. Scan the clearing.
The hairs on my forearms prickle. She’s here. Not far, where? Where is she? I prowl across to the edge of the clearing, under the tree with its spreading branches. When I get my hands on you Beauty, I’ll spread your legs like the pages of a poem. Dip into your honeyed sweetness, like a pen into quill, drag my aching shaft across that melting weeping entrance. My balls throb. My groin tightens. The crack of a branch above shivers across my stretched nerve endings. I swoop forward, hold out my arms. A blur of red, dark blonde hair, skirt swept up in a gust of breeze. She drops into my arms and I close my grasp around the trembling, squirming mass of precious humanity. I cradle har close to my chest, heart beating thud-thud-thud, overwhelming any other thought.
Mine. All mine. The hell is wrong with me? She wriggles her little body, and her curves slide across my forearms. My shoulders bunch, my fingers tingle. She kicks out with her legs and arches her back, her breasts thrust up, the nipples outlined against the fabric of her jogging vest. She’d dared come out dressed like that…? In that scrap of fabric that barely covered her luscious flesh?
"Let me go." She whips her head toward me, her hair flows around her shoulders, across her face, she blows it out of the way. "You monster, get away from me."
Anger drums at the back of my eyes, desire tugs at my groin. The scent of her is sheer torture, something that I had dreamed of in the wee hours of twilight when dusk turned into night. She’s not real. Not the woman I think she is. She is my downfall. My sweet poison. The bitter medicine I must partake off to cure the ills that plague my company,
"Fine." I lower my arms, she tumbles to the floor, hits the ground butt first.
"How dare you." She huffs out a breath, her hair messily arranged across her face.
I shove my hands into the pockets of my fitted pants, knees slightly bent, legs apart. Tip my chin down and watch her as she sprawls at my feet.
"You… dropped me?" She makes a sound deep in her throat.
So damn adorable.
"Your wish is my command." I quirk my lips.
"You don’t mean it."
"You’re right." I lean my weight forward on the balls of my feet and she flinches. "What… what do you want?"
"You."
She pales. "You want to… to rob me? I have nothing of consequence, I’m not carrying anything… except." She reaches for her pocket.
"Don’t." I growl.
"It’s only my phone."
"So you say, hmm?"
"You can…" She swallows, "you can trust me."
I chuckle.
"I mean it’s not like I can deck you with a phone or anything, right?"
I glare at her and she swallows. "Fine… you… you take it."
Interesting.
"Hands behind your neck."
She hesitates.
"Now."
She instantly folds
her arms at the elbows, cradles the back of her head with her palms.
I lean down and every muscle in her body tenses. Good. She’s wary. She should be. She should have been alert enough to have run as soon as she sensed my presence. But she hadn’t. And I’d delayed what was meant to happen long enough.
I pull out the gun from my pocket hold it to her temple. "Goodbye Beauty."
Want to find out what happens next? Read Michael Byron and Karma's story HERE.
* * *
Hang on, there's more. Read TAKEN BY THE ALPHA, Knotted Omega Series #1
Zeus
“Boo!” I bare my teeth.
The soldier cringes, and sweat beads his forehead.
“Really, Z?” My second-in-command narrows his gaze.
“Okay, a bit over the top.” I raise my shoulders then let them drop. But, hey, cut me some slack, okay? I like to play with my prey.
Besides, I have a flair for the dramatic, one of the few redeeming features I inherited from my bastard of a father. Except, oh, wait, I was the bastard in that relationship, given he’d never acknowledged me… not until I had my fingers around Golan’s neck and recognition had dawned in his eyes. Too late, Pater. Thirty years too late.
The soldier’s skin is stretched so tight over his cheekbones that I expect it to crack any moment. The scent of piss stinks up the warehouse. The fool, clearly a beta by the way his shoulders are hunched, has wet himself.
I yawn aloud. The sound of my jaws cracking seems to snap the man into action, for he staggers forward, followed by his partner. They haul a rolled-up carpet between them.
Loose threads trail from the edges to sweep over the wooden floor. The patchwork on the outside of the carpet is peeling. The fabric seems so innocuous, so unassuming, it’s precisely that which sends all my instincts on alert.
A sliver of awareness ripples over my skin. Thud, thud, thud my heartbeat accelerates. The fine hair on my neck rises.
What the bloody hell? I can’t take my gaze off that damn rug. “Unfurl it.”
The edge of impatience in my tone must have signaled the impending flare of temper, for Ethan, my second, moves forward—not that the soldiers will dare try anything. The stripes on their vests mark them out as emissaries of the Leader of Scotland, and Kayden doesn’t have the balls to put them up to breaking into my stronghold. I drum my fingers over my chest. Nah! It’s exactly the kind of move I’d expect that twat to try to pull off.
