Mad Max (Chicago Crew)

by Sapphire Knight

  Turning for the shower, I catch him in my peripheral vision pushing his black briefs down, stepping out of them to follow. I just make it to the thick glass of the shower wall before he’s fisting my hair, shoving the front of my body up against the cool glass. I draw in a quick, stunned breath. “Max,” I gasp. My thighs clench for him. He eludes sex appeal and his cocky ass knows it. I’m done fighting him. I want him everywhere for as long as he’ll last.

  “Ever been fucked in this lush arse, lovey?”

  I release a throaty chuckle, my voice laced with desire. “Depends, could you handle it if I want you there?”

  He leans in, his nose trailing along the back of my neck, leaving ripples of goose bumps in his wake. His low timbre whispers against my sensitive flesh. “I’ll manage all right. In fact, why don’t we test the notion out, right after I sink bollocks deep inside your hot cunt?” His lips continue to explore, moving to kiss my shoulder. He seems to like the spot. I’m not complaining—I do too.

  “You ready to go there, Max, and consummate this marriage? Make me your wife in all ways a man does?”

  His chest rumbles, as he promises, “You’re my wife in every way. No one touches you.” He yanks on my hair, pulling me from the glass, and steers me inside the shower. The automatic feature clicks on, and water comes pouring out at eighty-five degrees until you adjust it warmer or cooler.

  My nipples pebble as he settles me against the imposing wall of marble, his warm chest pressed against my back. His free hand reaches around, caressing my throat, his forearm brushing my breast. Leisurely, he trails his touch downward, around my breast, nearing the tip. It’s got me drawing in a deep inhale, craving more. Moving towards the middle, between my ribs, his exploration leads over my belly button to settle on my abdomen. His big paw rests there, teasing me with the notion he’s going to stop completely.

  “Max,” I urge, wanting him to continue. I’m not too timid to be bossy with sex and he’ll soon find out as much. His next touch is shocking as I feel his teeth tenderly bite into the sensitive area between my neck and shoulder. It sends a spasm directly to my core, and I tremble in response, my knees suddenly feeling a bit weak.

  “Say it, darling,” he gruffly demands.

  “Make me come.” As the words leave my lips, his hand travels south. His palm covers my pussy, fingers spreading so his middle finger can play between my folds. My juices drip with his long, strong finger teasing at my entrance. “Yes,” I sigh, finally feeling him there again. I’ve dreamt of the night he’d touched me in the banquet closet, hand bloody and so fucking arrogant. I’ve made myself come to those images more times than I can count.

  With a bit of pressure, his digit sinks deep in one quick thrust. “Oh!” He pushes it in as far as he can go, holding his palm firmly to my core, slowly rocking it against my clit. My mouth gapes as I try to breathe through the intense sensation. I should’ve known everything would be amplified with Max.

  His breath hits my ear as he croons, “You’re soaked, Ismerlda.” He pulls his hand free, adjusting to add another finger, and drives it back inside. “You’ve been denying yourself of me for far too long, but no more.” He pumps them inside me a few times before adding a third. The stretch burns but feels remarkable all in the same. “Today I claim this pussy, perfect arse, and your mouth. Tonight, I’ll be eating your cunt for dinner.” His words tip me over, my frame trembling from the blinding pleasure of my intense orgasm.

  It’s been too long since I’ve had a man touch me how I want, and Max is in another category altogether. I moan through the bliss, as he holds his fingers steady so I can ride it out completely. The moment my body relaxes, his hands move to my hips, gripping firmly. His foot slides between mine, spreading my legs wide. He growls with his sexy accent, “Brace yourself, darling.”

  I prop one hand before me against the wall and reach between my legs to line his cock up to my entrance. “Okay,” I say, and then he drives inside my core savagely. “O-oh my God, you’re huge.” I don’t mean to admit as much aloud, but it spills free regardless. I’ve seen him naked, but I obviously misjudged his size when I was acting as a peeping tom. I switch my other hand to the marble as well to help me brace. I understand why he told me to do so in the first place.

  “Fuck,” he grits out the curse. “You feel remarkable.” He presses wet, open-mouthed kisses and nips along my shoulders, giving me a moment to catch my breath and relax my core. “I’ve never been much of an arse man, but Christ, babe, you have the sexiest round arse.”

  I lick my lips and order, “Fuck me, Maximillian.” Those are the only words I manage to get out aside from moans and groans, as he thrusts into me repeatedly. He sets a quick, punishing pace. It’s exactly what I need from him, and I didn’t have to say a word. Why did we ever wait so long to do this? I won’t make that same mistake twice.

  We finish up with our shower, heading for the kitchen. Being relaxed around Max has me spilling the questions and commenting freely. I like him like this—a little too much, to be frank. “You never shared with me about what happened to the man that ran into Tyson and me. You only admitted you’d found him. I’m assuming you took him out of the equation? Or am I way off?”

  He pops a pretzel in his mouth, chews, and replies, “Of course I did. I made sure it was an experience the tosser wouldn’t forget.”

  My brows perk. “Was it the Vendettis?”

  “Hm. What do you know of them?”

  I shrug as I steal one of his pretzels. He made me work up an appetite, so it’s only fair he shares his snack. “Not much, aside from momentarily meeting them at our wedding ceremony. I overheard you speaking with Andre though, about how Dante Vendetti is a problem you’ll have to deal with. I was just wondering if it was him and why he hated you enough to attempt to kill me if so.”

  “He is a problem. I assure you, they all are. If they do ever come after you, I better be by your side. I’m not certain anyone else would be able to stop them from murdering you. To answer your question, no, it wasn’t them.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring.”

  He flashes a shark grin, enjoying every ounce of another’s fear. “We’re at peace with that bloody family right now, so no need to fret over the useless lot of them.”

  “But you won’t be at a truce forever…and if I had to guess, it’ll be sooner than later?”

  He grows serious. With a wave, he orders, “Enough of this.” He officially puts an end to the topic, and I must obey. It’s Mafia business, after all. He didn’t have to share half as much as he did. My suspicions tell me I’m on the right track so he’s shutting the topic down. Hope he enjoys having an intelligent wife because I’ll always ask him about whatever I may be curious about. Now if I get a reply each time is the real mystery.

  “Fine. I understand it’s none of my business. I just wanted to say thank you for making sure whoever came after me wouldn’t do it again.”

  His features soften, the sternness dropping away a touch—not completely, but enough for me to be able to notice the change. Sliding the plate of pretzels between us, he says, “I will always protect you. Whether that means in the moment, or hunting down a threat. You never have to worry about either scenarios. You’re my wife.”

  I nod, silent, offering him a sweet smile filled with gratitude. Most Mafia men lean towards protecting their famiglias, but there’s a few who couldn’t care less what happens to their wives. Even worse are the mobsters who hurt their famiglias themselves. I grew up surrounded by Mafia so I’ve seen it happen. The sad part is that no one will step in to stop it. They take minding their business seriously when it comes to the syndicate’s members. Having Max to protect and reassure me sends a flutter of feelings bursting through my body. This is the first time since we married a few weeks ago that I feel like this is beginning to evolve into a real marriage.

  “I’m hungry,” I finally say after I’ve eaten most of his pretzels. “Want me to cook us something?”

  “You can cook
?” Hie eyes widen.

  “Don’t sound so shocked,” I laugh. “You’ve met my mom and Nonna. They’d be scandalized to know you believe I can’t cook. Careful or they’ll be inviting us over several times a week to make sure they show you I can indeed cook and quite well.”

  “In my defense, it’s only been briefly, the few occasions I was face-to-face with them. Now, I’m highly intrigued about what other skills you may be hiding away in that ravishing body of yours. Care to share, lovely?”

  I roll my eyes, a smile planted on my lips. “How do you think I eat when you’re not here? We don’t have a chef that I know of.” I send him a teasing wink.

  “I presumed takeout, but now I’m suspecting that’s incorrect. I wouldn’t mind a chef, but I’d have to watch them prepare everything, and I don’t possess the patience for such things.”

  “I cook and bake all the time. In fact, I love this kitchen.”

  “It’s always appeared just as tidy around here as when I’ve left it,” he murmurs, still not completely buying my culinary confession. He watches me as I move around, pulling various items to set on the counter next to the stove.

  “I clean up after myself. I made the mess, so I’m not going to leave it for anyone else.”

  “You seemed so…”

  “What?”

  “Pampered.” He shrugs.

  With a scoff, I shake my head. “I work hard for my salary. I enjoy having a housekeeper and an assistant at work. Doesn’t mean I’m lazy or can’t take care of myself. I made a pot of fudge the other day, but I ate it all before anyone noticed.”

  He smirks, obviously not shocked at the prospect of me eating all of my delicious treat myself. “Touché, darling. You certainly knew how to hold your own in the shower.”

  “What can I say, I enjoy big cock.”

  He sputters his tea across the breakfast counter, the un-Max move making me snicker at his expense. If only he’d been this at ease when we’d initially met, maybe things could’ve been different for us. I have a feeling that Max has a hard shell around him, but once you find a crack, his loyalty and protectiveness shines through. At least, I hope so.

  He killed all the other girls in the damn frame,

  for a queen that he never realized had fangs.

  – MGK

  My mobile vibrates so I pull it free from the pocket inside my jacket. I’m in one of my typical suits I wear while I’m handling business at the warehouse. It’s time to collect another round of payments, and so far I haven’t had the satisfaction of killing anyone short on cash. Perhaps a few of these blokes are finally getting it through their knob heads they’ll die if they steal from Joker’s crew. Damn tossers.

  “Yeah?” I answer, not one to offer any pleasantries. I saw the number on my screen and I could do without speaking to the testy fuck.

  Dante Vendettis’ timbre sounds part beast on the other end of the line as he grumbles, “It’s done. Consider us even for you taking out the Vittorio bloodline. The Castelano famiglia is no more. The Chicago Syndicate is now the Table of Two Famiglias, Vendetti and Morelli, no other. Your wife is no longer Castelano. It puts an end to the cleansing.”

  A lot of people had to die for the transition to happen. Dante’s hands may even be bloodier than mine after all of this. The syndicate lost many good soldiers, underbosses, and captains because of the Vendettis’ thirst for power. Things would’ve changed to get Thaddaeus at the head of the table, but I don’t believe it would’ve been nearly this drastic. One thing I know for sure is that we need to be recruiting on the mass level. It can’t all be family like these Italians prefer. The Vendettis have damn near an army behind them, the Empire is so vast. They’ll run straight through us if we don’t do something, and soon.

  “Including my wife’s mum and father?”

  “Si. I saved them for last. Didn’t want word to spread through their famiglia that their seat had been compromised and not be able to finish them all off.”

  “Then it sounds as if we’ve both held up our ends of the agreement. I’ll pass this info on to Joker.”

  Rather than be done with it and hang up, he asks, “Are you going to be the one to break the news to her?”

  “No. My wife will discover it by another source, I’m sure. I’ll skip being questioned in the cross hairs.”

  “Probably smarter. She seemed to have a bit of spirit in her at the wedding.”

  Spirited is an understatement. My wife has straight-up sass. I’d rather be the one she runs to in her grief, not one she questions about how it happened. “I’ll talk to Joker. I suppose you’ve already informed your brother?”

  “My capo knows everything.”

  “All right then, until Wednesday.” It’s the usual day that the meetings take place and collective business is discussed. I’ve been to more than I can count. Each seat has the head of their family and one guard is permitted to come inside and stand at the back against the wall. Thaddaeus always has me with him each week.

  “Wednesday,” he agrees with a grunt and hangs up.

  I slide my mobile into my inside pocket and sit back in the same spot at the cheap foldable six-foot table made of fake wood. There’re a few scales and my laptop to make notes on the money I collect. I set the next stack of cash on the scale and bring up the dealer’s number on my computer. It helps me keep track of how much product he had, when he’d taken it, and what was due. The numbers stop and the cash is an ounce off the number it needs to be. I stare at the scum across from me. Did he know it wasn’t the correct amount?

  I swear these arseholes think I’m toying with them when it comes to this shit. I meet his gaze. He’s oblivious and relaxed until my attention trains on him. “Are you aware that it’s off?” I question calmly.

  His eyes widen, mouth falling open. “I-” he starts to sputter.

  I reach across, slamming the front of his face into the table, causing it to rock. My chair flies out from behind me as I stand. “Was I not bloody fucking crystal clear with you fucks the last time someone was short on cash as to what would happen?”

  He pales, shaking his head.

  “I wasn’t?” I mock, knowing he’s shitting a brick too badly to speak out against what I’m saying. I yank my Glock out and put one between his eyes, rather than waste any more of my time on it.

  I tuck my gun away and turn to the few remaining there. “Everyone understand?”

  They nod franticly. At this rate, I’ll require new dealers for the streets, as well as the crew needing more soldiers. Criminals just can’t help themselves from dipping their fingers into the pot. It’s what places me, Tyson, Cage, and Dillion far apart from the others. We know when to keep our hands clean and when not to. Don’t fuck with Joker’s money. It’s the first thing he’ll tell you if you’re in this business.

  “Andre.” I gesture for him to step forward.

  “Sir?”

  “Tell that bloke you’re related to, your cousin, or nephew, or whatever the hell he is, to send me some new dealers. They can be from other schools so it doesn’t cut into his sales, I don’t care, just send them. Perhaps some more young fellows are the way to go. We will have them too fearful to steal Joker’s money and end up dead.”

  He nods. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “At least ten of ‘em. I may be shooting more of this lot before the day is over.”

  “That may be hard for him to pull off. I know he’s got two or three high school twerps looking to make some cash. They want in the life.”

  “Ten more. Don’t make me show up at a damn school, vexed, when he’s getting off and really show him I’m the fucking villain,” I threaten.

  His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, but he wisely keeps his trap shut. I’m good on my threats, always have been.

  I shoot my glare around the room, warning, “You saw what we did to Sammi Morelli. You’re going to fuck around and find out that yours will be the same fate. Only we won’t make a fuss about ya, just toss you in a ditc
h somewhere. You fuck with Joker’s money, you die. You rat on any of us, you die. You fuck off and do some dumb shit, you die. Got it?” Sometimes it’s difficult being the most intelligent man in the room.

  Once I finish with these tossers, it’s off to the flat for me. I wonder when my wife will get the news that her family’s gone? She’s already moody and temperamental, so she’ll no doubt need me by her side to comfort her. I’ll enjoy every moment of it. She may even have a bit of attachment issues after she gets through her grief. I went from disposable in her eyes to being necessary, the only one she has left. She’ll need me, and that thought shoots a demented thrill through my rotten soul.

  Perhaps I should’ve had Dante kill them sooner. I could’ve avoided walking in on Ismerlda and another man, had she been grief-stricken and glued to my side. However, I’ve enjoyed our strained tongue ‘foreplay’ and such, leading up to her finally accepting our marriage. The man who had been on his knees before her was what spurred me on to take that extra step of malevolence and is in the past now.

  Ismerlda dropping the spitefulness further and then giving herself over to me with our impressive shower sex last week has my eyes on the future. I finally have a formidable opponent at my side to share in this life of immorality with. I haven’t been able to get enough of her body either. I’ve been inside her heat every chance I’ve gotten.

  I finish my business at the warehouse, tuck a duffle packed with cash into my car’s boot, and hop into my gray Porsche. It has black windows and trim, along with bronze-colored rims to be extra obnoxious. I think it looks clean and I have zero fucks for what anyone else may believe. I blast a mix and zone out for the drive. I have to drop the money off at a restaurant that’s on the way to my flat to be laundered over the next week. It turns out the business my wife’s father gave me was a good idea after all. I wonder if I’ll get them all now that he’s dead? Surely, Isa won’t have any need for them.