“She’s so going to ruin her lipstick,” I grumble as Sal dives right on in and takes Rowan’s nipple in his mouth. His fingers play with the other one, and I’m jealous. “He’s going to ruin his lipstick, too.”
“I don’t have any lipstick yet, blondie,” she challenges. “Does the carpet match?”
“A little darker,” I say, squinting with uncertainty. “I have a platinum sheen all over.”
“Except for a few hints of chocolate and berry in the beard.” She bites her lip, rocking against Iris’ mouth, and my eyes skirt down to Iris as I finally remember the corset she is wearing. I bought it in New Orleans years ago. And it’s a size 6. “Are you just going to stand there, propped against the wall, rocking a hard eight, and not react?”
“Yeah.”
Because Iris is gaining weight.
And eating in bursts. And getting sick all the time. And horrifically hormonal.
And I know first.
Oh. Fuck.
“Fair enough,” she replies. “Don’t come in your pants when I do, stud.”
“I won’t do that again, Darlin’.”
There are moments I cannot explain. I give it up to the heavens, which probably know better than I do.
Walking into the club, I smirk at the two divas looking like they may rip one another’s clothes off any minute and over to Rowan, standing by my side. I caked on her makeup, creating the idyllic feminine portrayal—and what did she want to wear?
A short denim skirt and my cut with a black lace bra.
And I let her fucking do it.
She even carried a wallet, so chains are included on the skirt. We’re in a strange place—the four of us. And I’m not ready to give anything up to the girl I want to call Tuls just yet.
That said, she does have a certain resilient charm I appreciate. Iris and Sal are grinding it out on the dance floor.
The Geisha and the Guido…and fuck, it’s sexy as sin.
He’s going to kill me if she’s knocked. Done deal. Here lies Deacon Cruz, murdered by the love of his life.
Trying to keep the conjuring at bay, I do the gentlemanly thing and buy the slut a drink. She likes double shots of tequila.
No salt. No lime.
Just my type.
While we have the perfect view of the dance floor, Rowan stays quiet and enjoys the spectacle with me. The club is a packed house of half Asian and half other nationalities with every imaginable flavor from hardcore kinksters to drag queens.
“You don’t dance?”
“Not usually,” I say, watching Sal and Iris move like they were built for one another. He picks her up, and her legs latch around his waist. Spinning her around, he drops her back and lifts her high before sliding her body down over his. Their love is dangerously hedonistic. “It has to be a special occasion.”
“Can you dance?”
“Yes,” I laugh as Iris twerks on his dick. I try not to think about where we’ve been and the moments we’ve shared, but it’s tough. I love that girl, and she loves him. I do too. I can’t be without either of them, but I’m aware of the impasse. “I can move. Not as good as the prima donna out there but enough to lead your ass, shorty. Do you want to dance with me?”
Bopping along to the beat, she answers, “Nope.”
“I’m offended.”
She giggles. “You shouldn’t be. If you dance with me, you’re going to want to fuck me.”
“I’m not sure I don’t want to already.”
Catching my stare, she says, “Then you should.”
“Tully…”
She slams back her drink and slides off the barstool before taking my hand and leading me through the fray of the dance floor. I twirl her in my fingers as she gazes with those enchanting mint eyes.
We walk past the restrooms to the exit into the alley. “What are you doing?”
Grabbing my hoodie, she pulls my ass over to the wall directly across from the door. “Stop acting like you don’t want me.” I lower to kiss her lips. “It’s just a fuck.”
I snicker. “Just a fuck?”
“Yeah,” she says, undoing my belt and zipper. Her hand wraps around my erection. “Not much help needed there.”
“I was watching my lovers.”
“I want to be your lover,” she declares, taking her time and stroking my cock slowly. “You should have fucked me at the funeral.”
“Probably,” I hiss, hiking her skirt up. “Lace?”
“Thong,” she says. “Just rip it off.”
“I’m so fucking hard.”
“You have been hard for months,” she contends as I thrust inside. “Just take me like I’m him, Cruz.”
89
Reconciliation, Darlin'
His Butterfly
In his arms, I spin as nicotine-infused layers are cut with glittering haze and strobe lights. I fly back into his arms as he lifts, and I grind against his cock. He works his best moves, and so do I before he sets me down, and we slide across the floor. We’re fucking with our clothes on.
Glancing over my shoulder, I ask, “Are you having fun?”
“Ya,” he says, grinning. “You’ve become quite the dance partner. Can I buy you a drink, lil girl?”
“Yes!” I take his fingers and look around for Deacon and Rowan. “I wonder where they went,” I mutter as he orders the bottle of pink bubbles and hands it to me. We move away from the bar, and he lights a smoke. “I hope they didn’t get into a quibble.”
“Naw,” he assures, putting my ass on an empty barstool. My legs wrap around him. “Cruz has had a thing for Rowan for months.”
Really? Hmm. That’s not what he told me.
“Do you like her?”
“I like her just fine,” he says, guzzling half the champagne. “But not like he does.”
“How do you know this pretty?”
“I pick up on things,” he informs. “I know how he looks when he’s interested.”
“Did he look at me that way?”
“No,” he says, furrowing his brow. “He looks at you like he wants to marry your ass and make a dozen CruNak babies.”
“Oh, God…” I sigh. “Maybe I made a mistake by bringing Rowan here. Maybe it was too soon.”
“Do you feel like you’re missing something?”
“No,” I quickly say, glancing down. “Not at all.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I don’t want to lose you, but I don’t know how I feel about Deacon with Rowan…”
“You were okay eating her pussy and having me on her tits,” he points out. “Your problem isn’t Deacon. Your problem is you. You feel like you’re missing out with him. But if you were with him, you wouldn’t be with me.”
I won’t tell him how correct he is. I spent weeks with Deacon, and all I could think about was Sal. I’m spoiled on having two men at my disposal. “I wouldn’t give up the opportunity to see you sweating off bronzer for anything,” I honestly flirt and grin. “You look so incredible, Sal.”
“I wear it well,” he asserts, winking. “Do you need anything?”
“Kiss me.”
“Are you about to make a mess out of my lipstick?”
“Yes!” I giggle in his arms as our tongues dance before our lips meet. His kisses bring forth waves of desire. “I am so in love with you. Thank you for letting me work through this.”
“We are all just works in progress.” He empties the bottle and kisses my lips again. “We need another!”
“Yes!” I excitedly say. I’m marrying the greatest man in the world, and I don’t need or want Deacon Cruz. It’s just my mind playing tricks on me. “I’m going to run to twinkle.”
“Okay, baby, be careful.”
In the darkened hallway, I find the restroom and do my business. I didn’t put a tampon in because I’m not going enough to warrant one, but I anticipate needing one now. I wipe, expecting a gush of red from all the activity, but the wetness I’m feeling isn’t blood at all.
“He
ll…” It takes another bit of tissue paper to calm it all down. I take a deep breath and notice all the stringy mucus in the toilet. “What the…”
After dressing and washing my hands, I step out into the hallway and notice the rock shoved into the exit door. I peek out to see Rowan bent over a crate as Deacon fucks her from behind.
“Shit,” I mumble under my breath. “That didn’t take long.”
Yeah, you can keep him.
I know how that song and dance ends.
His blue eyes catch mine as I turn and run into Sal. He grabs my hand, glances outside, and snarls. I expect him to be angry with me. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” I mutter, holding his shoulders as he dips down, and I whisper. “I need to go home.”
“Back to the minka?”
I shake my head. “No to Sugargrove.”
“Are you going again?” he mutters. “I have a tampon.”
I giggle at the notions of this glammed-up guy possessing such, but he’s so chivalrous about this. And he has been since the beginning. I’m not sure what evil spirit possessed my mind into believing he wouldn’t understand this because he will. He has. And he will continue to do so because he’s Salvatore. “No, I’m like really wet.”
“… How wet?”
“Like gushing…”
“We’re leaving,” he declares, lacing his fingers with mine as we head for the door. I take a few swigs of the champagne as we skip through the crowd, dodging dancers and waitresses. As we reach the door, he questions, “You okay?”
“We can’t waste the rest of this bottle,” I argue as he furrows his brow. “It’s a three-hundred-dollar bottle!”
Taking it from my hands, he downs the entire thing in one gulp as my eyes expand wide. Holy cow, I didn’t know he could do that. He loudly burps. “Excuse me. And it was four.”
Tossing my ass up, he runs for the limo out in the parking lot. “That was maybe the hottest thing I’ve ever seen you do.”
He gets tickled, hysterically laughing, and slows down. “Downing a bottle of champagne?”
“Yes!” I giggle as he sets me on my feet.
“I’m motivated by baby making sauce.”
I no longer give a shit about what Deacon Cruz is doing or with who. I’m over it. I’m over him. I’ll love him forever, but my life belongs to the bubble guzzling queen who adores tossing my ass on his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
In the limo, I strip off my pants and straddle over Sal as soon as he sits down. “Hold on, one sec.” He cracks the glass. “Please just drive. Wherever until I say stop.”
Rolling up the glass, he fervently kisses me as his fingers run along the edges of my panties. “You won’t fuck me in an alley?”
“Babe, I am the boss.” He winks with those long lashes and unfastens his pants. He runs his hand over his cock as I lift and pull my panties to the side. “And I have a Queen to think of…she doesn’t get banged in alleys unless it’s in a limo.”
It sounds strange, but his notions of respectful etiquette while seeking fornication hits deep in my heart. “Would you do what we did in the warehouse again?”
“Probably not,” he says with focus. “I try not to repeat the really bad mistakes.”
“Would you spar with me?”
“Any day, but not like that,” he says, slowly pistoning into me. “I was trying to mark you as mine in front of Cruz and the Twelve.”
“It must’ve worked because I’m here,” I whisper, feeling my boyfriend…fiancé…lover…husband… Master’s cock inside of me. I want for nothing more as the rain drizzles against the windows. “Fuck my pussy like you own me, Salvatore.”
His brow arches. “That’s a new one.”
“We drain the pain and rebuild with love.”
He smirks. “Yes, we do, Iris.”
There is something tender in his lovemaking that didn’t exist until we had our tea date in Tokyo. He is sweeter, kinder, gentler with me. He is also insanely possessive. His protective stance is on high alert as my nether lips drip with his cum.
We’re driving back to Gifu after leaving Cruz and Rowan in Osaka. They’re adults. They’ll figure it out. It isn’t all that complicated. It isn’t being crated out of Guam to Japan on a cargo ship in hopes that no one sees you. Hell, they could even take the bullet train.
We stop in Kyoto for gas. I need to twinkle. Again.
This time, Sal goes with me. “Do you have a makeup remover pad in your purse?”
“Yeah,” I say, handing it to him.
He carefully removes most of the makeup and washes his face in the sink. “Did you have fun with me?”
I grin and whisper, “Yeah, but we may have to go for round two on the way home.”
“I could so be talked into it by your peer pressure. I’m easily influenced.” He kisses my lips as I go to wash my hands. “Do you need to piss?”
“I probably should.”
He catches my stare as I study his moves. “What?”
I glance up. “It’s all the simple things that get me. The littlest details are making me fall in love with you all over again.”
“Watching me piss?”
“Yes,” I confirm. “I need to know these things. It’s not like I’ve been around a whole lot of men. I’ve been with a lot of men, but not like this—not intimate and involved. I want the full, unedited version of you.”
“Can I have yours?” he asks, zipping up his fly. “Will you do me the honor?”
“Yes, Salvatore, I will.”
“I have something I want to give you when we get back to the minka.”
My nose scrunches. “What is it?”
“A pretty thing for a pretty girl,” he brags with a wink. “You’re going to love it.”
We’re holding hands and having a good time. He buys me a soda and some crackers because I’m not feeling well at all. We head out to the limo, and I dive into the back seat to find the leaders of the Goro gang, pointing their guns at me.
“Salvatore!” I scream as Takeo covers my mouth, and Orochi kicks Sal to the ground.
The door slams shut, and we speed off into the night. I look back at him, running with rage and fury on his face. His phone is already out.
Refusing to cry, I switch gears and demand, “What do you want?”
“The Lotus, of course,” he declares. “We have no more deal with Sal Raniero, and it is time for our uprising.”
Leaning in close, Satoru says, “And we’re starting with taking you to Tokyo.” I smell the booze on his breath and remember they didn’t speak much English a few years back. Someone has been teaching them. “Let’s see if Sal likes to play hide and seek for a while, shall we?”
“You aren’t going to win this.”
“But we are going to get Masa back in his rightful position as Lotus,” Daisuke assures. “We’re reclaiming what should have been ours, to begin with.”
“You’re a sleaze,” I hiss, refusing to give in. “And the Goro gang will always be one with the vermin of the earth. No matter what you do to me. You will die for this one, so I suggest you consider your options wisely before making your next move. You can release me here, and we forget this ever happened.”
“Or we can lure in one Queen and two Kings and watch you all succumb to the blood,” Orochi replies. “Your last breath will be the end of over a half a century legacy that never should have existed. Keishi Nakamura killed Daizou Ito. Lotus belonged to Ito.”
“The lineage ended with Ito, and we all know that,” I sass, knowing the history. Ito only had daughters. Back then, no man had enough balls to put a woman in a position of power.”
“You’re assuming Keishi has enough balls in his shriveled old sack to do it now.”
“Do not insult The Chairman or the size of his testicles because he is going to feed the entire Goro gang theirs as soon as he learns of my abduction.”
“You assume we’ll be blamed…”
“We’re selling you off just as soon as w
e reach Tokyo.”
“To who?” I ask, thinking Cristos must be involved. But Sal has been wearing his ruby crab ring. Certainly, he isn’t behind this.
“Stanis Kozlov.”
Russians. Allegiance. Bratva.
Amber Fucking Rosen.
“Even if you did have the grace of The Commission, no one is stupid enough to touch that.”
And I will not make it out alive.
We reach Tokyo by morning, and I really need to piss. They don’t seem to care as they shuffle me from the limo into the plane.
I refuse to sit down because I will urinate all over myself. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“Sit down!” Takeo yells. “Now!”
“Perhaps you didn’t hear me,” I shout. “I need to take a fucking piss, or I’m going all over your plane.”
Orochi nods. “Let her go. She’s not our problem as soon as the fund’s transfer. She is Stanis’ problem.”
“Go quickly,” Daisuke says. “No funny shit.”
In the bathroom, I pull the small blade from my corset and cut a small slit on the inside of my purse. I slip the phone into my trembling hand and text Sal.
“Tokyo now. En route to Stanis. Sold.”
“Negotiating now. Hold tight. I love you.”
Quickly, I peck out, “I love you too. Must go. WRU?”
“On the tarmac. Cristos’ limo. Less than twenty feet away.”
“You’re here?” I type out.
“Where else would I be?”
Someone bangs on the door. “Come on, Iris.”
“… Fink?”
“You can go,” he says as I walk out onto the steps and spot the boys being taken by the Goro gang. “Raniero! Cruz! No!”
Cristos gets out of the limo as I rush down the steps. He grabs my arm and warns, “Do not go after them! We’ve bought you some time, but you need to get back to the States. ASAP.”
I twist out of his grip and run to the boys. “Salvatore! What did you do?”
With a menacingly dreadful grin, he smoothly baits, “I promised Lotus for a living flower.”
“Goddammit! No!” I spit and cry. “You cannot give me up like that!”
Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4) Page 75
