Diary of a Submissive (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 4)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  I smile, knowing what he wants to hear. I squealed it loud as he carried me on his shoulder to the bed. “You’re going to be my husband, Salvatore.”

  His determined thrusts urge my absolute compliance, obedience, and surrender. He holds pure control in this domain, and I welcome his upsurge of power.

  Every hip grip and cock slide proclaims where we’ve been and who we’re becoming. We’ve fought hard for this love and so many times I worried it would defeat us. Our pilgrimage along the path of love has been riddled with moments of utter heartache and pure joy, but we survived—together.

  And in the end, that is all that matters.

  That paper on the wall at Juliet that read—Dominant Salvatore Raniero and submissive Iris Kettles—seems so long ago, but we’re going to make it.

  We’re chasing a happily ever after.

  “You’re the great love of my life,” he whispers, pulling out and flipping me over. The tears fluttering in his naturally long eyelashes leave me breathless. “I won’t ever leave you, Iris.”

  “… You swear?”

  “With all that I am,” he declares with conviction. “I fall more in love with you every minute, and I will kill anyone who gets in our way.”

  “Oh, my God …you’ve changed.”

  “Yes.” He acknowledges with a smirk. “I have.”

  “It looks really good on you.”

  “It’s never been about that, though,” he states with a hardened voice. “Everything I have done has been about keeping my precious flower—my Iris—safe. I put your name on my back like a goddamned billboard because I loved you that much. Because I belong to you.”

  “You took a brand.”

  “I would do it again.”

  I smile. “And you stole my heart.”

  “I’m a thief,” he whispers winking. “Just don’t expect that I’ll be giving it back. It’s mine now.”

  Unable to control my elation, I squeal. “I am so crazy about you.”

  “Why are you buying crates of guns, Lotus?”

  Feeling trapped, I attempt to weasel out from beneath him. “There are some things we should not talk about.”

  “Iris, tell me!” He’s too big. Too blanketing. Too corrupt. “Tell me the truth.”

  “My work is my work,” I whisper, struggling to find my Lotus grandeur while being pinned by his cock. “Yours is yours.”

  “I want to take care of you,” he pleads with anguish. “Let me fucking do it.”

  “I’m tired, Sal.”

  He licks his lips. “Fine, I’ll leave you alone.”

  Shifting his weight, he goes to pull out of me. “No! I don’t mean tired like that. I mean I’m tired of the mess the Kings…technically, The Four Horsemen…left the board in. Changes need to be made.”

  “Answer me one question,” he says. “Are you going after Morpheus?”

  “No,” I reply, concerned that someone would even conjecture such. “Never. Ever. Or Reckless. Or Brethren. Anything else is fair game.”

  With a snarl, he asks, “Commission?”

  “I only dance with one Italian.”

  “So yes…”

  “The day workers I’m going after, they ain’t in no one’s club.”

  “You’re serious about hitting Gennaro and Raniero,” he assesses, hitting the mark of aim and pulsing against my G-spot. “But that doesn’t explain why you’re buying enough weapons from Torrente to start a fucking war.”

  “Things must change.”

  “Am I going to have a heads up?”

  “I don’t know,” I confide with transparency as he seduces me. “You are Sal Raniero.”

  “Can’t trust your husband not to fuck you over?” he asks as the difficult conversation continues. “I need everything, Iris. I know Etienne is over.”

  I smile. “No, Etienne is fine.”

  “Still going after Europe even though Amber sold you out to Allegiance?” He lays his head against mine.

  “And you’re still playing.”

  “I’m not,” he argues, showing the adept mastery of his tool. “Really.”

  “Is that why you went in with Cruz on Kill Rat?”

  “I did that for you.”

  “No,” I quickly reply. “You did that for you because you knew how much you could make if this shit with Etienne and Allegiance goes down. That’s what you thought.”

  “Fine, I’ll pull out.”

  “Don’t you dare pull out,” I warn, wishing my vagina had clamping teeth. “You should keep fucking that pussy like you’re going to own it.”

  “What are you doing?”

  “Building a Capo.”

  “I don’t need you to build me.”

  “I have reserves,” I whisper with a wink. “I have a wedding present.”

  “You weren’t ever really going after Europe.”

  I grin. “No, Cristos and I made a pleasant exchange, and Torrente got involved because he enjoys the company of the Lotus.”

  “You used Amber to get contacts in South America, Africa, the Middle East, and Europe. That is why The Chairman went to Dubai. Jesus fucking Christ, Iris,” he mumbles, thrusting once. “How long have you been working on this worldwide domination?”

  “Bravo!” she booms. “Since Guam, Sir.” I bite my lip. “I was bored.”

  “You’re as bad as me,” he snickers. “Boredom brings trouble.”

  “We’re the perfect pair.” I wink.

  “You remember a bit ago when I said I fall more in love with you every minute?”

  “Mhmm,” I moan, groping his taut ass muscles. “I do.”

  He darts his tongue over my lip. “You just sped up to seconds.”

  I know I’ve got him.

  And he has me.

  92

  The Consumption of Raw Wolf Meat

  His Butterfly

  Deep in the industrial section, luxury cars line-up outside the warehouse arena. In a wide-brim sloped emerald hat embellished with a large lotus, I stride with an air of confidence in my sequined white pantsuit and six-inch red stilettos.

  Sometimes, Cruz reads between the lines and does a fabulously panache-y job.

  The scalloped jacket shows off the curve of my cleavage, and the pants tighten around Sal’s perfectly ripened plump peach. The loose legs flow with a graceful sparkling sway.

  The outfit will be known as the victory ensemble, probably number one because this is the first of many battles for Sal. And I will stand by my husband for every single one.

  With Fink by my side, we take our seats on the fourth row, near the ring. We aren’t on the floor because I would not be able to see.

  I hope I don’t regret the white.

  The place is packed except for eight seats in front of me. Everyone is placing their bets between Goro or Lotus. Names of the fighters aren’t listed, but according to Fink, Goro is favored to win. In other words, Cruz—whichever one shows up—Deacon or Diablo.

  Last I heard, there was no decision, but they’re all lying to me. I understand why Sal wants Deacon in the ring, but the thought still sends a queasy wave through my belly.

  The lights slightly dim as I note The Chairman walking in with about two dozen security guards. I have Fink.

  Yeah, it seems off to me too.

  Until I spot—Kali and Ho, Dom and Megan, Nico and Serene, Cristos and Trudy?—climbing the steps.

  What the actual fuck?

  “Dom,” I mutter, hugging him close. “My Master…”

  “He’s got this,” he reassures, kissing my cheek. “Trust me.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “Yeah, they’re okay,” he replies, scanning over the area. He’s always on the lookout. “Fink, get up, and let Meg sit with Iris.”

  I eye Trudy, following behind Cristos and smiling like there is nothing wrong.

  I quietly mouth, “Where is Dragon?”

  She puts her finger over her lips and reaches to hug me. “A mother’s love knows no end.”

&
nbsp; Holding out her hand, she shows off the mammoth diamond and ruby ring. I gasp as the lights darken.

  The audience is loud as I whisper, “Take me to the bathroom. Please, Megan. I am going to be sick.”

  “Come on,” she urges, quickly standing and respecting my rank. Her fingers slip into mine as we dash down the steps to the hallway, and I take off—sprinting in my heels. She follows, hot on my tail, pointing and yelling, “There!”

  I slide into the bathroom, narrowly missing a familiar older looking woman exiting. Why is Louisa Altromessa here?

  To watch Salvatore die.

  “Meg…” I rattle, freaking. “Help!”

  She traipses into the room with the half a dozen or more women. “Get out! Now! All of you!”

  I toss the hat to Meg, and she puts it on before I yank out of my blazer just in the nick of time. Projectile vomit spews over the toilet and floor.

  “Shit, I missed!”

  She moves to stand behind me. “How far along are you?”

  “I don’t know that I am,” I admit out loud, sobbing. “Oh, God…”

  “Do you think maybe you should get a test?”

  “I’ve been a little busy!” I spit up again. “I need out of here!”

  “We can step outside.”

  “No!” I say between gags, “I need out of Japan.”

  “… You’re serious?”

  “Yes. I cannot do this. I cannot watch the two men I love more than anything kill one another.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Megan points out. “You are the mafioso’s future wife.”

  “And I am The Lotus!”

  “Where the hell are you?” Trudy busts in. “Oh, fuck! Iris…”

  Grabbing paper towels, Trudy wets them and blots my face as Megan says, “I’m going back.”

  “No, Megan!” I snap. “You’re staying.” I steady my breaths as Trudy cleans me up. “Why do you have a rock worth more than the GDP of a third world country on your hand?”

  “Because I am Mrs. Cristos.”

  “Oh, God!” I spin and throw up again. “Too much! Too much!”

  “Ms. Trudy, you need to go,” Megan respectfully defends. “I have this under control. Please inform Sir that I will be there as soon as possible.”

  Pointing her finger to the door, Trudy warns, “She needs to get out there!”

  “Then she has to stop throwing up, or it is going to end up in your hair,” Megan kindly snarks. “Iris doesn’t need the stress of your marital choices upon her shoulders. She has enough to worry about.”

  “Just so you know, Iris,” Trudy hisses, shoving the soiled paper towels in Megan’s hand. “I married Delarte…and I had sex with Delarte…for those boys.”

  She leaves in a whirlwind as I blankly stare at Megan. “… When did it happen?”

  She curls her lips. “About five days ago, out of the blue. Father Quinn married them in a small candlelit service at the church. We were called hours before.”

  “So, Trudy is now…”

  “Running three sons,” Megan announces my thought. “Believe me, I may be young, but I understand this shit. There is no way she is getting her talons in Dominic. I’ll gouge her eyes out before that happens.”

  “She’ll pluck out her own if she has to stay married to Delarte for very long.”

  Megan snarls. “She only did it for the money.”

  “I didn’t think she did it for his tiny dick or missing fingers.”

  We laugh as she asks, “Is he…”

  “Oh, it’s b—aaddd…” I report the facts, glancing in the mirror at my mascara tears. “The bankroll doesn’t make the phallus any bigger, honey.”

  “Sir’s lack of appendages certainly didn’t shrink anything.” We laugh, and the brief comic relief feels good. With a smirk, she glances at my belly. “Does Sal know…”

  I shake my head. “No.”

  “… Is it his?”

  “I don’t know.” I confide my truths and close my eyes. “I’m leaving after the fight.”

  “I should come with you, but Dom wants to join the others in Fiji for two weeks.”

  Her tone pings with reluctance. “Let me guess! You don’t want sand in all your crevices?”

  “I want to get home to my baby,” she informs as I smile at her, calling Romeo hers. “He’s getting so big.”

  “Is Oki watching him?”

  She nods. “Yeah, they’re staying at Scarlet House with Anna.”

  “Are the Tenn Twelve there?”

  “No,” she says. “They’re in the swamp.”

  I pull my phone from my jacket. “Excuse me. One second.” Listening to the ringer, I blink in the mirror at the dark circles inhabiting the space beneath my blue eyes. “Pico, this is Iris,” I say, leaving a message. “When you get this, call me back.” I click the end and gaze at Megan. “I’ll get some guys up there from Cinco.”

  “Thank you,” she says.

  I dial another number and hear the pick-up. “Hi, Durante?”

  “No, this is Stella, he’s in the shower.”

  I furrow my brow. “Where are you?”

  “The house in Maine,” she curtly answers. “Did you need something, Iris?”

  “No…yes…I don’t know,” I stutter, confused. “I’m sorry for bothering you.”

  “You want me to have Durante call you?”

  “Not necessary.” I close my eyes, knowing who I sound like. I must hurry or I’m going to miss his fight. “Take care.”

  “You, too.” I hit the button and grab the travel-sized toothbrush from my purse.

  Megan starts fixing my makeup. More paper towels. Powder. Blush. Liner. “What’s wrong?”

  With my mouth full of toothpaste, I spit. “Durante and Stella are at the house that she has been secretly having an affair with Vinny at, and Durante shouldn’t be there unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  “Chelle and Vinny are back together.” I rinse my mouth out and blot with a towel. “Shit.”

  “What are the odds of that happening?”

  “I don’t know,” I reply as she applies lipstick. “But, I may be in real trouble.”

  “The only trouble you’re going to be in is if you don’t get out there,” she whispers, helping me dress. “Sal needs you.” She fluffs my hair and hands my hat over. “You look gorgeous!”

  Without even thinking, I lay a hell of a kiss on her—one worthy of my future surname. Her soft lips part with a red-carpet welcome as my tongue brushed against hers, and I breathe against her mouth. “Keep it between us.”

  “I never thought of doing anything but, Ma’am.”

  Putting my hat on, I walk towards the door. “You’re very sweet, Megan.”

  “Only with those I love, Iris.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Throwing a trick question, I ask, “Do you love my husband?”

  “Infinitely.”

  “Good girl, Megan,” I praise, caressing her cheek and noting the bling Dom’s got her sporting. A thin silver rope chain holding a heart of diamonds. Cheap piece it is not. And suddenly, I find someone to commiserate with what it’s like to be under an Italian boy’s Dominance. “Good fucking girl.”

  And I let go of being unhappy.

  The Master

  I’ve been fighting my whole life—first with the witches, and then on the playground. Kids didn’t like me much because I was the one they feared.

  Over time, that fear turned into respect, and I earned the popularity card. I didn’t want it, but there was no stopping it.

  I had that Raniero charm running through my veins, which seemed to skip the generation of Cesario. I developed into quite the academic and held my place on the soccer and baseball fields.

  I was never much for football or basketball.

  I loved watching it, even tossing the ball around. I didn’t enjoy playing it because I was little compared to those guys. But I was fast.

  Balance, even back then.

  I sho
uld’ve run track.

  … Hindsight is always 20/20.

  Hockey players and wrestlers were just mean.

  And I didn’t mess with those guys.

  I fought my father…my grandfather, Cesario…and he broke my arm. And my hands. And my fingers.

  Eventually, I beat the fuck out of him.

  “Are you ready?” Masa asks. “She’s back in her seat.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “I don’t know,” he replies. “The women’s bathroom is a mess.”

  I furrow my brow. “… She’s sick again?”

  “Someone is,” he counters. “And I overheard one of the cleaning ladies complaining about the Lotus diva when I went to see if she was in her seat.”

  “Oh, Jesus…”

  “You need to get this shit out of your head, man.”

  I glance at the green, white, and red silk. “Please tell me you didn’t get him purple, gold, and green.”

  Masa grins. “Does it matter?”

  “Ya,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Everything matters.”

  “We got a packed house and a black van,” he somberly says. “You have to go do this for The Chairman.”

  “I’m gonna do something for sure.”

  He pats my shoulder. “You’re going to have a good fight.”

  “How long before they call it?”

  “Longest one ever was two hours, but those guys were both half dead.”

  “We won’t take even a quarter of that,” I growl. “We’re killers.”

  “Play it up,” he encourages as I give a side-eyed glare.

  “Don’t fucking tell me what to do, Masa,” I warn, grinding my jaw. “This is my fucking show.”

  “The one The Chairman is paying to see.”

  “I don’t give a fuck who is footing the bill,” I scoff. “It’s my fucking ass on the line.”

  I close my eyes and think back to the morning when I walked in on Deacon Cruz with his dick inside of my girl. He wasn’t just fucking her, and it wasn’t just a scene.

  He was making love to Iris.

  My best fucking friend was loving my girl.

  Anger rapidly boils. I feel it in the rush of my blood. I feel it deep within my bones as every muscle tightens. My jaw grinds, and my nostrils flare.