Salt Kissed Love (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 1)

by Kailee Reese Samuels

  SAL

  Seasoned with experience, I engage in the chess game of our mind fuck. Despite her belief that she is grotesquely broken, she carries all the weight in her gorgeous cleavage and in her bottom, I yearn to mark.

  “You are always and forever will be one of the most beautiful women I have ever had the pleasure of spending time with,” I growl, pushing the girl. “Go shower.”

  “But you’re hard…”

  Peering at my crotch—the fabric stretched taut—I accept the truth as she spins fast towards the shower like a stubborn little girl. The full view of her suggests the reality of the scene she endured. I see the welts all over her back beneath the vale of ink. They lashed at her repeatedly and tried to cover it up.

  This will take time to repair.

  Time you do not have, Salvatore.

  Stepping into the hot water, Iris leaves the curtain open and shaves her legs as she watches from the corner of her eye. I take in every single moment, knowing I cannot let it go to waste.

  Unsnapping my timepiece, I rise up, kick off my boots, and strip down bare before she realizes I am behind her in the shower. I grab the shampoo, lathering and massaging her head and hair. All that bubbly mess falling everywhere, I cannot resist taking some of the bubbles and washing her skin with the lightest of touch.

  Falling into my sensual caress, she whispers, “What are you doing to me?”

  “Rebuilding you,” I say, sliding my hand between her ass cheeks and rubbing her exit with determination. I have a lot of nerve as I push a finger in. Bending slightly to allow my entry, she moans and rocks against me as the heat drives up between her legs, craving my attention. I pull out slow and she immediately twirls in my arm. “Loving you.”

  “Sal…” she whispers as her hands lay against my chest, pulling her body and tilting my head down low. Kissing her passionately, I demand her mouth to follow mine.

  And she does.

  My hands drift over the sides of her breasts, cupping as I hold the weight of them. Fresh piercings burn hot and I am careful, but these are my one real weakness. And there is no stopping my savage as I bend and engulf one ripe peak into my mouth, nimbly licking and ravenously sucking. Pulling the bars, I bite the hardened flesh with my teeth.

  Sensing her fear, I cautiously take her hand, placing my cock into her palm. She curls her fingers around my shaft, sweeping over the taut skin. She is my submissive and I am her possession. Raging beast is right. She soars over my piercing as I moan deep in the back of my throat.

  God, help me—I want to lose myself.

  Whirling her around, I push her into the shower wall, blocking the water as she continues stroking my cock, exploring with a curiosity in discovering our unchartered intimate lands. My ability advances, pinning her underneath my solid frame.

  Lacing my fingers into her free hand and nuzzling her neck, I grumble, “Say it.”

  “Sal,” her words halt as my other hand spreads her lips, greeting with my eager fingers. I dip into her slit and rub against her clit. “We are running out of time.”

  My heart drops. Teasing her petals between my thumb and finger, I mutter, “We have plenty of time.”

  “No, babe…we don’t.”

  I gasp in exultation as my hand moves further back and I thrust two fingers inside of her warmth. She gushes around me as I groan, “I love you, Iris.”

  Clutching tight to my cock, she moans, “Oh, Jesus fuck that feels good.”

  My lips work magic in the crook of her neck as I whisper, “Do you have any idea how much I want to put myself inside of you?”

  Her breathing intensifies as I continue my advances. “You can put yourself inside me, Salvatore.”

  God, help me—I need to lose myself.

  My hips buck against her hand and match the rhythm of my greedy fingers between her legs. “Sal, please—fuck me,” she begs, hinging on my hand like a ballerina, twirling in a jewelry box. “Please.”

  She feels like a euphoric heaven underneath my insatiable hand, arching and searching for more as we tumble over the edge of our insanity. Her blissful orgasm brings my own closer in her unrelenting fingers.

  After confessing my heart, I want to make love, but not here. Without any encouragement, she drops to the floor of the truck stop shower and abruptly takes me between her lips. Sucking my shaft down fully, I gaze at her blinking up at me. Our intimate connection proves unbreakable.

  With my hands in her wet tassels, I cannot hold back any longer as I buck wildly, spitting my hot, white cum. Savoring the moment, I snap her up quick, breathing on her lips and tasting my salted spunk with a kiss on her lush tongue.

  “There’s one more thing, Sal.”

  In a dreamy daze of splendor, I murmur, “What’s that beautiful?”

  Her lips smatter with a trace of me as she pauses, “There was another auction for my Rie Ford services on the market tonight.”

  God, help me—I lost myself.

  Grimacing, I clench my fists, banging them hard against the tiles. Knowing that not everything is what it seems, I block her from running away.

  Our love rests in others’ hands as each one of us threaten to ignite the other. Comforting my tortured soul, Iris lays her hand on my back and twists the knife as she energizes, “I will wear your collar forever, but I may not always be your asset.”

  Fuck.

  Set me as a seal upon thine heart,

  as a seal upon thine arm:

  for love is strong as death;

  jealousy is cruel as the grave:

  the coals thereof are coals of fire,

  which hath a most vehement flame.

  Song of Solomon 8:6

  Chapter Thirty

  Need the Sun to Break

  SAL

  ON THE WAY TO La Chiesa, the back roads endlessly drift, threatening to drop off and disappear into the nether. The lights of the truck grope only a small part of the desolation. With the music blaring, it occurs to me how dark it is. And how blind I have been. I pinpoint where the white light beckons, but that leaves a distinct target upon me as the demons in the blackness lurk and spy me.

  I know the house of cards I built is about to tumble. They won’t merely fall to the ground for reassembly, but the entire deck will ignite into a raging firestorm hell-bent on one thing—destroying me.

  We are flying as I fill the ashtray in the cup holder. Iris dozes in the heat seat as I consider pulling the plug and dropping my final card and walking away from the game. All it takes is one phone call to Mad.

  And a simple—I am out.

  Or three words to a Master—help me, Daddy. I am in too deep. With trembling fingers, the warm tears quietly stream down my cheeks as I peck the six letters to make in all stop.

  “Boston.”

  No other message is sent or received as I know on the other end, arrangements are already being implemented. Nothing can stop it. It is done.

  Trust is a curious thing. And I don’t want to think about it as much as I do. The constant interrogation in my mind, perpetually assessing who wants what?

  I am tired. So, tired. Exhausted and depleted. And maybe I have been for a long time. Long enough to cause a lapse in my judgement for which now I cannot erase the transgressions of the past. The errors of my ways are scars upon my soul. But the wounds fester with an infection so deliberate that I fail to see who caused them in the first place.

  In a hazy gaze, I glance over to my angel and I know we are not of this world. She is not the darkness. But are her forbidden sins forgivable?

  It’s not a question I want to answer. Whatever or whoever she does, it all leads back to the same box held high in my mind’s closet. She can never do anything wrong. She will never be held accountable. And the reason is simple—I serve as her shield, her unbreakable barrier between her mistakes and the demons nipping at her toes. I will take her blows because I am made for this.

  I am built for this.

  In almost six years, I have never truly considered d
isappearing off the grid. The ramifications always never deemed the risk worth the reward until now. The only prize I need tosses next to me with a deep sigh.

  “Where are we?”

  “Almost there,” I inform, brushing my hand over her soft skin. “Go back to sleep, angel.”

  “I need to see who bid.”

  “Don’t bother, I already know,” I grumble, taking the flask out of the console and taking a sip. All of my wisdom resides at the bottom of a whiskey bottle.

  Handing it to her, she takes a whiff and scoffs, “What the fuck is this shit?”

  “The good stuff from Jaid,” I snicker as we kick up dust on the gravel road. “Take a sip. The mule takes the edge off.”

  Her mouth frowns and her eyelids lower as she swallows a gulp. “Jesus fuck, Nero… How do you drink this?”

  “I think a more apt question is how do I do many of the things I do?” I challenge, pulling off the road into a cotton field. My foot floors it as we go deep into nowhere. I slam on the brakes and cut the engine. “Come on. Get out.”

  “Sal?” she sleepily mumbles. “Where are we going?”

  “To look at the stars,” I charge, opening her door and gripping her hand in mine.

  She argues, “Right now?”

  “Yes, come on,” I say with a focused determination.

  Weaving along, she pushes with her inquiries, “Why are we doing this?”

  Picking her up, I set her in the back of the truck as I follow and bellow, “Why the fuck not?”

  “You’re fucking crazy,” she giggles, sitting on the side. The moon brightens up the field of cotton, balancing the white puffs with the glowing stars.

  “Yes,” I declare, getting down on one knee. “I am fucking crazy. And I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring. So, I am going to do this now because tomorrow it may be too late.”

  “Sal… What are you doing?”

  “Hush,” I snap, holding her hands. “I cannot ask you to marry me because we both know right now that is impossible for us, but that doesn’t mean I am not committed to making this work. I cannot be without this—you and me—and who we are together and what we will become. So, I need to know, Iris Amarie Nakamura Kettles, will you promise me that we can work this until someone stops us?”

  She breathes and bites her lip as her sapphires flood and the drops fall like rain onto my hands, absorbing into my globule. The precious healing energy she gives to me will have to be enough to carry me through. “You are willing to mend me?”

  “If you can take on this numb ass bastard, I can stitch you back together.”

  “Do it,” she concedes, “Do whatever it takes.”

  “You have to trust…”

  “I have nothing but you left, and everything about you is right.”

  The passionate kiss comes on sudden as our hands navigate one another and we tumble to the truck bed. My hands pull at the boxer shorts as she unzips my pants and slides my cock deep into her shelter. Her fingers pop my buttons on my shirt loose and she lifts my undershirt as her lips line my chest with kisses.

  Grabbing her hips, I buck fast into her, seeking release as she breathes against my lips. The kiss lures with a frantic, ravaging hunger as I roll us over and pump into her hard and pin her hands above her head.

  “God, fuck me, Raniero!” she wails against my strength. “Don’t stop!”

  Riding the wave, I come to the shore before she swoops my body back into her waves. She won’t let go as we suffocate in the undercurrent. The battle rages on and I cannot let it go down this way.

  Bursting up out of the ocean, I erupt with a violent flame as I sink my teeth into her flesh. She will not win our war. “Tell me what a dirty slut you are, Rie Ford?”

  “I am your slave, Phoenix,” she whispers, retreating. “I don’t just like your cock. I fucking love you. All your broken piles of shit and messed up malfunctions, I will hold steady through your blows because it is all I can do. Everything I do is for you.”

  “I hate that I love you this much,” I growl, heaving on top of her swollen body. “I am not supposed to fall for the asset.”

  With a precious smirk on her lips, she goads, “And I hate that my target loves me this much.”

  “Are you ready?” I ask, pumping hard.

  “Let’s do this, Nero,” she mutters through her tears as her hands lock into mine. “Let’s not stop.”

  “Never, ever,” I swear, pulsing and shuddering into her core as she slicks around me. “Whoever the fuck you are—you are mine—all of me for all of you.”

  Her hands rub over my shoulders as she grips my hard biceps. “And you are mine, you badass mofo.”

  IRIS

  The barn sits open as Sal pulls in and says, “Come on.”

  Grabbing my hand, I cannot escape his grasp as we climb up the hill to the darkened church. It’s been over a month since the shoot out and I have no real desire to be here, but Sal seems hell-bent.

  “Sibyl resources have been stretched so thin lately, we just haven’t had time for a cleanup crew to get here. It’s not unusual,” he imparts as we stride through the garden. “The hot targets—public places and the main safe houses always get precedence for cleanup. I am certain La Chiesa is way down on a list somewhere.”

  “Are the bod…”

  “Yes,” he interrupts with a snicker, “The bodies are gone.”

  Cracking open the door, Sal reveals the mess inside still exists despite all the windows being replaced. Shattered glass and busted wood crunch under foot as stuffing from the furniture sits like snow drifts. I imagine the blood splatter stains, covering every surface, but under the midnight sky, we cannot see. As we walk through the entryway and into the sanctuary, I note an imposing figure, standing beneath the broken and chipped Virgin Mary stained glass piece.

  “Sal?” I nervously question, glancing at the cloaked man. “Talk to me.”

  “You need to ask for forgiveness,” Dom declares with a booming grandeur, spinning towards me. “For your actions, Chicago.”

  “Sir,” I plead as my eyes urge for Sal’s guidance. His hand lets mine go as he paces close to the man.

  “Your mother may approve of him,” Dom states clearly, walking past Sal as they brush their fingertips against one another. “But I do not approve of you,” he scolds harshly as his hand stings my cheek. “You know better!”

  “Yes, Sir,” I mutter as I lower to my knees. “I do, and I am sorry. I beg your forgiveness, please.”

  With the strong stance of a holy man, he fumes, albeit calmly, “I have no reason to forgive you.”

  “I will do anything,” I beg, touching his shoes and tugging on his pants like a nagging child. “Please.”

  Flicking his lighter, Dom scowls with a look of contempt. With his back to us, Sal squats low to the ground, but does not kneel. He props his elbow on his knee and rests his heavy head in his hand. I imagine he is fighting with the emotions, the moment, and the justice being brought onto me by his own Master.

  “I fucking hate you!” My voice echoes through the church as I yell, “You tricked me, you motherfucker!”

  Sal does not move or waiver, but stands stoic, lost in his own world.

  “He did no such thing!” Dom reprimands, backhanding my cheek and grabbing my face. “You do not listen, young one.”

  “You lied to me!” Praying Sal hears me, I cry out, “You said you loved me! You said you would fight for me!”

  Still, nothing from my Dominant.

  I blink up at Dom, tilting his head and scrutinizing over my body. “Iris, when you cross the line, what is the first thing you should do?”

  “Beg for forgiveness…with a fellatio?”

  Unamused by my antics, his eyes roll and he criticizes, “And have you?”

  I shake my head no.

  “You must make amends.”

  “But…”

  “No,” he roars as his whiskey-tinted breath hits my nose. “No. You must stop going after things you w
ant alone. This is no longer about you. If you want to be a part of us then we are your tribe. We are your team. And the smallest indiscretions—even sessions with those you think you know—pose a threat because we cannot protect you.”

  Reluctantly, I sigh and say, “Yes, Master…”

  Standing up, Dom lights his cigarette and rests against the sofa. “You only had that scene to cause disruption and cause additional tension between Jack and Sal.”

  “I didn’t…”

  “Hush, girl.”

  “You did it to cause a shift in the dynamic, but you missed one critical point—you assume Sal cares about what other Masters do to you.”

  “He does,” I argue, sniveling. “He does…”

  “You are lying to yourself,” Dom cautions, shaking his head. “And it is time you embrace the reality because the game you are playing alone is only going to get you killed. A decision must be made. You may go against us, and we will kill you. Or you may join us and pledge your allegiance to us—surrender—and accept that you no longer matter. You are our possession.”

  Realizing how much trouble I am in, I inquire, “… Are you going to kill me?”

  “I could kill you so easy, bitch—for the things you have done to my boy. The hell you have put Sal through by luring with your tempting ways and encouraging his addictions. You are evil in my book and the only reason you are not dead in the rubbish is because I love my slave…more than words.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “You don’t understand how every single time you go against Sal that you go against us both?” He cackles and hisses out a manifesto, “It’s an easy concept. I am his eternal Master. I am the one who saved his life. I am his Creator and his Keeper. And if you spit on him, I will come back at you will all the force of a thousand angry Masters.”