“Maybe where we should’ve always been,” I point out, pushing her back and lacing my fingers with hers. She stares at the – MORE THAN – and runs kisses along my knuckles.
Jaid and I are the suicide of relationships. We both know it, but neither of us is strong enough to say no. In our vast understanding of one another, we crave the heat we ignite in one another. “I can’t promise this is going to be pretty or nice.”
“I don’t need either of those, Sal,” she whispers, biting her lip. “I just need you.”
My hands capture hers as we teeter on the edge of the abyss. I’m about to push us over. I’ve watched her grow and mature since she was a teenager, but she is a woman now.
Maturing isn’t easy; I’m not easy.
“Don’t fuck me like I’m just another girl.”
“I never had any plans of that,” I reply, slowly thrusting as we fall into the passion of our history. Her swollen lips feel so good. “Do you remember eating the cherries and making love in the barn before I left?”
“Yeah.” She smiles at the memory.
Flexing my right bicep, I show off the underside where two cherries are looped together by heart-shaped stems sitting between the tribal swirls. “This was the very first one I got.”
Her eyes open in awe. “Who did them?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” I snort, pulling her breast from the bra and darting the tip of my tongue over her nipple. “Mock.”
“The guy who was supposed to be watching Iris?” I nod, savoring the peak. “He does gorgeous work.”
Rolling my hips agonizingly slow, I correct, “He’s still watching Iris.”
There is no permanence here.
We are fleeting.
This isn’t a romance, and we aren’t having a happily ever after with little plastic figurines on top of an overly sweetened cake. This is about the availability of relief. We are each other’s breath of air before submerging willfully into the darkness again.
She needs me; I want her.
We strip away the emotion to forget how bad it feels. This is what we’re trained to do. We practice drills and perfect being uninvolved until we are nothing but shells to crack and scatter like dust in the wind.
And together – in pieces – we find one another.
This is who we are and how we’ve always been.
“Talk to me,” I mutter, shutting down. I can feel it happening. I need these fucking drugs to work—nowala. “Tell me all the reasons not to walk away right now.”
“Rozzalyn Raine Raniero,” she whispers, skimming her fingers lightly over the rosary inked on my heart. “She is why you do not walk away. Don’t be like Amber. Don’t walk away from her, Lucas. She needs you. She doesn’t have her mother anymore, and the very least you can do is be her father. Be the Daddy—I know you can be.”
“I’m so fucked up though, how can I possibly raise another human…”
“Just being you is more than enough,” she says as I take her hand and pull her closer. She blinks to catch my stare, and I wish for a second that I was blind, so I wouldn’t have to see how much we hurt…how we blister…how we erupt. “Maybe we are all just enough.”
Our fucking shifts to something more than getting off and the more we try to keep from slipping, the faster we glide. The water licks at my toes and threatens to cease my fire, but I…I won’t let that happen. I sink to my waist, my neck, and let it bubble over my head, only to skyrocket up in flames.
This is how we’ve always been.
And why it hurts so bad.
My lips ripple over hers, and I cannot resist the plunge. My hips rock faster as my intense focus begs me to stay present. “I can’t take them down without you by my side.”
“You’re giving me too much credit,” she whispers, riding the ridge and digging her nails into my guns. The slight bit of pain is sweet. “Way too much.”
“Every time I think we’re done, we end up with my dick buried inside of you.”
“I can’t stop watching over you,” she admits as our skin finds the unison of being together. I grew up, but so did she…and every memory stings with pleasure and pain as we burn together. “I’m the fucking pillow you bounce on, but I won’t be the girl you take home to your mother.”
“You could be,” I rumble from deep within my chest. “We could get married, find Raine, and never look back,” I suggest, not believing what I’m saying. “You’re the string holding me together and if you don’t see that…”
Maybe I am blind.
I can’t think straight with my cock doing what it is. Things spin out of control like a cyclone whipping into my world and shredding my heart and mind. I will be in pieces in the end. I will be alone. Iris will be somewhere else with someone else, and I will be lost.
“Don’t leave me,” she says, watching my struggle.
“I’m trying not to. One minute, I’m worried sick and puking my guts out, and the next, I’m jerking my chain…”
“… To Amber?”
“No,” I mumble against her neck. “Never, Amber.”
“When you tumble their kingdom to the ground, I want you to remember who helped you. I don’t want you to forget me.”
“I won’t ever forget,” I vow, bucking with long strokes. “I swear, I’ve got you, girl.”
I know this place I’m in doesn’t keep promises. It isn’t fair. It is cruel and cold. When we collapse from being beaten down, the violence is brutal.
“I’m taking a sabbatical from work. I have six weeks of vacation, and I’m going to help you. You can tell me, no, but I’m still your partner. And if I get the slightest hint that someone is aiming for you, I’ll fucking kill them myself. Besides, if you need an ass to spank, you can use mine.”
No, I’m not supposed to do that anymore.
Tomorrow morning, I’m walking away from the thing I need more than my breath. Closing my eyes, I let the final words from my Dominant command, “Come.”
“My best advice regarding your fetish is you walk away until you’re more stable and capable of handling the responsibility of your actions.”
Blushing like the belle of the ball, she grins. “Are you going to?”
“I always do.”
55
Last Hope
I knock over the pill bottles on the nightstand as I grab the ringing phone. Sleepily, I say, “Raniero.”
“Are you on your way?” My father grumbles.
Gripping my hair tight, I reluctantly say. “I’m leaving soon. I’ll be the bastard on the bike.”
“I’ll get a proper vehicle ready for you,” he chides, trying to bend my will already. “See you in a few days.”
“Ya,” I passively reply.
With a steady resolve, he says, “Salvatore?”
“What?”
“If you don’t show up, there won’t be hell to pay; there will just be hell.”
I click the end button and feel the tears form in my eyes. He never says, “Get your ass home.” He’s too smooth for such things, and that leads to my deferment.
My father was my first Master.
He is the reason I responded so well to Dom’s meticulous behavior. And also, why the righteous rebellion in Deacon gets me so worked up. I was drawn to the polar opposite. And Dom and Deacon are almost exactly 180º from one another.
Polished with his fine custom-tailored suits, Dom is a good version of a Daddy. With his long hair and absolute disregard for authority, I had a fucking boner for Deacon the second I took my first swing. He was the bad boy to counteract all I had ever known.
And on top of it all, my beautiful butterfly. Without warning, she triggers my monster. The pure monster in totality—Dominant, assassin, and mafia son—awakens with every bat of her lash, flick in her wrist, and laugh from her lips. For Iris, I do bad things, things like my Masters before me.
And I do naughty things to her.
I wipe my nose and balance the tip of my tongue on my top lip. “God, I
don’t want to do any of this…”
I redial her number, only to hear the automated response. I’m so fucking sick and tired of leaving messages. “Hello, Iris. It’s Lucas. I’m your boyfriend. I’m your fiancé. Call me the fuck back when you get this.”
Tossing the sheets off, I go take a shower. I think about what in the hell I’m going to do. I remind myself of the big picture, even though I’m not supposed to do that anymore. The big picture involves doing whatever is necessary now to accommodate the future. Sacrifice early on for long-term investment.
The goal is to destroy my father. Get my daughter. Marry my girl.
I get dressed, swallow my candy, and pack my bags. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I take a good look around as I slowly pace down the steps in my death march.
One look at Serene’s pregnant belly and crystal blue eyes and I breakdown. Nico grabs my arm to steady me as she offers through her tears, “Can I make you some breakfast?”
“I’ll get something on the road,” I say as Daisicle comes to jump on my leg. I squat down to give her a scratch.
“I don’t like this,” she says, trying to smile for my sake and crying. “I don’t like this at all.”
“I know,” I reply, dropping my bag on the floor and swooping my arms around her. “I’m going to miss you so fucking much.”
“I won’t ever forget opening my door and seeing this Kid standing there. You were so excited to be here. You wanted this more than anyone I’ve ever met.”
“I did,” I mutter, unable to stop the emotion. I hate it. I can’t turn it off like any other time. This is personal. This is real. This fucking hurts. “I loved every minute, good and bad.”
“You grew up on me,” she bursts, lifting her hands. “When did this happen?”
“I saw a lot of shit.”
Licking her lips, she nods as Nico hands her a tissue. “Is there anything I can do?”
I shake my head as he embraces me. “If Dom calls…”
“I’m not fucking answering it,” he furiously says. “As far as I’m concerned, he checked out.”
“I need you to take care of Cruz for me,” I sob, gripping tight to his hand. “Keep him out of the deep end of the pool.”
“I got you,” Nico assures, hugging me one last time. “Take care of this shit.”
“Forgive me.” Pressing my lips to Serene’s, I savor the taste of my Mistress. “Forgive me.”
“There is nothing to forgive,” she whispers, holding my cheeks. “I love you, Sir Sal.” She winks with droplets running over her cheeks. “Go get them. And get your ass back home where you belong.”
Picking up my bag, I nod, knowing I’ve not told them about Dr. Harry, the happy pills, or my fucked up psyche.
I wipe my tears on the sleeve of my Henley. “You better fucking call me when she goes into labor. And send me all the baby pictures of my boy Kade. I’m gonna be an Uncle!” I excitedly stick my tongue out and beam a wide grin at them.
“We’re leaving for Randy’s,” Nico says, patting my shoulder. “I’m not risking our baby.”
Opening the door, I hear Serene yell, “I love you, Kid!”
“I love you, Steph.” I stop, turn around and kneel as Daisicle runs to jump on me. I laugh and try to regain my composure. “Mistress, it has been an honor and a privilege.”
Standing up, I walk away as I hear Daisicle scratching the door and howling. When I hit the driveway, I shove my bag in the saddlebag and break down. My forearms are braced on the seat as I bend over and heave, staring at the ground. “I gotta go. I gotta go.”
I straddle over the bike, pass by the dungeon, and point with respect. And I leave the farmhouse for the last time in a cloud of dust.
I ride past the vacant house I was supposed to share with Kaci, but I don’t stop because if I do, I won’t be able to go. The grass is overgrown, and the flowers are dying, and it seems so poignant.
I drive through the Harris Road viaduct and think of all the times I’ve cum here. I snarl and give a nod as I make my way to the White Rose Cemetery. I cannot leave Sugargrove without saying goodbye to Hope.
I stop on the road, near her fallen angel, and notice another car. I don’t think much about it. It’s Sunday, and people like to pay their respects after church.
I dodge through the children’s’ graves with their broken lambs and pristine white angels to the grave of my wife. I quietly snicker at the large sculpture, dangling with so many rosaries that it reminds me of Mardi Gras. I used to bring her one every time I came to visit. On the concrete base, I notice all the broken beads, given way to the elements of time.
“I wish you would’ve trusted me enough to tell me Bertie was alive. I guess you had your reasons. And if that reason was Iris, I will do my best to honor your wishes and make you proud.”
Feeling like I’m being watched, I scan around with paranoia. Closing my eyes, I try to calm my mind, but all I hear is Dr. Harry saying:
“You will continue to deplete your reserves and the behavior will likely get worse. The paranoid delusions, hallucinations, nightmares, promiscuity, drinking, and other issues will only continue to amplify. You put yourself at risk for addiction. And eventually, you will end up in the psychiatric ward for an extended hospitalization.”
I’m under a lot of stress, and things will be okay as soon as I get on the road. I clench my fists tight and release them several times as I breathe deep.
This is just a delusion.
“I know you wouldn’t be mad at me for the things I’ve done. You’d tell me to go with my gut. If that means a blow job in the bathroom with Cruz or snorting up snow, you would tell me to go with it. Follow it; don’t fight it. Stick to the path, but hold to the plan. I sent Amber away because of her lies concerning our daughter,” I pause as the wind kicks up a gust.
The wind chimes flutter in the trees, clanking like a symphony warming up. With tears in my eyes, I look up to the nearby flag pole set in a wrought-iron fenced familial grave with an American, Texan, and MIA/POW flag. Dropping my gaze, I spot the rainbow flags lining one of the headstones.
I imagine the challenges and struggles that combination of things brought forth, not so much, unlike my own. Diversity, acceptance, and compassion fill my mind as my eyes drift to see a shadow looming behind a tree.
It moves too fast.
“I’m going fucking crazy, Kace,” I confide, regathering my thoughts. “I promise you; I’m going to take care of my father, find Raine, and bring her home. I want to take care of her and raise her in Sugargrove, at Juliet, with Anna, your mom, and all of my family surrounding her with love. She’s going to be incredible because her mother was,” I mutter, dealing with the loss in a way like I never have. I’m not running to stick my dick in my Mistress after the funeral, but grieving for the first time. “I’m sorry for the things I’ve said, and I’m sorry for the things I’ve done. I love you.”
With tears in my eyes, I hastily turn and see the man dressed in black with a camera. He is snapping pictures of me. I see him. And he sees me as he takes off running for the vehicle. I jerk up, sprinting toward him. I narrowly miss apprehending him before they drive away, but what I do spot sends a shiver through my spine—his ILLINOIS license plates.
Someone is watching me.
And Dominic Gennaro better watch himself.
Back on the bike, I drive past Ida Mae’s and catch sight of Sheriff Cody Cameron. I wave, knowing I’m ever-present here in Sugargrove. They won’t forget me.
Sugargrove, Texas and Sal Raniero are synonymous.
I stop at the light on Main Street, and a couple of young subs giggle and point as they eat their breakfast outside of Kate’s new expansion. She’s got this French café-gone-Texas-shabby-chic-thing down to an art.
Life will change for me.
And life will change here.
The Kaiser Law Firm now has an office, and beside it, I spot the new construction on Dr. Tristan Kerris and Dr. Allison Randall’s future clini
c.
Holy shit.
I chuckle as I leave the town square and rev it to the backroads. I stop outside of Iris’ place, which is falling into a state of disrepair, and spot the old man living next door. He’s hunched over with his cane and walking at a snail’s pace towards me. I politely lift my Bollé shades to my hair.
“My name is Edward Pyre. You know where the China Doll is that lives here? She needs to get her damn mail! It’s overflowing!”
“You have Iris’ mail?”
“I sure do!” His wilted eyes give a scrutinizing glare. “Who are you?”
“I’m her fiancé.”
“You must be Lucas,” he says, turning slow and walking back to his house.
How the hell does he know my name?
“Yes, Sir,” I say, cutting the engine and popping the kickstand. I jog a few steps to catch him, past the front yard to the driveway where I spot her Pony—a 1964 1/2 candy apple red Ford Mustang.
I close my eyes as the tears fall over my cheeks. “Come on, boy! Stop drooling over the car!”
I’m crying over the girl.
I shake the tears off and catch up—it’s not hard—to him. “Postman says no more mail will fit in China Doll’s box.” Shaking my head, I giggle under my breath. “So, I’ve been saving it,” he says as I follow him up to the door. He grabs the box. “But it’s all addressed to Lucas Raniero.”
“That’s me,” I say, dumbstruck by all the letters to me in Iris’ handwriting.
“They came every day, all dang summer!”
She fucking wrote to me in prison.
“Thank you so much, Ed.”
He bops his head, shaking. “You’re welcome. You take care of that girl now. Make her Iris Raniero!”
“I have every intention on it, Sir.”
“Good boy!” He smiled. “Now, I’m going to go make a sandwich and watch some Golden Girls re-runs.”
“Thank you again,” I say, walking away and crying my eyes out. “Holy fuck!” I mumble, grimacing, and breathing hard. I set the box on the seat and redial her number.
Famous Last Words (a Tomb of Ashen Tears Book 2) Page 44
