Rotten Men (A Rotten Love Duet Book 2)

by Ivy Fox

  His tongue goes straight to the ache and laps at my wet core in earnest, leaving me to become a mumbling fool.

  “Oh, God.”

  “It feels so good.”

  “Oh, God! Gio!”

  He continues to lick mercilessly, and when I can’t take it anymore, his finger finds my center as he continues to get his fill.

  “Damn, you taste delicious everywhere, but this right here, is the best part,” he grunts, savoring every part of me while diving in with another digit, stretching me out so heavenly.

  The sting is no longer as intense, and before long I begin to sway and yearn for him to be inside me. But before I can beg him to, he touches a spot within me, and I swear I see flashing lights in my peripheral.

  “OH, GOD!!!”

  “Cum, bella. I want to drink it all up,” Gio commands.

  I wail a high pitch scream as the orgasm hits me with full force, stripping away any reality but this one.

  “Good girl,” he cajoles, standing back up and slapping one of my ass cheeks. My face turns pink, enthralled at his little show of dominance. “Such a good girl,” he continues, his brown eyes two dark pools of desire.

  “Are you on the pill, bella?” he queries, kissing my shoulder, while tenderly stroking my back.

  Still too speechless and spent for words, I only nod.

  “That’s good, Selene, because I’m not going to have anything between us. At least not here,” he hushes, placing another gentle kiss to the crook of my neck, as he parts my legs and places his cock at my entrance.

  With one fierce push, he thrusts himself into me to the hilt, and the feeling of fullness is so grand that I’m seconds away from cumming all over again. Gio gives another slap to my rear, the sting bringing me back from the brink.

  “I don’t recall saying you could cum again, bella. Patience is a virtue, and all that shit,” he adds mockingly, giving me another quick slap, and making my eyes roll to the back of my head with how good he feels.

  Each impaling thrust brings me higher and higher. His iron grip on my hips is sure to leave a mark. Yet I welcome the pain, to keep me from floating away into oblivion.

  “On second thought, fuck patience.” He growls like an untamed beast set free, and pounds mercilessly into me; I fear we might break the boudoir that’s keeping me steady. His breathing becomes as erratic as my own. Sweat covers my brow, as ravished moans leave my lips.

  “Fuck! Cum, bella. Cum!” he orders in a pained cry, and I follow his command all too willingly, reaching the perfect state of nirvana, which I’ve only ever been able to achieve glimpses of. His loud cry of rapture keeps my heart from shattering so divinely.

  Once both of us fall back from heaven’s grace, Gio turns me around, and my arms wrap themselves around his shoulders instinctively. I lean my head on his chest, blissfully content, listening to the beat of his heart.

  “I hear you need our help,” Gio finally whispers, holding me tightly against his clothed form. We made love for the first time, and I’ve yet to feel his naked skin against mine.

  “I do. I need you to,” I begin to murmur, but Gio places his finger over my lips, stopping me from saying another word, and sets a gentle kiss on my temple.

  “You’ll tell me all about those needs in the morning, principessa. Tonight I’d much rather satisfy my own, if you don’t mind,” he teases softly.

  “I was under the impression you’d have satisfied those needs just fine without me.” I smile shyly, but the tinge of regret and bitterness still comes through.

  “A man can fuck a thousand women and never be fully satisfied when all he really wants and dreams about is one in particular. Tonight that is exactly what I plan to do. Make love to my girl—the only one that ever meant something to me,” he whispers tenderly.

  “Am I still your girl, Gio?”

  “You never stopped being, bella,” he confesses and presses his plump, soft lips against mine, sealing any unspoken words behind them.

  ELEVEN

  Giovanni

  I walk past the dark, foul-scented lobby, wanting to reach fresh air as quickly as possible. Selene shouldn’t be in a dump like this. She deserves far better than this cockroach-infested slum. But I can’t fault her choice in dwelling. If she wants to remain hidden from the Outfit, then this place is exactly where she needs to stay. I mean, a motel where twenty-dollar hookers bring their johns for a quick blowjob or a fuck is the last place any of The Butcher’s soldiers will look for the mafia principessa. Silvio has always underestimated her in that way. He knows she has a spine of steel, but he doubts she can live beneath her privileged upbringing.

  How wrong he is.

  Selene would rather sleep under a bridge in the worst part of town before raising any flags to her father regarding her whereabouts. He’s the one who is the fool in thinking otherwise. Yes, my bella is capable of anything to ensure her survival. I just always assumed her road to freedom would be a lonesome one. Never did I think she would find love in someone’s arms that weren’t mine. Vincent and Dominic won’t be pleased with this news either.

  When I finally pass through the rotating door, I close my eyes and take a long breath in, to settle my turbulent mind. It doesn’t do much, but at least I’m no longer breathing in the vile stench from inside this motel doors. When I open my eyes though, my lips turn up in a devilish smirk at the image of déjà vu in front of me.

  I bridge the gap between myself and the two men leaning against a black Jag. I’m not sure what shouts out for more attention—the expensive, over-the-top vehicle, or the menacing, armed men in front of it. I feel the gawks and hear the careful whispers of the people passing them by. I grin to myself thinking they have no idea these two mafiosos are the only family I give a shit about.

  “Well, well, well. I must say, this seems oddly familiar,” I taunt when I’m close enough for the bystanders not to overhear our conversation.

  Dom doesn’t move from his stance, preferring to keep his fabricated, relaxed position while Vincent takes the final puff of his cigarette, throwing the butt to the ground and stomping his repressed aggravation out on it.

  “Funny you should say that. I was thinking the same thing,” he responds coldly.

  “So, how did you know I was here?” I ask.

  “Last time she paid me a visit, I put men on her,” Vincent responds disgruntled as if I should know better than to ask such stupid questions.

  “Of course you did. And the minute they saw me here, they called the boss to snitch on me. Good to know we have men in the syndicate and not gossipy bitches?!” I complain, picking out the tinted-window car two rows back.

  “They at least trustworthy?” I ask, worried if these men guarding Selene are loyal to our boss or someone less desirable.

  “Is there anyone trustworthy in our lives?” Vince counters unapologetically.

  The answer to that question is a definite ‘no’. Regardless, I’m sure Vincent selected whoever fitted the bill, or as close to it as possible. Trust is something that can’t be taken lightly, and as much as I trust Vincent with my life, when it comes to Selene, old wounds remind me that trust is sometimes too fragile of a word.

  “I trust them,” Dom interjects. In other words, he trusts that they know he’ll kill them if they mess up. “Now, can we please just get out of here before we bring unneeded attention to the place?” Dom grunts, finally opening the Jag’s door and climbing into the driver’s seat.

  “Sure, why not? I need a drink anyway,” Vincent replies, walking to the other side of the car.

  “It’s eight in the morning, Vince,” I reprimand sternly, not at all happy that my friend insists in finding solace at the bottom of a bottle so early in the morning.

  “Fine, I’ll have coffee. Satisfied?” he snarks while getting into the car.

  “Whatever, I’ll follow you.” I roll my eyes like a teenage girl, and stroll to my car, happy to see that my baby wasn’t stolen last ni
ght.

  Even in this shitty neighborhood, the street thugs recognize not to fuck with a made man’s wheels if they don’t want to get a nasty visit for their troubles. And my car screams out money. A parked sleek, black Porsche isn’t exactly a common sight in this part of the city. Any man willing to leave it unattended for so long is either foolish or carrying the weight of the syndicate behind him. And Chicago isn’t known for its fools.

  It doesn’t take long for Vince and Dom to find a place secluded enough for us to talk. Something tells me my boys are too anxious to hear what I gathered from my overnight visit with our girl. Lucky for them, I’m in a sharing mood.

  “You had to go and see her?” Vincent barks out the minute we find a seat at the back of the diner.

  “Only fair, don’t you think. You and Dom both did. Why should I have been denied the privilege?” I goad, while Dom orders three black coffees.

  Smart man.

  “Because I don’t want to give her any reason to stay in town. If she thinks she has an ally in Chicago, she’ll never leave, and we all know that can’t happen. I want her gone, Giovanni. Gone,” Vincent orders with a sneer.

  “So you say.” I shrug.

  “So I say,” he deadpans.

  “Whatever. She’s not going anywhere. I can tell you that much.”

  “She’s always been headstrong,” Dom muses, sounding too nostalgic for Vincent’s taste.

  “Stubborn, too.” I chuckle.

  “Part of her charm.” Dom laughs.

  “Don’t I know it,” I add with a wide grin on my face, but one look at Vincent’s burning stare and my smile is robbed from me.

  “Will you two stop with the reminiscing shit already? We have more pressing matters to discuss. You,” he says, pointing at me like he’s about to give me a death sentence, “start talking. I know you didn’t go to her motel just to see her.”

  “You’re not wrong,” I smirk proudly.

  “And? What did you find?” he insists, gesturing with his hand for me to speed it up.

  “I found out our girl has been busy for the last ten years. I also found out she has no intentions of vanishing again. Not until she gets what she came for.”

  “Maybe you should go back and persuade her otherwise,” Vincent exclaims, his brow high in the air.

  “I can’t do that,” I answer, leaning back in my seat.

  “And why not?” Vincent questions, annoyed.

  “Because I haven’t been able to refuse Selene since I was a child. I don’t think that’s changed,” I confess my true feeling—one that Vincent refuses to acknowledge.

  His resolve is just as frail as ours. He just hides it better. I’ve never been one for lying to my friends, so I’m not about to start now. If he can’t deal, that’s his problem.

  “You were able to refuse her once, as I recall,” he counters, fishing for what really took place between Selene and me last night.

  “Is there a question you want to ask, Vincent? Aww, don’t be shy there, buddy. Go ahead and ask,” I goad, my cocky smile so wide that satellites in outer space could pick it out.

  “Did you fuck her?”

  I almost want to punch him for his crude remark, but I know my response will be just as unpleasant.

  “Last time we had this conversation I told you no. Don’t expect the same answer today.”

  Now it’s Vincent’s turn to smirk sinisterly.

  “I didn’t think it would be,” he nonchalantly adds.

  “Enough of this alpha bullshit. What I want to know is why Red came back, and how the hell are we going to convince her to get the hell out of dodge before one of The Butcher’s goons find out she’s here?” Dominic growls, infuriated with the staring match between Vincent and me. As always, I’m the first to concede.

  “The only way she’ll go is if we help her.”

  “That’s not happening,” Vincent replies stoically.

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Vince! We can’t protect her and give her shit at the same time,” Dominic spews, too worked up to keep his volume down.

  “Dom, I won’t budge on this. Remember, she left us. Us! She doesn’t deserve our help now when she didn’t ask for it before. She’s smart enough to clean up her own messes.”

  “Not this time. And technically, it’s not her mess,” I murmur, thinking this might be my only shot to divulge Selene’s current predicament.

  “So you did get something out of her?” Vincent ventures curiously.

  “I did. Not that you’ll like her reasoning, but yeah. I know why she’s here,” I mumble, thinking if it’s best to rip off the Band-Aid in one quick pull or use kid gloves instead.

  “Not surprised. Anything pertaining to Selene isn’t to my liking,” Vince mumbles under his breath.

  “Liar,” I can’t help but retort.

  “Just out with it, Gio! What does she want?” Dom asks, concerned.

  The love he holds for her is just as deep and consuming as it always was. It bleeds out of him so clearly that it makes Vincent uncomfortable to see it swim in front of his eyes.

  I call bullshit though.

  Even though Vincent is hurt by bella’s choice to leave us all those years ago, there is no question in my mind that she is still the only woman who has ever lived in his heart. It’s like that for all three of us; Dom unintentionally wears it as a badge of honor and loves our girl the way he does, while Vincent has it buried in the darkest place of his soul—never giving it any light, in fear it will grow to a proportion he may no longer be able to control. We all have our ways to cope with such a whirlwind, lost love.

  Years can pass like autumn turns to spring with the changing seasons, and nothing can ever erase the love we have for her. No warm body at night; no fuck can come close to just one of her genuine smiles. She is, and will always be, everything to us. Even with the bombshell she laid on me before I left her room this morning, not for one second did it make me love her any less. And for all Vincent’s pride, I know it won’t make a shit of difference to him either. When she was on the run, she made a life for herself. One that didn’t involve us. But I doubt we ever strayed far from her mind—or her heart.

  I’d bet my life on it.

  “Gio? I’m dying here!” Dominic continues to grunt.

  I sneak a glimpse at Vincent, who still looks unfazed with everything he’s heard so far. I hope he braces himself because this is going to land quite a kick on the balls.

  “Selene needs help clearing a friend’s name. Someone she cares about is locked up for a bogus murder charge. Cops aren’t helping since they have their perp, and you know how they like nice, clean busts rather than looking for the actual murderer. The lawyer is even insisting on a guilty plea since the evidence seems pretty incriminating,” I explain, leaving out the most important detail.

  “What does she want us to do about it?”

  “First, she wants us to get some guys on the inside to offer protection to her friend. Second, she wants us to make sure this all goes away. Either find the real bastard who gave some schmuck the dirt nap, or throw the full weight of the syndicate at it and make the charges disappear. Whatever works,” I explain.

  “Shit, that’s it? Don’t see a problem pulling some strings to make that happen. Where is he being held up?” Dom asks hopefully.

  “The Cheatham County Jail.”

  Dom scrunches his brow, unable to place its location, and grabs his mobile to Google it.

  “Don’t bother. It’s in Tennessee,” Vincent informs, his scrutinizing gaze never leaving me.

  “Friend, huh? Did she come back to shark-infested waters for a friend? I find it highly unlikely Selene would willingly put her life at risk by returning to Outfit territory because her friend needs help. There’s something you’re not telling us, Giovanni. And I have no time for guessing games,” Vincent warns point blank.

  Shit.

  “Maybe I’m using the term a bit loosely,” I be
gin to falter.

  “Gio!” Vince slams his fist on the table, fed up with my bullshit.

  “He’s her husband,” I relent, the word poisoning my tongue.

  The table grows eerily quiet as I let that bit of new fuckery sink in. It’s a bitter pill for all of us to swallow, but for Vincent, who has always dreamed of putting a ring on Selene’s finger, it’s the cruelest joke of all.

  “Fuck,” Dom huffs out, but I’m unable to console him just yet since I’m more concerned with what Vincent’s reaction will be.

  My capo dei capi is all but rigid stone. No feeling. No emotion. Just a frozen block of ice.

  “Vince?” Dominic looks over to him worriedly, but our best friend, our brother, just raises his hand to stop another word from passing through our lips. My own skin starts to grow cold from the frost seeping out of him.

  “I want a name,” he finally orders. Hateful, dead eyes mask a broken interior.

  TWELVE

  Dominic

  There’s so much you can tell about a man without ever looking in his eyes. Before taking the first flight out to Nashville, I investigated every detail I could on James Lewis’ life. There really wasn’t much to go by, but what I discovered gave me a small inkling of the man I was about to meet face to face.

  In his late thirties, he already had lived more than most. After being stationed in Afghanistan when he was just barely in his twenties, he returned stateside as a decorated war veteran, only to nurse and then bury his first wife and high school sweetheart. That speaks volumes of his character. Never in my wildest fears did I think Selene would move on with her life by marrying someone other than one of us. But on paper at least, James looks like a candidate worth his salt.

  I crack my knuckles, anxious to meet the mysterious man when I hear a buzzer announcing the swarm of inmates coming into the visiting area of the Cheatham County Jail. My eyes wander each orange jumpsuit until they land on the man himself.

  Looking like my darker doppelganger, with his scruffy, brown beard covering most of his face, and a wide linebacker physique, he strolls to where I’m sitting with an intrigued sparkle in his chocolate-brown eyes. I don’t stand up to greet him. No use in making nice with a man who has everything I want and will never have. The smile on his face is genuine though, as he sits down opposite me.