He stood and licked his lips before pinning my body against the railing. “Forked tongue, darlin’.”
He was right. That forked tongue was made for sin.
Before he said another word, I pulled his mouth to mine, like my greed wasn’t as sinful as his tongue. He lifted me up like I weighed nothing, setting me on the edge of the railing.
“You,” I breathed between kisses that were wilder than some of the sex I’d had before him, “will get life in a cage if you let me fall.”
“Ah, my darlin’,” he said, his voice slow and low, matching his hooded eyes. My darling came out of his mouth as ma darlin’. “I’d never let you fall. This arse is too beautiful to bruise.”
The world feared this marauder. I didn’t have a fucking care in the world when he was this close to me. Maybe it was the stupidest thing I ever did, or the most brilliant, but I believed he wouldn’t let me fall. I believed him when he said my arse was too beautiful to bruise.
We were connected in a way that was hard to describe, except for this: what happened to me, happened to him, and vice versa. It was the price we’d both pay for him stealing my heart.
Our mouths paused just long enough for both of us to grin at his comment. Our teeth made contact before his tongue invaded my mouth again and my hands started to work on his pants. Once he was free, he brought me down some, situating me, and then he entered me slowly. His eyes were intense on mine.
The sound that came from his mouth when he was buried fully inside of me, a deep groan, gave me more pleasure than his dick—and that was plenty enough to keep me satisfied. It fit his build. It fit everything about him. Then he started to move. I closed my eyes, the intensity between us too much to take in.
The more he moved, the more I felt the pressure building and building. I was about to come again. He kept hitting one spot that sent fucking shock waves throughout my body.
Then he hit me so hard that I hissed. It fucking hurt.
He made a similar noise when my nails sunk deep into his flesh. “That’s it, my darlin’,” he said. “Let go and mark me.”
I scratched him from one end to the other, wanting his tongue to go even deeper into my mouth, for him to ram that spot again and hurt me, so the bitter pain would make the pleasure even sweeter. It wasn’t a punishment. It was a reward.
“Fuck,” he said, lifting me from the railing, carrying me into the bedroom. “You’re burnin’ for me.”
He set me down on the bed, and before he could reach for me, I slammed my mouth against his. Our tongues were at war, like my mind was at battle to keep my heart.
We kissed until I couldn’t breathe.
Our bodies were as crazed as our tongues. We rolled around on the bed, his body against mine, mine against his, like we were out to kill each other.
Needing to breathe but also starving to have my mouth on his skin, I placed my lips on his chin, his neck, along his chest, over the muscles in his stomach, using my tongue to make a wet trail down his body. The muscles in his stomach went rigid when I put my mouth around him, tasting nothing but pure male, before I licked my lips and straddled him, taking him inside to the hilt.
I didn’t move to a punishing rhythm. I moved slowly, my hair moving against my back like a fan, rolling my hips in sweet, languorous swirls against him. I set my hands against his chest, scratching instead of clawing, using him as a base to lift myself before I lowered myself down again.
As I moved, I dipped my head low, coming down to kiss him. The kiss was as languorous as my movements.
His eyes opened and met mine. Just like that feral green-eyed tiger on his neck, over the pulse point, the wild animal in him seemed to come alive.
With a whoosh of breath, he flipped me over onto my back, and setting my legs on each side of him, slammed into me. His eyes were hard on mine, as hard as he was fucking me. He was wild but in control. Nothing sloppy about him. The relentless pounding kept up, like a savage animal, until he withdrew, and then came back even harder than before.
“Cash!” I screamed. Then my entire body, the fucking traitor, went off like an arrow from my bow. The pressure released me, and I was flying into his territory, about to land. My aim? His heart.
A second later, he came inside of me, a look on his face that I’d never forget. It was the wildest thing I’d ever seen. It was a look a woman could get addicted to.
The only high left in my body was Cash Kelly.
Once I was able to catch my breath, an internal grin lit me up. I’d gotten to him. He had flung me off and fucked me like no man had ever fucked me before because I had. He’d felt something.
I’d felt it, too. A connection that was stronger than just feral attraction between us.
If I was a betting woman, I’d place my money on Kelly being in a bad mood or gone by the time I got up the next day. I hadn’t known him long, but what I did know, he wasn’t going to like what just happened. Not that I liked the feelings part, either, but I was out to get even, which meant I was willing to make sacrifices for my cause.
He hovered over me, still hard inside of me, and I blinked before my eyes fully opened to meet his.
“You called me Cash,” he said, his chest heaving. I didn’t think it was from exertion. He’d barely broken a sweat. I was ringing wet.
“Unless you lied,” I said, my voice rough, “that’s your name.”
“Yeah, I suppose it is,” he said, but his eyes were narrowed.
He pulled out of me, giving me his hand, helping me up. That daring look had made it back to his eyes, and that animal was still hungry, or out to prove something—that he hadn’t felt what he thought he did.
There was no way I was imagining it. It felt too real. It was like getting too close to a raging fire and then ignoring the burns after.
“Where are we going?” I said, hardly able to walk. No man had ever fucked me like that before. Sleep. I craved it.
“Shower, darlin’. The night’s still young, and so are you.”
15
Keely
I could barely get out of bed the next morning. Cash Kelly had worked my body like no man ever had before. He lingered in the soreness of my muscles and bones. His marks were all over my body, coming up in blue and purple bruises on my skin. In all fairness, I easily bruised, but he was still intense.
He gave me experiences that I would never forget. The son of a bitch was more addicting than what he had smoked last night. There was no doubt—not an ounce of it—that he knew that as well as I did.
After doing the necessary things in the bathroom, I stepped into the deep closet in his bedroom, taking one of his white button-down shirts and slipping it on. It was better than having to search the other room for my things. I was going to move my boxes into Kelly’s room on principal.
He wanted me here. He got me. Baggage and all.
Before I found my way downstairs, I stopped and admired the view from the library. The sun was rising, starting to brighten Hell’s Kitchen, and the view of New York held me captive to my spot. For the first time in a long time, I took a second to appreciate the start of a new day. It all had to do with my new point of view.
It was different, and in this overcrowded city, something fresh.
The moment the sun fully came up, I moved, looking for Kelly. I found him in the kitchen eating breakfast. He was dressed in a suit, sitting at the table, reading a magazine on the mob. He set it down when he heard me rummaging through the cabinets. I had cereal every morning for breakfast. All the marauder had was oatmeal.
Sighing, feeling like I was five again and forced to eat something that gave me a texture problem, I started looking for items to make oatmeal. If I was going to do it, it was going to be sugary. Bananas. Cinnamon. Walnuts. Brown sugar.
“You don’t have any sugar,” I said, searching deeper into the pantry. “You’re not one of those kinds of people, are you?”
“I don’t need it,” he said, and I noticed the way his eyes took in his shirt on my
body.
I shook my head, deciding that I’d pick up something quick on my way out. I had a fitting for one of my costumes, and then the rest of the day was mine. I’d decided to make myself at home in Kelly’s bedroom after, getting cozy.
He stood, fixing his tie, and then grabbed his bowl and cup from the table, bringing them over to the sink. I turned and watched him.
“Work?” I said.
“Every day.”
“Must be fun to be you,” I said.
“Loads.”
Was that an attitude I detected from Cash Kelly? My bet was still strong from the night before—he was either going to be gone or not as la de da as usual. Since he stood next to me, his carefree attitude had taken a small hit.
He turned to me but said nothing. He just looked at me. I wasn’t a woman who minded attention, but we stood close, and he eyed me like he had something on his mind.
“What’s that look for?” I said, finally breaking the tension.
He looked around. “No mirror in here, darlin.’ The only face I see is yours.”
“Your thoughts are showing on your face. It matches the hate I feel coming from you.”
Without missing a beat, he said, “Maybe I do. Hate you a little.”
I grinned, not taking offense. Hate was an emotion, and I considered it a small victory that I’d gotten under his skin some. “It’s no fun when someone magically slips over your walls and rages war against your heart, Marauder. Am I right?”
He narrowed his eyes at me in a challenging dare. “I don’t have one to war with.” He fixed his tie again. “Be ready by five sharp. I’ll be by to pick you up.” He pulled out his wallet and set a credit card on the counter. “Get something new and expensive.”
“Where are we going?”
“Dinner and then a political thing.”
“Formal?”
He nodded. Then he stared at me again.
After a few seconds, I said, “Don’t you have somewhere to be, Kelly?”
“When I’m ready.”
He put a hand on each side of me, one on each side of my waist, his strong arms caging me in against the counter. I lifted one eyebrow, daring him to say or do whatever was on his mind. Dare for dare.
After a minute or two, he grinned, and then left without saying another word.
As usual, Kelly sent Raff with me.
We grabbed breakfast down the street from Kelly’s place, two bagels and two teas, before we headed back, going for Raff’s car. He was going to drive me to the fitting and then to pick out a dress for Kelly’s political thing that evening.
“Mrs. Kelly!”
Raff nudged me, and I nudged him back. “Keep your hands to yourself,” I said.
He stopped walking and nodded behind him. “Mrs. O’Connell.”
“Ms. O'Connell?” I said the name at the same time that I turned. The woman from the block party, Maureen, rushed toward me. Connolly kept step, but barely.
“Yeah,” Raff said, narrowing his eyes at them. “She called you twice.”
“Mrs. Kelly,” she said when she was close enough. “I need to ask a favor of you.”
She seemed winded, but I didn’t think it was from the walk. I could tell she was a tough old broad, but something about her seemed almost desperate. It was something about the sound of her voice when she’d said my name.
I’ll have to get used to people calling me by that name. The name that connects me to him.
Without my response, Maureen barreled right into it. “I need you to keep Connolly for a while. Just until 3 o’clock or so.” She took the little girl by the shoulder and urged her closer to me.
Connolly looked up at me and I looked down at her. I smiled but she didn’t respond.
“I have a fitting for my job.” Not that I minded taking her with us, but she hardly knew me. I didn’t want her to feel awkward. “Maybe we can plan a time for—”
Maureen shook her head and pushed Connolly even closer to me. “Mrs. Kelly,” she said, and her eyes were so serious on mine. “I need this from you.”
I stared at her for a moment, trying to understand. Nothing became clear to me, though, except for one thing. Maureen was desperate. “Okay.” I nodded. “Connolly gets to spend the day with me.”
A heavy breath visibly left Maureen’s mouth. She touched Connolly on the head and then hustled in the opposite direction.
“Looks like it’s the three of us,” I said to Connolly. “Do you mind going to work with me for a while?”
We stared at each other, and it seemed like she wanted to say something, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.
I stooped down, trying to get eye level with her. “The clouds are bright today,” I said, hoping she remembered our talk from the party. “I know you don’t mind coming with me. And after, we’ll do a little shopping. A girl has to have a pretty dress. Mr. Kelly’s treat.” I smiled at her and then stood, offering her my hand. I wasn’t sure if she’d take it, but after a few seconds, she put her little hand in mine and my heart filled instantly.
It sunk just as fast when a familiar ringer sounded and my mother’s face appeared on the screen of my cellphone.
“Shit,” I muttered. Since there was no time like the present, I answered it.
“Keely,” she said, like she had to make sure it was me.
“Mam,” I said.
She went on about the usual stuff as we all started walking together. After a few minutes, when we’d made it to Raff’s car, she made it to the reason she had called.
“The wedding,” I repeated after her, knowing it was do or die. “There’s no need to plan anything right now, Mam. See. The thing is.” Deep breath. “We’re married. We got married in a church!” I rushed out, so she wouldn’t have a heart attack or combust on the spot. “We couldn’t wait. Maybe we can have a reception later. To celebrate.”
“You’re married,” she repeated. She’d heard me, but she wanted me to repeat it again. To torture me.
“I’m married,” I said. “The deal is sealed. But we’re keeping it a secret right now.”
“From Mari?” she said, her voice both suspicious and lethal. Neither one bothered me. It was the guilt trip she was going to take me on that I dreaded.
“Yeah,” I said. “Especially from Mari.”
I hated how she always brought Mari up first. To make sure Mari didn’t know what she did. I didn’t want Mari to know, for my own reasons, so it was best if my mam thought she had the upper hand. I’d tell Mari when I was ready.
“My only living daughter. Married without her Mam there to see it.” She sniffed, and I resigned myself to the infamous words coming next. The ones that ate at me like acid.
I mouthed the words as she said them: “Roisin wouldn’t have done this to me.” A second later, she hung up.
I stared at the phone for a second before I stuck it my pocket. A pressure came from my other hand, and I realized that Connolly was watching me, and holding my hand a little tighter.
After my costume fitting, I decided on a designer boutique in Manhattan to find a dress for the event. I’d never stepped foot in such an exclusive place, but as soon as I did, one of the salesgirls rushed to help me.
“I have an event tonight,” I said to her as she looked me over from head to toe. Maybe trying to guess my size. “Formal. Something in green.” Then I gave her my size. I didn’t have time to play that game. They either had my size or they didn’t. If they didn’t, I’d take my ass to a store that catered to all builds and give them my business.
The salesgirl nodded and said, “I have just the number.”
I felt Connolly’s eyes on me, and I looked at her and winked. Even though my mam’s guilt ate at me, having Connolly around somehow felt like a buffer. I was eager for her to get more comfortable around me. Maybe so she would talk again. She didn’t seem as rigid as she had been at the party. She seemed relaxed, though still quiet.
She did roll her eyes at Raff a couple of times, whi
ch made me grin. He was a little goofy around her, making kid-appropriate jokes.
Connolly stood with Raff while I tried on the dress. From the moment I slipped it on, I knew it was the one. Emerald, just like I had requested, and sheer, but with a layer of beading. The fit was a size too small, and it had a sexy slit up to my thigh. They say red will knock a man dead, but in this dress, I swore that I’d knock a few beats into that heart Kelly supposedly didn’t have.
Connolly’s eyes lit up when I walked out and showed it to her, so that was that.
As I browsed the shelves searching for a matching pair of heels, Connolly sat in a chair while Raff stood next to me. His back was to the wall, his arms crossed, his eyes moving with me.
“You’re trying to kill my cuz with that dress.”
I glanced at him before I picked up a pair of gold heels. “Or steal his heart, at the very least.”
He laughed. “Molly and me have a bet going.”
“Yeah.” I put the heels down. “I hope your bet is on me, or you’re on the losing side.”
“That’s why I bet on you,” he said. “You’re fucking crazy enough to think you can, so you probably will, Jessica Rabbit.”
I quirked my eyebrow up at him.
He waved at my head. “Your hair. It’s red.”
“Really?” I feigned being shocked. “Someone give me a mirror! When did this happen?”
He laughed and we both turned to look at Connolly, to check on her. Instead of watching us, she was watching as the salesgirls hustled around the shop.
I nodded toward her. “What’s the story?”
Raff stared at her a moment before he turned to me. “Her father was killed selling drugs to the wrong people. Her mother died after having her half-brother—who is in the NICU right now. He was born too early and is in withdrawal. Maureen agreed to adopt him so they would always know each other.” He chucked his chin toward Connolly. “She’s been promised the stars, little Connolly O’Connell, but all she gets is the darkness.”
Marauder (Gangsters of New York Book 2) Page 16
