It was possession.
I’d surrendered completely. My body shook with liquid fire, and an orgasm gripped me. I cried into his shoulder, soaring in the clouds.
Then he came undone.
Tony released his breath in a groan, and wet heat shot across my breasts. His body seized. Then it fell into an undulating motion. His shoulders rolled, the tension melting from his brows, his clenched jaw, softening his eyes. Another wave seemed to hit him, and he scooped the seed into his palm. His semen coated the fingers he shoved inside me.
“There,” he said raggedly. “I’m no longer lax in my duties as a husband.”
It triggered another orgasm that made me clutch his arm as he fucked me with his cum. My head touched the floor as I panted from two orgasms seconds apart.
Holy hell.
He loosened the collar and picked me up. I was dead weight, useless for walking. I wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed with him.
Tony lifted me on his lap, his expression still fiery.
Good lord, the man could hold a grudge.
“Thank me for teaching you a lesson.”
“Thank you.”
His nostrils flared. “Come again?”
“Thank you, sir.”
For some reason, that didn’t satisfy him. Tony’s hostility returned in a flash.
“Are you?” he challenged. “Are you grateful for anything I’ve done?”
My cheeks warmed. “Of course I am.”
Holy shit.
He hadn’t meant for me to enjoy this. The spanking, the exhibition, any of it. The glow from my orgasm popped like a dirty soap bubble, and heat wrapped my throat. He was so screwed up.
“I watch you, Evie. I know your habits and your routine. You spend a lot of time sketching.” His raking gaze halted over my mouth, and then he pulled a book from his pocket. “And you write in this every morning.”
He waved it at me.
My gratitude journal.
That’s private, you dick.
He’d waited for the perfect moment to humiliate me. He sneered as though expecting me to have a meltdown. When I didn’t, he flipped it open and held it to his nose.
“I’m grateful for fresh fruit. I’m grateful my husband never speaks to me. I’m grateful for Egyptian cotton sheets.” He paused, cringing. “Evie, I’m starting to feel sorry for you.”
He was incapable of happiness, even with his vast wealth. It would’ve been easy to throw that at him, but something had scarred him deeply, and it wasn’t his silver-spooned upbringing.
I was sick of not knowing.
“Don’t pity me. I’m happy to have all those things.”
“There’s nothing about happiness in here.” He sounded perplexed and a little annoyed. “It’s stuff. A fire could take it all away tomorrow.”
“Or you could be ripped from it all and be forced to live somewhere horrible. Where you won’t know if you’ll survive or who to trust or where to go for help.”
Tony flinched. His dark eyes shone with tortured dullness. He glanced at me and the book, disoriented. Then he cleared his throat and scanned the pages.
“You mention me an awful lot.” His brows raised. “I’m grateful my husband is talented with his tongue. I’m grateful my husband keeps our marriage fresh.”
“I have to make something good of this situation.”
“You have plenty to be thankful for,” he snapped. “Other than my things. You should be grateful for me. I’m your white knight. I’m saving you from a shitty life. But you know that already. Don’t you? I’m grateful for my husband’s money. I’m grateful I have a house, a comfortable bed, and a husband with a giant cock who gives me everything I fucking need.”
My pulse pounded in my throat. “I didn’t write that.”
“Why the fuck didn’t you?”
A beat of tense silence stretched between us.
I scrambled to piece together my wild thoughts. “Why would I? I don’t know anything about you or what you’ve saved me from.”
“Because you are completely wrapped up in all this pointless navel-gazing.” He tossed the journal on the floor. “How can you be so selfish?”
His rudeness glided over my head.
“How can you be in such denial and not realize that’s exactly what you need?”
Tony’s searing gaze flicked away, and back again. “You’re turning a blind eye to what’s happening in your backyard. Honestly, I don’t know how you live with yourself.”
That struck me like a slap to my face.
What are you talking about?
“I thought I could save you,” he continued, his eyes alight with passion. “You were the youngest. You had the most to lose, but it turns out you’re just like the rest of them!”
That shot my heart with adrenaline.
“Save me from what?”
“You know what’s insane?” he thundered, blowing past my question. “Everything I’ve done to you is horrible, but you find the good in it. Why?”
“I-I have to. It’s how I survive.”
He gave me a pained look. “You’ve had a fucked up life, Evie. I feel sorry for you.”
My cheeks burned so fiercely it hurt.
That’s it. I can’t talk to this man anymore.
I moved from his lap, but Tony held my arms. “Growing up there must’ve been hell.”
I blinked, confused.
I’d had a decent twenty-two years. A mother who loved me. A father who strolled into school and threatened the principal when I told him one of the boys bullied me. No, my childhood was not perfect, but I doubted Tony’s was either.
Startled, I met his soft gaze. “I didn’t want for anything in the MC. That’s probably hard for you to accept, but it’s the truth.”
“Only because you don’t know any better.”
“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” I burst, tired of his crap. “Is this because I grew up poor?”
“No, Evie.”
“Then what is it? What makes us so terrible?” I watched him, waiting for him to spit it out. “The MC does nothing worse than the mob. Your family is involved in the same shit—loansharking, drugs, construction scams. You’re a goddamned hypocrite for judging us.”
“You have no idea what’s going on.” He glanced at the journal and rubbed his temples. “If you’re always looking at the sun, you’ll never see the shadows.”
Twelve
Evie
I’m grateful my husband makes life interesting.
Tony had a 747’s worth of baggage.
While we were apart, I combed the internet. Tabloids painted Tony as a rich boy with a lavish upbringing. His late father was a mafia don, but his mother was a high-society snob, an Italian supermodel who’d posed for Vogue. He had everything going for him—an Ivy League education, trust funds, real estate properties, a trail of brokenhearted women, and all the money he could ever want.
He could’ve been anything.
He chose to be a thug.
Why?
It bewildered me. Nothing in my search pointed to a specific reason, except the year-long hunt for Tony Costa. He’d gone missing, but apparently, he’d been at a rehabilitation center in Switzerland. Photos showed him leaving the facility.
Did something happen to him there?
Dwelling on my husband’s strange behavior wouldn’t finish my jewelry collection, but I couldn’t bring myself to ignore his suffering. I did, however, rip out all the cameras. If he wanted to know how I was doing, he’d have to talk to me. It was the only way we’d get anywhere.
So I went on with my life. I ignored the persistent throb in my chest and visited the club whenever the mood struck me.
Dad and I sped through the gate on his bike. Sunshine coated the property in golden warmth. The forget-me-not blue sky reminded me that beauty was everywhere. I waved at Hugh, a young prospect, smiling as he shouted a greeting. People relaxed on lawn chairs, drinking beer. Charcoal and savory scents saturated the a
ir. Probably Patrick. The fifty-year-old grill master never spared an occasion to barbecue. Every summer, he took part in contests that filled his living room with ribbons and trophies.
I slid off the Harley as Dad stopped. He kept the engine running, one foot braced on the ground.
“I’ll be back later. Won’t be long.” Dad zipped up his leather cut. “There’s potato salad in the fridge. Take it to Pat. He’ll trade you for a couple ribs.”
“All right.”
He zoomed off, the bike kicking up a plume of dust.
Emptiness gnawed at my stomach, but my jagged thoughts sawed through my appetite. I couldn’t swallow the lump in my throat, let alone food, so I wandered toward Jennesy’s.
Jennesy wasn’t rich, but she got by. The club stocked her fridge and chipped in for diapers when her baby daddy died. A moldering playhouse stood on a patch of overgrown grass. I passed it and knocked on her door.
My leggy cousin swung open the door, baby hitched on her hip. Jennesy’s apple-like cheeks bloomed with two bright patches of fuchsia. White and pink waves brushed her tanned, muscular shoulders. Army-camo patterned leggings stuck to her thick thighs.
Benjamin clung to her tank top. Blond strands spilled over a sweet face. He shared her nose and her expressive eyes.
“Evie! What a surprise.” She tickled the fifteen-month-old’s cheek. “Lookit, Benji. It’s Auntie Evie.”
Ben smiled, his grin split by the cutest gap in his front teeth. “Hot, hot, hot.”
I laughed.
“That’s his new favorite word.” Jennesy gave him a wry smile as she waved me inside. “I came back from class one day and he was saying it. My dad’s fault. I guess that’s the price you pay for free babysitting. Here, take him.”
Jennesy pushed Ben into my arms. He gaped at me, his finger prodding my cheek. The weight of him felt nice. I kissed the top of his head, following Jennesy as she chatted up a storm, bemoaning the state of her house.
“What do you want to drink?”
“Whatever is fine.”
She fished out Budweisers and used the bottle opener on the wall. The cap pinged to the floor as the beer hissed. Foam sprayed everywhere. She mopped her dripping shirt as Ben shrieked with pleasure.
“Happens all the time.” Jennesy caught Ben’s eye, grinning. “Can you say uh-oh? Uh-oh?”
“Ah…oh.”
“Good boy!”
Ben’s face broke with a ridiculous grin.
I placed him in the high chair as Jennesy grabbed her beer and drank. She closed her eyes and swallowed.
I held up my palm. “High five?”
Ben stuck out his hand, and I bumped mine against his. I clapped, and Ben did the same. My heart thawed and squeezed.
“I still can’t believe something this sweet came from Crash.” Jennesy retrieved a jar of applesauce from the fridge and scooped the golden sludge, waving a spoonful at Ben. “Mmn. Num-nums.”
They’d had a brief fling that Crash ended dramatically by kidnapping his old flame and getting murdered by her husband. It’d been quite the relief for everyone involved, especially Jennesy.
It made me wonder what Tony would do if I got pregnant. He’d probably shove me into another penthouse, throw credit cards at me, and forget I exist.
Depressing.
“So, what did Costa do?”
I silenced my phone. “What makes you think anything’s wrong?”
“Come on, girl.” Jennesy wiped Ben’s sauce-covered cheeks and addressed me with a businesslike tone. “You show up here, unannounced, looking raw, glancing at your phone every two seconds.”
“He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“He’ll be pissed,” she warned, eyes flashing. “Better text him, or you’ll be in for a beating.”
“He’s not violent,” I blurted, unnerved by her suggestion. “He’s a snarky asshole, but he lets me do what I want. He raised my credit limit to fifty grand.”
“No kidding? Wow.” Jennesy’s expression flickered from caution to outright disbelief to delight. She bumped her drink into mine. “He’s wrapped around your thumb, babe.”
“I cut the card in half.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Because fuck his money. He only offered it so I’d stop coming here.”
“And yet here you are.” Jennesy sat back, lips curled into a mischievous slant. “Something tells me that if push came to shove, you’d come out on top.”
“You don’t know how stubborn he is.”
“And you’re not?”
True.
Jennesy put down her beer and coaxed Ben into eating more applesauce. “What’s his problem with the club?”
“No idea.”
“Did you ask your dad?”
“Yeah, but he wouldn’t tell me much. Club business.” I stood up, sighing. “Why is it such a big fucking mystery?”
“Speaking of mysterious Italian men, what about Christian?”
“It’s too soon since his wife passed.” I grimaced, placing the empty bottle in the sink. “Sorry. He got a kick out of your messages, though. He blushed when I told him what the eggplants meant.”
Jennesy sighed. “Bless his heart.”
“I’m going to take a walk. Get some fresh air.” I smoothed baby Ben’s wayward curls before I headed for the door. “Text me when you’re free. I need to keep Tony on his toes.”
“Of course!”
“Thanks for the pep talk.”
“Anytime.”
She waved at me, and Ben copied her. The sweet image of mother and son stayed with me, another nagging wound that pulsed with every step. I looked at Jennesy’s mobile home, at the siding that was falling off.
Would I be better off here?
According to Tony, stuff didn’t make someone happier, and he was right. Ever since I was blessed with a credit card with sky-high limits, my worries had evolved from paying bills to my unfulfilling marriage. I wanted to fix it.
So I strode to the brick clubhouse.
Music throbbed from the windows. I pushed my hip into the doors, and they flew open.
Empty bottles littered the bar and floor. A shirtless man bent over a pool table, nuzzling a pair of big fake tits. His back muscles rippled as he plowed into a squirming brunette with koi fish tattoos wrapping her stomach. A blonde stood beside him, hand on his shoulder. He straightened, fisted her hair, and smashed his mouth into hers.
Ghost.
He angled his hips and pounded. The club girl’s shouts echoed to the ceiling.
I gritted my teeth and approached the half-naked Ghost, whose tattooed hands played with her breasts. I ignored the girls. They didn’t rank next to the president’s daughter, and they knew it.
“Ghost.” I tapped him. “Let’s talk.”
His sweat-streaked neck craned toward me. Bewilderment widened his salacious gaze, which dove down my neckline. “What about, sweetheart?”
“My husband.”
Irritation flickered across his brow as he resumed thrusting.
“I have something to ask about Costa.”
“Are you trying to kill my boner?”
Yes. Isn’t that obvious?
I crossed my arms. “I didn’t realize keeping it up was that hard.”
“You want to see hard?”
He pulled out, and I glanced down. His laughter was low and throaty. A second later, he was at it like I wasn’t standing there.
Such a pig. “Ghost, I just need a few minutes!”
“So do I.”
“You fuck club sluts all day long. Put it away and talk to me.”
“You’re welcome to watch,” he said, punctuating every syllable with a thrust. “I find it hot—”
“Tony Costa,” I shot out, and he grunted. “He’s taller than you, olive-skinned, curly chest hair that goes to his cock, which is nice and thick, and circumcised, by the way.”
Ghost squeezed his eyes shut, as though warding off that mental image. �
�Goddamn you. This better be good.” He stepped away, tucking himself into his jeans. Then he slapped the girl’s breasts. “Don’t move.”
Ghost pushed me into the hallway. His jaw clicked as he opened a door and pointed inside.
I strolled into his room, nose wrinkling. It reeked of sex and unwashed male.
Ghost closed the door behind us. He sprawled on his messy bed. He spread his legs wide and swiped a pack of cigarettes off the nightstand.
I shook my head when he offered me one.
“Who the hell do you think you are, interrupting me mid-fuck?” Ghost flicked his thumb on the lighter, igniting the cigarette. “I might’ve led you on, but there’s no need to act like a jealous bitch.”
“This isn’t about you.”
“What. Do. You. Want?”
Ghost took a drag, blinking. His raking gaze centered on my chest as I pulled a chair and sat beside him.
“I need to ask you about my husband.”
He made a noise of disgust.
I grabbed his wrist. “Ghost, please. Dad won’t say a word and none of the girls know what happened to Tony. He’s raw about it, and refuses to tell me anything.”
Ghost tipped his head, blowing the smoke to the ceiling. He chuckled. The sound raised my hackles.
“What’s so funny?”
“You had to be there,” he said, winking. “Sadly, I wasn’t a member at the time, but everybody knows.”
“Tell me.”
His boyish smirk widened. “What will you give me?”
Heat stole into my face.
“Nothing.”
“Well, then you get nothing. It’s club business. You want me to break the rules? Drop to your knees and put that mouth to work.”
I curled my lip. “I’ll tell Dad you kissed me.”
“That was months ago.”
“Still. He wouldn’t like it.”
Ghost slowly stood, sucking on his cigarette. Smoke blew from his full pout. His body pushed me against the wall, all six feet of him trapping me. The finger holding the cigarette traced my lips. “You’re pissed I didn’t ask you to be my old lady. After one stupid kiss. Wasn’t even worth it.” He leaned in. His putrid whisper brushed my nose. “You really want to know?”
Monster: A Dark Arranged Marriage Romance Page 10
