The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I slid down his body, brought his cock to my lips and opened my mouth. I worked him as deep as he’d go. I sucked him, feeling the throb against my tongue and the beginnings of his orgasm trickling down my throat.

  He gripped my hair, pulled out of my mouth and flipped me onto my back, spreading the folds of his vest apart and cupping my tits in his hands.

  I licked my lips as he nudged my legs apart. His cock pulsed, veins hardened, and the tip glistened as he moved his hand to his shaft and guided himself to my pussy.

  He bent down, covered my nipple with his mouth and drove his cock into me. I gasped, wrapping my arms around his back, my nails clawing his skin as he rocked into me, hard and greedy, pushing in and slipping out.

  “Not sure about much, but pretty fucking sure that my cock belongs to that tight fucking pussy,” he grunted against my ear, charging into me again. I lifted my hips, skin slapped skin, sweat spreading across our bodies like a wild fire as his cock pushed so deep inside of me I thought he would tear me apart.

  He brought my leg over his shoulder changing positions. His eyes dipped to where our bodies joined, forcing mine to follow. Friction built, his pace quickened and before I could control it, I was screaming his name over and over, succumbing to my orgasm.

  “That’s my girl, fucking beautiful when she’s coming around my cock,” he panted, before dropping his head back and groaning. The cords in his neck straining, his eyes closed. He looked at peace as he gave me his release.

  I stared up at him through my hooded eyes, feeling him throbbing inside of me, never wanting it to end.

  His beautiful features contorting in ecstasy.

  I did that to him.

  Mine.

  If only for tonight.

  He straightened up, opened his eyes and glanced down at me.

  “You,” he whispered.

  “Me,” I confirmed, inhaling a sharp breath. I watched his neck work as he swallowed hard and stared at me in wonderment.

  He dropped his weight, his body falling over mine, still joined, he wrapped his arms around me and rolled us over with the last bit of strength he had. He kissed the top of my head and I rested my hand over his heart, over his tattoo. His hand slid to my puckered flesh, squeezing gently.

  In the dark night, silence fell over us. Scar to scar, soul to soul, I closed my eyes and listened to Jack’s heartbeat, a rhythm that matched my own. I fell asleep in the arms of the man who healed me.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Dad?”

  I turned around slowly, searching for the face of an unfamiliar voice that called out to me, but found nothing but darkness.

  “Dad, it’s me,” the young man’s voice said.

  Again, I frantically spun around only to hear the laughter of a young man.

  “Jack? Where are you?” I called into the darkness.

  “Over here,” he said chuckling like any young kid would who was teasing their old man. I followed the voice, turning slightly to my left. My heart lurched inside my chest as I came face to face with the young man I never got to know. He wore a Yankee cap, propped down low shadowing half of his face. I watched as he lifted his hands, turned the cap backward and displayed his face to me. Gone was the baby face of the boy I lost, the chubby cheeks now slender, his jaw more pronounced, his nose thinner and more prominent. He had his mama’s green eyes and from what I could see peeking out from the ends of his cap, he had my black hair, dark as night. His smile stopped my aching heart, revealing two perfect dimples. His lips quirked, much like mine seldom do as he stared at me.

  “Is it really you?” I asked the teenager.

  “It’s really me, Dad,” he confirmed. Then the smile fell from his face and he glanced down toward his feet as he whispered the words that broke the rest of my shattered heart.

  “Miss you, Dad.”

  I reached for him, desperate to hold him, to touch, to feel the child I loved in my arms.

  But he faded before my very eyes.

  “Jack,” I screamed into the darkness.

  I jolted awake, sitting up, my eyes trying to focus in the dark searching for my son, only to realize I had been dreaming. I released a ragged breath, fighting back the emotions that tormented me, and ran my fingers through my hair.

  What I wouldn’t give for just one more day.

  I dropped my head back against my pillow, turning slightly and stared at Reina. She was sleeping on her belly, her face turned toward me. I flipped onto my side, moving her hair away from her face and watched as she slept.

  So peaceful.

  So beautiful.

  Mine.

  My fingertips traveled down the length of her over my leather vest she still wore. I was losing what was left of my mind. That was the only logical explanation for why I made her wear it, why I never wanted her to take the fucking thing off. My hands traveled down to her hip where fire tortured her skin. I recalled the apprehension in her eyes as I kissed her there, my fingers working the scars, trying to erase them from her memory.

  They were horrific, tragic, but it was no lie when I said they were beautiful. How could something that told the story of how this woman became mine not be beautiful? I don’t know what it was about her, but there was no controlling the need burning deep inside. The need to be her man, the person she turns to, the one she chooses for herself.

  I have no business wanting those things from her. None at all. I’m going to lose her. I’m sure of it. Blackie is right—Reina is deep under my skin. I knew she’d wreck me, that she’d ruin me. A man like me can’t have sunshine—not when he’s destined to wander in the darkness until the devil calls him home. But there was no turning back now.

  I leaned over her and pressed my lips to the top of her head.

  “You…” I whispered into her hair, leaving the rest of the sentence where it belonged. In my head. In my heart.

  I pulled the covers over her body and quietly climbed out of bed, bending down to pick up my clothes. I peeked through the slotted blinds and was greeted by the dawn of a new day.

  The day that tortured my soul, year after year.

  Fifteen years ago my life changed on this day.

  Fifteen years ago my heart became complete.

  And for the last thirteen years, this day, is the day I dread.

  I moved away from the window and walked into the bathroom to wash up. I emerged from the bathroom, changing my t-shirt and sat on the chair in the corner of my room, pulling on my boots when I heard a light knock on the door. I lifted my eyes to the door, then back to Reina. I stood, walked over to the bed and bent down for a kiss, careful not to wake her. My gaze lingered on her as something unfamiliar erupted inside my chest. I chalked it up to having her in my bed, wearing my cut, a mix of the two screwing with my emotions. I liked what I saw. I liked having her in my bed, pretending I was hers.

  I was a twisted son of a bitch.

  I walked around the bed to my nightstand and opened the drawer, lifted my gun and stared at it like it was a foreign object. I made sure it was loaded before tucking it into the back of my jeans. I moved to close the drawer and my eyes zeroed in on the orange prescription bottle.

  Not today.

  I slammed the draw shut as another knock sounded on the door. I moved quickly so whoever was on the other end wouldn’t wake Reina. Pulling open the door I came face to face with Blackie

  “We need to talk,” he announced.

  I brought my finger to my lips, silencing him as I glanced over my shoulder, looking at the woman in my bed one last time, fighting the urge to wake her and lose myself in her again. I stepped outside the bedroom and closed the door behind me.

  Blackie’s eyes narrowed as they traveled the length of me.

  “Not going to do this with you, Blackie. I suggest you quit while you’re ahead,” I threatened.

  He held his hands up in mock defeat, his bloodshot eyes dull as they glared into mine.

  “Got bigger fish than that,” he said, tipping his chin t
oward the door. “Jimmy called,” he sneered. “It’s show time motherfucker. Get your saddle ready.”

  I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled him away from the hallway, not wanting to risk Reina waking and overhearing anything.

  “Downstairs,” I growled.

  He mumbled something inaudible but did as he was told and I followed him down the stairs into the common room.

  “He called you?” I questioned.

  “Tried calling you but your phone was off,” he accused, pausing for a beat as I poured myself a cup of coffee. “He wants to meet today,” he added.

  I took a sip of my coffee, placed the cup down on the bar and pierced him with a look.

  “Not today,” I said, leaving no room for argument.

  He took a seat at the bar, leaning back against the stool as he crossed his arms against his chest.

  “That’s not an option and you know that. He’s on the heels of his visit with Vic. We reschedule now and that’s giving him a chance to think. You don’t want him thinking, you don’t want him guessing or questioning why we’re suddenly in the drug business. If this shit is going to work, we need to move when we’re told to move and he’s pushing. You heard Vic with your own ears, he told Jimmy we’ve always been trying to move shit but Vic’s been a road block. Now that he’s playing the desperation card and crying poverty, it’s okay for us to supply their organization with the drugs, just as long as Grace keeps her house,” he stated, shaking his head. “He wants the meeting today; we need to oblige. So do you man, you take today because you need to and I’ll set the meet with Jimmy.”

  Blackie knew the significance of today, been with me long enough to know this day was mine, the only day I’m not president of the Satan’s Knights. It’s a day when the rest of the world fades away and all that is left is my son.

  I didn’t like him going into this shit with Jimmy without me. It was my duty to bring this bastard to his knees. And here Blackie was, sweeping in and cleaning up after me as he always did. But he was right, it was unethical to keep Jimmy waiting and a major mistake giving him an opportunity to second guess forming an alliance with us.

  “Are you sure?” I questioned. “You’ve stayed out of any dealings I’ve had with Pastore, you don’t have Jimmy pegged which leaves you vulnerable. You like being one step ahead of everyone, like knowing what a person’s gonna do before he does it. You don’t have that advantage with Gold. He’s a sick fuck disguised as an eccentric joke,” I reminded him.

  “I might not have him where I want him but there’s one advantage I have over him, over you, over everyone in this goddamn club. I know drugs, Man. I know their worth and their consequence. I know how to make them desirable and I know how to make them your enemy. I will have Jimmy Gold high on my promise before he or his streets are high on the product,” he said, his voice full of conviction.

  There was a fire in his eyes, something rare for a man who walked through life like he was lost. Nailing Jimmy to the cross gave Blackie purpose.

  I pushed my coffee aside and leaned over the bar to meet his gaze. “Keep it simple. Be safe, brother,” I chastised. “Need you breathing, remember that,” I added.

  He shrugged his shoulders as if to say what he was about to do was no sweat off his back.

  “Piece of cake,” he claimed.

  I nodded and hoped like hell he was right.

  “I’ve got someplace I need to be,” I said after a beat, lifting my eyes back to his.

  “What about that?” he asked, tipping his chin toward the stairs.

  “Yeah, about that…” I started. “Reina,” I threaded my hands through my hair, thinking of her waking up alone in my bed. “When she wakes up, take her over to Pipe’s lot and get her in a car,” I told him, watching as he raised an eyebrow at me. “Something safe. Tell Pipe I’ll square away with him tomorrow or the day after.”

  “You want me to babysit your girl?” he asked incredulously. “Take her fucking car shopping? You really lost your mind this time, huh? No coming back from this shit,” he grunted.

  “She deserves more,” I claimed.

  “Then give it to her,” he said, surprising me. The shock must’ve taken presence over my features because he sighed and attempted to explain himself. “Instead of going off on your mission to hell, take her for the car. Honor your kid by enjoying life and not running from it.”

  “Hard to enjoy life when you’re the reason your kid can’t blow out the candles on a birthday cake, Blackie,” I said hoarsely as I looked away. “Take care of Reina? Make sure she gets home safe.”

  “And you? You going to stay safe?”

  “All good, brother. All good,” I lied.

  “Bullshit,” he countered, but didn’t press. “I’ll take her to the yard, get the wheels and send her on her merry way.”

  “Then you’ll meet with Gold.”

  “Then I’ll meet with Gold,” he confirmed.

  I nodded in agreement. “She’s going to ask questions.”

  “Not my place to answer them,” he assured me.

  “Thank you.”

  “You get your head right, Bulldog. Shit’s going to get heavy around here, going to need our leader,” he reiterated.

  I walked around the bar, cupped his shoulder with my hand before I patted him on the back. I didn’t respond, not willing to lie to the man who cared about my sorry ass. “If Lacey comes around or calls…”

  “Shit,” he mumbled. “Buying her an ice cream cone and pretending the world is a giant playground don’t work no more for her.”

  I smiled. “Girl’s all grown up.”

  “Yeah,” he whispered. “I’ll tell her you went up to visit Cain’s old man.”

  “What would I do without you?”

  “Don’t fucking know, hire a nanny to lie to all the women in your life?” he offered.

  I laughed as I walked toward the door, shoving my hands in my pockets and pulling out my fingerless gloves.

  “Where’s your cut?” Blackie called out.

  I pulled the door open, worked my hands into the gloves, flexing my fingers and cracked my knuckles before I glanced over my shoulder at him.

  “Where it belongs,” I replied.

  I stared at the historic chapel for a moment, bowing my head. Despite my beliefs that God didn’t exist, I made the sign of the cross. If by some miracle there was a God, then I hoped he was the comforting soul taking care of Jack. So I did it for him.

  Green-Wood cemetery was huge, over six hundred thousand graves spanned across the land. In the early years after Jack’s passing I got lost trying to find his grave, made more trips to the office than one ever should. Thirteen years later, I knew exactly where my boy was, and I used the chapel as my guide since he was resting close to it.

  I strode across the grass, the leaves crunching under my boots until I found the gray headstone that marked Jack’s home. It didn’t matter how many years had passed or how many times I had been there, each time I saw my name on that stone, the name we shared, I relived the pain of holding his lifeless body.

  I crouched down, brushing the leaves away from his stone, and removed the wilted flowers from the last visitor. I ran my fingertips over his name, the year he was born, the year he died and the role he’d forever hold, “Beloved Son.”

  “Hi, son,” I whispered hoarsely, “Happy birthday.”

  I bowed my head and wiped viciously at the tears that fell from my eyes. I had no right to cry, not in front of him. At first, I didn’t cry because I never wanted him to see my tears. He was all alone, no mommy to dry his tears or daddy to ease his fears. The last thing he needed was to see me cry when I was supposed to be the one who told him it was all going to be all right. It was my job to tell him he was in a better place. He was safe. He was in God’s hands and there was no one better off to protect him than he.

  Lies.

  Every single word.

  He wasn’t better off. Nothing would ever be all right. He shouldn’t be
in this place and the only hands that should’ve kept him safe were mine.

  I reached behind me and pulled the Yankee cap from my back pocket and brought it around, tracing the famous symbol with my finger and bending the rim of the hat. I gripped the hat in my hand as I lifted my head and stared at the stone.

  “I had a dream of you last night,” I started. “You were calling out to me but I didn’t recognize your voice at first. It wasn’t the high-pitched sound of a baby calling ‘dada,’ or even ‘daddy.’ I think I only heard you say daddy a few times before I didn’t anymore. Is it horrible I don’t remember? I’ve tried for the last thirteen years to remember every day of the two years you lived but your dad’s mind isn’t always on his side. Things get fuzzy for me every once in a while, and you slip away from me,” I said, my words catching in my throat. I took a deep breath and tried to gain control over myself. “Anyway, I didn’t recognize your voice because for the first time, I didn’t dream of the boy I lost but instead I dreamt of the young man you never became,” I cried, not able to stop the tears as the reality of my words hit me.

  “You weren’t the chubby baby wobbling around getting into everything, looking to explore, you were a young man, a teenager. Today would’ve been your fifteenth birthday and I know now what you would’ve looked like. Handsome little devil, just like your old man,” I tried to tease, like I imagine I would’ve had he lived. These were the years a boy turned more to his father when he learned what it was to become a man and when he noticed there were other women in this world besides his mother. I bet we would’ve had fun with that.

  “You know, we may never have had the chance to do all the things a father and son get to do, but you should know in my dreams we’ve done it all. I’ve taught you how to ride your bike. I’ve watched you fall down and I’ve picked you up. We’ve had a catch and we’ve played games where I’ve let you win. And as you got older I didn’t let you win, I made you earn the title of champion. I’ve taught you it’s okay to lose sometimes. I’ve taught you the value of a dollar. I’ve taught you respect. You’ve climbed on my bike and pretended to ride it and I’ve made you drive my car while sitting on my lap. We’ve joked around, we’ve teased your sister, and we even pissed your mother off a time or two. We’ve done it all,” I whispered. “And in all those dreams I’ve never seen your face. Not until last night.”