The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I had to rely on him to reign her in, tie her to a chair and tell her she couldn’t fucking go to some frat house because if I said something, Jack would likely tie me to the fucking chair and stick a gun in my mouth.

  Man, if he only knew what the fuck I was thinking.

  I’d be dead.

  “You have a son old enough to be in college?” Reina asked.

  “Yeah, smart as a whip that boy is. It’s no wonder because his mother is dumb as bag of rocks,” he quipped, shoveling more lasagna onto his plate.

  “So you going to let her go?” Pipe questioned, surprised.

  “Why wouldn’t I? In nineteen years she hasn’t given me a problem,” he shrugged his shoulders, diverting his gaze back to mine. “Be good for her to get out, be around people her own age. Especially, after this shit that went down, the girl needs a little fun in her life.”

  I don’t know if he was looking at me, daring me to disagree with him or if he was doing it to torment me.

  Either way, Jack was fucking with me and I didn’t like it.

  “I need to use the john,” I said, rising from my seat and making my way through the house, as Lacey came down the stairs. She had changed into a black tank top and a pair of pants that looked like leather. I looked to the bathroom door in the hallway next to the stairs, pulled open it open, before checking to see if everyone was still at the table then I pushed her into the bathroom and closed the door.

  “Nice outfit,” I growled.

  She bit her lip, as she leaned against the door, peering up at me from the fringe of her lashes.

  “I think so,” she murmured.

  “Bet a lot of people will,” I affirmed, pressing my palm against the door, above her head as I leaned into her. “Girl, you looking to be noticed?”

  She didn’t answer instead; her tongue took a swipe over her lip. I brought my free hand to her hip, pulling her hips against me and forced her to arch her back against the door. I leaned forward, nuzzled her ear as my fingers dug into her hip.

  God, I wanted her.

  I was thinking about taking her again.

  And again.

  Because the next time would be slow, making up for the first time but after that, after I gave her the good she deserved, I’d free the beast and fucking devour her.

  “Remember who saw you first, Lace,” I demanded, against her ear. “Remember who owns that part of you,” I ground out, sinking my teeth into her ear lobe.

  “Blackie,” she rasped.

  My hand traveled from her hip to the snap of her pants, skimming the waistband with my fingers before teasingly sliding them beneath the fabric.

  “I want you to call me to pick you up,” I instructed, removing my hand from the door and pulling the elastic of her pants so my other hand could slide further into her pants and tease her pussy.

  “Yes,” she panted, grinding against the palm of my hand.

  “That’s my girl,” I growled, moving her panties to the side with one finger. “I can’t wait to get my mouth on that sweet cunt,” I said, running my finger up and down the seam of her pussy. “Make it real good for you, Lace…I promise.”

  She whimpered as I leaned back and removed my hand from her pants. I lifted my hand between us, wrapping my mouth around the finger that teased her pussy, sucking the taste of her off before pulling it out of my mouth with a pop.

  “Make it quick. I’ll be waiting,” I ordered, pressing my lips to hers briefly before reaching behind her and opening the door.

  I left her in the bathroom, closed the door behind me and leaned against it before I blew out a ragged breath.

  Decision made.

  I was going for the rewrite.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I visited Christine’s grave every Saturday for the last month as a way to repay Blackie for always doing right by me. I knew it meant something to him, that it gave him purpose in a world where he thought he didn’t have any, and every week he missed a chance to bring her flowers was one week he thought less of himself.

  The first time I brought the flowers I felt like I was doing something wrong, like I shouldn’t have been there and didn’t have the right. It’s kind of fucked up, visiting the grave of a woman who was married to the man you love. It’s not like they were divorced and fell out of love, they were a tragic love story, a modern day Romeo and Juliet, two people who loved one another but fell victim to corruption.

  I know Blackie will always hold a certain love for her.

  As he should.

  That kind of love doesn’t die, it stays with you, guides you into eternity.

  I want that kind of love.

  The second visit I felt the same way but as I stared at her name I forced myself to remember the faint images my memory carried of the woman who made Blackie smile. It was my eleventh birthday and my father threw a party for me at the clubhouse. It was awkward being the biker princess when there weren’t any women in the clubhouse and the presents I got that year were just as strange. Wolf bought me a catcher’s mitt and told me boys my age loved girls who played sports. Pipe, the poor bastard, he gave me a Barbie doll. Imagine? I decided I didn’t really want presents after that, and I anxiously waited for Blackie to arrive.

  He finally showed up, but he wasn’t alone…Christine was with him and they looked so damn happy. I hated them both. Let me explain, I was an eleven-year-old girl, with a crush on a man, not a boy, and he was married to the prettiest girl I had ever seen. Prettier than my mom, prettier than my favorite actress. I realized then, even at that tender age when a girl notices boys, that Blackie only had eyes for her.

  Of course they bought me the cool gift.

  A caboodle full of lip gloss and nail polish.

  Did I mention I hated them?

  The third visit to Christine I talked to her. I told her the truth, confessed my feelings and then I apologized. I apologized for hating her when I was younger and for not getting to know her then. I told her I’d always regret not getting the chance to make a memory with her, something I could compare when Blackie took his trips down memory lane.

  By the fourth visit, I knew he was being released and my time with Christine would come to a close. I asked her to watch over him and promised he’d return next week.

  I never expected him to find me there.

  If he went to the cemetery, found the flowers and wondered who brought them…I’d let him keep wondering.

  But he not only saw me, he heard everything I said and for the first time I became his equal. Someone who could relate and understand. I took a chance, despite the doubt my maker tried to impart on me, hoping he wouldn’t turn a deaf ear to me and pleaded with him.

  He didn’t argue or makes excuses.

  He listened.

  A spark of hope was ignited and even though I wanted to stay with him, never leave his side, I walked away and gave him his overdue visit with his smile keeper.

  My dad and Reina were having everyone over for dinner, a celebration of sorts, thankful that that he survived. I was on pins and needles after I left the cemetery, worried about how he’d act in front of everyone and prayed he wouldn’t act like a world class jerk. I didn’t think my heart could take another blow, especially, not after sharing a tender moment and the softer side of the man clothed in leather.

  He was relatively quiet as he sat beside me, eating the olives I picked out of my salad. He didn’t ignore me or pretend like he wasn’t feeling some kind of way about me. I’m not naïve enough to believe he had some sort of epiphany but I think he thought about the, what if and maybe, just maybe, he walked away from the cemetery carrying the same spark of hope I did.

  My phone blew up, reminding me I had made plans with Daniela and Noah to attend this frat party. I hated college parties, especially the type that included sorority girls.

  Fake.

  Whiney.

  Kappa Annoying.

  I texted Blackie about twenty minutes ago the address I was at but he didn’t answer me. I
hope he didn’t change his mind. He brought me into the bathroom, whispered sexy things into my ear as he slid his hand into my pants.

  I glanced around the room at the guys doing keg stands and smiled.

  There was no comparison.

  Give me my guy over these any day.

  “Come on,” Daniela said, dragging me onto the makeshift dance floor. “Standing here in the corner won’t help us nail one of the frat brothers,” she insisted.

  “That’s fine with me,” I mumbled, making the best of the situation and joined her. I suppose she needed a wingman. I felt a hand on my waist and spun around to meet Noah’s handsome face.

  My best friend was the poster boy for college jock but he wasn’t a jerk like the rest of them. He was sweet, and I hoped pledging didn’t change that about him.

  “There’s my girl,” he exclaimed, hitting me with the scent of alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “Thanks for coming.”

  “And miss your big night? Never,” I teased.

  “No, introduce me to your friend,” the guy standing next to him said.

  I lifted my head, smiled politely as I took him in. I had seen him around campus before. He might even be in one of my classes, maybe English, I don’t remember…. nor did I remember his name.

  “Lacey, Brandon. Brandon, Lacey,” Noah introduced, turning around to glare at his friend. “This one’s off limits, man.”

  “She yours?” Brandon questioned with a smile.

  “She’s mine,” a voice said from behind me.

  That voice.

  Those two words.

  It all gave me goosebumps.

  He came.

  I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulled her against me and glared at the little fuck, watching as he stared back at me, surrendering his hands in the air.

  “Didn’t know they were letting parents chaperone,” he laughed.

  Kid had a death wish.

  “Dude,” the guy next to him warned. I had seen him with Lacey a handful of times. “Don’t you know who he is? Man, read the fucking patch before you go saying something stupid.”

  Lacey twisted in my arms, lifting a hand to my face and forcing my eyes to hers.

  “Let’s just get out of here, okay?”

  I nodded, diverting my gaze back to the little shit who rolled his eyes as Noah whispered in his ear.

  She grabbed my hand and dragged me away.

  “You look like you’re going to snap his neck,” she commented, over the loud music. Ignoring her, I stepped around her and pulled her through the sea of dicks fist-pumping away, hoping to get a blow job.

  Wolf was right.

  Lacey didn’t belong here.

  She belonged with me, on the back of my bike, in my bed…anywhere but surrounded by a bunch of little pricks who didn’t know how to work their dicks.

  I didn’t stop moving until we were outside and standing in front of my bike. I unclipped the chin strap from my helmet, turned around and handed it to her.

  “Time for your first ride,” I said, urging her to take the helmet.

  She cocked her head to the side, her dark eyes smiled at mine as she raised an eyebrow.

  “You did that already,” she teased, taking the helmet as she chewed on her lower lip. Hesitating for a beat before reaching up on her tip toes and pressing her lips to mine.

  She pulled back, pulling the helmet over her head and moved to adjust the chin strap but I stopped her, pushing her hands out of the way and did it myself.

  “That was nothing, girl,” I promised.

  She had no idea what she was in for and that thought alone got me rock hard. The idea of watching her face as she learned how to give and receive pleasure was enough to make me lose my mind.

  I would have to muster up whatever self-control I could.

  I wasn’t fucked up, the methadone was keeping me straight. I’d remember every goddamn thing about her…the way she feels, the noises she makes, and the look in her eyes when she loses control.

  I pulled away from her, patted the seat on my bike with one hand and adjusted my cock with the other. Poor thing was going to suffer for a while. I straddled my bike, revved the engine and waited for her to climb on behind me. After a quick glance to make sure she had her legs positioned right and her feet firmly planted on the pegs I tightened her arms around my middle.

  “Where are we going?” she questioned against my ear.

  “To heaven,” I called over my shoulder, pulling away from the curb.

  Strange words coming from a man who’s been to hell more times than he could count.

  But that’s exactly where we were headed.

  A heaven where she was mine and I was hers.

  After she texted me the address where to pick her up, I excused myself from dinner, told the guys I needed to handle something and without leaving room for questions I took off. I debated for about ten seconds what I would do with Lacey once I had her…it wasn’t like I could bring her to the clubhouse and after Christine died I gave up my apartment and moved my shit into my room at the Dog Pound.

  I guess back then I didn’t bank on claiming daddy’s little girl.

  So, with no other option, the decision was made I’d take her back to Staten Island and pray to God, it was the right move.

  On the Verrazano Bridge she rested her head on my shoulder and I took one hand off the handlebars to touch her hand pressed against my shoulder.

  “You okay?” I shouted into the dark night, against the wind and the sound of traffic, unsure if she even heard me.

  She squeezed my hand, didn’t even attempt to holler an answer until we were at the toll booth, then she leaned into my ear.

  “I’m so much better than okay,” she said.

  I paid the toll and rode the expressway, getting off at the Todt Hill exit. As I veered off I questioned my plan and why I didn’t just take her to a hotel. But I knew why...she deserved better than that. She deserved the best I could give and taking her here, opening this part of myself, this was the best I could come up with.

  Five minutes later I turned onto a dead end and pulled into the driveway of the last house on the block before killing the engine. I dropped the kickstand and braced myself as I stared up at the house.

  “Blackie?”

  I turned my head, reaching down to take her hands in mine.

  “Hmm?”

  “Where are we?”

  I glanced back at the house, taking in the appearance of it and how the weeds and bushes grew so out of control, nearly covering up the windows on the first floor.

  “Home,” I said hoarsely, clearing my throat before snapping out of the trance I was succumbing to. “Come on,” I urged, giving her knee a squeeze.

  She climbed off the bike and remained at my side as I watched her take off the helmet and uncover her hair that was a mess, trying to tame the unruly strands.

  I looked at her and was granted the strength I never could find before. I dismounted my bike, took her hand and tucked her against my side as we continued the length of the walkway.

  “Careful,” I warned, tipping my chin toward the third step leading to the front door that was warped.

  I could feel her eyes on me as I reached into my leather jacket and pulled out the keys, spinning the ring around my finger as I roughly threaded my fingers through my hair and cupped the back of my neck.

  “I know you said this was home, but home should be a place you want to go to not somewhere you dread,” she whispered.

  I looked at her.

  “I want to be here. I want to be here with you,” I assured her. “I never expected to want to come back here or ever bring someone here…until you.”

  My eyes lingered on her face.

  How could something so perfect be here with me?

  How could she be the one who breaths life back into me?

  I turned around, fitted the key into the lock and pushed open the stiff door. I watched her step inside and I felt a lump
work its way into my throat. I bought this house at a time in my life when Lacey didn’t exist in my world…sure, she was part of my life but she wasn’t my everything.

  Not then.

  There were reasons I bought this house, and a woman I pictured greeting me at the door and it wasn’t Lacey but looking at her now, as she tried to turn on the lights, it became clear that life worked in mysterious ways. You can plan your whole fucking life but it just takes one thing to change the course you’re on…and sometimes you think it’s the end but the end of something is the beginning of something else.

  There was only one person who belonged here.

  One person that could make me want to come home.

  And that person was staring back at me with confusion written all over her pretty little face.

  “You weren’t even on my radar,” I admitted huskily as I closed the distance between us and brushed her hand away from the light switch. I took her hand and walked her towards the back of the house, to the large empty room with floor to ceiling windows. The moonlight shone through along with the lights of the bridge that was off in the distance.

  “Wow,” she whispered, letting go of my hand to walk towards the windows. “What a beautiful view.”

  “You ain’t kidding,” I said as I leaned against the wall and watched her stare at the scenery.

  Prettiest view a man like me ever got to see.

  When did I become a lucky bastard?

  She slowly turned around, the moonlight illuminating her face. I call her my angel and in that moment that’s exactly what she looked like.

  The angel sent to rescue me.

  Mine.

  There was that word again.

  “Blackie, tell me,” she started. “Is this your house? Why are we here?”

  “Yeah, it is,” I exhaled. “I thought a man’s worth was measured in his possessions. Greed. It was all I knew and I kept reaching higher, making moves left and right, climbing the ladder and increasing my bankroll. I had no conscience, none at all. I would do a score, get paid, and instantly look for a bigger score, one with a higher payout and equally high consequences. I lost myself to the greed, and I began to lose Christine too. She didn’t care about the money, the fancy things I’d come home with, all she wanted was the man she married in her life. I didn’t see it then.”