The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  “Dinner will be at seven,” Lenore calls to us as Riggs grabs my hand and pulls me away from his parents.

  Dragging me through the mini mansion, Riggs takes off like a bat out of hell. Everything about him screams that he wanted to be anywhere but here, yet this was his idea—his surprise. The fun, easy-going guy I love disappeared and I was left with the part of him I knew very little about.

  I dig my heels into the grass once we reach the backyard and force him to turn around and look at me.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What am I doing?” Widening my eyes, I questioned him. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  “Hanging onto what’s left of my sanity?” he offers, sighing as he repositions Eric in his arms. “This fucking place makes my skin crawl,” he admits, dropping onto one of the lounge chairs and placing Eric on his lap.

  “Then why are we here?”

  “I thought it would be nice to get away,” he says quickly.

  Too quickly.

  “The truth, Riggs,” I demand softly, crossing my arms under my chest as I take in the scenery, the rolling greens, the pool that sits gated to the left of the property and the custom built bar and grill area across from it. It’s beautiful here, the perfect getaway for a family yet the memories I can see us making aren’t the type of memories Riggs has of this place.

  “We used to come here every summer,” he starts. “My father would lock himself away in his office and my mother would bang her tennis coach,” he sneers. “She’d come home from the country club and they’d fight. He’d accuse her, she’d deny it—they’d scream for hours. Bones’ mom would take us out here and we’d play for hours, pretend we were soldiers fighting against the bad guys. By the time the sun went down, my father was gone and my mother was sitting in her room nursing one of those Bloody Mary’s she likes so much.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say, sitting beside him on the chaise lounge.

  “Seeing them like this, pretending the last twenty-five years didn’t happen is fucking driving me insane,” he grimaces, placing a kiss to Eric’s head. “Sorry, I meant to say ducking.”

  “They don’t seem at odds now,” I say thoughtfully. “Maybe they’ve made peace.”

  His gaze turns soft as he props his chin on Eric’s head and stares at me. There was so much in his eyes—adoration, love, forever.

  “Never change, Kitten,” he pleads. “You’re all the good left in the world.”

  He wraps his arm around my shoulder and pulls me into the crook of his arm.

  “I hope our kids all have your heart,” he declares.

  “Are we interrupting?” Lenore questions, holding a tray full of empty glasses and pitcher of what looked like lemonade.

  I smiled, leaning closer to Riggs.

  “Be nice,” I warn through clenched teeth.

  “Did you spike that?” he asks his mother as she fills the glasses.

  “No but I can if you’d prefer that,” she lifts her eyes to his and raises an eyebrow.

  “Might not be a bad idea,” he says, holding her gaze.

  Riggs’ hold on me loosens a bit, and I swear his mother smiles at him. Mr. Montgomery sits across from us, waving playfully at Eric as he averts his eyes back and forth between me and Riggs.

  “So how did you two meet?”

  “Lauren was dancing on top of a bar when I first met her,” he says proudly.

  “He kidnapped my mother,” I blurt simultaneously, before we both burst out laughing and his parents gawk at us.

  “I think spiking the lemonade is a great idea,” Lenore states.

  “I’ll get the Goose,” Mr. Montgomery offers, rising to his feet. Eric raises his hands as his grandfather stands, causing the man to freeze in his tracks and Riggs to wrap his arms protectively around our son.

  “I’m not a vulture,” Mr. Montgomery says, smiling at Eric. “How about an ice pop?” he turns his gaze to me. “We sent Roger to the store for a couple of things, unsure what he might like. We have all different flavors of those natural fruit bars. Is he allergic to anything?”

  “Who are you?” Riggs mutters.

  “No, Mr. Montgomery. Eric doesn’t have any allergies why don’t you bring him out your favorite and we’ll see if he likes it.”

  “Call me, Robert, please,” he requests before looking back at his son. “And to answer your question, I’m your father. I might not have been a great one, even a decent one, but you are my son and I’d like the chance to be some kind of father.”

  Riggs was speechless.

  Somewhere pigs were flying and hell was freezing over.

  Lenore pours half a bottle of Grey Goose into the lemonade, refilling the pitcher after we finished the first one. Once she lost the uptight act, she wasn’t all that bad. She told me stories about when Riggs was little. There weren’t many but the few she told had me smiling. My favorite was the one she told about Riggs and Bones lighting the garbage cans on fire.

  Robert watched off to the side as Riggs chased Eric around the grass, building his courage to join in before three generations ran around the yard chasing a soccer ball. It wasn’t perfect, there was still tension between Riggs and his parents but they were trying and in turn so was he.

  Later that night, I left Riggs and Eric on the bed and drew myself a bath. The bathroom connected to our room was almost the size of our apartment. The minute I sank into the bubbles I felt like Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman, the only thing missing was Prince singing in my ear.

  Relaxed, I close my eyes and rest my head against the back of the tub. My fingers shrivel but I continue to stay buried beneath the bubbles when the door creaks open and I force my eyes open. Leaning against the door frame, wearing nothing but a fitted pair of boxer briefs, Riggs fixes his hungry eyes on mine. I try to hold his gaze but my eyes wander down his tattooed body. Every piece of ink tells the story of who he was and who he became. Today, I learned a little of who Riggs used to be before the Satan’s Knights MC and I love those broken pieces just as much as the colorful package he’s become.

  “Eric’s sleeping,” he says, pushing off the frame of the door, casually striding toward me. “How’s the water?”

  “Cold now,” I hoarsely reply, cocking my head to the side as he kneels in front of the tub. Nonchalantly he dips his hand under the lukewarm water and touches my thigh.

  You feeling frisky, Tiger?” I ask as he caresses my leg brushing away what’s left of the bubbles so I’m exposed to his hungry eyes.

  “Why, Kitten?” he smirks, lifting his gaze as his hand curls around my thigh. “You wanna play?” he asks mischievously as his fingers tickle the inside of my thigh, trailing higher and higher. I open my mouth to speak but the words get lost on my tongue as his fingers glide over my pussy.

  “Hmm.” He probes, his infamous grin slyly displayed across his face as he continues to stroke me.

  “You don’t play fair,” I hiss as he slides two fingers inside me. I close my eyes, loving the feel of him and arch my body against his hand making slight waves around me.

  “Maybe not,” he says thoughtfully. “But I always get you off first. Sounds like a win-win to me,” he counters, expertly moving and curling his fingers inside me. “You want to get off, Kitten, don’t you?”

  “Mmm,” I murmur. His fingers leave me as he swirls his thumb over my clit. Water splashes as I widen my legs as much as I can, throwing one over the edge of the tub. My eyes shoot to him as he slams his fingers back where I want them and smiles cockily.

  “Yeah, you want to get off,” he states. Leaning over my leg he turns his gaze beneath the water to his hand. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he groans or maybe he whimpers.

  Actually, it’s me. I’m the one whimpering because he’s right, it is hot and incredible, and not enough. I close my hand around his wrist and stare into his eyes. He knows the look I’m giving him, he’s real familiar with it. It’s the look I give him when I’m desperate for his dick. The look that tells him this Kitt
en wants to get fucked hard.

  “Up you go,” he says, pulling his hand away. He slides his hands under my arms and lifts me out of the tub, water splashes everywhere as I wrap my arms and legs around him. Carefully he walks across the wet tiles being sure he doesn’t slip and send us both flying, he makes his way to the counter. Setting me on top of it, he removes my arms from around his neck and places my palms flat against the counter.

  “Don’t move,” he warns. I lick my lips as his hands move from mine and he works his boxers down his thick, muscular legs. Stepping between my legs, he grabs my thighs and secures them around his waist, pressing his thickness against my core.

  “You going to scream for me?” he growls against my ear, taking my earlobe between his teeth and tugging slightly.

  My ass slides further against the counter, craving the friction of his dick rubbing against me.

  “Loud and proud, Tiger,” I say reaching for him.

  “Didn’t I tell you not to move?” he grunts, reaching between us to wrap his fist around his cock.

  “Don’t you know by now I don’t follow instructions?” I counter breathlessly. He rubs the swollen head of his cock along my entrance.

  “Tell me how you want it? Talk to me, Kitten, give me the good stuff,” he says, continuously stroking himself with one hand. His free hand reaches behind me and squeezes my ass, pushing me forward, I think he’s going to finally give me what I need but all he does is tease me more.

  “You going to hold your cock or you going to fuck me with it, Tiger?” I taunt. “Fuck me nice, fuck me good, fast and hard on this counter, up against the wall, bend me over and do what you do best but for the love of God just do it,” I rasp, peering up at him through hooded eyes.

  He releases his hold on his cock, wrapping both arms around me and lifts me off the counter by my ass. He takes a couple of steps before slamming my back against the wall, lining his cock with my entrance.

  “I love it when you talk dirty,” he grits, thrusting deep and hard inside of me.

  I wrap my arms around his back, my nails dig in as he takes me fast, hard, mercilessly. With every pounding thrust, the back of my head slams against the wall. Neither of us care as the fancy framed art work falls off the wall crashing onto the tile. We don’t stop, we don’t slow down, if anything he fucks me harder and I take him deeper.

  “Riggs,” I growl, feeling my orgasm take flight. I frantically rock my hips, chasing it, demanding it until his mouth closes over mine and his tongue mimics the actions of his cock. He fucks my mouth softly, gently, but continues to fuck me hard and recklessly with his cock.

  “Come for me, Kitten,” he grunts against my mouth.

  I scream his name as my body goes over the edge. Clenching my legs tightly around him, my pussy squeezes his cock, insisting we do this together, desperate to feel him unravel.

  “Fuck,” he cries as he drops his head to my shoulder, groaning as his dick jerks inside of me and he fills me with his release.

  Our breaths are ragged as he comes down from the high and I wonder how he has the strength to stand, much less hold me up. My legs are like Jell-O, my body hums with relief as he kisses my shoulder. Finally, he lifts his head and stares at me.

  “We broke the picture,” I say, glancing over his shoulder at the shattered glass.

  “Fuck the picture,” he mutters, grinning widely. “Give me twenty minutes and we’ll break another.”

  I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck and lean in to brush my lips across his. I frown against his mouth as he slowly pulls out of me.

  “Don’t worry, baby, the Tiger isn’t finished with you yet,” he assures me with a wink. “Going to fuck you until my dick don’t work no more and you can’t walk,” he says before bursting out laughing. “Should make for good conversation with the oil diggers over breakfast.”

  I feel my cheeks redden as he reminds me that Lenore and Robert probably heard their son fucking me senseless.

  I drop my head into my hands and groan.

  “Aren’t you happy you brought me home to meet the folks?”

  “Actually, I am,” he admits, pulling my hands away from my face. “Come on, MIJF Let’s take a shower.”

  I furrow my eyebrows at the initials.

  “What did you just call me?” I ask as he slides me down and steadies me on my feet. Rolling his eyes, he laughs and leads me to the glass showers.

  “Mom I just fucked,” he says cheekily, biting the inside of his cheek as he pulls me into the glass enclosed shower. His eyes travel the length of my body as he turns on the water. “I take it back. You’re the hot as fuck mom I just fucked.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Three days without my club, my bike and my brothers felt strange, unnatural—wrong. Three motherfucking days on the lam like I was some snitch in the witness protection program, it was driving me mad and that was putting it mildly. A more accurate description would be I was fucking losing my mind. It’s not that I wasn’t enjoying my time with Lauren and Eric. I couldn’t even blame my insanity on my parents, as fucked as they are, they were genuinely trying. My mother stopped looking at me like I would pocket her silverware and my old man was trying, real fucking hard, to get to know me. He was even putting in a real effort with Eric and Lauren which made me smile more times than I care to admit.

  I was losing my shit because I had no idea what was going on back home, and fucking lying to Kitten sucked balls. I spoke my mind freely without worry, without consequence, there were no lies between me and my girl until the fucking mob folk fucked with us. Again.

  I finally heard from Blackie yesterday when he texted me on my burner phone, informing me they were working on figuring out how to get me back home with my family. Ronan, that useless piece of shit, was a dead end. Even the Corrupt Bastards think he’s a shady motherfucker and want nothing to do with him. I’ve been doing some work on my end whenever I can steal a moment away from Lauren and the fucking Partridge Family, but it’s hard. Yesterday I took my laptop into the bathroom with me, faking a case of the shits so I could tap into the Federal Bureau of Prison’s database and get an extensive report of all names approved to visit the G-Man. Forty-seven fucking names. I don’t even know if that’s a legit thing, could a prisoner really have that many approved visitors? Whatever, all I know is I’m going to have to fake a stroke to get background information on all those names.

  Sitting on the veranda overlooking the water, I take a long pull of the blunt I snuck away to smoke. I close my mouth, hold the smoke in until my lungs feel heavy and my throat burns. Puffing out a ring of smoke, I reach for my burner phone and dial Jack’s number. The Bulldog is getting married today and instead of getting my fill of cherry fucking pie, I’m playing charades with my drunk mother, talking shop with my pops and fucking Kitten senseless. Shit, we’ve been going at it like rabbits since we’ve been here. I think subconsciously I believe I can fuck her into forgetting that the wedding is today.

  I’m sure she’s skeptical as to why we’re here playing like we’re on an episode of Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous, but she hasn’t asked many questions. She didn’t bust my balls about leaving so abruptly and the more time goes on I think she believes I genuinely wanted to surprise her. At least that’s what I hope. Kitten will get all mafia princess on my ass if she finds out I’m lying or that there is a threat against us. After thoroughly scoping out the house I didn’t find any baseball bats, but papa dukes does have a fancy set of golf clubs that are accessible to Lauren. I’m fucking done, good as dead if the little Yankee gets her hands on one of those and starts swinging, no Bastard or goon of the G-Man would stand a chance—she’d take me out with one shot.

  I take another drag as the phone rings in my ear and I wait for Jack to answer.

  “Parrish.”

  “Well if it isn’t the fucking groom,” I say, choking on the smoke as I exhale.

  “Brother,” he starts then pauses for a moment. “How you holding up?”

&nb
sp; “Peachy,” I say. “No ‘Al Capones’ lurking around this place just uptight rich folk.”

  “Pipe’s working on neutralizing our situation. We’re going to meet with our friends in Boston this week and hopefully get your ass back to Brooklyn by Friday.”

  “No honeymoon then?” I question, as I crush the tip of my blunt with my fingers.

  “Nah, after the baby is born I’m going to take her somewhere nice,” he says. “Now isn’t the time for me to go off the grid.”

  “Yeah,” I sigh.

  “We will make it right, Riggs,” he states.

  “I know that,” I reply, pulling off my baseball hat and running my fingers roughly through my hair. “But listen, I called to wish you luck. It ain’t every day the Bulldog takes a wife. Fuck, wish I was there to see you in a monkey suit.”

  “No monkey suit here, brother,” Jack says laughing.

  “You’re getting married in your leathers?”

  “Fucking, damn right, boy.”

  “Take a fucking picture, please,” I laugh.

  “I’m pretty sure I dished out a few G’s for a photographer. That motherfucker better take pictures of everything, someone sneezes he better capture it.”

  “Well, I won’t keep you I just wanted to call and congratulate you. Reina’s great man, perfect for you, and we’re all lucky to have her around the clubhouse.”

  “Thanks, brother, means a lot. Take care of you and yours.”

  “Always,” I vow. Standing up, I turn around and face Lauren.

  Shit.

  Quickly, I disconnect the call and shove my phone into the pocket of my jeans and stare at a very pissed, very ferocious Kitten.

  “Funny thing happened,” she starts, stepping toward me.

  “Oh yeah?” I say, taking a step back trying to put some distance between us. She appears to be unarmed but I wasn’t a hundred percent positive, we were talking about Lauren, the girl who carried a can of Mace in her bag at all times.

  “Hmm,” she hums, eyes bulging a little. “I don’t know who I am mad at most, me or you. Me, because I’ve been so distracted that I didn’t realize what today is or you for purposely lying and avoiding what today is.”