The Escape: An Irish Mafia Romance (Downing Family Book 1)

by Cassie Wild

  She started to thrash under me, her mouth open as she panted for air, her eyes staring at me blindly.

  She gripped my arms, neat, short nails biting into my skin. I could feel the hard tips of her breasts as I pumped against her and I wanted to stop what I was doing and go to my knees, seek out those pouting nipples and bite them, suck them.

  But I didn’t change rhythm, didn’t alter my course.

  Not until she exploded under me.

  She writhed and gasped and rocked against me, hungry little noises escaping her.

  I didn’t stop moving until she went lax under me, her mouth parted, eyes mostly closed.

  I slid from the bed and went into the bathroom, grabbing the box of condoms from the cabinet under the sink.

  Returning to the room, I tore the box open and ripped one foil packet off the strip.

  I put the rubber on. As I was rolling it down my cock, I felt her eyes on me and I lifted my head, staring at her as I gave the rubber one final tug.

  Her eyes were on my hands. Instead of slipping back into the bed, I wrapped my fist around my dick and stroked.

  Her eyes widened.

  She darted a quick, nervous look at my face, then went back to staring at my movements, my expert stroking. A few seconds later, she looked away, biting her lip.

  “Why are you looking at the ceiling?” I asked her.

  “Because … um …” She finished with a wordless shake of her head, that bright pink staining her cheeks.

  “If I didn’t want you to watch me, I wouldn’t be doing it.” I stopped, though, and went back to the bed, dragging the sheets down and moving to take position between her thighs. I stared at her hungrily as I wrapped my hand around my cock once more.

  “It doesn’t feel as good as you do,” I told her. “But thinking about having your pussy wrapped around me, watching you as you try not to stare … it’s a bigger turn-on than you can imagine.”

  “You …” She stopped, licked her lips, then tried again. “You like having me watch you?”

  “Yes.” I shuddered and pumped my dick harder, faster. “I’m thinking about you open and under me, begging me. It’s good. Want to make it even better?”

  “How do I do that?” she whispered, fascination in her voice.

  “Touch yourself.” I stared at the notch between her thighs. “Put your hand between your thighs and play with yourself. Let me watch you.”

  She had gone stiff, eyes wide and disbelieving.

  “Do it.” I added an edge of command to my voice and was rewarded as she slowly slid her hand down her torso, then between her thighs.

  She was hesitant at first. That just made it sexier.

  “How wet are you?” I asked, even though she was already wet enough that moisture had darkened the deep gold curls between her thighs, dampening that neatly-groomed patch of hair.

  Her eyes met mine, then swept away.

  I didn’t push her.

  “Spread your thighs wider, Daria. Let me see what you’re doing.”

  She obeyed and I had to swallow back a groan as she pushed a finger inside her cunt.

  “Are you wet?” I demanded again.

  “Yes.” Her voice hitched as she spoke and she stared at me with wide, hungry eyes.

  “How wet?”

  “So wet,” she whispered. She moved her fingers faster. “It’s not enough, Brooks. Please!”

  “Not yet,” I told her, still fisting my cock and pumping. “Use your other hand. Rub your clit. You’re so sensitive there”

  She didn’t hesitate this time and I groaned as she used the fingers of her free hand to stroke her clitoris. Hard, tight little circles that soon had her pumping her hips as the flush spread across her entire body.

  She pushed herself to the edge as I watched, then, before she could go ever, I grabbed her hands and pinned them down over her head. “Don’t come yet,” I told her, fitting myself against her entrance.

  Her gaze had gone opaque. I had no idea if she heard me.

  I had to thrust and work myself past the tight grip of her cunt and by the time I was buried inside her, she was trembling, the shudders causing her entire body to shake.

  But she hadn’t come.

  “Good girl,” I whispered against her ear. Now, swathed in her heat, I began to move, thrusting into her slow and steady.

  She moaned, the sound deep and guttural, coming from somewhere buried inside her. She tugged against the hold I had on her wrists.

  I didn’t let go.

  I kept up that slow, teasing rhythm until neither of us could handle any more.

  I withdrew from her and rolled her onto her hands and knees, then, bracing her with my hands at her hips, I drove inside her, harder, faster, deeper.

  She cried, at the jolting impact.

  But I wasn’t hurting her. She scrabbled against the bedclothes and shuddered and thrust back onto my cock, seeking more.

  I gave it to her.

  We strained together, me thrusting deep, her shoving back, her butt lifted as she asked for more.

  I raised my hand over the soft curve of her back, then brought it down on her ass.

  She yelped—and came. Just like that.

  I felt her cunt grip me so tight and hard and then she erupted, shuddering and crying and shaking.

  If this wasn’t perfection, it had to be pretty damn close.

  “So you haven’t seen your real mom since you were four?” I asked her. Several hours had passed since we’d risen from the tangled, messy sheets of the bed. If I had my way, we would have spent the entire day there, but as I held her in my arms, I heard the distinctive gurgle coming from her belly.

  So I fed her.

  Now we were out walking along the beach, the long, pale blue skirt of the dress she wore tangling and whipping around our legs in the breeze.

  “No.” She gave me a sad look. “I lived at a boarding school and when I wasn’t there studying, I was with Galina, one of Moscow’s top dancers in her time. After Galina died, I might have become a ward, but Kiska, one of the teachers at my school adopted me. I was with her until I left to come study in the US.”

  She told me about the school she attended in New York City.

  I didn’t know anything about the Burov Academy. But I didn’t know much about ballet, either. I had been to a few ballets, in Philadelphia and in New York, but that was the extent of my knowledge about the field.

  Still, the name Burov stuck out for me for some reason. I had no idea why. Pushing it to the back of my mind, I focused on Daria.

  “I’d like to see you dance,” I told her.

  “You have.” Her cheeks flushed as she looked away.

  I knew why she was blushing—she was thinking about the little show she’d put on at the stripper joint.

  “On stage,” I said lightly. “In one of those …” I gestured at her hips. “The tutus. I want you to dance only for me while I watch you.”

  Her eyes came back to mine. She licked her lips and slowly said, “Maybe I will do that. For you. One time.”

  I’d like it to be a lot more than once but I was satisfied with what I’d gotten from her. For now.

  “I’d like to go out there on a boat,” she said abruptly, changing the subject.

  We’d reached the dock where I kept my small yacht and the fishing boat.

  “Is that a request?” I asked her.

  “Yes.” She tipped her head back and studied me. “Will you take me out there?”

  I’d have a hard time denying her much of anything when she looked at me like that.

  I managed not to tell her that, though. “The yacht takes more work. I usually have one of my men handle her when I take her out. But we could take the other boat out for a little bit, if you like.”

  Pleasure lit her eyes and she rose up onto to her toes, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Thank you.”

  I showed her how to handle the little craft. Curiosity had brightened her eyes as I led her onboard, so I led her thr
ough the initial check, then showed her to start the engine. Once we were free of the dock, I moved to the side and let her take my place.

  “I can’t do this!” She stared at me wide-eyed.

  “I’ll be helping you,” I told her. “Come on.”

  She licked her lips, then nodded.

  I kept it slow, guiding her through the instruments, explaining how to control the speed.

  Soon, she had us out in open water and she shot me a brilliant smile before focusing back on the controls. “It’s so easy,” she murmured. “I would have thought it would be harder than this.”

  “Well, you still have to be careful.” I brought the speed back down, closing my hand over hers as the speed edged off.

  “Is that Cuba up there?” she asked, nodding her head to the north.

  “No. It’s an island just a little bigger than this one. Cuba is just past it,” I told her.

  “Duncan said you own this island,” she said, voice softer.

  “Duncan talks a lot,” I said mildly.

  “Do you, though? Own it, I mean?”

  “Yes.”

  She gaped at me until I tucked a finger under her chin and nudged her mouth closed.

  “It’s not that big an island,” I told her. “We could circle around it in this boat in hardly any time.”

  “It’s still an island. That’s like…it’s almost like you own a country or something.”

  I laughed. “Not even close. I wouldn’t want to own a country. Too much responsibility.”

  I brought the boat’s speed down and Daria moved over to the one of the seats, sitting down and staring out on the water with a look of rapt appreciation. “If I’d thought about it, I would have had Duncan ready the yacht. We could have spent the day on the water and I would show you how to snorkel.”

  “That would have been fun,” she said. Then she shot me a brilliant smile. “But this is pretty great. I’ve never seen water so blue. It’s just so beautiful.”

  “Yes,” I agreed, staring at her. “It is.”

  But she didn’t notice my attention and that let me just keep observing her in silence, from the rosy glow of her cheeks to the few tendrils of hair that had escaped the loose knot on top of her head.

  She was beautiful. I was starting to crave her, and not just having her spread out underneath me in bed, either.

  Dangerous thoughts, I told myself. Dangerous thoughts.

  If I was smart, I’d go back to the US and deal with her problem so she could go back to her life and I could go back to mine.

  But I was reluctant to even consider her walking away from me.

  Not yet, I thought. Not yet.

  Twenty-Five

  Daria

  I was pleasantly flushed and tired when we returned to the island. Brooks kept his arm around my waist as we made our way back to the house.

  “I think I need a nap,” I told him as we slid in through the door where I’d first seen Duncan. The room beyond that was a library, the colors warm and soft, just like the rest of the house. There was a fat, overstuffed chair and I thought about curling up in it and sleeping…for a month.

  “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ve got some phone calls to make anyway.”

  “I think I will.” Smiling up at him, I said, “Don’t let me sleep too long. I won’t sleep tonight if I do.”

  “I’ll find a way to wear you out if you end up sleepless,” he told me, pressing a kiss to the soft skin behind my right ear.

  Although that fat chair was beckoning, I decided to go back up to the room.

  The dress I’d worn was long and I decided to sleep in one of Brooks’ shirts again.

  But the dress shirt I’d used the night before was nowhere to be found. The bed was neatly made and I realized the staff had already been in to straighten the room.

  Instead of ransacking the neat row of shirts in the closet, I went over to his dresser and tugged open a drawer.

  My jaw dropped when I saw what was inside.

  There were no shirts.

  I saw handcuffs. A strip of silk. Other items I couldn’t identify, although one of them looked like a smooth, wooden paddle.

  My breathing hitched up and I hurriedly slammed the drawer shut, jerking open another.

  It took three more tries before I finally found a drawer of neatly folded t-shirts. My hands fumbled as I yanked it out then closed the drawer.

  Moving over to the bed, I stripped out of my dress.

  My mind was on the drawer and the stuff I’d seen inside it.

  Those things were Brooks’. They had to be, otherwise they wouldn’t be in his dresser.

  I had a flash in my mind—it was the cover of a book Isabel had convinced me to read. The hero had been a dominant. He’d used handcuffs, rope, other things to bind the heroine in the book.

  Was that…

  Even considering the idea had me licking my lips and I found myself eying that particular drawer like the things inside it might come alive.

  Deliberately, I turned my back to the dresser as I pulled the t-shirt on.

  I all but dove into the bed, pressing my overheated cheek to the pillow.

  Try as I might, though, I couldn’t block what I’d seen from my mind.

  It took a very long time for me to slide into a restless slumber.

  I was still unsettled hours later as we sat down to eat dinner on the terrace just outside the kitchen. The air was perfumed by the various plants and flowers blooming around us, the familiar bite of the ocean lingering just under the surface.

  I couldn’t make myself comfortable, though. The food, which looked beautiful, tasted like sawdust on my tongue and I stopped trying to eat after a few bites of each dish.

  “Not to your liking?” Brooks asked, a glass of whiskey in his hand.

  I’d turned down the offer of a drink earlier, but now I wished I had taken Brooks up on it.

  “Everything is delicious,” I told him. “I’m just not hungry.”

  I caught my lower lip between my teeth and chewed on it for a few seconds. The light caught the amber liquid in his rocks glass and I blurted out, “Can I have some scotch? Whiskey? Whatever it is you’re drinking?”

  He lifted a brow, but nodded. I was quiet as he rose from the chair and disappeared into the house, returning a few moments later with a bottle and another glass. “Do you like ice?” he asked.

  “However you drink it is fine,” I responded.

  He splashed some of the beverage into a glass and offered it to me. “It’s a shame to dilute good scotch with water.”

  “Oh. Okay. That’s fine then.” I took a small sip as he returned to his chair, then another. “Wow. I’ve never had anything like this before.”

  He flashed me a grin and lifted his glass in my direction. “Smooth, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “Yes.” It glided down my throat like heated silk, warming me all the way down to my belly.

  I might have been better off if I hadn’t drunk it so fast, especially considering how little food I’d eaten. My filter was easily disengaged and it didn’t take much for me to stop worrying about that filter, either. Just a few sips of the expensive booze and I found myself thinking more and more about that drawer upstairs, the things I’d seen.

  I took another healthy swallow of the scotch as I wondered what all of that stuff meant.

  Was Brooks a dominant? Did he like all that kinky stuff?

  Ask him, a devious little voice inside me suggested.

  If I hadn’t had a drink, I never would have even considered it. But…I had nearly demolished the serving of scotch he’d given me and when he lifted the bottle in inquiry, I nodded greedily.

  It took exactly two more sips for me to lose control of that filter completely.

  “Are you a dominant?” I asked. Later, I would probably be embarrassed. But later could take care of itself. Right then, I was just so curious and I had to know.

  Brooks was in the middle of lifting his glass to his lips, but now, he
lowered it and stared at me across the table.

  “What makes you ask that?”

  I licked my lips, not quite tipsy enough to lose my nerve. “I was looking for a t-shirt to wear while I napped,” I said. “I opened a drawer and you had … stuff inside it.”

  “Stuff,” he echoed. He leaned forward, eyes intent on mine. “That’s very vague, Daria. What kind of … stuff?”

  I squirmed now, his insightful gaze cutting right through me.

  As he continued to watch me, I wondered if maybe I should have tried harder to keep my filter in place.

  But it was too late now.

  “Handcuffs. Rope. I think I saw a paddle. Are you going to answer me?”

  Instead of responding, he took a sip of his scotch and slumped in the chair. “It made you curious, didn’t it?” he asked softly.

  “That’s why I’m asking,” I said.

  “It would have freaked a lot of women out. But you look intrigued.”

  He rose from his chair and stood behind me, his hands draped over my shoulders.

  “Are you intrigued, Daria?”

  “Yes,” I whispered. I couldn’t deny it, could I?

  “I am a dominant,” he said, still standing behind me. The heat of his hands on my skin was shocking.

  “I enjoy having a woman submit to me sexually,” he said. “I’ve thought about binding your wrists behind your back and having you kneel in front of me as I slowly feed you my cock.”

  A low, hungry noise echoed around us and it took a few seconds to realize that I had made that sound, that greedy, needy whimper.

  “Would you like that, Daria?” he asked, his lips next to my ear now.

  “I…” I had to stop and clear my throat, then swallow. Twice. “I think I would, Brooks.”

  He slid one hand down inside the neckline of my dress and found my nipple, toying with it.

  I gasped, looking at the door that led to the kitchen. “People can see us,” I whispered.

  “Nobody sees anything on this island that I don’t want to them to see. I could stretch you on this table and fuck you until you screamed my name as you came and nobody here would pay attention. They wouldn’t say a thing.”