Until Forever Ends: A Dark Mafia Romance

by Adelaide Forrest

  Directly in front of his desk, a Spanish man stood facing the leather tattoo chair they'd presumably brought in for Rafe's ink. He worked to take the back off the chair, unscrewing the bolts where it connected to the base. I swallowed down my apprehension, watching as he finished with that and grabbed a bandage off the desk. Fixing it to Rafe's forearm now that I'd seen the artwork, he didn't so much as glance at me despite my presence. I was instantly reminded of the day in the Penthouse when Rafael had forbidden the man from looking at me when he delivered our breakfast.

  "What did you want to show me?" I asked, stepping farther into the room. Rafe grabbed something off his desk, turning it to show me a sketch of his tattoo. I looked down at it, shock dropping my jaw when I recognized the differences from what already covered his arm. "No," I said, shaking my head.

  "Yes," Rafael said simply. He pushed the tattoo chair up against the desk as the other man set a wooden plank on top of the desk along with two cords of rope.

  "I don't want a tattoo," I protested, even if I had to admit the sketch itself was stunning. I couldn't justify putting something permanent on my skin, not when it related to one of the most terrifying nights of my life. The King stared up at me, horrific even if only because of my memory of finding that last chess piece and knowing the game had ended before I even had a chance to think.

  "Consider it the replacement for your brand," Rafael said, guiding me to the tattoo chair. He picked me up as I squirmed, dropping me onto the seat on my knees. "Penance has to be paid in some form. I've paid mine," he said, gesturing down to the tattoo on his arm.

  "What's your penance for?" I asked.

  "For deceiving you," he responded, as if it was obvious. It might have been to me or any normal person, but Rafael didn't do regret. He didn't think there was anything wrong with his actions when the ends justified the means to his twisted sense of logic. Grabbing my right arm in his grip, he held me still as the other man took a razor to my skin and carefully shaved off the hair on my entire forearm. Then he rubbed some kind of solution over the area while Rafael held my gaze.

  "You can't be serious," I protested as he handed the other man the stencil from my left hand. He worked to apply it and smooth it out carefully as I watched, frozen in place and knowing that even if I fought it would be pointless.

  There was nothing but that familiar, steely determination in Rafael’s gaze when I turned my eyes up to his.

  "I'm very serious," Rafael said. Once the stencil was in place, he put a hand between my shoulder blades and pressed me down until my torso lay flat against the surface of the desk. He carefully lifted my right arm in his grip, setting it down on the wooden plank and curling my hand around the edge.

  While his friend tied the rope around the top of my hand and around my bicep, securing me to the plank fully, Rafael pulled my hair into a ponytail at the nape of my neck and secured it with a hair tie.

  "She'll need to hold perfectly still," the other man said in warning. I looked at him in confusion, the position of the tattoo seeming incredibly unorthodox. Why not just put me in the chair?

  "She will. You just worry about keeping your fucking eyes on her arm, Elías," Rafael scolded. "If I catch you looking anywhere else, I'll cut them out and feed them to your children for dinner tonight."

  Elías chuckled, nodding his head as he picked up the tattoo gun and opened a fresh pack of needles before getting himself set up. "You can't tattoo your damn name on me!" I yelled, glaring at Rafael as I turned my head away from Elías.

  "Technically he's tattooing my damn name on you." Rafael shrugged. He leaned down to kiss me as the gun buzzed to life and drew a whimper from my lips.

  "Rafe, please," I begged. It wasn't even that I was afraid of the tattoo itself, but the repercussions of it. One day, I'd see my family again even if I had to do it with Rafael at my side.

  What would they think?

  "Your name is on me twice, mi reina," he said, settling his hand onto my shoulder blades to help keep me still as Elías touched the needle to my skin for the first time. The vibration traveled up my arm, the light stinging taking over my senses as I turned my head back to glare at him.

  "You asshole," I hissed. He didn't glance up from my arm, obeying Rafael's orders even as I continued to curse at him under my breath. "Do you often tie women down for other men?"

  "Enough, Isa," Rafael warned, gliding his hand down my spine until he touched the hem of my dress. The one he'd set out on a chair for me before he left in the middle of the night. I hadn't thought much of putting it on in my hurry to find where he'd gone earlier, but as he slid the hem up my thighs, I winced and wished I'd worn shorts.

  I flailed my free arm as I spun to glare at him. The bastard ignored me with that cold smirk on his face, disappearing behind me until I couldn't see him.

  "What are you doing?" I gasped, flinching away as he flipped my dress up onto my back and scraped his teeth over the globe of my ass.

  "Distracting you from the pain," he murmured gently. "Elías won't look. He values his vision too much." He grasped the waistline of my panties, dragging them down over my thighs until they bunched around my knees. He slid two fingers between my legs, stroking me slowly and building desire within me. The pain of the tattoo only drove me higher, conflicting the pleasure he built in my core.

  "Stop it," I hissed, clenching my eyes closed as I resisted the urge to moan. I couldn't get off with another man in the room. Even if he didn't look at me, he'd hear me.

  "Put on your headphones," he ordered Elías, who moved at my side as the gun left my arm. "Her moans are mine alone." The quiet murmur of metal came from Elías' direction as he followed Rafe's order wordlessly. Rafe slid his fingers inside me, pumping them slowly and drawing a ragged groan from my lips. "Not so bad, is it?" he asked, teasing me with both his words and his touch.

  "You’re the reason God created the middle finger," I growled, earning a deep rumble of laughter in response.

  "God has no place on my island, mi reina," he said, drawing his fingers away. In the absence of them, I resisted the urge to squirm. Wanting his touch back on me, even though I knew I shouldn't. Even though I knew what he did was wrong. "Getting a tattoo like this is a lengthy process," he said as the heat of his breath hit my needy flesh. "How would you like to spend that time?" He swept his tongue through my slit, sliding it through me until he pressed it firmly against my clit. "With my fingers in my pretty little pussy? My tongue?" He paused, groaning into my flesh as he licked me again. "Or is it my cock you want, mi reina?"

  "I want to not get a fucking tattoo," I groaned, and I would have liked to claim the sound was out of frustration. But it was the sound only Rafael could drag from me. The one of pure bliss as his wicked tongue explored me, building temptation in my veins.

  "My tongue it is," he said, leaning back in to eat my pussy from behind. With meticulously well-planned strokes of his tongue on me, he kept me at one level of arousal as he worked me over.

  It would be the longest tattoo in history if he kept that up.

  23

  Rafael

  Elias' brow furrowed in concentration as he leaned over Isa's arm. Finishing the final detailing on the back, he looked as exhausted as he must have felt. Five hours with headphones on would be enough to give anyone a migraine, let alone the vibration of his tattoo gun in his hand and the concentration it took to perfectly execute Isa's ink. If he fucked it up, he just might lose his hand.

  Isa had long since stopped squirming, clenching her eyes shut to fight off the waves of arousal as I kept her in a steady state of needing to get off. I'd never thought to toy with orgasm denial before, never given a woman enough time in my bed for it to even be a remote possibility until mi reina, but the desperation in the lines of her face appealed to me in a way that felt similar to watching a man beg for his life.

  It called to the nightmare inside me that craved control in all things, the part of me that wanted to see Isa begging on her knees for my cum.
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br />   She leaned over the desk, slumped forward with her face pressed into the surface as I stroked my fingers through her drenched pussy and watched Elias draw the tattoo gun away from her arm. He turned it off, staring down at the newly tattooed skin in concentration and giving it a last look over after wiping the blood and excess ink away from the final piece. Satisfied with what he saw, he set the tattoo gun to the side and untied her arm at the shoulder. Isa didn't move despite the change in freedom, and I had to assume she couldn't move. Forcing her to kneel for such a long time was cruel, an even larger part of the penance she had to pay to make up for the lack of a brand.

  The tattoo was her mark, but it was more about my claim on her than the pain. People willingly chose to get tattoos every day, and while the sting of the process might have seemed uncomfortable to Isa, it was nothing compared to the searing heat of a brand.

  Being forced to kneel for five hours, that was another story.

  Her knees were an angry red where they peeked out of the chair whenever she shifted, and the internal pain she felt must have been enough that she'd be walking funny the next day. I couldn't decide if it would bring me pleasure or regret to know she walked down the aisle with the pain of my claim all over her body.

  We'd find out soon enough.

  I pulled my hand free from Isa's pussy, flipping her dress down to cover her ass and tapping Elias on the shoulder. He didn't look at her as he pulled his headphones off and rolled his shoulders as he untied her wrist and lifted it to show me the design more clearly. I nodded my approval, trying to suppress what the sight of my mark on her skin did to me long enough to get Elias out of the room.

  He immediately set to wrapping a bandage around her arm. I watched the motion, noting how Isa didn't respond to his touch in the slightest even as he lifted her arm off the board and cradled her with all the gentleness I would expect of a man handling his Queen. She was totally lost to her surroundings, hidden in the haze of lust that consumed her.

  Once Elias gently placed her arm back on the desk, I looked to him with the storm I felt raging in my eyes. Toying with her for hours didn't only torment mi reina. My cock was like steel within my slacks, painful as it throbbed with my own need and my balls drew up.

  "Get the fuck out," I ordered Elias. He nodded, turning and dashing out of the room. He'd need to collect his tools later, but I couldn't give the first shit about them right then. I suspected after a solid ten hours of work following a mostly sleepless night, he didn't either.

  The moment the door clicked shut behind me, I shoved Isa's dress back up over her back and pulled my cock free from my slacks. I slammed inside her in one smooth drive, my groan echoing off the walls as my body relaxed into the feeling of her tight sheath surrounding me. "Fuck," I grunted, pulling back and snapping my hips forward.

  She whimpered as her eyes opened finally, staying draped over the desk like I'd left her. With the pain in her body, she was a completely passive participant. I took her hard. I took her fast. Driving her toward the release she so desperately needed with each drive of my cock inside her.

  "Rafe!" she screamed, her pussy clenching down on me as the first of her orgasms crashed over her. Her hands scrabbled along the desk surface as I fucked her through it, determined to give her a second for all that I'd put her through.

  "You look so fucking good with my name on you," I grunted, even though I couldn't see the ink past the bandage. I knew it was there.

  I'd watched with rapt attention as Elias marked every line of El Diablo into her skin. It was better than her brand ever could have been, more specific to who she was to me. "I let you off the hook once," I said, grabbing her by the ponytail and slowly lifting her off the desk.

  She whimpered as her body moved, the shift bringing all her aching joints ablaze with a fresh wave of pain. "It hurts," she whimpered as I wrapped my free hand around her and stroked her clit while I thrust my hips up into her sharply. Pounding into her and claiming my pussy as she begged me to stop the pain.

  "Do not ever disobey me again, Isa. I will not be so kind a second time," I warned. I didn't look forward to the day she tested those limits, but I knew it would come.

  Mi reina wasn't the type to take my kind of ownership lying down, and eventually I'd have no choice but to show her I meant business. But my conscience would be lighter knowing she knew the rules now. That she understood her choices would have consequences.

  "I will fucking brand my name on you next time," I growled, working my pussy as I fucked it.

  She whimpered with her second orgasm, her weight sagging in my grip. With her second release out of the way, I took pity on her and roared out my own inside her. It seemed unending, built up from five hours of deprivation alongside her torment.

  By the time I pulled out of her and tucked myself back into my pants, she was boneless in the chair. Despite no longer being tied down, she groaned. Since she was unable to move, I reached forward to grasp her around the waist and lift her off her pained knees. Turning her to sit on the chair, I knelt at her feet.

  Stretching her legs for her, slowly easing them back and forth as her knees cracked and popped and she stared down at me with hate fueled eyes. I dragged my lips over her right knee, willing the red and sore flesh to stop tingling with pain, before moving to her left.

  Lifting her into my arms carefully, I carried her to the bedroom and the hot bath I would run for her.

  Mi reina would need it to survive the next night.

  Despite the fact that my home was known as El Infierno, and the fact that it was literal Hell on Earth for my enemies, my great-grandfather had been a very religious man.

  As had my grandfather and my father after him. I was perhaps the only Ibarra heir who would have allowed the chapel to fall into disuse, if not for the religious among my people who sought comfort in the promise of an afterlife. Of a God who would allow them to repent for their sins and gain a magical ticket to heaven.

  Isa's faith was an eclectic mixture of her mother's Roman Catholic upbringing and the Native American Church that her grandmother practiced. It didn't seem entirely appropriate for her, given the connection she felt to the land. My island may not be her ancestral home, but it was Earth.

  It was the Earth she would be buried in at my side when we eventually passed. It was the land our children would be raised on.

  It seemed only fitting for Isa that I marry her on the land, but to appease the Catholics among my people, I arranged for the ceremony to happen in the backyard of the church. It butted against the back side of the island, a fairly modest building in and of itself, but offered enchanting views of the Mediterranean.

  I stared out at the water as the women scurried around behind me, arranging flowers onto the arch the men had carved for Isa. For the Queen they planned to welcome as their own that day, when Isa was finally ready. She'd slept in after her ordeal the day before. I was a cruel bastard for not giving her a day to recover, but I needed her tied to me in every way.

  My people already knew she was special to me. She already knew I loved her, and she'd made her choice to stay when she could have killed me and taken her freedom. Instead, she slept in my bed until Regina woke her and helped her through preparing without giving away any specifics until the moment I would arrive with her white dress in hand.

  As the women finished with the flowers, the men hauled the arch into place and lifted it, securing it to the ground with spikes to hold it firmly for the day. The women smiled at me encouragingly, draping light beige fabric over the arch artfully.

  I turned on my heel, heading for the SUV and climbing in next to Alejandro. He grinned, a dark smile that rivaled one of my own. He knew the fight I would have coming. Isa may have agreed to stay with me, and I'd told her she would be my wife.

  I just don't think she understood that I meant immediately.

  "Let's go get your wife," Alejandro said as Santiago started up the SUV and turned onto the dirt road that would lead us around to the front of the is
land where the main house sat. The journey wasn't long, but I stared out the window as my home passed us by. The beauty of the woods and pine trees on the back side were such a contrast to the sandy beaches down below. I truly believed my island offered the best of nature that the world had to offer.

  "Can you stop twitching?" Alejandro asked as the car turned up the road that would lead to the house. I glanced back at him, relaxing my fingers from the fists they'd clenched into. "You already know she's going to say no, so what has you so antsy?"

  "You mean aside from the fact that the woman I'm about to marry will need to be threatened into saying yes? Not a thing," I grunted, turning my gaze up to the house as we pulled into the driveway. I sat in the passenger seat for a few more moments, until Alejandro sighed behind me.

  "You've never cared before. What difference does it make now?" he asked.

  "It doesn't," I said finally, shoving open the SUV door and climbing out. I grabbed the dress bag out of the back seat before making my way inside. Regina was missing from her usual post in the kitchen, the only confirmation I'd get that she'd done as I asked and pushed Isa to get ready.

  The bedroom door was open as I rounded the corner, stepping into the room. Isa sat at the vanity I'd had the brothers haul in for her when she was being tattooed the day before, her stunning face staring into the mirror as she swept a coat of mascara onto her eyelashes. She turned her uncertain gaze to me in the mirror, the green of her eyes standing out against the soft and dewy look her makeup gave her.