by Mia Madison
It’s so loud that I can’t mistake it, and I freeze, then slowly lift my head. In the fading light, I see half a dozen men around us, all of them armed with large and deadly weapons. “Get out of the car,” one of them says.
Turning my head just as slowly, I look up at Kosta. I love you, I mouth, and then the car door is yanked open and I go from heaven to hell.
Always
The house they take me to is small and dingy. I don’t know where we are because they blindfolded me during the drive. There’s a room in the back with a single filthy mattress, stained with things I don’t want to think about. The man who seems to be the ringleader shoves me down onto it, then — a small mercy — tosses my t-shirt and sweatshirt on top of me.
I can’t put them on because my hands are bound in front of me, but I pull them up to cover my nudity. The man crouches down beside me. “Lucky for him, Adamo’s worth more to us alive than dead.” Relief filters through my dread, but I don’t respond.
“You, on the other hand … you better hope you’re worth it to him. He plays nice with us, we play nice with you. Otherwise, we just play.”
He traces the muzzle of his gun along my cheek, and I close my eyes. “You know my father’s a cop,” I whisper.
“What?”
“Adam Grant. Homicide detective. Look him up.”
The gun presses into my flesh. “You think that’ll protect you, think again. We’re gonna own this city, and no one — not the Adamos, not the cops — is gonna get in our way.”
Is he really that stupid? I hope not, but I can’t be sure. “You tell Adamo,” he goes on, “and you tell your pig father. They step aside or they pay.” He leans closer, and his rancid breath assaults my nose. “You got any sisters?” I flinch, and he lets out a low, ugly laugh. “Do them and your mother, too, while we’re at it. You want your family alive and healthy, be a smart girl and make the men see reason.”
Then he’s gone, turning off the faint overhead bulb and plunging the room into darkness. I wait, listening. Voices come from the hallway outside and I stay still until they move away. When everything is silent I roll cautiously to my knees, ignoring the pain from my scabbed skin.
There’s no light anywhere; I saw when we came in here that the room’s single window is boarded over. My hands are bound with duct tape, wrapped so tightly it’s cutting off my circulation. They’re numb but I have to try.
Moving cautiously, I get to my feet and creep an inch at a time across the room to where I remember the window being. I find it after a few tries and tug at the bottom board to see if it’s loose, but it’s nailed tight and the wood doesn’t feel old or soft.
Frustrated, I make my way across the room to the door. I can barely get my hands to grip the knob, but I manage to turn it and ease the door open a crack. A floorboard creaks and then I hear movement in another part of the house. At least two men, then.
I’m tempted to make a run for it anyway, but I know better. Later, when they’re asleep, I’ll try. Retreating to the mattress, I hug Kosta’s clothing to me. If I put the sweatshirt to my nose and breathe deeply, I catch a hint of his clean masculine musk.
Did they let him go or are they holding him somewhere else? Is he searching for me? Does my father know?
The heat of the day has gone with the sun. The house is cool; my bare back is chilled. I curl into as tight a ball as I can and steel myself against a long night.
I’m too uncomfortable to sleep, but I’ve fallen into a light, uneasy doze when the house erupts in gunfire. I stay curled up, my eyes squeezed shut as if that could protect me, my heart sending a wordless prayer out into the universe. Then the door bursts open and the light comes on.
Kosta and my dad come in side by side, both of them carrying guns. My heart leaps as they move swiftly to me and kneel down. “Knife!” Kosta yells over his shoulder, and another man enters the room. He’s huge, even bigger than Rico or Tonio, but he has Adamo stamped all over him. He produces a large, scary knife, says, “Don’t move,” and cuts through the tape around my wrists like it’s butter. Then he’s gone again.
Tears spring to my eyes as my circulation starts to come back. “Can you get dressed without help, Erin?” my dad says. I don’t think I can. I look at him, then at Kosta.
Without a word, Dad rises to his feet and turns his back, going to the door to push it shut while Kosta helps me on with the t-shirt and sweatshirt. Then I’m in his arms and he’s carrying me from the room, my father behind him. Over my man’s shoulder, I meet my father’s eyes. We don’t speak, but we have a very intense conversation while Kosta takes me to a waiting ambulance.
The hospital keeps me for observation and fluids. Exhaustion carries me down into sleep, but I stir when the door to my room opens. I recognize the warmth of Kosta’s presence as he comes to sit by my bed, and keep my eyes closed.
“I know you’re awake, Blondie.”
So much for that ruse. I open my eyes and look at him. He’s in another pair of snug-fitting jeans and a chambray shirt. I want to gobble him up.
“The doctors say they’ll let you go later today.” He reaches for my hand. I pull it away, and his gorgeous eyes narrow.
“I can’t do this,” I whisper.
“Do what?”
I move my hand back and forth between us, my bandaged wrists like white flags of surrender. “This.”
His eyes narrow. “What did those assholes say to you?”
Before I can think of a response, the door opens and my parents come in. “Can we have a minute with her?” my dad says. His tone is grudgingly respectful.
Kosta gets up. “I’ll be back,” he says to me, and leaves before I can make a dorky Terminator joke.
“Is Kosta all right?” my mother says as my parents sit down.
I stare at the ceiling. “I’m breaking up with him.”
There’s a long silence before my dad says, “Erin—”
“Dad, please.” I have to stay strong and keep it together or I won’t survive this.
Another pause, and then by some unspoken agreement, my dad goes out again and leaves me with Mom. “Those two are a lot alike, you know,” she says. “Kosta and your father.” I don’t answer. “Strong, stubborn men who want to do the right thing and take care of the people they love.”
I turn my head to her, then, and let the tears leak out. “I can’t,” I whisper. “I can’t.”
I can’t tell her what my kidnappers said. Can’t tell anyone. I especially can’t tell Kosta that he’s better off without me. Now that I’m a target, I’ll never be anything but trouble to him. Nightmare images of him in a morgue, those awful men with my little sisters … no.
This has to end.
Mom searches my face, but her maternal x-ray can’t penetrate my bleak resolve. “Get some rest, sweetheart,” she says finally, and kisses my forehead.
I’m not sure how much later it is when the door to my room opens again. Kosta stalks in with a blanket under his arm. Without a word, he starts unhooking my IVs.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“Takin’ you home.”
“Kosta—”
“Shut up, Blondie.”
I shut up. He throws the covers back, swaddles me in the blanket, and swings me into his arms. We pass through strangely vacant corridors to an elevator, ride down to the main floor, and go out to his waiting car, and nobody stops us or even says a word.
It’s late afternoon outside. Kosta beeps his car open — this time it’s an SUV — without putting me down, then manages to get the passenger door open the same way. Setting me gently on the seat, he fastens my belt himself. “Kosta,” I say again.
His eyes meet mine and their amber fire burns into me. “What’d I tell you would happen if you said yes to me?”
I claim you, I’m not letting you go. “Baby,” I whisper.
He doesn’t say anything else until he’s finished buckling me in and has gone around to the driver’s seat. “Whatever they put in your he
ad, we’ll get it out.”
We don’t talk on the drive to his house. When Kosta carries me inside I half expect him to go to the kitchen, but he takes me straight up to his room and lays me down on his bed. He stretches himself out over me, propped on his elbows, not quite touching me, his heat soaking through my skin, down into my bones.
“You here with me, babe?”
“Kosta—”
“I want all of you, carina, not just your body.”
“Baby, please.” I’m not even sure what I’m asking for.
His mouth brushes mine, and I shudder beneath him. “If you can’t do this,” he says, “tell me now. I need you to say the words.”
I should say them, for both our sakes. But I can’t resist him, can’t deny him. Sliding my hands under his shirt, I let them feast on the warmth of his skin, the hardness of his muscles.
“Look at me, Erin.” His face is only inches from mine, the promise of his mouth a constant temptation. “You think I’ve forgotten what you told me in the car, before they took you?”
“I was afraid I’d never see you again.”
“Yeah, and you wouldn’t pick a moment like that to lie.” His lips graze mine again, and my hips arch against him. “Why did you lie to me in the hospital?”
“Baby—”
“Why?”
“I was trying to protect you!”
“Not your job,” he says against my mouth. “I protect you, not the other way around.”
“They said they’d kill you.” My voice cracks. “And my father. They said — my sisters—”
One quick, hard kiss. “That’s not gonna happen, babe. Not any of it.”
“How do you know? What if they—”
Another kiss, longer and even harder. “Because the cops are doing their thing right now, carina, and by morning there won’t be anyone from that organization breathing free.”
“But—”
“Babe.” He traces a finger along the shell of my ear, making me quiver. “These are not tough guys. They’re rodents who thought they could threaten me and mine and get away with it. I don’t allow that, and you should know, your father doesn’t either.”
“So it’s over?” I’m afraid to believe it.
“It will be, soon.” He holds my gaze. “You got any other concerns we need to talk about?” Slowly, I shake my head.
His mouth captures mine, and then we’re done talking. The blanket, my hospital gown, his clothes, all seem to melt away and then we’re naked, skin to skin. Kosta reaches between my legs and finds me ready. “So wet for me.”
“Always.”
Parting my thighs, he settles between them and sinks into me, my hands over my head, his fingers laced with mine. He keeps his eyes on mine while he moves in me, slowly, every stroke branding my most private place. Even when I arch against him, urging him on, he keeps the pace deliberate.
I glide gradually up to peak, and my climax shimmers through me like morning sunlight. When he follows me over the edge, his face buried against my neck, I close my eyes and give thanks for stubborn alpha males.
Epilogue
Kosta grabs me and slings me over his shoulder. I shriek with laughter as he climbs the stairs, patting my ass in a way that makes me tingle all over.
The sun’s low in the sky, so he starts lighting candles around the bedroom. I breathe in vanilla and sandalwood and resist the urge to tackle him and tear his clothes off. When he finishes, turning toward me with a gleam in his eye, anticipation dances in my stomach.
“I still can’t believe our first time was on the desk at your club,” I say as he prowls toward me.
“Gonna bring that desk home when I sell. Maybe have it bronzed.”
I giggle, then do a double-take. “Sell?”
“My little brother Carmine’s been training to take over, but he’s not quite ready to run things on his own. Now that everything’s settled down, he and my cousin Joey are gonna buy me out.”
Joey must be the other man I saw in the booth at the café that day. “Wow. That’s a big change.”
“I’m ready for change.” Pulling me to him, Kosta grabs the hem of my top and peels it off over my head. He cups a breast in each hand, his thumbs flicking over the sensitive peaks. “Kosta,” I groan, my hands curling around his wrists, my head tipping back. He presses my nipples between thumb and forefinger, pinching lightly, then harder, as my grip on him tightens.
“Baby …” I’m soaking wet and we’re just getting started. Kosta scoops one breast out of my bra and sucks the nipple into his mouth, and every tug sends pleasure jolting straight to my pussy. I drag his t-shirt out of his jeans, desperate to touch him, and run my hands up the broad expanse of muscle, then down to his ass.
He switches to my other breast, then goes back and forth between them until my nails dig sharply into his back, which only makes him suckle me harder. “Kosta!” I cry.
“Love your tits, babe.” He nips the underside of one, making me gasp, then eases the tiny hurt with his tongue. “Love every inch of you.”
“Baby, please, I need you inside me.”
“Uh-uh,” he says. “Not tonight. We have time and we’re gonna take it.”
It’s the day after he brought me home. My dad called me this morning and confirmed that the organization that killed the dead guy, abducted me, and had been pressuring Kosta had been decimated by a massive sting operation with “inter-agency cooperation.” I wonder about Commando Guy Adamo, who cut me free, but don’t ask. Nor do I mention Dad and Kosta, who is definitely not any kind of a cop, coming through the door together when they rescued me.
But on top of cleaning up that mess, the operation also netted several individuals who were willing to testify in exchange for lesser charges or reduced sentences, and what they said has completely exonerated Kosta. His family may still be on radar with law enforcement, but he is no longer under suspicion. He’s free to pursue his own interests without a cloud over him … and right now, his only interest is driving me crazy.
I attack his belt buckle and get it undone, determined to free his cock and give him a taste of the torment he’s subjecting me to, but he grabs both my wrists in one hand, easily containing them. “Naughty girl,” he says, and I hear the smile in his voice as his other hand pulls the belt free from its loops. Then he spins me around and with a hand in the small of my back, pushes me down so I’m bent over the bed.
“Kosta …” The belt whistles through the air and cracks against my ass, still covered by my shorts and panties. I gasp and jolt. “Oh, god,” I moan. This is what Cait was talking about when she said context was everything. The belt lands again, and again. “Oh, fuck.”
“Love the way you take what I give you, babe,” Kosta says. “Take it all and ask for more.” Another lick of the belt. “Love giving you everything.”
“Baby, please.” I’m so wet I’m dripping.
Three more times the belt does its work, each blow slow and deliberate, and I think I’m going to come from sheer sensory overload. When he tosses it aside, I’m trembling with need.
“Sweetness,” he says, his fingers stroking the bare skin at the small of my back. “Talk to me.”
“Fuck me, please, fuck me.” I’m begging and I don’t care.
His lips replace his hand, pressing a kiss to the base of my spine. “My baby’s greedy little cunt is hungry, huh?”
“Touch me,” I plead. “Feel how much I need you.”
I don’t expect him to acquiesce, but Kosta unzips my shorts, then tugs them down. His hand dips into the back of my panties, smoothing down over my ass, and delves between my legs. “Holy mother of god,” he says when he touches my sodden flesh. “My cock just got ten times bigger.”
“Hurry, baby.”
“Can’t say no to you.” My underwear join my shorts around my ankles, and I step free. He takes off my bra, leaving me naked, and gets me bent over the bed again. One hand stays at the small of my back, and the other cracks against my bare ass.
Heat sears through my clit. “God!” He spanks me four more times. “Please, baby, fuck me hard. I need your cock.”
The rustle of clothing behind me tells me he’s getting naked too, and that whole process only lasts about five seconds. My man’s as hungry for me as I am for him. His cock slides through my slickness, then seats itself at my opening.
He surges inside me, and god, he feels so much bigger from this angle. I cry out and he stills, buried in me up to his balls. “All right, baby?”
“Yes,” I gasp.
“I wish I could show you what you look like right now. Your ass red, your pussy full of my cock, your little pucker begging for its turn … you’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”
I clamp around him like a vise, and he starts to move. Slowly, at first, the flared head of his cock dragging against my sensitive ridges, his hard length stretching my pussy. From this angle he’s hitting that magic spot deep inside with every thrust, and I’m making animal noises when he fills me.
Soon he’s as rough as I want him to be, pummeling me with his thick cock, his hips slapping against my ass every time he drives home inside me, and my first climax is on me with almost no warning. “Yes!” I scream, and Kosta fucks me harder and faster, and then I’m scrabbling against the covers, frantically trying to anchor myself because I can’t stop coming.
I lose track of how many orgasms I’ve had long before Kosta’s finished. When he yanks me against him a final time, the heat of him pouring out inside me triggers a fresh round of shockwaves before I go limp.
Somehow, with an arm around my waist, he gets us both up onto the bed, spooning on our sides, our bodies still joined. He draws the spread up and over from his side of the bed to partially cover us, and then we lie there a long while in silence. It’s probably only a few minutes, but it feels like epochs pass and history rewinds itself to the beginning of time. Like we’re the only couple on earth.
