by Bethany-Kris
“Good,” John murmured when he released her finger.
And then she did it again!
Siena pulled her finger from between her pink, wet lips with a grin. She knew exactly what she had done, and John’s control was all but gone. He snatched that cupcake from her hand, and ignored her shriek of disappointment.
She wouldn’t be disappointed for long, after all.
John swiped his own finger through what was left of the frosting at the same time he pulled Siena up onto the island counter. Her legs opened for him, and let him fit in between. A perfect fit, really.
It never failed to amaze him.
His gaze was stuck on her pretty little pout, and how sexy her lips looked in that moment. All pink, and wet from her tongue sweeping along the seam.
“You know, the only time your lips look better than they do right now is when they’re wrapped around my cock,” he told her.
Siena sucked in a sharp breath, and her gaze darted up to his. “Is that so?”
“Very much so, yeah.”
“Maybe we can do that later.”
“I think you could clean me off once I’m done with you.”
Her smile turned sexy.
So fucking sexy.
God.
This woman made him crazy.
John took that bit of frosting on the tip of his finger, and smeared it along Siena’s bottom lip. He didn’t even give her the chance to clean it off before his mouth was on hers. He used his lips, teeth, and tongue to take away the frosting. His teeth nipped into her bottom lip, and pulled gently. She rocked her hips as he pressed closer, and it only made his growing erection grind into her center.
His tongue felt numb from their kiss, and her taste. Sweet from the sugar, and goddamn hot from her.
Siena’s tongue battled with John’s. Her fingernails cut into his jaw line when she pulled him impossibly closer. Shit, all he could think about now was getting his cock buried nine inches into the heaven that was between Siena’s thighs.
It had been too long.
He couldn’t wait—patience was not his friend, and it had never been.
Yanking up the skirt of her dress, and never breaking their kiss, John pulled Siena’s thong down her legs. The forgotten material fell somewhere to the floor as Siena’s lips left his, and trailed down his throat.
One kiss.
Then another.
His breath caught in his throat when her lips sucked at his jaw. The breath came out in a rush when her teeth cut into the same spot.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
“We’re getting there,” she promised. “You should probably hurry up, John.”
Laughing, John grabbed Siena by her throat, and tipped her head back. He stared into deep blue, and watched how her pupils blew wide from his rough handling. She was loving this—she always seemed to love whatever he did to her.
To the outside, Siena was sweet and innocent. Her appearance, with her gentle smiles and wide eyes, made people think she was nothing more than a doe-eyed woman. Harmless, entirely honest, and pure.
Those people didn’t know a damn thing.
Not about Siena, anyway.
This girl was sin.
His sin.
John liked that just fine.
“I make the demands,” he told her, “and not you.”
“Sometimes me, too,” she said, pouting.
John kissed her pout just because he could. “Sometimes you too, yeah.”
He had to give her something, after all.
His hand snaked between her thighs—wet, hot flesh met his fingertips when he stroked her pussy. Bare and soft, he knew she had been waxed recently. He loved when nothing was between them. Loved the feel of her entirely naked against him.
He let two of his fingers sweep through her sex again, taking wetness from her slit up to her clit. One circle around the throbbing nub, and then a second, and Siena’s legs trembled against the pressure. She was staring down to watch John play with her pussy, but he couldn’t have that.
A slight tap of his hand against her sex made her gaze fly upward.
“Eyes on me right now,” he said.
Siena blew out a breath. “But I want to—”
“Eyes on me.”
He punctuated that statement by letting his two fingers slip inside her sex. Instantly, he curled his fingertips into her G-spot hard. His thumb slipped up, and rubbed at her clit at the same time.
It didn’t take long before her fast, short breaths turned into low, sexy cries. Her legs trembled more, and her inner walls clenched firmly around his fingers.
“Right there, huh?”
Siena’s gaze never left his. “Right there, yeah.”
Her orgasm came on fast. Her pupils expanded again just before she came, and her legs widened a little bit more. Her lips made that perfect O shape, and he caught her mouth in another kiss to swallow all her sounds.
He loved her sounds, sure.
He still didn’t want to draw attention to them.
Siena’s hands fumbled with John’s jeans as he kissed down the column of her throat. Salt and sex met his tongue. Her heart thundered under his teeth at her pulse point. He didn’t help her at all because she had things covered.
Soon enough, his length was in her tight little palm, and she was stroking him awake even more. Not that he needed it—his dick was already painfully hard, but her firm tugs gave him a little bit of relief.
Not nearly enough.
He needed to be inside her for that.
“Don’t you want me to fuck you?” he asked in her ear.
Siena shivered.
John chuckled.
“Don’t you want to come again, Siena?”
He didn’t need to tease her more. She fit him between her thighs, and her warm wetness coated the head of his cock while she stroked his dick through her slit.
Once.
Then twice.
She brought him down to her entrance again, and John flexed his hips forward. She was so damn wet that she took all of him in with no hesitation at all. Her cunt soaked him, tightened around him, and took away his ability to breathe for too many seconds.
It was still fucking wonderful.
“Jesus Christ,” he grunted into her throat.
Siena’s breathless laughter coated his senses.
Addicting and sweet.
“Fuck me,” she urged.
His hand slid along her throat, and pushed her head back again. He needed to see her eyes—wanted to look into them and see all the chaos he caused for her like this.
He loved that, too.
Love stared back.
His love lived inside this woman.
“Gonna kill me,” he said.
John felt like a broken record with her sometimes.
It didn’t make it any less true.
• • •
“You’ll meet me at the warehouse, then?” John asked.
“I don’t think you need me there, son,” his father replied on the other end of the call.
“Maybe not, but I want you there. It helps, you know.”
“What does?”
“When I have someone to keep me in line.”
Lucian cleared his throat. “And that’s me, is it?”
“Sometimes Andino. Leonard suggested I be more open to you, though.”
“I do like Leonard.”
John rolled his eyes upward. “Not news, Papa.”
“I will be at the warehouse. Say in what, an hour?”
“Or two. I have to grab the fucker first.”
“I thought you already did that.”
“I got distracted.”
John’s gaze drifted to Siena’s sleeping form, but he didn’t mention to his father where he was. He didn’t want anyone concerning themselves about his choices, or what he was doing on the personal side of his life. They kept telling him to have patience, but things were not always so simple for him.
Especially not Siena.
Siena was not simple at all.
“I will see you in a while, John,” his father said.
“All right. Thanks.”
Hanging up the phone, John gave Siena his attention again. He had been up for a good hour—compliments of his internal clock that didn’t know how to let him sleep in. Not that he could afford to do that today, anyway. He’d taken a quick shower, pulled on his clothes from the day before, and swallowed down his meds before calling his father.
He only had a few more minutes before he needed to leave. Soon, Siena’s enforcer would be probably getting up, and making his way over to check in on her. She let John know the guy’s usual schedule for her in the mornings.
Running his fingers over Siena’s naked shoulder, his gaze traveled to her nightstand. He’d left a burner phone for her there, and a hastily written note.
It wasn’t much.
He would never leave her without an explanation, now.
He promised.
Keep the phone out of sight. I’ll only call early in the morning. I had some business to do early, and didn’t want to wake you up. I’ll call tomorrow. Love you. –J
Duty called.
John gave Siena one more look, and then he was gone.
• • •
John backed his Mercedes through the opened bay doors of the warehouse. Darkness cloaked his vehicle, and as soon as the front of his car was entirely inside, the bay doors began to close. John only got out of his car once the doors had closed completely.
He found his father standing by the switch used to open and close the bay doors. Lucian said nothing as John moved to the back of the Mercedes, and popped open the trunk.
Still unconscious, the enforcer John had picked up shortly after he left Siena’s place was bleeding like a gutted pig all over the damn trunk. That was going to need to be cleaned, for fuck’s sake. There was nothing he hated more than bloodstains.
“Fucking mess,” John muttered.
Uncaring that it would hurt the man, he reached into the trunk, and dragged the man out by his already broken arm. That had happened in the struggle of John wrapping a wire around the guy’s throat, and dragging him across a concrete parking lot.
Shit, the guy should have just come with no fight.
That was always easier.
“And which one is this?” Lucian asked, coming closer.
“Kev’s man, specifically,” John answered.
He let the guy fall to the floor of the warehouse. The thump of the unconscious man was almost sickening, in a way.
“Brad, or some shit,” John said. “He’s the one Kev uses whenever he wants something done. I’ve watched him for a week, so I feel pretty good we’ll get something useful from him.”
“As long as you don’t kill him first.”
There was that, too, yeah.
John reared back, and kicked the unconscious enforcer in the side of his chest. Likely breaking a rib or two. Brad’s hazy eyes flew wide, and his mouth opened with a shout. The guy coughed, and clutched at his chest as he rolled over to his side.
He didn’t seem to know where he was, or what the fuck was happening.
This could be a little confusing.
“Where’s the fucking hose?” John asked.
Lucian nodded to something over John’s shoulder.
“Keep him awake,” John said.
His father started nudging the groaning enforcer with the tip of his shoe in all the sensitive spots. Like his aching chest, and his broken arm. John found the hose, turned on the water, and headed back to Brad.
Lucian stepped back from the man at the same time John turned the hose on him. Ice-cold water blasted Brad right in the face, and then the rest of him, too. John didn’t stop until the guy was fully awake, and soaked to the goddamn bone.
Sometimes, cold water could be as good as torture.
It all depended on the man.
“Stop, fuck, stop!”
John lowered the hose. “Who did Kev have make the hit on my sister’s husband?”
Brad blinked up at John from his back. Water coated his eyelashes, and dripped from his cheeks. “You think I’ll tell you that, Marcello?”
To his father, but never looking away from Brad, John said, “In the back of my car—grab the black bag, thanks.”
“You got it, son.”
“I think you’re going to tell me quite a bit, actually,” John told Brad. “I mean, by the time I’m done with you. And don’t think that just because you give me information means I won’t kill you in the end. No, that’s not the case. I will kill you regardless. How fast I kill you depends on the kind of information you give me. Do you understand?”
Brad sneered.
John smiled.
Soon, Lucian had dropped the black bag at John’s feet. Bending down, John upended the bag and let the contents spill out where Brad could get a good look at them.
Just to make the point of each thing clear, John went through all of them. “A couple of knives—I like to watch people bleed, you know. Small ice picks because when I drive them up under your fingernails, you’ll choke on your own vomit. A stun-gun. We all know what that does, right? It’ll be better, though, because you’re soaked with water, now. Vice grips—they’re great to pull out shit. Teeth, whatever. And a gun.”
John smiled at the man again, knowing damn well he looked cold. “Take your pick.”
Brad stumbled over his words.
John nodded. “Yeah, we’re not playing games now. You need to start talking.”
Like most fuckers, Brad was stubborn. John used the stun-gun first, and watched the foolish idiot jump halfway across the warehouse floor before the shocks finally stopped running through his system. He let the guy bleed a little bit when he drove a knife into his kneecap, and then sighed—annoyed—when Brad cried when the ice picks came out to play.
Bending down in front of the now bound, soaked, bleeding, and soon-to-die Calabrese enforcer, John tipped his head to the side.
Maybe his father was right.
Maybe he hadn’t needed somebody to keep him in line after all.
“I just want information, Brad,” John said, “and I have all day. We would really like to give my sister something to make her husband’s funeral a little bit better. You could help us out here.”
“Y-y-you fuck—”
John stabbed the stun-gun into Brad’s neck for a couple of quick seconds. It was another minute before the guy stopped jerking all over the place.
“Next time,” John told him, “I am going to shove this fucking thing down your throat, and stab your eye out with the goddamn ice pick. See, I would have taken information for my sister about William, and probably called it a day. You couldn’t make shit easy on me, though, could you? Now I’m going to expect a hell of a lot more.”
Brad swallowed hard.
John nodded. “Yeah, I told you I wasn’t fucking playing around, asshole. Start talking.”
The enforcer would still die, though.
It was just how shit worked.
• • •
John slipped into the third pew behind his sisters and mother. He didn’t want to impose his presence on them right now, considering everything.
At the front of the church, William’s black casket rested high enough for everyone to see it whether they were standing up, or sitting down. The silver accents and bars shined brightly under the flickering candles.
“When do you think you can come over again?” Siena asked.
That burner phone he left for her was coming in handy. Talking with her early in the morning gave John something to get through the day, really.
“Not sure,” John replied honestly.
He knew that wasn’t a good enough answer for her, but it would have to do. After all, they had delivered the dead enforcer’s body to the doorstep of Kev Calabrese’s new place of residence—his mother’s brownstone. It had only been a few days since John extracted information from the guy, and then kill
ed him, but he kept him on ice to keep the body from going into decomposition.
He hoped Kev liked their present.
“I’ll try to figure out something soon,” he said. “But I have to go. This funeral is about to get started.”
“Don’t forget to tell Andino about Kev and Darren for me.”
“I won’t forget to tell Andino, love. Relax.”
“Okay.”
“Ti amo, Siena.”
“I love you, too, John.”
He hung up the call, and at the same time, Andino came to sit beside him in the pew. Ahead of them, Lucian sat down next to Cella who was currently holding onto her eight month old child like Tiffany was the only life line she had left in life.
Maybe the baby was.
Who knew?
“Tell me what?” Andino asked.
“Siena—I guess the Calabrese brothers are planning to make work and life a special kind of hell for us. They figure if they can’t get to us with violence and whatever else, then picking away at business will do the trick.”
Andino scowled. “Fucking bastards.”
“They’re not even worth all of this, Andino.”
Not the death of their family members.
Not his sister’s pain.
None of it.
Andino felt differently, apparently. “Anything can be worth something, John. It’s all about what you get in the end from it, really. Take that as you may.”
Maybe that was part of the problem.
John saw one thing.
Andino saw another.
“I take it you met up with Siena somehow?” Andino asked. “I didn’t get the chance to get over there last week during her yoga time.”
John shrugged. “I had a way in. I took it.”
“Don’t blame you.”
Ahead of them, Lucian murmured something to Cella which caused John’s sister to break in to tears. More tears. The woman hadn’t stopped crying.
John’s guilt increased.
He knew what his father told her.
William’s killer would be dead tonight.
They had a name.
They knew who did it.
She could thank John for that, but he would never expect it from his sister. He only hoped that someday, she did not feel like she did right now. He hoped that someday, she would be happy again.
