On the Rocks: A Dark Mafia Romance Read online

An expression I can’t quite discern draws her face down. Damn it. I guess I am too fucking bossy. But she nods, and slides in next to me. Kneading the sticky ball with nimble fingers, while I start to butter and flour the pan waiting next to the warming oven. In less than thirty seconds, her soft smile returns. A relaxed contentment from working side-by-side. Matching my own unfamiliar enjoyment of feeling so peaceful, so comfortable.

  To be baking.

  With my wife.

  What the fucking hell? I have no fucking idea when I turned into a domesticated pussy bitch. But fuck me if I don’t love it. Love her. Caught up in my reverie, I lean down and kiss the top of her head. And of course fucking catch a glimpse of the smooth hollow between her breasts. Making me fucking rock hard in an instant. Which I can’t do anything about right now since I’m already so damn late.

  But fucking worth the consequences from the serenity humming through her body. The tranquility between us that I crave for her. She deserves so much more from me than my cash and my cock.

  I nod toward the speaker tucked between a stack of cookbooks. “What’re we listening to?”

  “Madame Butterfly. It’s my favorite opera.”

  Another surprise that I fucking love discovering about her. An eclectic taste in music that I can appreciate. Introducing me to genres I never thought I would like.

  “Even though it always makes me cry."

  That makes no fucking sense. Must be a girl thing. “Then why the fuck do you listen to it?”

  A smirk. Almost giving me a full on eye roll. She better fucking check herself, or she’ll be on her back with her legs spread again from that feisty attitude stirring up my insatiable dick.

  “Because it’s beautiful and poetic. A tragedy, you know like Romeo and Juliet or Othello…”

  I must have a bullshit look on my face because she giggles again, tossing her head at my skepticism. I know beatings and bullets, not arias.

  "She thinks they’re deeply in love. But, actually only she is. He leaves her, promising to return. He never does. It destroys her when she finally realizes…”

  My humor fades faster than her disappearing grin. An emptiness, that I see too damn often, fills her expression instead. “What?”

  “…that she’s not enough for him.”

  Fury burns through me from her admission. She tortures herself without understanding the pain she inflicts on her damaged heart. Mimicking the story of her own parents. Saving other peoples’ kids more important to them than raising their own child. So fucking stupid. I want to fucking hate these people for the worthlessness they weigh her down with. But the sick fucking bastard in me knows if she wasn’t so lost, I never would have found her.

  “He wants a life with someone else.”

  She better not ever fucking worry that I’ll do the same thing. “Sounds like a fucking idiot to me if he can't‒”

  “Hey Boss, one more thing I forgot to mention…”

  Butcher’s long strides break at the dark gray pillars, designating the edge of the kitchen space. His wide eyes drinking in her luscious curves and bobbing curls while Midnight croaks out a strained warning bark. All he can manage after the years of abuse to his vocal cords. The damage never really able to be repaired.

  I twist around, shielding Trinity from Butcher's view. Her small hand tugs on my back waistband, attempting to calm my furious ass down. Which only enrages me more that she asks for lenience for this impudent motherfucker who has the fucking audacity to ogle my wife.

  His gaze flicks to meet mine before dropping to the floor. Where it fucking belongs and had better stay.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize she was‒“

  “Doesn’t matter. From now on you fucking check with me first before coming inside.”

  “Yes, sir. My apologies Mrs. Deveraux.”

  Surprisingly, no insolence sounds in his tone from my reprimand. Which is way less harsh than he deserves, but Trinity doesn’t need to be exposed to my rage any more than she has to be.

  She peeks out from behind me, a hesitant grimace darting from me to him. “It’s okay, Butcher. No worries at all.”

  He slowly nods, taking a few stumbling steps backward. Shocked as I am by her exoneration. “Thank you.”

  I keep my attention focused on his retreating back. Bastard’s lucky she’s here, or I’d probably put a bullet into his motherfucking head. Fucking new guys need to be trained better. Taught some fucking manners.

  Trinity’s shuddering breath yanks my gaze down to her. Normally, I would end anyone who defies my orders or attempts to minimize my authority. But, it’s impossible to be angry with her. When it’s me who should feel guilty for marrying her into a life she doesn’t know or understand.

  Panic lines her pale face. “Please don’t be mad at him. It’s my fault. I should have gotten dressed. I messed up. I’m not used to living with bodyguards. I’m so sorry I‒”

  Fuck. I refuse to let her fear me. Or what I’ll do. I stroke over her silky hair and down her cheek to lift her chin. “You never have to apologize. They’re here to protect you, not intrude on your life.”

  She slides out of my grip, ducking under my gaze. Watching her fingers cross and uncross with a secret she mistakenly thinks only she knows. “I just don’t want you to be mad.”

  Because of her. Damn it. I’m a bastard for frightening my sunshine. My peacemaker who wants everything to be okay. Needs everyone to be okay. Because otherwise she gets left behind.

  “I should go change.”

  Fuck that shit. No one’s going to keep me from admiring my wife’s stunning body. My hands slide around her waist, lifting her to sit on the counter. A sharp shriek bounces off the stainless steel from her bare skin discovering the cold surface, and she tendrils around me instead. Gripping me tight with her shivering body. Even fucking better. “The hell you are. You wear whatever the fuck you want.”

  I’m so fucking hard it hurts. Not just from her earnest touch, but the relief softening her taut body. The gratitude in her relaxing expression that I defend her rather than abandon her. Unlike all the other selfish assholes in her life. “And, if I want my wife naked in my kitchen, then that’s what I’ll fucking do.”

  Her plump lips part with a small gasp as her fingernails dig into my biceps from her tensing grasp. Fully aware I’m as serious as fuck. Strip her down and bend her over the island to fuck my baby right into her belly.

  But, I won’t. Not today anyway. Not with her nervous gaze fliting through the cavernous space. All concrete and metal and stone. Completely open from the front door to the wrap-around balcony. Only broken up by the wooden stairs leading to the bedroom platform, hanging from chains suspended from the thirty foot ceilings. Perfect when I was alone. Or with fuck buddies I didn’t give a damn about exposing to the curious eyes of my men.

  But for her, the loft’s too cold and hard. She needs a yard, not a rooftop garden. Real rooms with cozy rugs and fancy paintings on the walls. A nursery she can decorate to the hilt. I kiss her forehead. “I’m building a house for you.”

  “What?” Worry seeps through her whisper as she slowly raises her huge blue eyes. Already starting to shine. “You don’t want me here anymore?”

  God damn it. She gives me that look. That fucking kicked puppy look that I swore I would never cause to darken her face again. Reminding me that I'm an asshole and need to choose my words more carefully. Because all she’s ever heard in her life is she’s a burden. In the way. Too much trouble.

  Not anymore.

  Not ever fucking again.

  That shit ends now. I thread my fingers into her tumbling braid and yank down. Holding her in place. Forcing her to meet my gaze. To see the absolute sincerity of my vow. “You will always be with me. Wherever I am, you will be too.”

  “I will?”

  Doubt still hums in her tone. A worry I must eliminate. Permanently. “Fuck yes you will. Because I love you, and I want you to be happy.”

  A powerful shudder rolls thro
ugh her. Absorbing my words deep into the cracks of her splintered heart. That’s been stomped on too many fucking times. Slender fingers cup my cheeks as she holds her forehead to mine.

  “I am. More than you’ll ever know.”

  I do know, sunshine. And I’m going to make damn sure that never changes. “Good.”

  I let her hug me for as long as she needs to. And not think about how bad I want to fuck her with her lips brushing the side of my neck. Ignore my aching cock from her delicate orange blossom scent wafting over me. Her thighs squeezing my waist so hard her pussy's practically fucking my belly button.

  “I love you and want you to be happy too.”

  The normal carefree jubilance returns to her voice. She’s back. Good. Now we really can play. Tugging on the hem of her silky negligee, I push her hips lower, grinding her against my dick. “Then take this off.”

  A moan vibrates against my blazing skin before she reaches down to slide her top over her head. Satin tickles my face billowing upward like a rising curtain, revealing her bared to me on the other side. Fuck me for ever thinking I’m the boss. She owns me so fucking bad.

  A defiant smirk twitches on her lips as she tilts back. Nothing I can fucking do but watch her swirl her finger through the bowl of whipped icing and bring the tip to her mouth, sucking in the white sweetness. Mesmerized by her seduction, my own lips part as she drags the cream cheese down her chest and between her amazing tits. Enticing me to follow the same glorious trail.

  “Are you hungry, husband?”

  Screw the four million. Sinking into her sweet pussy is worth way more than that. “Fuck yes.”

  She giggles from the need rasping in my voice. Well aware what she does to me. But I'm fucking turning the tables on her. Literally.

  Her head lolls back when I lick down her ivory skin, bucking against me when I suck in every sugary morsel. Leaving my marks on her so everyone at dinner tonight will know how thoroughly and completely I've fucked my wife.

  I palm the narrow width between her shoulder blades to keep her from falling as she succumbs to my teeth on her nipples. Only her heaving gasps sweetening the fragrant air even more. "I'm fucking starving."

  Wide eyes flick open, meeting mine when I walk us toward the bench tucked behind the wet bar. Luckily for her the housekeeper decorates with overstuffed pillows to cushion her knees because that marble top is fucking freezing too, and I'm not in the mood to show her any mercy after her temptation of me.

  After twisting her around and depositing her onto the smooth surface, I yank on her tiny panties. My only warning before I rip the flimsy fabric in two. Letting the silk flutter to the floor as I caress over her right cheek. A reminder to lift her cute ass high as she can. With the height difference between us, I have to do everything I can to ensure unfettered access for my ravenous dick to her beckoning pussy.

  Another desperate groan welcomes me when I yank down my zipper and curl over her velvet back, shoving my mouth to her ear. "Hold on tight."

  An immense convulsion trembles under my hands. Without hesitation, her delicate fingers grip the speckled border. Fucking shit. It’s sexy as hell to see her looking back at me in anticipation. She needs this even more than I do. I grab her hips and impale her in one long drive. Fuck me if she isn't dripping wet for me already.

  The mewl purring in her throat would make me take a beating just to hear it again. No man deserves to feel this good.

  She grips my forearms straddling hers and snuggles deeper, cocooning herself against me. Matching my thrusts while I bury my forehead in the crook of her neck. Trusting me just like I want her to. I can't fuck it up. No matter how much I want to ravish her.

  Instead, I entwine her soft fingers with mine. Caressing the giant diamond and platinum bands as a reminder of who she is and how I feel about her. "I can't see your beautiful face, sunshine. So you've got to talk to me. Tell me how you feel."

  "I love you, Drake."

  Fuck, this woman slays me with her breathless assertion. Her heart responding to my words and my touch. Accepting as much of me as she can within her petite body. I suck the tender skin on her shoulder. "I love you too. But, I mean physically. Are you okay? I don't want to be too much."

  "Never." She clenches tighter around me. Her pussy clamping down on my cock like a vise. Both of us so fucking close. Even though I never want it to end. "Y-you always feel so good."

  But I need more. Better. I wrap my arm around her tits and lift her higher, sheathing her back against my chest. My other hand slides down to her clit, swollen and pulsing in unison with my throbbing balls. A few firm strokes of my thumb and she jerks against me, her body writhing in ecstasy.

  Unable to hold back, I follow her. Exploding inside her with an intensity bordering on madness. God, I fucking love this woman. More than I understand or ever thought possible.

  She droops down onto the curve of my lap. Spent from me taking her three times in two hours. Our come runs down my legs, staining my dress pants still bunched around my hips. Which as much as I would love to be reminded all day of her sweet pussy, I need to take another shower.

  Too sated to protest, she allows me to flip her over and curl her against me. I press a kiss on her temple as she snuggles in and chuckle at the mess we've made. No cinnamon rolls this morning I guess.

  Heading into the living room and up the steps, I enjoy one last look at her gorgeous body before I lay her down on the bed. Relishing her curving softness and smooth skin glowing from the sunlight flooding the room. Until I sweep over her thigh. Bile burns in my gut.

  A bruise.

  A motherfucking bruise.

  From me.

  My stomach lurches. The proof of my harshness with her destroys my contentment in a fucking heartbeat. God damn fucking shit. I know what she’s been through. The uncle who thought every infraction, no matter how insignificant, deserved the belt. Or the foster father who believed in beating bibles as well as kids to keep the devil at bay. Well aware of all that bullshit, and I still fucked up.

  Warm fingers curl around mine. Keeping me from stroking the damn mark again.

  "I'm okay. Really, I promise."

  So earnest in her assertion. That I want to be true so fucking bad. For her as much as for me. She has too many fucking reasons to be frightened. Knows too damn well the cruelty a man can inflict upon her. I refuse to let her fear me like those bastards. "Damn it, Trinity. I didn't mean to hurt you."

  “You didn’t." Her voice is stronger this time. Ambivalence replaced by a vehemence that I rarely hear from her. But really fucking like. "I know the difference between you and them.”

  Like she can read my mind. Shouldn’t even be a fucking them. I should fucking kill her father too for even letting them have the opportunity to abuse her.

  Yet, somehow, some way she actually means it. Fucking resilient enough to try and forget the past and allow me be her future. My sunshine’s tiny, but tough.

  Pink fingernails guide our coupled hands over the burgundy splotches on her chest and tits. Caressing the reminders of my earlier devotion to her body.

  “Besides I love how you touch me.”

  My greedy cock jumps from her enticing tone. Not sure if I could really fuck her four times in one morning. Although my dick's sure damn willing to try. “I fucking love touching you, but I have to get to work.”

  “I know. That’s why I’m going to be good and not follow you into the shower.”

  She actually fucking winks at me. All sexy and bold and gorgeous. That I have to force myself to resist. "I'll make it up to you tonight after the party."

  Although I'd rather stay home and keep her all to myself. But since I screwed over the only other woman I love out of her opportunity to help plan a wedding, I can't deny her demand to host an extravagant reception. Audacious, expensive, and excessive. Just like my mother loves. Almost as much as she loves me. And how I know she'll feel about Trinity when she actually gets to spend more than five minutes with her.


  Letting the sheet fall away, Trinity climbs to her knees and places an innocent kiss on my cheek. “Promise?”

  Fuck me. My wife’s kneeling and naked on my bed. A deep groan rumbles from my throat to my pulsing balls. "I fucking guarantee it."

  Her laughter follows me all the way to the bathroom. My cock in wholehearted agreement that I'm a fucking lucky bastard. Stupid, but lucky. I yank off my clothes and step down to the cold tile, flinching under the even colder water. Failing to calm my angry dick which wants her now, not later. Patience not a strong suit for either of us. Especially when I'm too damn aware she's naked less than fifteen feet away.

  Until I discover that's no longer true when I return to the bedroom.

  An irrational ache brews in my gut. She'd never make it past the guards, but that still doesn't mean I can deal with not knowing where she is. Or accept that she might try to run because I spooked her with my fucking stupid comments earlier.

  Very few places she could be. Only three spaces have doors in the penthouse that I gutted, along with the floor below it, to make the loft. I stride first to the walk-in closet.

  Trinity.

  My body relaxes, yet the relief from finding her evaporates along with my confidence. Motherfucker. She's shoving shit into the go-go bag. The silly childhood moniker she named the pink backpack that somehow stuck over the years. Always packed and ready to grab after too many sudden departures from places she was kicked out of. Regardless if she loved or loathed them, the decision was never hers to make. Just hustled out by well-meaning social workers, forced to leave behind the few possessions she actually owned and cared about.

  Disappointment surges through me, to see her huddled on my god damn floor, slipping in a folded paper, when she thinks I'm not around to catch her. One of my biggest fucking failures. Never able to convince her to unpack the damn thing and throw it away.

  I could do it myself. Nothing would give me more pleasure than slicing up the cheap neon fabric and helping her display her photos and frame her mementos. But the satisfaction would be hollow. Just me wielding my power. What I want is for her to be free of the doubt. To believe in us enough to let go of the uncertainty herself.