Men of Mayhem (23 page)

“Do you like California?” I asked, reaching across the table and taking her free hand.

“From what I’ve seen so far, yes.” Her eyes connected with mine, deep pools of blue. “And I really like the people I’ve met.”

“Let’s get out of here,” I said and stood up, guiding her through the crowded restaurant. Soon we were back on my bike. That night I broke one of my rules and brought Lauren back to my house, something I’d never done before with another woman. Seeing her walk through my house, picking up little objects like pictures of my family, filled me with a sense of warmth or completion. It felt right having her here in my space. She asked me where the bathroom was and I led her down the tiled hallway, her boot heels echoing the entire way. A feminine sound I wasn’t used to hearing here.

She found me in the kitchen where I offered her something to drink.

“Just water, please,” she replied and leaned back against the black granite countertop to watch me get a glass from one of the cabinets. My house was completely modern and had top of the line everything right down to a six burner Viking stove that I never used. I lived alone and rarely cooked. Lauren accepted the water and licked her lips before taking a sip. She tilted her head back slightly, revealing the long column of her neck. I imagined a tattoo twisting up along that clean skin, something like a vine or flowers, elegant and sweet to match her personality. She set the glass down and stepped closer to me. Hooking her fingers into the belt loops of my jeans, she tugged me forward and I went willingly, my lips twisted up in a grin.

“Can I help you with something, sweetheart?”

“You haven’t shown me your bedroom yet.”

She didn’t have to say anything else, and she couldn’t because I possessed her mouth at that moment. Her lips were soft and pliant. She opened immediately to me and I slipped my tongue in to meet hers. I tugged on her braid and her head fell backward so I had access to her neck. Placing kisses in a hungry trail down to her shoulder had her gasping and arching into me, pushing her breasts closer to my face. All she had worn under her leather jacket was a red tank top. I kept kissing and licking until I reached the top of her breasts then I slipped the straps of her tank and bra down, yanking them around her waist, freeing the luscious globes. Her skin was creamy and smooth, her nipples pebbled in the cold air, a lovely dusty rose. Cupping both breasts in my hands, I sucked on one, drawing the nipple into my mouth and lightly biting down, grazing my teeth along the sensitive peak. Lauren moaned and reached down to stroke my dick through my jeans. I was already hard and ready to burst.

“I need to see you naked,” I growled and unbuttoned her jeans.

“That goes both ways,” she panted, bending over to remove her boots. I ripped my t-shirt over my head and quickly stripped off my jeans while watching Lauren undress. Fuck, her body was made for sin—perfect tits, a slim waist, and curvy hips. The scar on her stomach only added to her beauty. She was a survivor, a fighter, and I had my own scars too. She took those in now, tracing the fading scar on my side, right below my ribcage from a hunting knife. Her fingers trailed down to the puckered scar on my thigh that was still pink as it wasn’t that old. My friend Natalie had seen to getting me immediate medical help after I was shot and showed up on her doorstep. Lauren circled me, taking in my tattoos, placing soft kisses on various parts of my body. When she circled around the front, she grabbed my erection in her hand and started stroking.

“Your body tells a story, doesn’t it?” she whispered in my ear before sucking on the lobe.

“Yes, as does yours,” I groaned, pulling her close so the tip of my dick ground against her flat stomach. Every piece of ink on my body had meaning, from the word
family
on my forearm to the skull face on my neck. I was pain, an executioner, and I was the one holding my family together. Lauren’s body spoke of her innocence and her loss. She was the light to my dark. I needed her. “I’ll show you the bedroom later. I can’t wait.”

I spun her around so she was bent over the kitchen counter. She gasped with the contact of her bare skin on the cold granite. Slipping my fingers through her folds, I was pleased to find her already wet. A few strokes and she started bucking against my hand, crying out for more. I slapped her ass, making her yelp and still. Shit, I needed a condom. As much as I wanted to sink inside her depths and claim her, there was no way I could bring a kid into my world. I stepped away and picked my jeans up off the floor to grab the condom I always kept in my wallet. When I stood up, Lauren had turned to face me. Her cheeks were flushed like she had a fever and her eyes dark with desire.

“I want you, Victor, more than I have ever wanted any man, but I don’t want you for just one night.”

“Oh, sweetheart, we’re going to need more than one night. Guaranteed.” Her eyes opened wide at that and her swollen lips twisted up in a grin before she turned around and assumed the original position, her ass high in the air. Rolling the condom on, I approached and nudged her opening with my tip, sliding it back and forth, teasing her. She moaned and pushed back, forcing a few inches of me inside. I lost control after that and pushed in with one deep thrust. Lauren cried out and arched her back, throwing her head back. With one hand gripping her hip, I grabbed onto her braid and held her in place while I pounded into her, causing her to writhe, moan, and call out my name.

“Harder, Victor. Oh God, you feel so good!” She screamed and shuddered against me as an orgasm washed over her.

We were both covered in sweat and her perfume drifted up to my nose. Closing my eyes, I breathed it in, remembering everything about this moment—her smell, the breathy sounds she made in between crying out, and the way we fit together so perfectly. With one final push, I grunted and released, unable to hold back any longer. Lauren collapsed, the counter supporting her weight, and I stayed with her, not ready to be separated. We stayed there, panting, hearts racing for a few minutes. Slowly I lifted myself off Lauren’s back and slipped out from between her legs. She stood and watched as I disposed of the condom.

“Come on. Let me show you my bedroom.”

I woke the next morning curled around Lauren, our naked bodies pressed so close together like we were trying to merge into one. We made love before we drifted off into a sated sleep, taking time to get to know each other’s bodies without the rough urgency of our kitchen sex. I could have watched her sleep all day and hated to wake her, but it was Sunday, the one day I usually visited my dad in prison.

“Sweetheart,” I whispered in her ear and tightened the arm I had draped across her body, pulling her closer against me. She growled and burrowed her head deeper in the pillow. At some point during our lovemaking, her braid had come loose and her hair was a mass of kinky waves. “Time to get up.”

Lauren moved her ass, pressing it against my morning wood and I reflexively thrust back. Her lips curled up in a smile and I knew she was awake. She groaned and stretched out, rolling onto her back while still staying within the circle of my arms.

“Hi,” she said, smiling up at me.

“Hi.” I lowered my head to kiss her and she moved so my lips landed on her cheek.

“Morning breath!” she explained and practically launched out of bed. I chuckled as she retreated to the bathroom.

“Do you want coffee?” I called as I pulled on my briefs.

“Yes, please!”

I went into the kitchen to get a pot of coffee brewing and to check my phones for any messages. Fortunately there wasn’t anything urgent. Gio was good about that and respected my need to have Sundays off.

“Mmmm, that coffee smells good,” Lauren said, coming up behind me and wrapping her arms around my waist. I placed my hands over hers and squeezed. A sense of contentment washed over me, but that quickly faded when I thought about visiting my dad in prison. I could very well suffer the same fate and I didn’t want Lauren to have to go through that, but at this point, letting her go wasn’t an option. This orphan from Ohio had succeeded in doing something no other woman had done before. She’d touched my heart.

Lauren

After a lingering kiss at my door, Victor left to go see his father and I floated inside my studio. I had a ridiculous amount of messages on my phone checking in on my status, but my boss had a geo-locator on my cell phone so they could track my location. They saw I had stayed at Victor’s house the entire night. I was sore in all the right places and couldn’t stop smiling. Not only was Victor a skilled lover, but he was generous too and made sure I received enough attention. The more I got to know him and how he overcame a challenging childhood, like me, I found myself falling for the man. Reality set in when my phone chimed. Yet another text from my boss, this one demanding that I call him immediately.

“This is Lauren checking in,” I said when he picked up after the first ring.

“Any news on the heroin shipment?”

I rolled my eyes and made a jack-off motion with my hand.

“Sir, did you expect that he’d spill those details as pillow talk? No. Nothing came up, and I did a sweep of his house when he was taking a shower this morning. I didn’t find anything mob related except for pictures of Gio holding a baby Victor at his christening.”

“Fine. Are you seeing each other again?”

“Yes, tomorrow for my first tattoo session. He’s taking me out to dinner after.” My stomach fluttered at the idea of having him permanently mark me with his ink and design.

“Did you plant any of those bugs in his house?”

“No, I didn’t. It’s too soon.” I didn’t relish the idea of my sex life being recorded. Besides, Victor wasn’t stupid, and if he found a bug planted in his house right after he had me over, the entire investigation would be compromised.

“All right. Keep up the good work and please check in more frequently when you’re alone with that guy so I know you’re okay. Especially since you refuse to be monitored.”

“Yes, sir.” I hung up and tossed the phone on the coffee table. When I wrote up my report that night, I left out the explicit details and just stated that I spent the night at Victor’s house. I described his character instead and said that his success as a business owner was a result of his hard work and talent. I mentioned how he left a thirty percent tip at dinner and observed all of the traffic laws on his bike. I don’t know why I was trying to make him sound like a Boy Scout. It was hard reconciling the man I knew as a killer and part of a large drug business. He was really good at keeping his life as a mafioso secret and a part of me wanted him to be completely honest. I wanted to tell him who I really was too, but that would be suicide. Reminding myself that a happy ever after with Victor was impossible made me sad. With a heavy sigh, I emailed my report then curled up on the sofa and started to cry.