Her pussy spasmed around me, clenching like a wet velvet fist, drenching me in her cum. The wet slap and suck of our joining echoed in the car alongside her sweet cries.
Her heart beat a tattoo against me.
Mine, mine, mine.
I must have said the words aloud because she cried out as she climaxed, “Yours, yours, yours.”
My balls tightened almost painfully, every muscle in my body contracting around the inferno of pleasure at my center.
“Come for me,” Elena begged as took her savagely, more beast than man. “Come inside me. I missed being filled up with your cum.
That did it.
“Cazzo,” I cursed, my entire body clenched into one long muscle an instant before I came, spurting so hard inside her I could feel the hot splash of it against her womb. “My Lena, lottatrice.” I chanted as I spilled and spilled.
I gave her my weight, unable to hold myself up after the hugeness of my climax wrung me dry. She accepted it happily, twining me up in her limbs like a wrapped present, humming contentedly to herself as she stroked the back of my head.
“Mi sei mancata,” she told me sweetly, almost shyly.
I’ve missed you.
I braced on a hand in the seat to lever my torso off her so I could look into her face. Her features were soft, peaceful in a way they rarely were, broken up with love and pleasure to expose her fragile heart. I touched my finger to the corner of her red mouth and wondered at how lucky a man I’d become.
“Never again,” I promised once more, foolishly. “Nothing will come between us again. I will kill anyone that tries.”
“I know,” she said simply, tracing her fingers over the edge of my jaw. “I will too.”
It ached in me to know she meant that. There was nothing this fierce, loyal warrior of a woman wouldn’t do for me. Having the love of a woman like that was the greatest gift I’d ever received. There was also a perverse pleasure in knowing I could show her my darkness and she would match it with her own.
We weren’t perfect, far from it, but that was why I thought we were meant to be. Our jagged edges met beautifully.
Thirty
Dante
That night, when Elena was passed out in a sexual coma in our bed, I left the apartment with Frankie and Adriano. The RICO charges had been dropped and I was a free man, but that didn’t mean I was going live and let live.
Dennis O’Malley lived in a Soho brownstone on a quiet residential street. He had a security system, but Frankie made quick work of it from the car, his face lit blue by the computer screen.
Only Addie and I went to the house.
The lock on the door was pathetically easy to work open, the hinges well-oiled so it didn’t make a sound when we pushed into the house. It was late, nearly midnight, but light spilled into the hall from an open door at the back of the house.
I knew because Jaco had cased the place for us beforehand that it was Dennis’s office.
For a big guy, I knew how to move quietly in the shadows, so he didn’t detect me even when I was framed in the doorway.
He sat at his desk with his head in his hands, fingers dug into his messy hair, staring blankly at his computer screen. There was a bottle of Jack and an empty glass on the tabletop beside it, the bottle nearly empty.
“Boo.”
He startled so hard, his hand swept out to knock the Jack Daniels to the floor where it crashed and flooded the wood with booze.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house, Salvatore?” he demanded as he lurched to his feet and reached for his phone.
I pulled the gun in my hand up into view, training it dead center on his chest. “Ah, ah, I wouldn’t touch that if I was you.”
He frowned, his muddled brain taking longer to process the inevitable.
Then he froze as it occurred to him why I was there with a gun aimed at his ugly mug.
Because he was going to die.
“No,” he breathed involuntarily.
“Yes,” I countered with a smile that pulled back the curtains on the dark side of my soul. “I’m afraid so. Sit down, O’Malley.”
He fell back into his chair, the wheels taking me away from the desk toward the row of shelves at his back.
“You don’t honestly think you’ll get away with killing me, do you?” he asked with a superior sneer. “I may have lost this case, but everyone knows what you are. It’s only a matter of time before you’re put away for good.”
“Maybe.” I shrugged as I moved further into the room. “But not for this. You see, I’m not going to kill you. You’re going to kill yourself.”
He laughed.
He was a narcissistic stronzo so of course he did. The idea of taking his own life never would have occurred to him otherwise. He loved himself too much.
“How are you going to pull that off?” he asked, his words slurring just slightly.
His eyes were bloodshot, his skin clammy with cold sweat. He’d obviously had a lot to drink, which worked beautifully for me because it would only add to the tragic story.
“I’ve got a source that says The Times is writing an expose on you,” I said, conversationally, picking up a paperweight in the shape of the Statue of Liberty with my gloved hand. “They’re digging into your past. I also heard they got a tip that you grew up with a well-known Irish mobster by the name of Thomas Kelly and his associate, Seamus Moore. All of your cases will be invalidated because they’ll be able to shine a light on what a fucking scumbag you are.”
He stared at me, left eye twitching. “I’ve never done anything half so bad as you.”
“No, but then, you also haven’t done anything half so well or you wouldn’t be in this situation,” I pointed out helpfully.
“You’re a fucking bastard,” he ground out. “I’m not going to end myself because you think you can blackmail me.”
“Did I say I would stop with you?” I smiled handsomely. “No, why would I do that? You went for my wife, so why wouldn’t I go after your loved ones? Your mama up over Hoboken, your granny up in Albany. Did they raise you because your dad left when you were just a kid? I’m going to have men on every person you love, Dennis, because you set the rules for this game and in them, family was never off limits.”
Finally, he seemed to understand I wasn’t fucking around. His posture slumped in the chair, his eyes distant as he considered.
“Then there is that pretty assistant DA that’s been sucking your cock every day for the last two years. What’s her name…?” I snapped my fingers. “Angelica! Yeah, I got a man on Angelica right now.”
“You’re a monster,” he breathed.
I sat in the chair across the desk from him and leaned forward with my forearms on my thighs to smile ferally at him. “Yeah, I’m a monster, Dennis. Yet, you fucked with me and mine. You knew who I was, what I was, and you still thought you could get away with trying to ruin my life? Ruin Elena’s life?” I clucked my tongue against my teeth. “No, no one gets away with that.”
“I’ll leave you alone,” Dennis suggested, trying not to beg, his pride strangling him. “I won’t go after you again.”
I chuckled. “Cute, but too late. You made your fucking bed and now, you can lie in it six feet under.”