Charming Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

I came in a flash of pleasure. I came on his fingers, moaning his name. My vision dimmed, faded, and I was left gasping for air, my body pink with need.

He kissed me again and again.

“You have no idea how beautiful you are when you come,” he whispered in my ear, and that only made me blush more.

I was supposed to be deadly and sophisticated. But as soon as he got his hands on my pussy, suddenly I was like clay. He could mold me, shape me, and take me how he pleased.

And god, it felt good.

He pulled back, studying me. I felt exposed and sat up, covering my chest with my arms.

He peeled them away. “Don’t hide yourself.”

“I’ve never had someone look at me like that before.”

“Like what? Like I want to fuck you?”

“Like you want to own me.” I pushed him back and got off the bed.

He stared as I dressed. “Would that be so bad? Owning you?”

“That’s the worst thing you could do.”

“What if I only owned you in the bedroom?” His lips quirked. “You might like that.”

“Get out, asshole. You were doing so good until right now.”

He stood, still smiling. “I only mean that you don’t have to be afraid of this. I’m not lying when I say you’re my goal, and all the rest is nothing.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” I drifted toward the bathroom just to get away. “I think I want to be alone now.”

He grunted and walked to the door. He gave me one last yearning look before disappearing.

I fled. I slammed the bathroom door and locked it, breathing hard.

I’d never come before.

Not from someone else, at least. I’d given myself orgasms—

But never anything like that.

It scared me how the feeling lingered, like he got his hooks into my skin and he’d never let me go.

Chapter 17

Redmond

I left Erin with Chika, James, and several of my best men. I didn’t want to be away from her, not for a second.

Not after getting a taste of her stiff nipples or feeling her clench and gasp as she came on my fingers.

That was the sweetest thing I’d ever experienced. It made my life worth something for the first time.

And now I had to leave her.

It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t have another choice.

Besides, it was only for a few hours.

Palmira was quiet as she navigated the Range Rover down I-70 past families in minivans and SUVs. She messed with the radio and settled on a conspiracy-theory talk radio host.

“How can you listen to this crap?” I turned off the power.

She shrugged. “Helps me zone out. It’s like meditation. You listen to them spouting all this bullshit like it’s real and you sort of detach from reality.”

“I need you very much in reality right now.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” She grinned, eyes on the road. “You wanna talk about the girl?”

“No.”

“I can practically feel you thinking about her.”

“Palm.”

“I’m just saying. Your obsession is palpable. Think she noticed yet?”

I shook my head and looked out the window. “I told her, but she doesn’t believe me.”

“She will, if she’s half as smart as they say she is.”

We lapsed into silence again. Palmira knew me better than anyone in this world and even she didn’t know the full extent of how I felt about Erin. It was less like love and more like obsession bordering on homicidal insanity. I couldn’t keep myself under control when she was around and felt my mind slipping toward lewd, terrible things—

But as soon as those thoughts would intrude, I’d look into her eyes, and it would all go away. The fantasy of her was nothing compared to the reality. Her moans banished all that madness the second I heard them, and the taste of her stiff nipple on my tongue saved me from losing it completely.

Maybe this was what my father felt for Maeve. If it was, I could almost understand why he lost his mind when she’d rejected him. I didn’t deserve his ire or his abuse, but the need to hurt something just to make the pain stop for a little while could be seductive. I wouldn’t excuse him and I wouldn’t forgive him, but I punished him enough when I put that bullet in his head. I could at least try to understand.

“We’re close,” Palmira said, squinting at a road sign. We sped along in the right lane and got off at a rest stop four miles later.

It was a clean, well-lit place. There were cars in the lot, though not many. A few semi-trucks were parked nearby, waiting. Palmira rolled to the far end of the lot beneath an overhead light where a single black SUV was slotted into a space all alone, away from the rest of the crowd, close to a single picnic table on the edge of a scrubby, weed-choked forest.