Mad Max (Chicago Crew) Page 8

  “So bloody alluring,” I murmur, while leaning down into her. My lips fall to hers where I’m met with red-hot heat in return. Her kiss reminds me of the candy cinnamon hearts that’re sweet but have a bit of bite to them. You know every time you taste one it won’t be boring in the slightest—perhaps a bit confusing, but never rudimentary.

  Twisting us around, I slam her back against the wall. Our kiss grows tense as we each fight for dominance. Ismerlda challenges me at every turn. It’s both maddening and intoxicating all in the same breath. One hand is wrapped around the front of her throat, holding her in place. She may dual with me for power over our kiss, but I’ll be damned if I give her control over her body. She’ll be right where I want her to be, so close to me that she can’t breathe anything other than my air. She’ll feel me and everything she does to me. If she only knew the true power she possesses.

  This woman is mine, no matter how farfetched that thought may be. When we come together, we’re explosive. It’s the truth I’m able to finally see. We’re oil and water—we don’t mix. Yet both are required to bake a cake, and in this instance, we’re both needed to get through this task for Joker, together. We may butt heads at every turn, but I’m not fighting the drag she has on my body any longer. The moment she spreads these shapely thighs open, I’ll sink all the way down to my bollocks in her warm, wet cunt and rejoice. We were put into each other’s path for a reason, something greater than I was ever anticipating.

  My free hand travels to her hip, applying just enough pressure for her to raise her thigh. I easily lift her up, and she wraps her legs around my waist. I press my solid cock against her center, my chest rumbling with a gratified groan. I can feel the warmth radiating from her crotch against my trousers. My length is more than happy to get a bit of friction from the enticing Italian beauty. It’s not enough though. I crave more. I need inside her, hearing her as she comes around my shaft.

  My mouth leaves hers, moving to her throat. I nip and suck my way lower, pushing the collar of her blouse to the side. I want to see these perfect tits of hers as well as taste them. If I were a betting bloke, I’d wager on her being a wild one in the sack. My body thrums with the promise of what’s to come, finally being able to angry fuck her pussy raw. I press into her, getting rewarded with her moan. “That’s it, lovey, get that cunt drenched for me.”

  Her hands fall to my firm, wide chest, pushing me away. It takes me a minute to catch on, as I’m too wrapped up in the promise of having her completely. She’s like a thick fog, drawing me in, wrapping around me until I don’t know where I am any longer. “No, Max. We’re not doing this here.” She puts a stop to my dizzy fantasies, pulling the warmth from my bones.

  I shoot her a puzzled stare, my cock ready to break my zipper down for some relief. “Why not? He’s dead and he surely wouldn’t care if we fuck, were he alive. I can give you a proper shag against this wall. All I need is you naked, and you’ll be coming.”

  “I don’t want some quick sex in this disgusting hellhole of a room. It stinks, it’s filthy, and there’s a group of jackasses outside these walls. I need disinfectant, a hot shower, and then I should make some calls.”

  Releasing a breath, I pull away, allowing her back down to her feet. “Fine. Should’ve known you would be a tease, even with me. The shooting must’ve affected you more than I realize.”

  “Don’t you dare try to make me feel guilty for telling you to stop. That’ll make me want to fuck you even less and pour boiling water over your dick. Nobody likes an asshole, Max, so don’t be one to me.”

  I roll my eyes, pouting to myself. Though I’d never admit it’s what I’m doing. “Point taken,” I murmur and give her my back, attempting to wrangle my cock back under control. I’m so damn hard at the moment, I’ll end up with a sick case of blue balls, my bollocks ready to shrivel up and die. Ismerlda may’ve called an end to me having her pussy this time, but I’ll wear her down eventually. She’s to be my wife, after all, and I’ll damn sure be shagging my wife on the regular. I could never understand the blokes who went around crying about their wives holding out on them, but now I’m beginning to understand why they were such a sorry lot.

  If Ismerlda wants to keep my attention only on her, however, it’s in her best interest she spread those pretty legs and welcome my fat cock. She’s completely bonkers if she thinks I’ll allow some tosser to fuck her after she’s taken my last name. I’ll never go for it, no matter how mad she drives me. I’ll kill every last wanker that comes sniffing about her cunt. It may take a bit, but she’ll learn soon enough that I’m a tad possessive when I have my interests set in something, and I’m no good at sharing.

  “Come on then. Make sure you stay behind me.”

  “Why can’t I walk beside you?”

  “Oh bloody hell, woman. This isn’t some sexist jab I’m taking at you. It’s because this is my crew, and if you’re not in my shadow then you’re fair game. Suck your pride up a moment and realize that in this warehouse, I’m the bloke in charge. And don’t fucking stray out of my reach either. They’d snatch you up and tear into your sweet cunt before you’d have a chance to scream and fight them off. I really don’t need another headache to deal with.”

  “Sounds like a real stand-up group you’ve got here. I can’t wait to meet them.” She’s sarcastic, and I admire her bravado.

  I get in her face, our noses touching once more as I rumble, “Their priority is my word. Whatever I demand, they make it happen. Most cases it’s kidnapping or murder, so no, I don’t need stand-up pricks. I need fuckers that’ll handle business. They nabbed your arse, didn’t they?”

  She shoots me a glower, and I offer a grin in return. She’s kidding herself if she believes I’ll shy from that glare. If anything it has me desiring her more.

  If you don’t like me but still watch everything

  I do, then let’s face it, you’re a fan.

  – www.ishouldhavesaid.net

  Kidnapped. The infuriating man had his goons abduct me as I’d left the apartment to go to work. I thought I could skirt by without having to speak to him. Obviously, that blew up in my face.

  Now, I’ve killed a man for him… to what, impress him or something? It’s absurd. I’ve never done anything like that, but in his presence, it was like all rational thoughts left me. Or better yet, perhaps it was to show him he doesn’t intimidate me, which is a fucking lie. No matter how rough around the edges I may be from growing up in the life, at the end of the day, Maximillian Macintosh terrifies me. He’s going to be my husband, and today proves what I’m in for if I attempt to hide away from him. He won’t tolerate my absence.

  I’ve somehow managed to meet him head-on in everything he’s presented me with so far, but when does life quit being a test with him? How many bodies have to stack up before he stops pushing me, attempting to get me to snap? He’s in for a rude awakening because it won’t happen, ever. At least not on the outside where he can witness the pieces falling apart. I know how to hide my emotions, and I can be fairly decent at it when I have to be.

  A haunting tune begins to play throughout the apartment, the Bluetooth speakers announcing his presence. He’d ordered his men to bring me back home after I’d shot Roberto Vittorio. That was a few days ago, though it feels more like a week ago. Max had business, the sort he didn’t want me to accompany him on, and I had my own issues to sort out. I came back as directed and called work. I’ve been home, locked up in this apartment for three days, working as much as I can and attempting to not go crazy while Max has been radio silent. I don’t know why, but I expect him to come home covered in someone’s blood.

  He’s not, of course. The taxing man shows up looking as if he’s spent his time away lounging at a spa retreat. Clad in a crisp three-piece suit, he has me swallowing roughly, attempting to school my reaction to the visceral pull he seems to possess over me. That’s another thing I’m not too keen on: the affect he has over me by merely being in the same room. “Hello, darling,” he gree
ts. “Have a proper rest while I was away?”

  His posh accent has me rolling my eyes and huffing out a breath at how sexy it sounds. “Hard to relax when there’s mob goons stationed outside the door.” Is that what he expected me to do? Come back here to have a long soak and nap? Surely not. I jumped on my laptop and practically guzzled down a pint of ice cream. If our future will be this erratic, then I’ll need lots more carbs around this place to make up for it.

  He flashes a disarming grin, making it even more difficult to be irritated with him. I should hate him, be so insanely furious I stab him to death with a fork or something else remotely ridiculous. Damn mobster. “They were for your protection, in case you were kidnapped or something of the sort.” Oh he’s cheeky today. I wonder if he got laid? And why does that thought churn my stomach so fiercely? I have no right to feel such a way. This isn’t a real marriage, after all.

  “Was my aim off the other day? Do I seriously look like I need protecting by a bunch of street thugs?”

  He stops in front of me, snatching up my wrist in his strong grip. He yanks me upwards until I’m falling against his imposing body. He’s positively sinful, and that detail makes me hate him a bit more. He shouldn’t be this good looking. He deserves to be ugly with the madness I know lurks inside his mind.

  He leans his face down in mine, until our noses touch. He rasps, his warm, sweet breath brushing my lips, “So judgy with your variety of insults towards our crew, Isa. Of course you need protecting. You belong to me.” He utters it with such finality, it nearly has me believing him.

  “I belong to no one.”

  He releases me, giving me a slight push. The momentum has my body falling back down onto the sofa. He scowls down at me. “That’s where you’re mistaken. This is the Mafia. You have to belong to someone in this life. Make no mistake about it, you’re mine. Every man inside Chicago’s city limits knows it, as well as the entire syndicate.”

  He spins away, leaving me to head for the bedroom. I’m able to see a sliver into the master bathroom from my spot. I stare, waiting to catch a glimpse of him when he’s not paying any attention. A beat later, I’m rewarded with exactly that. He strolls across the white marble, stark naked. His powerful thighs leading up to his sculpted buttocks are a sight to behold. I’ve been with some decent-looking men, but never one that could compare to Max. It figures the most devastatingly handsome man of them all would end up being batshit nuts inside. They don’t call him Mad Max without good reason, I’ve discovered.

  “Join me,” he calls loudly, his deep timbre cutting through the lingering melody he’s stuck on repeat.

  “Fuck you,” I reply quietly to myself, then louder ask, “Who is this playing?”

  “Lala, by James Levine. Have you not watched American Horror Story?” his voice drowns out as the oversized glass door closes and he steps under the showerhead that expands across the ceiling.

  I’ve seen the show, and it’s exactly what that man doesn’t need to be watching. He’s ruthless enough, never mind adding in a show to give him more ideas. Although I am intrigued. I didn’t peg him for a series guy, or for TV in general.

  Rather than do as he requests and follow him into the shower, I pause in the open bathroom doorway. I lean my body against the doorframe, eyes pinned on him. His body’s a work of art, and I stare my fill, watching as his big hands fill with soap and then rub all over his smooth, pale flesh. I bite back a curse watching his muscles flex and release with his movements. He’s extraordinary, an evil temptation. Like Lucifer.

  “I’d be obliged to fuck you against the shower wall if you’d fancy it.”

  “Not happening,” I shoot him down, eagerly staring as he palms his cock. What is it with him and walls? A kink? His hand rubs up and down with a few tugs, soaping the length and then underneath to his heavy sack. The Brit is well-endowed and he knows it. Cocky fucker. Literally.

  “Suit yourself then.” He shrugs and continues to pump his shaft. He becomes impossibly large; my hands would not be able to wrap around his girth fully. It has my thighs clenching. He’s exactly what I’ve been craving and missing. I stand there, entranced for who knows how long, before I realize he’s not stopping, but picking up speed. His lips are parted as he breathes through his mouth, his irises raking over my body as he jerks rigorously.

  Here I was thinking I’d possibly make him a bit uncomfortable with my presence, but I couldn’t be more wrong. In fact, he seems to be enjoying it immensely. We’re not saying anything and yet this situation has turned erotic. I can feel myself growing wet. My yoga pants will have a soaked spot, telling on me if I’m not careful. He can’t know what he does to me. I don’t want him gaining that kind of power over me. He’s dangerous enough already.

  “Part your thighs,” he gruffly demands, the words sounding strained with his budding pleasure.

  I do as he commands, showing him the evidence of my arousal, and it’s all it takes to set him over the edge. I guess I couldn’t hold myself back after all. Any little thing I can do to taunt him in return, it seems, even if that means showing him the wet spot directly over my pussy. I’ve never been shy about my sexuality, and the man before me only drives that response in me higher.

  “Mm,” he groans, his load shooting up his stomach to reach his chest. He was holding back. Must’ve not fucked anyone else like I’d suspected. I wonder how long it’s been since he’s had a release. Such a shame all of that had to be wasted on his perfect body. It would’ve felt so good filling up my pussy or mouth. I won’t admit as much to him anytime soon though. I can’t let him know how badly I want to feel him down there.

  “Keep staring at me like that, darling, and I won’t give you the chance to tell me no.”

  I spin around, leaving him to clean his mess. I need new pants. And my vibrator.

  I leave my office. It’s the end of the week, and I’m due to have a few days off. Not that they’ll be tranquil, since the untapped sexual tension seems to have gone up tenfold between Max and me. We’re getting along, but ever since I watched him in the shower, things have changed. We’re like two sexually charged beings, ready to explode around the other. Each hour only makes it more difficult to keep my hands off him, from giving in to my basic human desires.

  Since coming back to my office, I’ve spoken to my father and found out that Max was a busy man while he was gone. I figured as much, but had no real idea just how far he’d gone. In fact, I was way off. My father reluctantly shared that Max had taken out Marco Vittorio and his remaining bloodline after I’d admitted to killing Roberto. My fiancé was on a slaying spree, a bender of death, if you will…then I stared at him naked, in the shower, while he’d pleasured himself. The fact that I’m not bothered even in the slightest that one of the Five Famiglia lines was eradicated by my betrothed should tell you I’m not all right in the head. Maybe Max and I are more alike than I’d ever given credit to.

  I asked my father to send over a few of our own men as I need someone to play with. Sure, I could give in and fuck Max, but what would be the point if I made it easy for him? Besides, I miss having my own men at my beck and call to lick my pussy whenever I deem it necessary. I’ve been sexually frustrated since the night of our engagement announcement and Max had killed my security detail. Hard to believe it’s been a month since then and I’m supposed to marry the henchman next week. It’s been less than two months since my father brought up the idea of marriage, and it’s gone by in a flash. I’ve heard of some mob weddings being planned quickly, but I was shocked to learn they’re typically two to six months after an engagement announcement. It seems far too fast to me. These women have no idea what they’re missing experiencing single life first.

  When I haven’t been busy hating Max, it’s been difficult to keep my thoughts off him then as well. I haven’t given in, though, because he needs to understand I won’t roll over and allow him to walk all over me. I’m my own woman, and I’ll be damned if any man comes in and believes he can control me. I’m
a fighter. I’m strong. I was raised to be that way plus more, and I won’t be changing my tune anytime soon. If Max genuinely wants me to give in and offer myself to him, he’ll have to learn I’m in charge of myself, not anyone else.

  “This is far enough,” I tell the security guy and stop abruptly in the hall leading to my and Max’s bedroom. There’s no way I’m taking any men in our room. Max would have a bloody Sunday, and I’d be the victim of his wrath, as well as the remainder of my famiglia.

  “You’re in charge, Miss Castelano. You tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

  “Of course you will, Fritz. My father pays you far too well not to obey. Now get on your knees. I’m overdue for an orgasm and want my pussy licked.” Fritz does as he’s commanded, sinking below me. A smile graces my lips, my eyes rolling back as his head fits between my legs, hitting the spot so desperately needing attention.

  Max has me so wound up, it has my insides clawing for a release. “Yes, just like that. Good boy, Fritz,” I praise breathlessly as I pat his head. He’s no more than a puppy sent to bring me some entertainment. I had him sent over on special request. He’s the only one of my father’s men who has the light hair and skin tone like Max’s.

  The front door opens and closes in the background, but I pay it no mind, chalking it up to the other man my father sent over. My mind is on the here and now, enjoying every lick and flick of Fritz’s tongue. I may’ve agreed to marriage with Max, but I never agreed to give up my play time. I’ve been an independent woman, taking care of my own needs for as long as I can remember. I was spoiled growing up, but also taught the worth of making my own success and sating my desires.