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“Because you are loyal, Christian. Now bring this city to her knees. Make her beg for your forgiveness. Make her beg for mercy, but most of all, Christian, make her fear you!”
Chapter two
“Christian,youmayselectyour servants along with one untouchable.” The Don Father says as I turn to leave.
I dip my chin in acknowledgement, and then I walk out the iron doors to find Clay slumped over, having dozed off in the leather chair. The clang of the doors closing jars him awake. I watch as he stretches, then wipes the sleep from his eyes. Meeting with the Don Father took longer than either of us expected. Honestly, I don’t know what I expected, only that at the very least, the likelihood of being exiled was non-existent. The Don Father is ruthless. He rules with an iron fist, but he would never take from Quinn something that would absolutely destroy her. No, he would never risk their relationship. He wouldn’t dare break her heart like that. Some days I wonder if that’s how I’ve made it so far, or if this is all just a never ending punishment for breaking his rules about sleeping with his daughter. I’d do it all over again in a heartbeat, though. I can feel myself smirking. That woman is worth everything I’ve worked for. Her happiness is my relief from a guilty conscience.
“How’d it go boss?” Clay asks, concerned.
When I don’t answer, because I am still lost in my thoughts, he jumps to his feet, causing the tablet in his lap to fall to the ground. Thinking nothing of it, I bend to retrieve it.
“Holy shit!” Clay gasps, astonished. “He gave you cardinal wings. You must be one of the youngest members to earn a pair, and some men never do.”
“I am aware. I’m just not sure I deserve them.”
“Christian, I know you’re conflicted right now, man, but one day you will understand why you deserve them.” Clay says, trying to do his best to brighten my mood.
All things considered, he is probably right. I’ve taken on a lot. Fate has continued to hand me opportunity after opportunity since my time at Arkham began. My memories nip and pull at my subconscious, threatening to send me back in time. “Maybe, but right now, these wings are a burden. Don’t you see I am just a vessel for him to do his bidding, a visual reminder of where you can go if you serve your master loyally?”
Clay eyes me nervously, and rightfully so. Talk like that, in the open, and in the Don Father’s home, is exactly the kind of talk that lands you six feet under, but maybe I don’t care anymore. My life has always been decided for me. It was expected that I follow in my parent’s footsteps. They groomed me from the age of ten to be a servant of Arkham. When they were taken from me, all I wanted to do was run far away from everything I’ve ever known. I wanted to be a normal citizen, a normal teenager. Every time I tried to run, he found me. There was nowhere my feet could carry me that he did not have access to informants. Eventually, I gave up and accepted my fate. If my life belonged to Arkham, I decided I only wanted the best, and the best started with winning a prize. Not just any prize, but the grand prize. I was young, ambitious even. I wanted Quinn, and I wanted to be the next Don of the Arkham Mafia. Lately, it seems I’ve lost track of that ambition. It’s like my love for Quinn has led me astray from my path and now the Don Father is challenging me to return to meet my destiny.
I’ve always wondered what it might be like to live life recklessly. Now I have the chance. I can bend the knee and allow my queen to drag me under her spell. Every bone in my body knows I was born to serve her and serving the Don Father above her no longer interests me the way it used to. I’m a conflicted man. Is it time for me to step up? To become my own master? The Don Father would never allow me to walk away from the city. This is a life sentence. My destiny is here.
“Do you want to sleep on this some?” Clay asks, “We can meet at the club for drinks tomorrow and discuss business then.”
I nod, running my hand down my face. It’s been hours since we first arrived for dinner with the rest of the untouchables. Sleep will do me good. I need to unravel all these thoughts. I didn’t expect to leave here with orders to betray my queen. There are no right moves. The only way to win the game is to sacrifice my queen at the request of the Don Father. My lioness craves freedom. She would never sacrifice herself as his prisoner, not when she’s already broken free from the shackles and chains confining her.
Quinn is probably up waiting for me. Turning my wrist over, I glance at the time on my watch. It’s a losing situation. Either I return home to Quinn with enough energy to make it up to her, or I strategize the way a true king does when he’s plotting to start a war and retake what’s his.
It’s as if Clay can sense my inner turmoil. He runs his hand through his hair. “Boss, we could both use some rest. Let me drive you home, and you can look over the files in the car,” he says, gesturing to the tablet.
“No, Clay. It can wait. If I dive in now, I won’t be able to stop myself from working. You can follow me. I need the adrenaline rush.” I arch my eyebrow at him, insinuating reckless mischief. He chuckles. Fast cars have always been one of our things. Clay whips his keys from his pocket, dangling them in front of me as a challenge. Now it’s my turn to laugh. He’s a lunatic if he thinks I would ever let him beat me. I take a step to leave and Clay is on my heels. We make our way out to the cars as quickly as possible without drawing attention to ourselves. Once we hit the public roads, not manned by the Don Father’s elite guards, we open up the cars and madness ensues. I pull ahead of Clay easily, but he gives chase. Every so often I drop back to give him a fighting chance, but each time I catch him on the stretch, leaving him staring at my tail lights. We drive this way until we are near the house. Once I’ve entered the private drive gates, Clay flashes his lights behind me and speeds off further down the road to the other entrance. He’ll stay onsite in the guardhouse.
I turn my focus to Quinn, pushing work from my mind completely. As I slowly descend down the drive, while running a few scenarios through my head.
Chapter three
Theengineofthecar purrs, easing its way into the garage. It’s late, and I am torn between behaving like the ruthless king I am supposed to be, or coveting my sweet little angel the way I long to. I crave her like a decadent dessert customized to satisfy every one of my taste buds. My shoulders ache from the fresh tattoo, but if my queen so much as looks at me with hungry eyes, it will all be forgotten long enough to satisfy her. I step from the car and hand the keys to the man stationed at the garage door. Inside, I breeze past several more men. Security is tight inside this house. It was the first change I made upon our return. I vowed to never sacrifice Quinn’s protection for our own comfort again. Traipsing lightly through the house, I try to be as quiet as possible. If Quinn is sleeping, the last thing I want to do is wake her. The door to our bedroom slides open without a sound and I slip inside. The bed is empty. My eyes scan the room frantically in search of her.
As my eyes land on her, she barks, “You didn’t think your lateness would go unnoticed, did you, Christian?”
I feel myself gulp, while allowing myself to continue taking her in. She lays there on display for me in a sexy, lacy little number. “Je suis désolé mon ange,I am sorry, my angel.Your father had other plans for us after dinner.”
She rolls her eyes, annoyed at the reminder that her father’s wishes supersede hers. Her tongue darts out to tease me as she drags it sensually against her bottom lip. I can’t think of anything but ripping the lace off her body and ravishing her so she can see how sorry I am.
“Show me,” she croons, challenging my every fiber of dignity.
My jaw drops open and I try to recover. I say nothing, completely and utterly speechless. My cock bounces in excitement, and her eyes flick right to it. I can feel them undressing me, and it makes my cock go rigid to think about the things she might be imagining. I swear she knows it, too. The way she looks at me ignites me with a burning hot desire to play along with her little game. Finally, I speak, but it’s only a few words, “Tell me how.” My voice is authoritative, demanding, and rough.
“Get on your knees, crawl to me, and put your filthy mouth to work.”
She doesn’t have to tell me twice. I curse under my breath, “Fuck.”
God Forsake her soul. I do exactly as I am told and I crawl right over. My lips land against her ears and I let my hot breath fall on her neck as I whisper French nothings in her ear, followed by a list of everything I am going to do to her before our night is over.
“I’m going to lick that pussy like melting ice cream on a hot summer day. I want you to cum on my tongue for me. Then I’m going to make you beg for it. I’m going to choke you, hard, just the way you like it while I slide this big dick inside of you, stretching that wet cunt of yours out all around me. Would you like that angel?” I ask in a strained voice.
When she’s a melted mess beneath me, I sit back on my knees, slam her legs wide, and devour that pussy until my queen is satisfied, begging for me to fill her up. I stand, one hand reaching to free my cock, stroking it and catching some cum on my fingertips. My other hand reaches down to choke her, wrapping around her dainty little neck. I drag my cum across her lips and rasp, “How do I taste mon bijou, my jewel? Can you taste how bad I want you spread around me so wet and tight?”
