Runaway Queen: A Dark Mafia Romance (Made of Mayhem Duet Book 2)
Runaway Queen: Chapter 18

“That’s the only bad side of Hade Harbor,” Bran complained as he frowned at the menu written on a chalkboard, sitting out on the boardwalk. “Who the fuck wants a fruitarian brunch? We need to get back to New York for the food alone.”

We kept walking until a familiar-looking chain came into sight. It was safer to stick to the familiar with Bran. The man had an insatiable appetite, and I couldn’t take his complaining when he didn’t like the meal. Prison had been torture enough.

“You go. I’m not leaving,” I told him as we grabbed a seat on an outdoor patio.

A table full of girls dressed like they were on a fall-themed photo shoot watched us sit, grinning like the Cheshire cats.

“Excuse me, but are you guys actors?” One of them leaned over and smiled coyly at us.

Bran took her in, from her October-chic outfit to her gym bunny body and blonde hair. He grinned at her, resting his arms along the back of his chair.

“Why, I should be asking you that, gorgeous,” he said.

“Oh my god, does he have an accent?” moaned another girl at their table moaned.

“Only when it suits him,” I muttered, my gaze moving to the menu sitting on the driftwood-style table.

“You have one, too, and yours is even sexier,” the original woman said, leaning toward me.

I ignored her.

“Why don’t we all eat together?” a bright voice suggested.

Bran raised an eyebrow at me and then laughed as he took in my bored expression. “I’d love to, ladies, but my friend here wouldn’t. I’m afraid we’ll have to pass.”

“Why? Is he taken?” The first girl pouted.

“Married, actually,” I tossed at her.

I could feel the disappointment radiating off the table as they finally turned back to their bottomless margaritas.

“Married? Does the bride know?” Bran asked.

“She will soon.” I smirked at him. “Is it just me, or are the women more reckless here? Can’t they smell trouble when it’s right in front of them?” I tossed the menu aside.

Bran shrugged. “It’s a college town. An ice-hockey town at that. They’re probably used to guys who look hard as nails but are just regular jocks underneath. They can’t tell the difference.”

“Well, if someone tries to give me fruit leather instead of bacon, they’ll get a chance to see firsthand.”

Bran watched me with narrowed eyes. “You seem different today. Did you have fun with Sofia De Sanctis after chasing her around the school last night?”

I couldn’t stop my smirk when I thought about the night before. “What do you think?”

“Christ, man, you really can’t stay away.”

“It’s not your problem. It’s hers.”

“What if she goes to the cops?”

“She won’t.”

“How can you be sure?”

“She had her chance, and besides, it’s not in her nature. She’s a De Sanctis. She doesn’t trust the cops. She doesn’t trust anyone.” Except me, apparently. Her blind trust in me during our forest chase had kept me awake all night. How could she just give herself over to me to do my worst with? Didn’t she know what I’d become?

“To the world, Sofia De Sanctis is dead. That means I can do whatever the fuck I want to her, without repercussions. She’s mine to fuck with. If you don’t like that, you should go home. I’m sure your sister is looking for you.”

“Don’t be touchy. I won’t get in your way. She’s good for you.”

“In what way?”

Bran studied me. “Don’t knife me, but you seem… satisfied. I take it your dry spell has broken?” His smirk was absolutely filthy.

“A choice isn’t a dry spell. Anyway, I need to know more about what’s going on in Sofia’s life. Who is that Sloane fucker to her? Why is she always at the hospital? What about Angelo and Chiara? Do they have a kid?”

“That is a lot of questions. I can see there’s going to be homework for this trip,” Bran muttered. “I have one for you. Whose ring is it your girl wears?”

“No one’s. Well, not anymore anyway.” I reached into my pocket and pulled out the band that nestled there. I laid it between us on the table.

Bran whistled. “You stole her ring?” He picked it up and turned it around in his grip before setting it down.

A little pink Post-it landed on our table just as our food came. The girl from before stood beside me. I glanced at the girlish writing and cell number for a second before picking it up. I flicked it over the patio, toward the ocean, as the girl standing beside me spluttered in disbelief.

“So rude!”

“As are you. I told you I’m married. Which part didn’t you hear?” I ground out and tossed my head toward the exit, my attention never leaving my plate. “Now get out of here before you put me in a bad mood.”

“You don’t have a ring on,” she pointed out, getting on my last nerve.

I pushed back from the table, threw my napkin down, and stood up to face her. She didn’t cower, I’d give her that. I towered over her, my annoyance radiating off me in waves.

“I don’t need a ring to remember that I’m not interested. Get the fuck away from me before I stop being nice.”

She blinked at me, once, twice, and then turned and hurried toward her waiting friends.

Sinking back into my chair, I picked up my fork.

Bran was quiet for a long moment before clearing his throat pointedly. “So, you wanna replace out about Mr. Bigshot around town, Edward Sloane, or should I?”

“I will. You take Angelo. I don’t want him knowing I’m here yet.”

“You think Sofia won’t tell him?”

I shook my head. “She won’t risk it. She doesn’t want him hurt.”

Bran sighed and put his arms behind his head, looking at the blue fall sky. “That’s some fucked-up relationship you guys have there. Poor woman. She never really had a chance.”

To be free of me? No, she never did.

After breakfast with Bran, I checked out Edward Sloane. The man was predictable as hell, and considering how rich he was for the small town he lived in, he didn’t seem to exercise much caution. Given how he made his money, that was stupid, but then most rich men were. They seemed to think their money made them untouchable, while, in reality, it just made them a target.

He had a fancy little office in downtown Hade Harbor, but it didn’t take much digging around to see that it was a front. Sure, Sloane had invested his ill-gotten gains in plenty of legitimate ways from property to other small businesses. The guy clearly thought of himself as some kind of savior in the area, holding meetings where struggling business owners came to prostrate themselves for aid. It was sleazy as hell, and that was before you added in where his actual money came from.

I didn’t have any concrete evidence yet, but I would bet my life that Edward Sloane was part of the chain who transported drugs, arms, and people up and down the East Coast, and cut a pretty profit from it.

Later that night, I let myself into Sofia’s house when the sun had already set. Downstairs was painfully clean. I’d had a key made so I didn’t have to break in every time I wanted to visit my little runaway. I headed to the kitchen first. At breakfast time, it had been clear that Sofia’s fridge was running woefully low. I set the bags I’d brought on the table and the takeout on the counter. It had taken me a while after getting out of prison, but I was finally able to stomach a more varied diet. Tonight, I’d eat with Sofia, whether she liked it or not. I left the takeout under a towel to keep it warm and headed upstairs.

When I got to the top of the stairs, the shower was running. What lucky timing. I tried the handle of the bathroom. It turned easily under my hand.

The air was foggy and perfumed with lavender. Sofia’s body was clearly visible behind the misted glass. I shut the door behind me and leaned against it, waiting for the water to go off. When it finally did, I grabbed a towel from the rack, just before Sofia’s hand appeared from behind the screen door to reach for it. Her gasp told me she’d finally opened her eyes and seen me, lurking in her white bathroom like a creep.

“What are you doing here?” She groped for the next nearest towel.

“You never put the chain on the door.”

“Like that would have stopped you,” she ground out.

She had a spark to her words tonight, and I enjoyed the sound.

“You think locking the front door is going to keep me from you? You think you can hide from me in a motel? You should know better. Come out here and let me see you.”

“What? No!”

“Come out, or I’ll come get you.”

After a moment where I could feel her battling with herself, she stepped out around the partition. She was holding the towel against her bare front. Just the sight of her bare legs, still dripping wet, turned me on. It had been so long. Endlessly long, really. Now, just the sight of Sofia’s bare shoulder, dotted with glistening water droplets, made me hard as nails. Ambling toward her, I reached out and took her towel. She held on to it for a moment, then released it. She was naked. I stared. I couldn’t tear my eyes from her. I might have forgotten to blink. It was dim in the bathroom, and I wanted to turn all the lights on and inspect every inch of her, but she was uncomfortable. I didn’t like to see it.

“What are you doing?” She was flushed. Her arm had covered her breasts, and another was slung around her middle.

“Looking at you. I want to see how my memories match up to the reality.”

I drew closer to her. She was stunning. Even more so than she’d been in her youth. Her body had developed a ripe, lush fullness she’d never had when she was younger and living on her father’s meal plan. Seven years, and her life alone had made her a woman.

“Have you let anyone else touch you?” My mind jumped from topic to topic. My tone was light, but the dark possession inside me was far from it.

“I told you I hadn’t been with anyone but you.”

“I’m not asking about fucking, I’m talking about all of it… kissing, touching, fucking handholding,” I clarified, that possessive demon inside me breaking free.

“Are you asking me about my dating life? You really think I’d tell you?”

I wandered behind her, reaching a hand toward her bare ass. Christ, it jiggled enticingly when she shifted her weight from one hip to another, tapping her foot.

“No, I don’t, I suppose. You’re too smart for that, and no one likes attending too many funerals. They’re always on a weekday, and who has the time?”

I couldn’t stop myself from gripping her ass. The bare cheeks were just too tempting. I took one in each hand and spread them apart. Her breath hitched, and she stepped forward, trying to get away from my touch. I tutted and pulled her back. My fingers wandered between her cheeks.

“I found a place you didn’t dry yet. Let me.”

I stroked my fingers up and down her cleft, past her tight asshole and down to her pussy. She was wet, enticingly so. I wrapped one arm around her neck from behind, her head landing in the crook of my arm. I carefully tightened it, until she was leaning back into my hand, with her back arched.

She swallowed against my forearm.

“Why are you here? You’re going to bury me without the box this time?”

“Don’t give me ideas. I came to have dinner with you.”

She froze. I’d surprised her, clearly.

“What dinner?”

“Don’t worry, I brought it.”

“I’ve eaten,” she snapped at me, and her entire body shuddered as I slid just my fingertip inside her.

Christ, she was as tight as ever. Had she really not let anyone else be inside her while I was gone? I didn’t know what to make of that. It made me feel things I wasn’t ready for.

“Liar. Let’s go. I’m hungry.” I pulled my fingers from her with effort and slapped her ass before leaving her to get dressed. “Don’t bother with panties, unless you want them ripped.”

In the kitchen, I opened up the takeout boxes and waited for her. She came downstairs cautiously, poised to run. I took in her clothes. A sweater dress in a relentless black.

“What’s with the outfit? Going to a funeral?”

“I’m in mourning for my life,” she muttered and dropped into the chair besides me.

“Are you really not going to eat?”

Her eyes fixed on the pad thai longingly. I pushed the carton toward her.

“Keep your strength up. You’re going to need it.”

She scowled at me but reached for the chopsticks in the bag. We ate in silence for a moment.

“People miss a lot of things in jail. For me, it was real food… and you.”

She stilled, her eyes darting to mine. I ate steadily. It was fun to shock her with glimpses of who I used to be. It wasn’t a lie either. The parts of me that had remained human, in any way at all, were all her.

“What was the food like?” Her voice was quiet.

“You can’t even imagine. It’s food you wouldn’t feed animals. That’s all they are, really, locked inside little cages, clawing and biting at each other, waiting for their chance to be free so they can burn the world.”

“And you?”

I nodded. “Me, too.”

She swallowed, her throat convulsing. It was beautiful.

I pushed my plate away as soon as I’d finished. The entire meal had taken five minutes. Another legacy of prison.

I tapped the table in front of me. “Sit. I want my dessert.”

“Nikolai,” she started and then trailed off when I touched her lips.

“Tell me the truth and make me believe it. There’ll be no mercy for you until you do. Sit here in front of me right now, I want to eat your lying cunt.”

“I told you last night-” she started, trailing off when I shook my head.

“I want to hear why you tried to leave me behind. I want to hear why you believed in your father more than me.” She had never loved me like I’d loved her. It was the only truth I could accept, as my damaged, fucked up heart already believed it so firmly, anything else would sound like a lie. I needed to hear that dark and most painful truth. I wanted to hear her say it. “Now, sit.”

Her breath stalling, she stood and gracefully sat on top of the table. Her knees stayed together.

“Don’t fuck around, Sofia.”

I pushed her knees wide. She wasn’t wearing panties, like instructed. It gave me a jolt of satisfaction to see how she obeyed me, even while fighting me. I could tangle with her the rest of my days and never get bored.

“Hold your knees and keep your legs open, or I’ll tie you down.”

I couldn’t wait to taste her again. After being deprived of her for so long, it was like a dam had burst. While I’d been denying my needs, punishing my body for my failure to protect her, and feeling guilty for sullying her memory by jerking off with her sweet perfection in my mind, she’d been alive and well, and lying to me. The taste I’d had so far had been over far too quickly. I needed weeks, maybe months, of licking her cunt, sinking inside her-no matter what she was doing-before the urgent need for her faded. It might never fade. Time would tell.

I leaned in and inhaled, filling my lungs with her sweet musky scent. “You’re still wet here. You need to learn how to dry yourself off better after your shower,” I mocked. “Should I teach you?”

She was leaning on her elbows, her neck bent sharply to watch me as I bit hard kisses and nips up her thighs. I wanted to bruise her. I wanted my love to leave a mark on her, like she’d marked me. I licked a long, wet stripe up her center.

“You need to dry inside and out,” I muttered against her skin before sticking my tongue inside her, a deep, no-holds-barred plunge that brought my nose to rub her clit. I tongue-fucked her like that, enjoying the flavor of her utter surrender and desire. She could try to lie to me, but I could taste her arousal. She still wanted me as much as I wanted her. Maybe she was a little unhinged, too, these days.

I moved lower, dragging my tongue to her ass. “Don’t forget to dry here, too. Everything needs to be nice and clean.”

I pressed my tongue against that soft pucker, and her hips jumped off the table. I put a hand on her belly and held it in place as I explored her with my tongue. There wasn’t any part of her I didn’t want to own. I wanted to rub my cum into every crevice, press my fingerprints into every inch, and make sure she never forgot who she belonged to again.

Just like my body could never forget hers.

I returned to her clit, just as I reached to the side and picked up one of the fancy knives I’d brought to the table. This one was spare. Her eyes widened when she saw it. It was her liccasapuni. The paranza corta knife with the long thin blade and wide, round handle. The first and only weapon she’d ever successfully cut me with.

“Open your mouth.” My voice was deep. My order undeniable.

Her chest was rising and falling faster and faster, but despite her fear, or maybe because of it, she complied. I trailed the blade up her body, turning it in my hand so I held the sharp end, and brushed the handle past her lips and into her mouth.

It filled it perfectly.

“Get it nice and wet for me, prom queen.” I fucked her mouth with the hilt for a few seconds, until her spit was dripping down the blade, too, then pulled it free.

She watched with rapt attention when I put it at her pussy.

It slipped easily inside. Gripping the blade tightly, I carefully pumped the hilt in and out of her. It was long, long enough to keep her perfect pussy far away from any sharp edges. Leaning in, I fastened my lips around her clit and laved it. She cried out, her hips bumping against my face.

She rose quickly. A woman on the edge. If she was being honest, my little swallow hadn’t been with anyone in a long time. Now, she’d never have the chance to be with anyone else again, other than me.

She burst in my mouth, a flood of pleasure. Her juices were sweet, like nectar. I fucked her with the knife hilt the entire time, until she was spent and sweating on the table.

Pulling the knife from her gently, I closed her legs and brought the hilt to her lips. Her eyes widened, and I thought for a second she might refuse. Then she opened her mouth, and I slid the handle inside.

“Clean up your things.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she complied, her eyes burning into mine.

“Good girl.”

Setting the knife aside, I clenched my fist. Warmth blossomed in my palm. I ignored it. What was a little cut compared to the thrill of touching this woman? There was no comparison. I undid my jeans and pushed them half down, unable to wait one more second to be inside her. Pulling her hips to the edge of the table, leaving a bloody handprint on her legs as I did, I pushed inside her. She groaned, biting her lip. The expression of her pleasure was addictive. I curled my bleeding hand around the back of her neck and pulled her face to mine, kissing her while pounding my hips against hers. The table scraped across the floor, loud and annoying, the glasses shaking with our efforts. I fucked her hard, and she met my every thrust with raised hips, bucking against me, panting and sweating. Looking simply glorious. She came first, pulling me close, her tight pussy clamping down on me harder than ever and milking my length.

I pulled out to come on her mound. Enjoying the sight of my release striping her thighs and pussy. Moving a hand to the cum on her cunt, I wet my fingers in it and then massaged it into her inner thighs and belly. She watched me without speaking. I wanted her to smell like me, and now she did.

After, I followed her upstairs to her room. She kept nervously glancing back at me, her teeth worrying her full bottom lip. Inside her room, she stood awkwardly, while I stripped off my clothes. Her gaze on my body was a turn-on.

“Still like looking at me, prom queen? You always did like to look.” I dropped my jeans and boxers and stepped out of them, tossing them onto a chair and turning to face her.

Her eyes dropped to my half-spent cock before she could catch herself. Cheeks turning pink, she turned away, folding her arms over her chest.

“What now?”

“Now, we go to bed. Isn’t that what happens at bedtime?

She glanced curiously at me over her shoulder. “Together?”

“Yes, together. Just assume that your days of sleeping alone are a luxury you’re no longer afforded.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat?” She tossed those intriguing words at me as I rounded behind her. Putting a hand to her lower back, I pushed her toward the bed gently.

“I suppose that depends on how lonely you were, Sofia, doesn’t it?”

She reached the mattress and climbed on. I followed, snapping the light off on the way. The smell of her sheets rose around us, that particular scent unique to Sofia. My head spun. She moved to the other side of the bed to get away from me, and I tutted, dragging her back to the middle.

“You don’t sleep over there. You sleep right here,” I told her, arranging her on her back in the middle of the bed and lowering myself between her legs, dipping my hips to line my drooling cock up with her entrance again.

She was still wet from coming on the table. My dick was already getting hard again. Another legacy of my abstinence seemed to be recovering my youth, in terms of having an unstoppable hard-on around this woman. I wasn’t complaining. I slipped inside her like a hot knife through butter, her slick muscles parting beautifully for me.

She gripped my shoulders, a breathy moan leaving her. When I was deep inside, I relaxed my weight to the side and pulled her with me, hitching one of her legs over my hip. We were face to face, heads sharing the same pillow, and I was still sunk balls-deep in her perfect little cunt.

“Every single night, you’re going to fall asleep just like this, on my cock. I want to know where you are every night. I’ll know if you move. I’ll know if you so much as sneeze. I can’t have you running off again on me.” Not when I just found you.

I thrust in and out of her a few times, and she groaned, arching her hips. I grinned at her reluctant enthusiasm. It was too dark to make out her face, but her body’s reactions told me everything I needed to know. She was turned on, desperate to be fucked. Well, too bad for her, I wouldn’t be obliging her anytime soon. I would wait until she was asleep and wake her up fucking her. Then I’d do it again, and again, until morning.