My Mafia Boss: Sweat Page 3

  I knew he was hurting, and I wanted to do something to ease the pain, but what could I say? What could anyone say? I was more than aware that Marcus knew that this was his life. That didn’t make it any easier. It had been a long, emotional day, first dealing with my father, and then with Niall, and now this.

  With a soft sigh, I approached the couch and settled next to him. Wordlessly, he lifted his head and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me closer. I nestled against him, my head resting on his shoulder, my nose against his neck, my left hand settling on his broad, muscular chest. Such a tough man, but a man who also felt strong loyalties and emotions, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  “It’s always going to be this way,” he said, almost under his breath.

  I wanted to tell him it didn’t have to be, that he could get out, get away, but I had the common sense to know that this was not the time to bring it up. Maybe he just needed to talk it out. I would listen and not say a word. I’d just give him the sense of freedom and the trust that he could say anything he wanted around me, and it wouldn’t go any further.

  “Donnie knew what was at stake,” he finally continued. “So did I, and so did Ronan. This is our life. You never know what tomorrow might bring.”

  He slid his arms around me and pulled me onto his lap. I straddled his legs, and we faced each other, his lips mere inches from mine.

  “But this doesn’t change anything,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “I claimed you as my own, and I’ll deal with Tarasov and every other Russian fucker that tries to come for me or my people.”

  My people. It was at that moment that it struck me that he cared about the people around him, not just me, not just Donnie, but for Niall and my dad, Selena, and maybe even Ronan and all the others in his personal entourage.

  “You mean so much to me, Allie, you can’t know how much. And your father…I’m going to make sure that he gets what he needs to give him a chance at life.”

  He pulled me close to his chest, my head once again nestled on his shoulder. Warm tears swam in my eyes at his words. I believed him. I trusted him. It also dawned on me at that moment that I had been wrong to think that Marcus wouldn’t or couldn’t change.

  He could. If he wanted to. Deep down, he was a good man. A man who understood loyalty. Who sought to protect those he cared about. A man who lived more by an old code than modern society allowed, but was that so bad?

  He kissed me, an almost desperate connection of two souls, and I recognized the emotion behind it. It was almost primordial. I had felt that way the night Marcus rescued me. A need, a desperate deep down need to reaffirm that I was alive, that we, that I, had beaten death and had come out on the other side.

  This, I understood. I understood Marcus’s almost rough, desperate kiss, his hands now tugging at my clothes, and the desperate need that filled him.

  He bent to offer a sweet, gentle kiss. This one didn’t involve any tongue, but was oh so sexy, nevertheless. When our lips touched, that burning spark, that enduring flame of desire that was always there, deep inside, fanned into a burning, hot flame. That ember burst to life deep in my belly and spread languorously through my body, into my most private of parts and into my breasts, my nipples instantly tingling with an almost electric energy as they hardened.

  As usual, the very moment his lips touched mine, my worries faded. As usual, I surrendered and reveled in the sensations that those soft lips elicited within me. Hungry for him, I responded in kind.

  This time, my emotions and body raging with unspoken desire, I took the lead. With the tip of my tongue, I gently nudged his lips open. He grunted in surprise as my tongue dove in, playing with his. A low groan erupted from deep in his throat as he wrapped his arms tighter around me, pressing my body closer into his. My nipples throbbed against his chest, and my blood pounded through my veins in time with the desire he evoked within me.

  The hot sensations in my pussy morphed into a dull throb. My nipples seemed to take on a life of their own, aching for his touch. Still clinging together, we made our way to his bedroom, where he paused beside the bed, indulging in another long kiss. This time, he took control.

  “Tell me what you want,” he said, his words escaping on a harsh pant.

  “You,” I breathed. “Your teeth and tongue, your lips on me.”

  He wrapped his arms so tight around me I could barely breathe, but it didn’t matter. My hand swept down to his crotch as his right hand cupped my breast and squeezed, his thumb teasing my nipple. Everywhere he touched, my skin blazed with heat. I found it hard to breathe, gasping with impatient desire. He slowly pushed from my shoulders, freeing my breasts to his direct touch, and I reveled in the feel of his warm hands.

  Another soft groan escaped my throat as liquid heat surged through my body. My knees grew weak as I rubbed my hand along the hardness forming in his pants. I stepped slightly away from him, my fingers clumsy as I fumbled with the button on his slacks and then the zipper. His hands and fingers focused on my breasts as my own dipped into his waistband and found his cock.

  Without releasing my grip on his throbbing shaft, I allowed him enough room to step out of his pants. He was engorged, thick, and velvety. Hot with throbbing desire. For me. Pleased that I had done this to him, that I had made him hard, I gently stroked his cock while he continued to play with my breasts.

  Desperate for more, I nudged him toward the bed, my body hot and impatient. I was wet, and my breasts ached for more than the touch of his fingers. I wanted to feel my nipples in his mouth.

  My knees brushed against the mattress, and I sat. The remainder of my clothes mysteriously disappeared. All the while, my hand maintained contact with the silky skin of his hard cock, my fingers stroking its length, the raised veins on its surface, the head soft and slippery.

  He pressed me down onto the bed, one hand kneading my breast to the point that the other yearned for equal attention. More tongue kisses, and then he pulled away. I groaned in protest until his lips circled a nipple, prompting another groan from my throat. He nibbled and suckled until I was forced to grit my teeth to prevent myself from screaming.

  I arched my back, lifting my breasts higher, closer to him, each nipple demanding more. My body was on fire, my pussy damp and throbbing with desire. My hips thrust upward with a need I couldn’t control.

  We sprawled on the bed in a tangle of arms and legs, his gorgeous body hovering over mine. Blood thrummed through my veins, and my hand relinquished its grip on his cock to begin roaming over the broad muscles of his back. His lips left my breasts and found the crook of my neck, then higher as he nibbled an ear lobe. His fingers wrought magic on my skin as they moved lower. My hand returned to his dick and hung on for dear life.

  My breath came in sharp, excited gasps as his mouth followed his fingers, his lips and tongue tasting every inch of me. When he settled between my thighs, he blew his warm breath over my aching sex.

  I lifted my hips. “More,” I demanded, lifting my head to watch.

  He grinned and pressed his mouth on me, the abrupt touch causing me to buck. He held my hips, forcing me to stay in place while he scraped his teeth over my clitoris.

  I wailed as his tongue danced and dipped, licking and sucking and biting. I writhed as his teeth worked on me, sending a mix of pain and pleasure straight through me.

  “Marcus!” I cried as he moved to his knees, pushing my legs back and apart, spreading me even wider for his mouth. He licked lower and lower, and I froze as his tongue circled my anus. The nerves fired, shooting burning heat through my entire body. Then his teeth were on my clit as his fingers moved to where his tongue had been. There was pressure on my anus again, and I flinched as something breached the tight muscle.

  He lifted his head, gazing at me over the hills and valleys of my body. “Relax. Let me in.”

  I tried to smile, tried to do as he said, but as he worked his finger deeper, I found myself fighting the intrusion. It didn’t hurt exactly, it was just so…strang
e.

  Then his lips were on my clit again, sucking and scraping and pulling, and all the sensations threatened to drive me insane. Then I was coming, screaming his name. I hadn’t even known I was close until I was falling from the edge.

  I was still coming as he crawled up my body, his arms under my knees, spreading my legs even wider. Then he was inside me with one deep thrust.

  “See me,” he ordered.

  The moment my eyelids fluttered open, Marcus snapped his hips forward, driving deep inside me. He lifted my legs, placing my ankles on his shoulders and leaned forward. The angle drove him deeper, making me gasp. The sound turned into a wail as he slammed into me again and again, setting an almost brutal pace.

  He was so hard, his face so tight that I knew he wouldn’t be able to last. I was wrong. Instead, he slowed and steadied his pace, showing no signs of slowing.

  From that impossible angle, I was completely helpless, unable to stop what he was doing to me, even if I wanted to.

  His hand found mine, and our fingers laced together as he connected our bodies over and over. I was on fire as electricity coursed through my veins, across my nerves. Then I exploded, erupted, coming so hard that I couldn’t breathe.

  He didn’t stop. He simply watched my face as time lost all meaning. It was only him and me in a bubble I never wanted to leave.

  Hilted deep inside me, I took his face in my hands, wiped the sweat on his forehead away with my fingers.

  I loved this man.

  I yearned to say it. Yearned to be told the same thing in return.

  But this had to be enough. This closeness. This need.

  He threw back his head, and I watched, fulfilled with a sensation of pleasure—not only that which he gave me but with the knowledge that I gave him pleasure in return. He enjoyed me.

  Panting, I lifted my hips higher, forcing him to fill me at an even deeper angle. Waves of ecstasy built and then crashed with a cascade, one into another, with every stroke. Moving in unison, faster, harder…and then I was swept over the abyss. So was he.

  I took his weight as he collapsed on top of me, and when he tried to roll to his side, I held him closer.

  “Thank you,” I said, but the gratitude wasn’t only for the sex.

  He seemed to understand, and as he kissed me, gentle and slow, I thought for the very first time that everything just might be all right.

  Four

  Marcus

  I hated the bastard with every fiber of my being. I didn’t know how else to put it. I was scheduled for a meeting with Tarasov at one of our warehouses, after having made a deal with him, loathe as I was to do so. Still, I needed to think about more than my pride. Donnie was dead. Allie, along with anyone associated with her, was still in danger.

  Had Tarasov been the one to order the hit on me? I had no proof, but I wouldn’t put it past him. Maybe after the situation simmered down a little, I could have Allie do more digging…

  I shook my head at the thought. No. I didn’t want Allie even near her computers. Her analytical brain wouldn’t stop processing information, and as good as she was, I feared that someone, somewhere, would latch onto her searches.

  There was more than the Russians to worry about. I had to somehow determine whether the traitor was in my organization or outside of it. I also had to consider the Feds. It wouldn’t be the first time that a government agent stepped over the lines of legalities as long as they obtained their objective.

  I distrusted the Feebs almost as much as I distrusted the Russians. Perfect. To complicate things even more, I was also still pissed at Niall for pushing me into this arrangement in the first place. I wasn’t using a driver today, so I pulled my vehicle relatively close to the gaping opening of the warehouse. I climbed out, tucking my Glock into the back waistband of my pants, then shrugged into my jacket.

  A slight breeze brought the somewhat musky odors of the harbor wafting into my nostrils, the bilge oil, the stink of rotting fish, and a myriad of other scents I couldn’t readily identify. Seagulls flew overhead, squawking and fighting for bits of trash or food as they nose-dived in the far corner of the cracked asphalt parking lot that surrounded three sides of the warehouse. Several other cars waited nearby.

  I wore businessman’s attire today, as I usually did when meeting any public figures, or in this case, my enemies. Behind me, two of my armed men climbed out of the car that pulled up close to my bumper. Just because I had acquiesced to negotiate and deal with Tarasov didn’t mean I trusted him. That was something that would never be rectified as far as I was concerned. Donnie was worth more than three of Tarasov’s dead men. And so was Allie.

  Another car pulled into the lot, its tires crunching on loose gravel as it pulled off to the side. A car door slammed, and I turned to watch Niall climb out of his car with a pair of bodyguards on his heels. I nodded toward him as he watched me, likely trying to gauge my mood as he adjusted his suit lapels and then approached.

  I entered the warehouse with my men behind me, Niall walking at my side. Tarasov already waited inside with his own men, both sides armed and prepared, the atmosphere thick with tension. The warehouse was nearly three-quarters full of pallets stacked with metal and thick cardboard containers of all shapes and sizes. I knew that many of the metal containers had just come off a ship from who knew where. Some of them would be carrying contraband. I didn’t want to consider that any of that contraband might be alive.

  I mightily resented being here and put in this position. I wanted revenge for Donnie. His death should not be in vain. And as far as I was concerned, the three men we’d killed while rescuing Allie weren’t nearly enough to suit me. I wanted them all dead. Gone.

  Stiff with tension, I tamped down my anger as I stared blankly at Tarasov. It would not do for me to brandish my true feelings, for he would take advantage. I could show no weakness, no emotion. I took a deep breath, calmed my pounding heart, and met Tarasov’s smirk with no reaction whatsoever. I knew by that smirk that he thought he’d beat me. That I was weaker than him. That perhaps I might even be intimidated by his syndicate. He was wrong. I was a patient man, and sooner or later, I would have my revenge.

  As with our bodyguards, Tarasov and his second-in-command also had their own. Twelve men in all, six on each side, took a semi-circular stance on opposite sides of a beat-up old folding table set up in a clear space.

  Each side stared wordlessly at the other for several moments, and then I finally turned and nodded to Niall. I wanted this over with. He and I sat down in the hard metal chairs across from Tarasov, our men spreading to form a protective semi-circle, as did theirs.

  Any overt move or gesture would likely produce guns all around. The tension in the air increased, thick with distrust, and on my part, hatred. Without working into it, no small talk, no indication of manners, Tarasov abruptly spoke.

  “At some point, we need to talk about your…how shall I put it? Your impetuousness?”

  I knew he referred to my rescue of Allie. Unbidden, a surge of rage prompted my heart to race, and I slowed my breathing to counteract the force. I couldn’t lose it. He was trying to get a rise out of me, but I wouldn’t allow his unveiled taunt to trigger a reaction. At least not yet.

  I had no patience when it came to this jerk, but even so, Niall softly cleared his throat, his warning for me to hold my temper in check. Outwardly, I displayed no emotion, no sign that Tarasov turned my stomach. Instead, I smiled. “You brought that on yourself when you stole what belonged to me.”

  “You mean the bitch you claimed you didn’t know?”

  I stiffened, my fist tightening. So much for holding my emotions in check. I wanted nothing more than to bash his nose in, to drive a sliver of bone from that broken nose deep into his brain. I took a deep, slow breath before I continued, my voice surprisingly calm. “Not only did you steal what belonged to me, but then you tried to use her as a bargaining chip against me. Another huge, fucking mistake on your part.”

  No one said a word as
the smirk disappeared off Tarasov’s face. His eyes were hard as he glared.

  I continued to meet his gaze full on. “That doesn’t even begin to touch what I’ll do to you if you touch her again, or any of my people.” He certainly knew that I referred to Donnie. I itched to avenge my friend, but for that, I would need patience. Perhaps time. But I would not forget. Donnie’s murder would be avenged.

  “You—”

  “If it’s war you want, Tarasov, then that’s what you’ll get,” I said, making it clear that he didn’t intimidate me or my Outfit.

  The three Tarasov men that Donnie, Ronan, and I had killed were soldiers in Tarasov’s clan, but as far as I was concerned, Donnie was part of the Philly Outfit’s leadership. He’d been my best friend, and while I itched for revenge, I knew that I had to bide my time.

  “A war won’t be in either one of our interests,” I continued, “but know this, Tarasov. If it comes to it, the Outfit won’t back down.”

  Tarasov glared at me for several moments, the smirk returning as he darted a glance toward Niall. What was that about? I looked at Niall too, but his face displayed no emotion whatsoever as he stared back at Tarasov and then the men behind him. The bodyguards from both sides stood stiffly, nothing moving but their eyes as they glanced between us and our men behind us.

  Tarasov finally chuckled and offered a shrug, palms up.

  “Fine.” I leaned forward a few inches, closing the distance between us. “Now that my extreme displeasure has been noted, I propose a show of goodwill.” I noted a slight widening of Tarasov’s eyes, as if he were surprised by my decision.

  “Go on,” Tarasov invited.

  “I’m prepared to move ahead with your proposal that the Outfit handle the transport and distribution of your weekly arms and drug shipments.”

  “I’m happy to hear—”

  “I’m not finished,” I said, raising a hand. “But I draw the line trafficking your women.” I waited, but Tarasov said nothing. “It’s too high risk and messy, and besides, I find even the idea of it highly distasteful.”