UNCHAIN ME: SAVAGE BEAST MC 3 Page 7

  Pulling my jeans over my hips, I search in my pocket for a smoke and am glad when I find one. Walking over to my nightstand, I grab my lighter and strike it, closing my eyes. I hear my sheets rustling, so I look down to see a completely naked and sated Bellarosa looking up at me through hooded lids.

  “Don’t leave this room,” I bark, turning away from her.

  I walk out of the room, slamming and locking the door behind me so that I know without a doubt that she’s safely nestled inside. Letting my head touch the door, I lean back and close my eyes.

  Fuck.

  I am so goddamn fucked.

  There’s no way in hell that I can allow her to be a whore for the club. I’ll kill a motherfucker if they even look at her, let alone try and stick their dick in her.

  Shit.

  I. Am. Fucked.

  Chapter Seven

  DRAGON

  I ignore the stares from my brothers, as I make my way back up to the bar to grab my discarded tequila bottle. I don’t miss the grunt that comes from Mamba who is sitting beside my bottle.

  None of them understand what I’m going through, what I’m risking by even keeping her at this clubhouse, let alone the potential hellfire that could break loose if we keep her—if I keep her.

  With my tequila in hand, I walk over to the sofa that is pushed up against the wall in the shadows of the clubhouse. Sinking down onto the leather, I grunt as I bring the bottle up to my lips.

  I smell her before I feel her tit press against my arm. Her breath fans my face, it’s not as sweet as the breath that I want. It isn’t the ripe strawberry lips breathing against me that I desire.

  It’s lips I’ve had all over my entire body, it’s a mouth that’s been wrapped around my cock more times than I can count. It’s not what I want.

  “Need anything?” she asks, placing her palm on my thigh and sliding it up my jeans until she’s cupping my junk.

  Turning my head, I bring the bottle to my lips, taking a long pull from the liquid. It burns sliding down my throat, but I welcome that burn, needing it to feel at the moment.

  I think about turning her away. I don’t need to get laid, Bellarosa satisfied me more than any other woman I’ve had in my bed. That thought alone scares the absolute shit out of me.

  Reaching out, I wrap my hand around the back of her neck. I look into Pinkie’s eyes and smirk as I guide her head down. She doesn’t need any more prompting, her hands reach for my pants and she has my flaccid dick out and in the palm of her hand in seconds.

  “Suck me hard,” I demand.

  She makes a noise in the back of her throat, probably to protest seeing as my cock is still wet from Bella’s sweet cunt. I honestly don’t give much of a fuck if she internally protests, I need this. I need to get this bitch off my mind and her touch from my dick.

  She’s just a woman. Just a whore. She is not special.

  I lie to myfuckingself as Pinkie licks and sucks my cock. I fucking lie because I don’t want to erase a single moment of being inside heaven, being inside Bellarosa. She was the best fuck I’ve ever had. She made me feel alive.

  For the first time ever, I fucking felt something with a woman. It’s a completely foreign concept and I’m not sure I want it. I’m not sure that I want her. I’m not sure that I can turn her away either, whore her for anyone else.

  Christ.

  I want to keep her.

  There’s a gasp to the left of me, but Pinkie doesn’t stop sucking my cock like a pro. Lifting my gaze, I look into those blue eyes that I would do just about anything to forget. Her mouth parts as she flicks her gaze from my lap to my face.

  “You wanna join?” I ask, my gaze focused on hers.

  I don’t think about the fact that her watching me causes my cock to harden almost instantly. I already know that I’m fucking gone for this girl. Girl. That’s what she is too, except she’s not running away crying at the sight of Pinkie sucking me off in front of her. Instead, her head tilts to the side and she just watches quietly.

  “You’re supposed to stay in my room,” I growl, lifting my hips when she licks her lips.

  Bellarosa hums as Pinkie makes a slight gagging noise. Biting the corner of my lip, I keep my eyes on hers. Fuck, I imagine Bella’s lips around my cock, the way she expertly sucked me like nothing I have ever experienced before.

  “What is going to happen to me?” she demands.

  I arch a brow, lifting the tequila to my lips and drink. Pinkie grunts around my cock, her movements slowing down as I’m sure that she’s growing tired of working me over. Using my free hand, I tug her off of my dick.

  “Thanks, babe, you can go,” I murmur without looking at her.

  Pinkie knows her place for the most part. Without a word, she scurries away from me and my half-mast cock that’s still hanging out of my jeans, wishing that Bellarosa would come sit on it.

  “Why do you need to know right now?” I ask, continuing to ignore my wet dick.

  Bellarosa ignores it as well. It should bother me, but it doesn’t. I know before this night is through that I’ll be buried balls deep inside of her again. I want her again already. I’ve never wanted a woman so soon after I’ve just had her. Not like this, not with this much intensity.

  Her gaze shifts to the side, then back to me. I watch as her eyes drag down my body, to my lap and she grimaces.

  I don’t move.

  I should tuck my dick back in my pants. I should take her in my arms and carry her back to my room, figure out a way to lock her sweet ass inside so that she can’t ever get out, not unless I want her to.

  I should do a lot of fucking things, but I’m frozen, fucking arrested by her pained blue gaze.

  BELLAROSA

  He watches me, his cock half-hard and exposed, his hand wrapped around a bottle of what looks like tequila. His gray eyes are focused on me, his expression beneath his dark thick beard completely unreadable.

  I don’t want to think about the way I felt when I saw that blonde head bobbing in his lap. How he could have another woman on his cock just moments after he was inside of me. I shouldn’t feel anything at the sight, but instead, I’m filled with jealousy. I’ve never experienced the foreign emotion with a man before, but I know that’s what it is.

  The only time that I’ve felt jealous, before today, was when one of the girls was able to have her freedom. Not all of the women in the house with me were contracts like myself. Some were whores that chose the life.

  They were able to come and go as they pleased and moved out of the house at their own free will. I was and still am extremely jealous of them. I dreamt about what it would be like, to have money of my own, to have the ability to do as I pleased.

  Looks like I’ll still be dreaming that dream, hoping and wishing that it would come true. That I’ll one day be free. Drago was right. It won’t be anytime soon and odds are, it won’t ever come true. It’s a pipe dream, one that I need to let go.

  However, right now I have an even bigger problem. I’m jealous, and that is something that I can truly not afford to be, not with the way he is watching me, waiting for me to say something. Not when I’ll be with other men and him, other women. Not when I have zero claim to him or anyone else on this earth.

  “I’ll go back,” I murmur, turning away from him.

  “Stop,” he orders.

  I freeze in my spot. I don’t look around the busy bar area. I don’t need to see all of the eyes on me, not when I can feel them staring, watching and waiting, for something to happen. Biting the corner of my lip, I wait. I suck in a deep breath when I feel his heat at my back. His hand wraps around my waist and his fingers cinch, squeezing roughly.

  He moves, his mouth at my ear and his warm breath washing over me. “You are not free to do as you wish here. Your world had rules, but so does this one. Any unmarked woman walking around this place alone is fair fucking game. You want these other men to fuck you, then walk around without me again. You don’t, then you listen to my fucking orders,
do you understand me?” he hisses.

  I try to keep the goosebumps from appearing all over my skin. I can’t control them, or the way my thighs press together to attempt to alleviate the ache between my legs, an ache that he put firmly in place. His hand slides around my waist until it’s pressed against my stomach.

  Drago’s lips travel down my neck, skimming my skin before they press against my shoulder. His teeth nip me, as my eyes flutter closed. When he speaks, I almost let out a sob, a cry of straight desire.

  “I want to fuck you again, Fragolina. I want to feel your throat around my cock again, your sweet pussy wet for me. I want it all,” he growls.

  Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I try not to moan. I want that again too, but I can’t get the image out of my head of that other woman with her head bobbing.

  Quickly, I turn around, opening my eyes to look into his surprised gaze. I don’t look down to see if his cock is still hanging out of his pants, I can’t look anywhere but his gray eyes.

  “It seems like you don’t care who it is, as long as it’s warm and wet.”

  My eyes widen from my own outburst. I take a step back, but don’t get far. He reaches out, wrapping his hand around my hip, keeping me from retreating when his grip tightens. His lips twitch into a smirk before he tugs me closer to him.

  I hold my breath as he dips his chin, his mouth almost touching mine, but not quite. I hate it, I want his lips on me, I want his tongue to fill me. I need his cock.

  “I’m going to burn you, Bellarosa. I’m going to burn you in a way where you will never forget who you belong to.”

  Without a second thought, I press my lips against his, closing the small distance. I taste the seam of his lips, thankful to only taste tequila and not another woman. He allows me to control the brief kiss. Moving my lips across his cheek, I travel over to his ear, my turn to whisper to him.

  “Do I belong to you?”

  He grunts, “Until I’m finished with you, you do.”

  I’m grateful when he bends down, wrapping his strong hands around my thighs and picks me up so that he can’t see the pain that slashes across my face from his words.

  This man forces my mask to disappear, I hate that, because he sees more of me than I’ve ever let another person see, and I’ve only been in his presence for a few hours.

  I can’t imagine what a week is going to do, he’s going to completely obliterate me, and I don’t think I could stop him even if I tried. I’m not sure that I would even want to.

  He carries me back to his room, tossing me on the bed the same way that he did earlier, except this time he doesn’t reach for my clothes, or his. Instead, he looks down at me, almost in disgust—definitely in anger.

  “For a woman who was taught her place, you aren’t very fucking good at knowing it,” he says, his voice deep and raspy.

  I could tell him the truth. I could confess that I was jealous as shit seeing that woman on his dick. I could admit the real reason I walked to the bar. My failed attempt to sneak out of the place, to run far and run wide.

  “Forced to be in a place and willing to stay there are two totally different things,” I say, arching a brow as I watch him.

  He chuckles, his eyes roaming over me as I stay planted in the center of his bed. He doesn’t speak, his gaze roaming over me, his mind spinning as he watches me, waiting for what I’m bound to do, or say next. I don’t say a word. I’m not sure what there is to say. I want him. He wants me, but not for anything more than a few screws. I get it, it’s men, it’s their nature.

  Dragon reaches out, his fingers sliding down my cheek, until he wraps them around the side of my neck, squeezing. My teeth sink into the corner of my bottom lip, my eyes held hostage by his own.

  “You don’t leave this room without my permission. You don’t talk, eat or breathe without it either. Next time you walk out of this room without my go ahead, I’ll punish you in front of that entire fucking bar downstairs and I won’t give a goddamn who watches or what they see.”

  Without another word, his hand falls away from my face and he turns from me. He slams the door behind him and that’s when the first tear falls.

  I haven’t shed a tear since Mauro hurt me, before that I don’t remember when I’d cried last. Maybe when Antonio Rossi took me from my mother’s home or perhaps when I lost my virginity at the age of sixteen to a man more than three times my age.

  Whenever it was, whenever those tears fell, I don’t remember them and I know without a doubt that they didn’t feel nearly as painful as these do.

  Chapter Eight

  DRAGON

  Leaving her. Walking away from her, it’s much harder than it should be. Ignoring the rest of my brothers, I make my way toward my office and sink down into the chair behind my desk. Reaching for my phone, I dial the number that I already have memorized.

  “Dragon?” the voice asks.

  Clearing my throat, I close my eyes. “Is she asleep?”

  “She’s been asleep for a few hours. She had dinner, dessert, showered, and watched some television, then took herself to bed,” she explains.

  “Thanks, Margot. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I admit.

  I don’t either.

  Margot has been helping me with Kora since she was an infant. When Journee and I brought her home from the hospital, I knew by the first night that Journee couldn’t take care of her and I didn’t trust her to be alone with Kora. Fuck, if that wasn’t a gigantic fucking red flag, then I don’t know what is.

  At the advice of one of the Old Ladies, I called a service. I interviewed nannies and I found Margot. She’s from out of town, didn’t know anyone in Egar, and I just knew instantly that she would care for Kora better than me or Journee ever could. I was right.

  “I’ll be there in the morning to pick her up for school,” I murmur.

  Now that Journee is gone, I’ve hired Margot on full-time. She stays the night at least three days a week and helps me with Kora more than is probably fair to either of them. She’s probably in her mid-thirties, I don’t know why she doesn’t have a family of her own, I’ve never asked.

  “Have a good evening,” she sings. Then the line goes dead.

  Hanging up, I close my eyes and sigh. Reaching my hand for my nose, I pinch the bridge and lean back in my chair. The thump of the music outside is the only noise that I hear. It’s calming, and I enjoy the semi-quiet.

  I hear the sound of the door opening, then after a moment, it clicks closed. I don’t bother opening my eyes. I already know who it is. He clears his throat as he sits down in the chair across from me, it creaks from his weight as he settles into the seat.

  “You’re going to have to either keep her, whore her, or send her back,” Mountain announces.

  “How do I send her back there?” I ask, opening one eye to look over at him.

  His eyes darken, his mouth forms a frown and he stares directly at me. “What is your tie to them, don’t fucking lie to me, either. I can feel that this is more than just a good trade deal.”

  Sighing, I sit up, releasing my nose and placing both of my hands on the middle of my desk, palms down. Lifting my gaze to his, I keep my eyes focused on his own. I debate telling him everything. He is my vice president, my brother and my friend.

  “My father was the brother of a famiglia,” I say. “The Ricci famiglia,” I clarify.

  Mountain nods his head, his confused expression still very much intact. Shifting my gaze to the side, I bring my eyes back to him and grind my teeth together, deciding to give him as much as I’m comfortable. It won’t be everything, but maybe by the time I’m finished, he’ll understand why this is not a cut and dry situation.

  “The Ricci famiglia and the Zanetti famiglia are what you would call frenemies, I guess. They are supposed to keep to their territories out of respect. When my uncle took over the Ricci famiglia, he started doing some shit my dad didn’t like. My dad left and never looked back. I’ve kept my pulse on the comings and going
s of all five famiglias over the years, as did my dad.”

  Mountain clears his throat. “Are you telling me that you’re mafia?” he asks, keeping his voice low.

  I shrug. “I’m not, not really. I was born into the Ricci family, but I was never part of it and my dad left before he was fully made.”

  “Tell me how this affects that girl in your room and this club,” he demands.

  Clenching my fists tightly, I let out a sigh and relax my grip. “That girl belongs to the Zanetti famiglia. The fact that I have her, it means that they could start shit with us, but also when they find out I’m a Ricci, that shit could be really fucking bad.”

  “Why?” Mountain growls.

  Focusing my gaze on his, I grunt. “Story goes, Mauro Ricci, my cousin, and Gavino Santoro who took over the Zanettis have had issues recently. Mauro claimed he had an arrangement with Santoro’s new wife, and got himself killed over the whole fucking thing. Before he did that, he caused quite a bit of drama. Honestly, I’m not involved, but my last name is a liability for this whole fucking club when it comes to that girl.”

  Mountain tilts his head to the side, thinking about what I’ve just laid on him. “First off, I think you’re blowing shit out of proportion. Secondly, mark her as your own and he can’t take her from you.”

  “Assuming I want to keep her?”

  Mountain snorts. “I knew the second I laid eyes on her that you’d want her. You’ve already fucked her and you’ve known her a total of a few hours. Don’t bullshit a bullshitter, brother.”

  He’s right. I fucking want her, but I don’t know her well enough to brand her for myself. I also have to think about how Kora fits into all of this. I’m not going to bring another woman into her life just to have her be like her goddamn piece of shit mother, or worse.

  “Wanting to fuck her and wanting to keep her are two totally different things. I have Kora to think about,” I say.