Forbidden (Blood Ties Book 7)

Michael DiAngelo.

Michael DiAngelo.

MICHAEL DIANGELO!

I climbed back in behind the wheel of the Range Rover and pressed the button to start the engine. But I didn’t put the vehicle into gear, not yet. Instead, I lifted my gaze to the doorway and clenched my fists around the wheel. Rage pumped through my veins and pulsed at my temple.

She’d almost escaped.

I shook my head.

She’d almost…

I reached forward, shoved the four-wheel drive into reverse, and backed out of the driveway. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. She wasn’t going anywhere, now or ever. I pulled up the name on my cell. It didn’t take long to find him. Michael DiAngelo, who worked as a teacher for St. Augustine Elementary in Preston, was about as fucking boring as watching paint dry…and was also married.

I sucked in a hard breath and turned the vehicle toward the middle-income suburb.

He’s not real!

Lie.

Did he really mean that much to her? Enough that she’d risk her own goddamn life to save him?

Did she really mean that much to me?

I winced, avoiding my own gaze in the mirror and left my suburb behind. Cars on the road blurred into one. Those hunched behind the wheels were meaningless. All I saw was him. Forty-three, overweight, soft brown eyes and a beard that looked like it hadn’t seen the inside of a barber shop in years.

That’s the man she wanted?

The man she preferred…over me.

I pulled the address up on my phone and punched it into the car’s GPS. It wasn’t my usual ride, but thanks to Trouble, I didn’t have that option anymore. I followed the streets, scanning front yards littered with children’s bikes and abandoned balls, pulling up at one of the few houses that actually looked neat.

Too neat.

I scowled, eyeing the beaten ten-year-old blue Mazda sitting in the driveway, and grabbed my cell. It was the same car I’d found on his social media profile. The same one he stood in front of with his wife as they started their fourteen-mile hike in the Rockies. The same car I stared at now.

I reached forward and stabbed the button on the glove compartment. As the door dropped open, I reached inside and pulled out my gun.

She called someone, Mr. Cruz. Maria’s words rose. I think it was a man…but I cannot be certain.

I shoved the glove compartment closed and opened the car door, stepping out.

Was it Michael? My own desperate tone followed.

I closed the door behind me, slipped the gun into my waistband at the small of my back, and inhaled hard. I was fucking desperate…and dangerous. The sun beamed down as I walked around the four-wheel drive and headed for the front door of the house. As soon as I neared, I heard the soft sound of music, blues by the sounds of it. I pressed the doorbell and stepped backwards, pasting a smile on my face.

The music dulled and footsteps followed. Then the door opened and the most boring looking man in fucking existence greeted me. “Michael?” I muttered. “Michael DiAngelo?”

He smiled and scowled, opening the security door. “Yes, do I know you?”

“Riven,” I answered. “Cruz. I’m here for the Alpha Banks Newspaper. We’re doing a piece on influential alumni and I was hoping I might take up a few moments of your time?”

The grin was instant. “Me?”

It didn’t take a goddamn genius to see he was petitioning for the ten-year Alpha Banks fundraiser to return. To him, this was his big shot. “Only if you have the time?”

“Of course.” He couldn’t get me inside fast enough, holding open the door and stepping back inside. “I’m just blown away, that’s all. Influential Alumni?”

I looked around the bland as fuck house and stepped just inside, turning to keep the gun out of view. “Absolutely,” I answered numbly. “You were at the top of our list.”

“I was?”

I didn’t answer, because I sure as hell wasn’t here to stroke his damn ego. He motioned toward the kitchen. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Sure.” I glanced at the photos of him and his fucking wife.

The happy couple, right? So happy he fucked another woman…my woman.

“Will your wife be joining us?” I asked.

“She’s away for the weekend.” He yanked open the refrigerator and bent for the bottles of water on the bottom shelf. “At some spa retreat. So, it’s just us.”

Just us, huh? “And your mistress?” I said coldly. “She won’t be here as well?”

He froze, then slowly straightened. I reached around, grasped my gun and pulled it free, already taking aim. “Just so I know who else you might be expecting.”

“My mistress?” he repeated carefully as he turned around.

He stiffened when he saw the gun. His eyes widened before they shot to mine. “What…what is this?”

I stepped closer. “This is me making sure you stay away from her and killing any idea you have of a rescue mission.”

“A rescue mission?” he parroted.

What was he, fucking stupid? I lifted the gun, taking aim.

“Wait!” He threw his hands into the air, dropping the bottle of water.

It hit the floor with a thud and rolled.

“I don’t have any mistress and I have no idea about any rescue mission.”

“Liar.” My lips curled.

“I promise. Please, I promise you. You have the wrong g—”

Crack!

He jerked backward, then fell. A tiny trickle of blood on his forehead was barely noticeable. Pity about the refrigerator door behind him.

You have the wrong…

You have the wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong…

WRONG.

He was a liar. And by the looks of him, a shit fucking boyfriend as well. If I was her lover, I’d make sure she wasn’t trying to cross a goddamn street in the middle of a downpour on her own…not dressed like that.

No.

If she was mine, she’d be right where she was.

At home.

With me…

Always with me.

I walked up to the dead body of Michael DiAngelo and looked down at those wide unflinching eyes and the spider veins across his cheeks before I let my gaze drift down. He was fatter than his photos, thick around the middle. I fought the wave of revulsion. A man like him with a woman like Helene?

It didn’t make sense.

You have the wrong g—

Those words nagged at me. Something didn’t feel right. Still, I pushed it down as the image of her face rose. She was still handcuffed and naked in my bed. It was time for me to fix that.

I stepped over the splayed body, making sure I didn’t touch a thing and walked out, shouldering open the door as I went. I tucked the gun against my back and climbed into the car. Get back to her…get back to her…

Christ, I’d never felt this fucking desperate. I started the engine, peeled out of the street, and floored it to get home.

Streets blurred.

Cars I didn’t give a shit about.

I didn’t see them.

I didn’t see anything.

Only her.

I stabbed the gate button, pulled into the driveway hard, and then the garage. The bitter smell of the new engine filled my nose as I climbed out and closed the door behind me. My footsteps echoed as I entered the house. I couldn’t hear her…I couldn’t…

“MOTHERFUCKER!” she screamed. The sound bloody, violent, and raw.

I stopped at the end of the hallway. My breaths were out of control, as was my pulse. You have the wrong…you have the wrong…

I took a step, then another, stopping in the doorway. She was kneeling on the bed, her arm stretched as far as the cuffs would allow.

“I hate you,” she spat, her eyes wild with fury. “I fucking hate you.”

“I know,” I answered. Just seeing her was the calm to my storm. Just knowing she was here. “I also know there’s no rescue mission, Helene. There’s no one to save you. No one knows you’re here.”

She flinched, drawing in gulps of air.

I moved closer, glancing at the clothes I’d brought, now strewn across the room. It was almost like fate that the piece I wanted was closest to the bed. “So, this is how this will go. You will wear the clothes I provide you, or you will wear none at all.” She never flinched when I lifted my hand and fisted her beautiful hair. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Eat a fucking dick.”

The corner of my lips quirked as desperation roared inside me. I was a madman…consumed by lust. I lunged, yanking her head backward until she toppled and fell back onto the bed. “I think you have that mistaken. That role is specifically for you.”

There was no stopping this…even if I’d tried.

I reached down, unbuttoned my jeans, and shoved down my zipper, then released her hair to grasp her jaw. “You bite me and I’ll make it so you never bite a fucking thing ever again, got it?”

I was so fucking hard. The tip pulsed as I knelt on the bed and squeezed my fingers into the flesh of her cheeks. “Now fucking open wide.”

She thrashed, whipping her head from side to side. But I held on, angling my hips as I reached for my cock and looked down. I didn’t want to miss this. I didn’t want to miss a goddamn thing where she was concerned. “Open.”

She glared up at me, her cheeks squished against her teeth.

“I said, open.”

She did, parting those reddened lips.

“Wider.” I choked on the word.

She did, her gaze riveted to mine as her mouth widened. I tore my focus from her eyes to that mouth and the darkness of her throat. My grip eased, my thumb sliding down to stroke that perfect channel. “I’m going to fuck you, Helene. I’m going to fuck you hard.” I lifted my gaze. “Believe me when I tell you this isn’t a punishment…it’s a claiming.”

I slid the tip of my cock along the smooth skin of her lips, my other hand stroking, urging…hoping.

She opened her mouth, letting me push in.

Warmth closed around me.

Warmth…and her.

“I can’t stop…” I bucked my hips, driving all the way inside. “Not even if I wanted to.”

Memories slammed into me. But not a memory of here, or of her.

Them.

All of them.

Gagging, fighting. Some of them had already given up. Open wider, wider. Sucking cock will be the only thing you’ll be good at. They’ll pay for this mouth, do you understand that? Your mouth, your cunt. That’s all you’ll be to them. That’s all you’ll be to anyone. I’m here to make sure you’re perfection.

She thrashed, her free arm went from the bed to claw my arm, drawing back my focus. Chills tore along my spine as a wave of revulsion hit me. But I didn’t ease, not yet…not until I’d touched perfection. She kicked, her heels driving into the bedding until I suddenly pulled out, leaving her gasping.

Spittle trailed from her mouth to the end of my cock.

“Again.”

She shook her head.

“No?”

“No.” She curled her lips, baring her teeth.

Butterflies roamed the inside of my rib cage at the sight. She was fucking perfection…utter…fucking…perfection and this…this was so far from the things I’d done at The Order. I knew that. I felt that. For the first time I wanted it to be different…with her. I gripped her jaw, easing her mouth open. She didn’t fight me, not like she should. I pushed in, softer this time.

“That’s it.” I groaned as my cock slid into her mouth. “Now suck.”

Those lips closed around me. Her breath was a blast against the base as I lifted my other hand to the mattress over her head. “Fuck, that’s it…” I thrust, watching her cheeks move with the impact. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

Her feet stopped thrashing.

Now she looked scared.

My gaze was fixed on hers.

Not scared of me. The words hit me: No. She was scared of herself.

“My mouth to fuck. You got me? My pretty potty-mouth to fuck. You make me mindless, Helene. You make me so fucking mindless.” I clenched my ass, driving all the way in until my balls rubbed her chin. “And me being mindless is a very dangerous thing…” Those wide, panicked eyes shimmered with tears as I stroked her cheek. “For everyone else but you.”

She blinked, and that shimmer was gone. I pulled out, only this time her head lifted, her tongue chasing the ridge of my cock. “That’s it,” I urged, closing my eyes. “Fuck, I knew you were trouble.”

I waited for the sharp bite, almost tempting fate now that I wasn’t looking. But it never came…it never came. I pulled out, my cock shining with slick from her mouth.

Chills danced down my spine as I stared into her eyes. There was something changing between us. Some shift of power I couldn’t quite pinpoint, one that made me feel…cautious. My focus was fixed on her mouth, on those soft lips. I wanted to kiss her, to taste her mouth, then her cunt as she came into my mouth.

My heart thundered, driving me to shift my knees backwards.

“Where are you going?” she asked breathlessly.

I didn’t answer, just lowered my head, my teeth grazing her tight nipple. I wanted her…but for some sick reason, I wanted her to want me. If she didn’t…if she didn’t, I’d soon find out.

“No.” She yanked at the cuffs as I moved lower.

Her legs wrapped around my back, stilling me. My lips curled as I reached around and grasped one ankle, gently pulling her away. I didn’t want to hurt her, not one fucking hair on her head. But fucking her? Forcing myself inside any goddamn hole? That was all I wanted. The only question was, did she want me to?

Her foot slammed against the bed as I grasped the other. She shoved her hips upwards, desperate to buck me off. Which only did the opposite. Her pussy pushed against me, the slick she’d left behind cooling on my skin.

“You’re fucking wet,” I murmured, meeting her panicked stare. “You’re so fucking wet, you’re almost panting. Are you panting, Helene?”

“Fuck you,” she moaned, whipping her head from side to side.

My smile grew wider as she shot upward and fisted my hair. “You want to control me, Trouble?” I murmured, lowering my head to the apex of her legs. I gripped the inside of her thighs and squeezed until she winced in pain. “Want to use me?”

She liked that.

I understood it now.

My fingers slid along her swollen pink lips and gently pinched her clit. Her breath caught as a low, primal growl reverberated in the back of her throat.

“Go on, tell me you don’t like this.”

She shook her head as I slid my fingers down and spread them wide. “Look at that, you’re practically dripping. I warned you, trouble, warned you what would happen.” I licked that tiny hood and felt it tremble against my tongue. “I told you there wouldn’t be a time you wouldn’t remember being fucked by me. I think it’s about time I made good on that promise. What do you say?”

I plunged my tongue deep inside her, licking that silky, sweet flesh until she bucked and yanked my hair. My hands went under her legs and gripped her ass, lifting her hips so I could get all I wanted.

“Oh, God…Oh…my…God.”

He wasn’t going to help her.

And neither was Michael DiAngelo.

Not now…

Not ever.

Mine…that word filled me as I dipped, forcing my tongue deeper inside. She clamped her knees against my head, but still she rode me. Fuck, she rode, her clenched fist in my hair driving me harder and harder, until there was no coming up for air. I drove my hips against the begging, that desperate need to come overwhelming.

Only, I wanted to come inside her.

I lifted my head and moved upwards.

She unleashed a snarl that caught in the back of her throat when I grabbed her knees and forced them to her chest. “Hold still now.” Two fingers plunged deep inside, coming away creamy. “Another fucking mess, Helene. Christ, you’re a messy slut. You’re just going to come all over everything I own, aren’t you?”

She closed her eyes as I thrust deep, spreading her pussy.

How many times had he fucked her?

I fisted my cock with one hand and fingered her hard with the other. It didn’t matter. She had me now. She whimpered as her jaw clenched, desperation creasing her brow. “That’s it. That’s my girl.” Two hard thrusts of my fist and my cock twitched in my hand. Her pussy clenched around my fingers, her greedy fucking pussy so desperate for what I wanted to give. Fingers plunged inside her as come coated her slit, driving my seed inside.

“Oh…Ohhh…Godddd…” She bucked as much as she could with her knees so fucking wide. I stroked both fingers inside her.

“I will fuck the memory of him out of you if it’s the last thing I do,” I croaked, watching as she opened her eyes.

That stare was a shotgun blast to my chest. One I knew there was no coming back from. This was bigger than an abduction. More violent than rape. This was an obsession.

“Fuck,” I muttered, sucking in hard breaths.

Stunned. Silent.

There was only one reason for that, and it was undeniable.

She felt it too.