Ruthless Ink: A Mob Romance (Hanley Family Mafia) (Devil’s Desires Book 4) Read online

  The only thing missing is a sexy thong. Having Luke’s fingers reaching between my legs from the back and stroking my clothed clit remind me of my unflattering but practical boyshort undies. Like my strapless bra, the undies are black and lackluster but provide all the support I need.

  I’m easy on myself. This isn’t going to happen again, so I could scratch off sexy lingerie from my list. Once Luke works his magic, we’re through, but right now, he’s all mine.

  So I whine at his removing his hand to answer his ringing phone, the sound sharp and insistent. Has he had it on all night? Probably; he’s Luke Hanley, a man I picture taking calls at all hours of the day.

  “Yeah?” Luke answers, his irritation wearing off at my explorative touch. He holds me to his side, and I happily skim my hand over his bare chest, my lips kissing one of his brown nipples, suckling the pebbly flesh. He’s growling a response in the phone and I smile knowing I’m the cause.

  “Not what I want to hear,” he says.

  I reach over to pinch his other nipple and his arm tightens around my waist, his hand moving then to cup my ass, squeeze one cheek until I’m moaning and breaking off from mouthing him, my forehead kissing his pec.

  “Later.” He’s off the phone.

  I perch my chin on his chest and the smile I have ready falters.

  Luke is scowling fiercely. It’s a mood killer.

  “That was Russ.” His words are weighty. They’re supposed to have an effect on me. They do, only not immediately. “Lily, anything you’d like to tell me?”

  Then as if I haven’t gotten the hint, he sucks in a breath, exhaling with, “Like something about a certain detective of the fine Potentia police force?”

  “I was going to tell you.” I pull away from him.

  He pushes me back, his hand on my ass holding me fast to him. And his glower tells me he won’t be letting go until he’s satisfied with whatever I have to report.

  “Out with it, Lily. I’m not playing games.”

  “Fine,” I sputter. “Ask nicely, why don’t you?”

  Luke lowers his head, this new angle of his hard stare sending skitters up and down my spine, and they’re not entirely unwanted. It’s so caveman of him. Next he’ll toss me over his shoulder and drag me off to his bedroom, torture me with his talented hands, force the story with Art Dayton out of me.

  His mouth moves closer, his warm breath puffing over my quivering lips. I want him to kiss me.

  “You get nothing while this hangs over us, sweet thing.”

  “You’re mean,” I huff, turning my head away and pouting. But cornered as I am, I give him what he wants more right now.

  “It was a little before you arrived. He stopped by with questions about a body they found in an abandoned car.”

  I pause there, pushing past the beginnings of hot bile flavoring my tongue at the memory of the body in that trunk with Russ and his other thug standing over their victim. “He said he saw my car at the lot in the dealership. That he had reliable sources matching a description of another vehicle at the lot as well.”

  “Reliable sources, huh? He said that?” Luke’s clean-shaven jaw clenched. His evergreen eyes bore through me, like they could extricate the story out that way. Or maybe reach into my memory and punch Art in his nosy face.

  Shrugging, I say, “That’s what he said. I didn’t ask about it though, and I seriously doubt he’d tell me.”

  “That’s it?”

  I shake my head slowly, remembering another detail. “He left me his card, told me I could call him whenever. He asked me about Potentia then, and asked if I liked it here.” I frown, adding, “That was weird, but I figured he was trying small talk after dumping the load of his investigation on me. He didn’t hint that he was going to stop by again though.”

  “That doesn’t mean he won’t.” Luke moves his hand away, freeing me. He’s off, heading toward the stairs in only his slacks and socks. “Make yourself comfortable,” he calls back.

  I drag my eyes down my body, taking in my semi-nude state. “Really?” I mutter, peeved.

  Taking a seat on his couch, I wait with my arms folded over my middle and my dress back on but the back hanging open. I’m still fuming when he returns, a few minutes later, a tablet in hand.

  He sets it down on the glossy, white coffee table, pointing out to the vaguely familiar man on the screen. “Is that your detective?”

  “Yeah,” I nod, releasing a bit of my anger, curiosity supplanting the irritation of Luke’s leaving me hanging in the middle of what was to be the final time I had sex with my boss. This is for the better though. Giving Luke this information about the detective might be a better way to go with this alibi of ours.

  “But he looks different,” I note. Seeing as I have Luke’s undivided attention, I point out the differences of the man on his tablet and the man who visited me today in my apartment.

  “So, no beard, no scruffy clothes, and he wasn’t using a cane,” Luke sums up my points. He takes a long look at the screen, at the photo of Art, and he bobs his head, once, sharply. His phone is out and he hits a button. “Russ.”

  So he has his hitman on speed dial…That isn’t weird at all.

  “Yeah, look into it. But keep it under wraps. No one should know this is happening.” Luke gives his orders, his tone brooking no argument. Off the phone again, he studies the image. His gaze is so intent, I don’t see how he knows I’m inching away. But he does.

  His hand moves fast, sliding over to grip my thigh.

  “I should probably get going,” I say, casually.

  Luke regards me with furrowed brows. “I’d like for you to stay, Lily.”

  How does he make my name sound so…sinful? I have to ward off the urge to lean in, beg him to take me upstairs and continue what we started before Art Dayton distracted him. I fight myself, turning from what I want so badly.

  “Luke—Mister Hanley, I should get going. We can talk about the alibi later.” I lower my voice near the end of that statement, particularly on the ‘alibi’ part. I don’t believe it’s the reason Luke has my thigh in a tightening grip.

  “We talk now,” he says.

  Chapter 10

  Lily

  “Now?” I echo, stammering.

  Does Art Dayton scare him that much? And then I realize it’s a silly question. Why shouldn’t Luke be scared? He’s only mortal. Detective Dayton could put him away for life if he could link him to a murder.

  Funny enough, I haven’t thought of Luke as the murderer. I mean, I know he’s the kingpin. Russ and his thuggish friend were taking the orders of their boss, and Luke’s that boss. Luke’s the bad guy in this situation, yet I have the niggling sensation that there’s more in the dark to this story than the light that’s been shed on it thus far.

  Call me brainwashed, but I can’t—I won’t see my boss as a cold-blooded killer. And that’s why I say, “Fine, but you won’t like what I have to say.”

  Seeing as I have the floor, I continue. “I thought I could be fine with pretending to be your girlfriend, but I can’t.”

  “Lily,” Luke warns.

  I remember how he fed me the cover story in this very space last night. By the time I was done parroting him, he was touching and kissing me, and I was letting him take me to his bed.

  I can see it unfolding again. Leaning away from him on the couch, I look pointedly from his face to his hand on my upper leg.

  Instead of taking the clue, Luke draws closer.

  I find myself dropping back, my head falling to the sofa’s armrest, Luke hovering over me. His knee is digging into the cushion on one side, his foot still on the floor. He stares down at me from this half-standing position, his hand shifting from my leg to gripping the armrest by my head.

  Very slowly he clasps his other hand to the front of his slacks, his palm outlining his erection. So, he still wants me. That’s good. Wait, no it isn’t.

  Gulping, I force my stare up to his face.

  He’s all scowl.
I guess my wanting to leave is the reason for that, but what does he expect?

  This is crazy. All of it, but especially us being an item.

  Luke belongs in his world and I belong in mine. A woman like Angelina—beautiful, accomplished, self-assured, expensively-clothed—suits him better. As for my knowing about the victim in his side business, I’d take that with me to my grave before I risked his wrath or his father’s.

  I’m horny, not stupid.

  “Mr. Hanley.”

  He cuts me off with a click of his tongue, his mouth parting to reveal his perfectly straight white teeth clenched with his irritation. His stare takes in my heaving chest, trails down my body, clothed again by my little black dress.

  I know Luke doesn’t like what he sees because he grabs at the front of my dress. “Okay. You win. We talk later, fuck now.”

  I should tell him that can’t happen. As I open my mouth to tell him so, my desire fumbles out instead. “Fine.”

  Fine?

  What happened to telling him “no”?

  Luke moves quickly, leaving me no time to wrap my head around what’s happening, how everything changed in a second. And when I’m stripped down to my underwear again, I can’t think. I can’t string together words as he pushes down the soft cups of my strapless bra and lowers his mouth to a throbbing nipple.

  Adjusting himself over me, careful with his weight, Luke flicks his tongue over my pebbled flesh, his mouth sucking in my nipple.

  I wrap my arms around his neck, hands sliding over and massaging his taut upper back muscles. I moan softly and sigh, but suck in a sharp breath when his teeth graze my breast and I part my thighs instinctively.

  His hand cups my mound, thumb pushing down on my achy clit, his index and middle finger stroking circles over my opening. I’m soaking through my panties, the wet spot dragging in cool air. After teasing me through the underwear, he pushes the material over my crotch aside, and his finger wriggles into my gripping hole.

  “Ah,” I sigh, breath hitching, locking in my throat. I suck up his digit all too easy, prompting him to add a second. I’m not feeling full until he fills me with a third. He pumps his hand, faster, and his thumb rubs my clit, taking me higher.

  My climax curls my toes, pulses through me in breathtaking waves. I seize lightly, head rearing up from the armrest, my lips parting for his incoming mouth.

  “Mhm,” he moans against my lips. Or is that my sound of pleasure? It’s too chaotic to tell, and I don’t care, so long as his fingers prolong my orgasm.

  When he moves to let us breathe, he murmurs, “You wanted to leave.”

  I did.

  Embarrassed he’d bring it up, I kiss him, silencing whatever other teasing accusations he has coming my way, I lock our lips together, letting his seeking tongue into my mouth. Now I’m definitely moaning, loudly. His fingers have left my pussy and he’s trailing the warm, wet digits around my areola, smearing my juices over me.

  Letting him go, I watch as he sucks in my breast and cleans me up. I’m sure he’s heading lower, but after smacking a quick smooch over my lips he says, “Your turn.”

  Before I can ask, I’m being lifted and carefully rolled over, our chests pressing together, my softness yielding to his hard, sculpted body. It takes some maneuvering, but when I’m on top, his bulge pressed to my core, Luke grins at me.

  “Ride me, baby. Show me how much you want my come.”

  That kind of dirty talk is enough to make me orgasm again, but I hold off, drawing him out of his slacks and boxers, fumbling until I have the flushed head and weeping slit of his cock kissing my opening.

  Luke’s grin wavers with his clenched groan.

  I slid him in, sitting down and pressing my full weight over him. He feels so good inside. I don’t remember what it was like when he wasn’t filling me, but I imagine it was horribly lonely and empty.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” Luke breathes. His cheeks are suffused pink, his mouth parting with his fast breaths. Cool and calm as he may usually be, this is a different side to the man I know as my boss.

  Like during our date tonight, there are cracks in that façade he dresses himself up with day-to-day at the dealership.

  But now I’m in control, given the reins of leading us both to our sexual fulfilment, and I embrace the responsibility, my enthusiasm to rock and ride his thick, hard dick shedding any remaining bits of self-consciousness. I slide up and down, Luke’s hands supporting me some, my hips slapping down against his.

  “That’s it, sweet Lily, take it. Take all of me.” Luke’s encouragement, hoarse and deep, heightens my pleasure.

  I drag my nails over his chest, my palms flattening to still my shaking hands. I’m close now. So delightfully close to the end.

  Unabashed, moaning as loudly as I like, I ride him and grind to another orgasm. My body tenses, pleasurable pulses knocking me fiercely, my hands splaying and steadying on Luke’s chest. If his hands hadn’t been holding my thighs, I’d have surely slipped off.

  He’s gripping me tightly, groaning out his own pleasure, his hot fluid massaging my vaginal walls, warming me. His jerky thrusts slow and soon he’s rubbing my sides, smiling lazily up at me.

  I crumble forward, Luke buried in me, my body hovering above reality in afterglow mode. My head resting by his, I reach to brush my lips to his bare, relaxed jaw. I brush my nose on the same spot, moaning when his hands cup my butt cheeks, spreading them apart, letting cool air brush my still wet opening.

  Luke holds me long enough for my heart to calm to a normal rate and my body to float back down to the real world, and the real-time consequences.

  “Shit.” Luke’s curse brings my gaze up. “You’re not on the pill, are you?”

  I shake my head, some much needed blood rushing from my pulsating vulva back to my brain. “You didn’t…” I don’t finish the sentence. I’m well aware he hadn’t used a condom. I was the one angling his thick shaft inside of me.

  “They have morning-after pills for that sort of stuff, right?” Luke is thinking more clearly than me. I’m ready to resign myself to a very inconvenient pregnancy, but he’s on the ball with an answer. “Lily? I’ll look into it.”

  “Sure. That’d be good.” I’m ready to relax again, except when Luke said he’d look into it, he meant right then.

  Moving out from under me, he holds up a hand as I sit up. “You stay and rest. I’ll hop over to the closest pharmacy and be right back.” He’s dressing wildly like the devil’s on his heels, promising hellfire and brimstone for the rest of eternity. It’s enough to have me reaching for my discarded dress at the bottom of the sofa.

  Luke notices I’m standing, slipping it on. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready,” I say, a little too huffily. I’m hurt, but I hate that he has to be privy to how much. “For when you get back and call one of your men to take me home.”

  Luke is moving to me, but I hold up a hand, backing around the coffee table, careful not to slip and tumble. That wouldn’t help here.

  I need to look strong, capable, and perfectly clear-headed with my words and decision.

  “You go, run off and get that magic pill for me.” I make a shooing motion with my hand, lowering it at his slashing brows and scowl.

  Luke looks fierce. I swear a muscle jumps in his hard jaw. His eyes are chiseled bits of dark green, slicing through me, analyzing me after that display.

  But I’m not putting on a show for fun. Everything I’ve said is what I mean. He should run off and return with the morning-after pill. Lord knows a baby thrown into our lives would only make matters worse. No innocent should be tainted by any of this falsehood.

  “You want my baby,” he drawls, his voice thick with his displeasure and frustration. “Is that what you’re telling me, Lily, you want my child? Because if that’s the case, we seriously need to have a chat—”

  “No!” I gasp, not caring I’ve interrupted him.

  My fists clenching in front of me, I spit out, “
I don’t want your baby. I don’t even want this stupid, fake relationship. I never wanted any of it, not like this.”

  And then because I feel the tears coming, I scamper around his furniture for the front door, already planning to hoof it, call for a cab once I’m far enough from his beautiful condo, his gated community, and his world.

  Grabbing my discarded stockings by our haphazardly tossed shoes, I hurry to slip on my heels.

  “And forget the pill,” I snap over my shoulder, voice cracking on a sob. “I’ll pick it up myself.” I still don’t feel better, so out of malicious spite, I call back. “I can’t see why Detective Dayton is the bad guy here. He’s the one searching for criminals to arrest, hold them responsible for killing someone. Maybe I should help him—” I cut off.