Manacled Hearts: an Age Gap Mafia Romance (The Sanctum Syndicate Book 3)

CHAPTER 28

I wake up to an empty bed and a sweet, aromatic scent weaving around through the penthouse, pulling a groan out of me and a growl from my stomach.

I wonder what she baked now.

We stayed up too late as we talked about her bakery dream with a dark, gothic twist, her ideas for the interior, the designs she’s been conjuring for years, the flavor combinations that intrigued even me. I was bound to wake up hungry. Though I never crave particular foods, yet now I need whatever’s cooking in my kitchen.

Rising, I head straight to the walk-in closet to grab a pair of boxers, and stumble around as I slide them up on my way to the kitchen. The scent makes my mouth water, but as Evelyn finally comes into view, it seems to turn bone dry. She’s on her bare tiptoes as she sways between the counter and the island on a rock song set on low volume, long, lean legs in full view, and I swallow a curse when my gaze is interrupted by the hem of a long T-shirt that covers her ass and everything above. She used to be concernedly skinny when we brought her to us, but now… there’s some meat on her bones, and thanks to Maddox’s help, some muscle too. She’s still skinny, but Christ, health has never looked so good on a woman.

She glides around my kitchen on the rhythm of the hard guitar strings and the flow of the wind-swept curtains of the open terrace doors, and she looks divinely at home as she pours some dark batter in a baking tin I didn’t know I had. George buys all sorts of things when he does his chef duties in my kitchen. Maybe I should actually search these cupboards to see what else I have. What else Evelyn needs, too.

I lean against the door frame, crossing my arms against my chest, and watch her. Slender, long fingers wipe the rim of the bowl as she moves further down the tray, and I suck in a groan as she sticks that very finger in her mouth, sucking slowly at it while she keeps pouring that batter. It’s not a stretch to imagine something else between those pretty pink lips of hers. She can cover my cock in whatever she wants as long as she sucks on it just like that.

Seemingly satisfied, she grabs the tray and taps it a few times against the counter, before she turns to the oven, drops the door and slides it right in. She doesn’t even notice me when she turns after closing the door, taps something on her phone, then goes back to the counter, picking up the same bowl. When she dips in again and swipes at the sides, I suck in a breath, because I know what’s about to come. That finger slides between her plump lips, but this time she closes her eyes and the softest of sighs turns my cock so rigid, it almost fucking hurts.

Raking a hand over my face I wonder how long until this woman’s going to kill me just by being her own, enticing little self. When she’s about to suck on that batter-coated finger again, some of it drips on her chest, staining the T-shirt.

Wait, that’s my T-shirt.

Just like that, she turned even hotter, if that was even a possibility.

“Oh no!” She drops the bowl and turns frantically to the sink. “Evelyn, what have you done? You klutz!” She rants at herself as she finds the sponge and attempts to clean it.

I’m behind her in fewer strides than I thought I needed, and when I grab onto the hem of the T-shirt, she jumps, yelping, but I give her no time to protest or fight. I pull it up, forcing it over her head, leaving her arms trapped in it, then I turn her around to face me, grabbing onto the sides of her head.

“Finnigan,” she says on a breathy tone that sounds more lustful than startled. “I’m sorry, I—”

But my mouth is crushing hers before she can finish the sentence, her intoxicating ginger and brown sugar scent luring me to dive between her soft lips. I’m careful not to thread my fingers through her hair as I tip her head back, holding her just where I want her, deepening the kiss. A rumble of desire shakes my chest and vibrates straight through hers, drawing a soft cry to fall from her lips, and I swallow those muffled sound-waves like they’re the life-force keeping me alive. They might as well do, because the life I used to live before her is done and dusted. Even before I felt her against me, tasted her, swallowed her moans, she tainted my existence with her energy.

There is no going back for me, I’m falling deep into her, and I fear that, once again, I’ll be abandoned with a heart I can’t put back together myself.

I shake those thoughts away because ignorance truly is bliss, and I release Evelyn so I can pull the T-shirt off of her completely, and bare her naked body to me. Reaching behind her, I turn the tap off, then dip down, and lift her to me. She yelps, but it turns into a giggle as she wraps her legs around my hips, and I walk us to the kitchen island. When her bare behind touches the cold granite, she hisses, I lock my lips onto the crook of her neck, sucking softly at the skin there, and it melts into a feverish cry. Her head falls back, arms settling behind her as she props herself up, and I lick my way down to her breasts, circling one nipple with my tongue, and rewarding it with a soft bite when it hardens to a peak.

Back arching, she pushes her breast against my mouth demanding more attention, and I move to the other one, refusing to leave it waiting for too long. When she moans and sinks her fingers into my hair, all but forcing me where she wants me, I know I’m going to have my hands full. Evelyn might have been a virgin last night, but the way she demands pleasure without speaking a word tells me that she’s a greedy little slut in the making, one who has far too many unfulfilled desires that have been piling on for long enough.

But this is my feast, not hers, and I decide what I devour.

A clinking noise sounds as she shifts, and I break away from her enticing skin as it dawns on me that I didn’t make sure there aren’t any knives sitting on the counter. All I find is a spoon sitting next to a great big bowl. A different one than the one she was licking earlier. Curious, I take a peek.

“Is this icing?”

“Frosting,” she corrects on a strained whisper.

“There’s a difference?”

She nods, raising an eyebrow as one corner of her lips quirks, her chest rising and falling with heaving breaths, her cheeks deliciously flushed. After the discussion we had last night, I’m intrigued. I swipe my pinkie through the soft, creamy frosting, and dip it in my mouth. The dark purple color that matches her hair so well made me think it was going to be sickly sweet, but there’s a delicious sourness to it, and I’m compelled to hum in approval. Evelyn’s brows furrow with a wanton gaze as she bites into her lower lip.

“What gets you off, Evie darling? Is it me sucking on my finger, or the fact that I’m moaning at the taste of your frosting.”

Her brows straighten, as if she only just realized she was lusting over me.

“Come on, don’t be shy,” I insist.

“Maybe both.”

“Maybe? Let’s test and find out.”

Her doe eyes widen and lips part, but she stays silent. Waiting curiously.

I dip my index finger in the bowl, and suck on it again, this time slower, my eyes fixed on the not-so-innocent-anymore vixen before me. She watches every movement with hawk eyes, and I’m oddly turned on. Not because I’m sucking on my own fucking finger, but because she looks at me like that. Like she could devour me whole, just as I would her. And isn’t that just goddamn beautiful?

Returning to the bowl, I pick up more frosting this time, and I go for my mouth slowly, watching how her lips part with the same speed. Only, this time around I drop the cream, letting it fall right on her belly, just above the navel. She gasps and reaches for it, but just as it touches the sweetness, I grab her hand and bring it to my mouth. I lick her finger clean before I place her palm back behind her, then dip down, swiping my tongue over her skin, licking her clean. A soft mewl flexes her belly, and I realize this taste is becoming addictive. Mostly because it pulls those needy sounds out of her.

I grab more frosting, and smear it in a clean line from her navel to the trimmed curls between her legs. Goosebumps spread all over her flesh as she quivers, and there’s something addictively beautiful about that. A sort of innocence bread from discovery and I’m going to enjoy helping her find out what makes her wet. I bet she’s getting real wet right now. Just as beautiful is the contrast of this dark, violet frosting against her light olive skin. Then again, Evelyn makes everything look beautiful.

When my tongue touches her skin once more, she blatantly moans, her head dropping back as I lick the cream off of her belly, sucking the sensitive flesh.

“I want more.” I groan just as I grip her waist, bring her down to her feet, and turn her around, her back to my front.

She doesn’t get a chance to lean into me as I press my hand to the middle of her back and bend her over the kitchen island. With a yelp she tries to protest, but I hold her down with one hand and bring the bowl of frosting closer with the other.

“Be a good girl, Evelyn”—I give her right cheek a quick smack, grinning when she yips in shock—“and I might just make you come.”

“But I—”

Her protest earns her another slap on the other cheek, and this time her little cry sounds charged. It’s not pain twisting on the notes, but something much more carnal. I kick her feet apart, and take half a step back to admire the woman I claimed as mine.

“Fuck me, you have such a pretty cunt.” I shake my head, because it should be a crime for that dark-pink slit to look so unbelievably tempting.

Dipping two fingers in the frosting bowl, I scoop a fair amount of it, and she twitches when the cream touches the hood of her clit. When I drag those digits up the seam of her pussy and don’t stop when I reach its end, she whips her head around, eyes locking onto mine. I say nothing as I grab the spoon and scoop up more of that cream, holding eye contact with her as I continue spreading it, brushing it over that tight, puckered hole, then up to the top of her ass.

She follows me with her gaze as I dip on one knee, and when I wrap my hands around the tops of her thighs, pulling them apart to better expose her to me, her muscles tense. But then I swipe my tongue over her now even sweeter clit, sucking at that nerve center with newfound fever. Evelyn’s head falls against the countertop on a deep sigh, and I lick her slowly, from that sensitive bundle of nerves, through the seam of her delectable pussy, reveling in her shudder and slight yelp as I pass over the tight hole beyond it, and up to the top of her ass.

“This feels… dirty,” she says in a throaty voice.

“And yet look how beautifully your flesh trembles when my tongue worships you.” Pressing my mouth against her folds, I suck at the sweetness lathered there as she yelps at the contact. “How perfect this frosting looks against your soft skin.” I drag my tongue over her ass, insisting on the tight muscle that contracts at the contact. “How responsive even the dirtiest parts of you are to me.” I lick between her cheeks, sucking and cleaning every single part of her covered in that tangy sweetness. “I think you like dirty. Don’t you, Evie darling?”

A soft whimper escapes her throat when I bring my mouth back to her needy clit, rolling the bundle between my tongue and lips as her legs shake ever so gently. I part her with my thumbs, exposing the pink, wet flesh to me and hold her like that for a moment longer, enjoying the magnificent view of her opening gripping on nothing but air. Blowing over the sensitive flesh, I pull a soft groan out of her, but it turns feral when I dive my tongue inside that delicious pussy I made mine mere hours ago. It’s only ever been mine, and that thought fills me with a possessiveness I never thought I could feel. I roll my tongue against her walls, fucking her like I’m starving for her essence, and I know just how dirty my sweet Evelyn is when she thrusts into my face, taking what she deserves.

“Oh, Finnigan!”

I want to encourage her, tell her to take everything she needs from me, but she’s settling into a rhythm I don’t want to disrupt. Not until she comes all over my tongue and face.

So I release one cheek as I keep thrusting into her needy pussy, and bring my other hand to the sensitive bundle of nerves that must be missing the attention. The moment I press the tips of two digits on the hood of it, she cries out and bears down onto my face, rubbing herself against me.

“That’s it! Oh my god, Finn, oh my god! I’m going—I’m going to—” But all that comes out next is a lust-tainted scream as her legs shudder, and she gushes her sweet flavor all over my tongue and chin.

She’s not exactly a squirter, but feeling how unbelievably wet she gets, I think I could get her there. I hold her up as wave after intense wave of pleasure rolls through her nerves, her pussy spasming around my tongue, and I realize that somehow… I’m still hungry.

I want more.

I need more of her.

Something about Evelyn Shaw draws forth addiction.

And I realize that I’ll happily turn into a junkie for her.