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

CHAPTER 32

This day has held a strange normalcy to it. Everything so far has felt surreal. A big happy family celebrating a kid’s birthday. Only, this family is the criminal kind, not that you would be able to tell from the way they behave.

The guys have disappeared into Vincent’s office a couple of times, likely discussing their businesses, but they returned like nothing happened. Calm and wholly unaffected, carrying on enjoying their family time.

I caught some glimpses of conversations I probably shouldn’t have listened in on, like how Bartiste apparently has been taunting The Sanctum, either by trying to send them on fools errands or get them killed. He failed. The Sanctum didn’t take the bait, and they were also not weak enough to be touched by his men. Finn and the others apparently are quite pleased with this, because Bartiste is getting bolder and bolder, probably annoyed that all his attempts are being shot down, which means he’ll make a mistake soon. From what I heard, he’s already made a couple that luckily lead to the discovery of two more locations where children were found. They’re free now—safe. And Bartiste is angry.

I couldn’t take the smile off my face when I overheard this. That bastard needs to rot, and though I want him dead as soon as possible, I can’t be mad at this delay when I know that more innocents are being rescued.

Despite all this, today has still felt peculiar. There’s a heaviness lingering in the air, and it doesn’t seem to go down with the setting sun. On the contrary, it thickens. It turns me restless, threads of anxiety rustling my nerves, and I’m struggling to settle.

From across the garden, flames from the fire pit dance over Finn’s features as he talks to his cousin, only, his gaze settles on me with a quiet intensity. My lungs fill with the lightest of air, the relentless buzzing in my ears easing.

I’ve been thinking about this, his ability to calm my nerves, cool my blood. When I didn’t know how to handle myself, what I’ve been through, and the strange withdrawal from whatever drugs I was injected with, it was him who fed that need. Our rows didn’t distract me, they… helped me. It makes no sense when I think about it, and I’m not even sure he knows he’s doing it.

Evelyn, that’s such a stupidly ridiculous thought.

Of course he doesn’t know. He’s not damn psychic. Though, I have heard that certain people have a sort of empathy or they read others so well, they can tell when there’s a change in blood pressure, or other physical signs. I’m seriously hoping he’s one of them, because I don’t feel like feeding his ego by actually telling him he’s helped me in these ways. I guess I’m holding onto my own ego.

His gaze is still fixed on me, even as his lips move with words clearly directed at Sloan. The intensity of his stare has shifted with the slight narrowing of his eyes, and sparks bloom in my chest, spreading through my body like lightning bolts. This man does things to me. Wild, wicked things.

I’ve watched him quietly all day. His interactions with the others, the way he carries himself with the kids, noticing the tension in his shoulders easing more and more with each conversation with his brother. But the most noticeable thing is the way he watches me. We’ve had little physical interaction, but his gaze has constantly made me feel touched. On every single inch of my body. He’s not being very inconspicuous about his attention either, and I would rather everyone not know what’s going on between us. Though, I’m not entirely sure what that is, and that’s my fault, not his. I also think the others might have an inkling about us, after Finnigan came when we were attacked in the parking lot.

I rise from the outdoor sofa, feeling the need to flee before someone asks me what’s the deal with his stare, and head back inside the house. It’s quiet here since everyone’s outside, and I head down the corridor toward the bathroom, loving how the moonlight casts its soft light through the high windows.

My next breath is stolen as a hand circles around me and presses over my mouth. I’m snapped back into a strong, taut body, then rushed to the side, into a dark space. I protest against his palm, grabbing at his arms as I struggle to pull away from his hold after he circles my waist with his other arm. With a loud thud, the door closes behind us and pitch-black darkness swallows us as I fight against him, pointlessly screaming against his palm. He manhandles me around, and I can’t tell which way is up or down, or where that damn door is, but I forget all those details when my front is slammed against a wall, my cheek pressed against it. An obvious, hard erection pushes against my ass when he lines up his body against mine, and I shudder at the thought, squirming harder to break away.

“No, no, no!” I protest against his hand.

Can he tell what I’m saying?

Hot breath touches my ear, and I think he’s going to say something, but instead slickness runs over the edge of it, from the lobe to the top—he’s licking me. Involuntary heat pools between my legs, shame too.

Goddamn it, this is wrong!

But it has to be Finnigan, right? There’s no one else, none of the other guys would do this. I don’t know Sloan, but I don’t imagine he is that kind of man. I inhale as hard as I can through the restriction, trying to catch Finnigan’s scent, but all I’m getting is burnt wood and smoke. The arm wrapped around my waist releases me, and I’m preparing to push as hard as I can against him to get away, when I hear a snapping sound. Then one more.

Oh, he’s snapping his fingers—our silent safe word.

It is Finnigan.

The sound of a zipper pulls at my anticipation, before he reaches back down around my waist. This time he doesn’t wrap around it, but runs it down my body. He pushes underneath my skirt, and presses against my pussy at the same time he releases my mouth and grips my throat in his large palm.

“No! No, please!” I beg as I squirm against him, diving deeper into the feelings of unrest that haven’t yet left me.

“Beg me all you want, I’m not sparing your little cunt.” He all but growls in a low, rumbling tone.

I whimper as his grip tightens against the sides of my throat, a shallow breath catching beneath his fingers just as he dives under my panties and into the sleekness of me.

“Let me go!” I cry out, squirming harder as I reach behind and grab onto his sides.

“Scream louder, sugar, and we’ll have an audience to our depravity.” He grunts into my ear, his hot breath sending shivers down my spine as a finger, or maybe two, press inside of me.

I’m so wet, the sound coming from between my legs is embarrassing. But it only encourages the man forcing himself on me.

“Oh god!” I whimper in a shaky voice, as he hooks his fingers inside of me, pulling me with him when he takes a step back.

“Are you sore?” he asks in a whisper, clearly breaking character.

“Yes.”

“I’ll st—”

“No!” I interrupt him, squeezing my inner muscles around his fingers, trapping him inside my warmth.

He doesn’t say another word. Instead, he bends me over, his hand moving from my throat to my nape, and it happens so fast, I barely have time to brace myself against the wall. His fingers come out, the head of his cock nudges my core for only a moment before he jerks forward, burying himself inside of me to the hilt, and through the slight ache of my former virginity, I draw ecstasy.

“Oh god!” I cry out, struggling to keep my tone low when I realize I can feel all of him.

No barrier. No condom. God, it’s incredible.

“You keep calling for this god, darling, but it’s me listening to your prayers.”

A wanton shudder rips through my whole body at his sinful words, and since I’ve never been a religious person, I would happily make him my god. My blue-eyed, murderous god whose maddening cock has strokes viciously inside my aching cunt. His hips slap against my ass, the sound so dirty and enticing, I grab onto his side with one hand, urging him to take more. His hand tightens around my throat, pressure growing both in my chest and temples from the air restriction, and I feel like calling for my god again, but all that comes out is unintelligible mumbles.

Pressure covers the bundle of nerves at the apex of my slit, his skilled digits circling with precise movements that send burning shocks through my core.

“No, no, no…” I chant, more to myself than him, hating that the heat is taking over me so quickly.

My knees tremble with each slither of pleasure cutting through me, and with one more deep stroke of his cock, I’m breaking apart. He releases my neck and covers my mouth in an instant, pressing over the lust-filled cry shattering through me. But he still fucks me through the orgasm, stroking that pleasure until it’s almost unbearable.

When the shaking subsides he pulls out, and I think he’s going to allow me a break, but I’m manhandled once more, flipped around, my back slammed against the wall just as soft, demanding lips crash against mine.

He kisses me like he couldn’t care if I like it or not, taking his pleasure from me like he has every right to, and something deep in my core contracts in ecstasy at the demand. Only, he’s gone before I can deepen the rough kiss, and with quick hands under my ass, I’m hauled up against him, back pressed into the wall for support. On instinct I grab onto his shoulders as I wrap my legs over his hips, and he adjusts me until he’s holding me with one hand, the tip of his cock prodding at my entrance once more.

“Christ, you’re too light.”

I’m about to argue that it’s not true, but he lowers me onto his cock, and all I manage is a lustful moan as I tighten my limbs around him. Before I know it, he’s not just guiding me up and down, but I’m bouncing onto him too, seeking the delightful pleasure this man gives me with each stroke of his cock. He holds my neck in a comforting possessiveness, and it hits me then… I’ve never known this type of unconditional safety. Maybe once, amongst my family, but not like this. I could relinquish all control, all sense of self, and I know this man would build a fortress around me to keep me safe, comfortable.

“Please, slide your hand… higher… into my hair.” The words are strained with the breathlessness of his thrusts, but also because they’re not easy to speak out loud.

His movements falter for a few moments, then he picks up the rhythm again, fingers slowly threading into the hairline of my nape. An icy feeling follows in their wake and deep in my chest freezing stillness grips my lungs.

“Red,” I speak quickly. “Just for the fingers. No further, hold them there,” I add quickly before Finnigan stops moving altogether.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asks, his thrusts slowing.

I nod, and pull him against me, his chest flush to mine, as I force his lips to meet my own. I kiss him with as much passion I can muster, because goddamn it, this man deserves it all. His movements quicken once more, his hips jerking upwards as I bounce harder onto him, his cock stroking feverishly against a spot inside of me that makes my muscles shake with each grind. The bones of my back hurt as he crushes me against the wall, his breaths quickening, and his fingers press harder into my scalp, fueling and soothing the panic inside my chest all at the same time.

He breaks the kiss enough to whisper, “Touch yourself, Evie darling.”

My cheeks heat in an instant, my mind drunk on pleasure as I try to process what he’s asking of me. I do as told, reaching between us until my clit is beneath the tips of two fingers, and I cry out from the sensitivity.

“That’s it, my dirty little thing. Make yourself come with my cock stroking every bit of you,” he whispers those sinful words on a low rumble.

I speed up the touch, adding more pressure as I assault the bundle of nerves, and threads of ecstasy bloom from that center, bursting all through my body as it shakes and convulses around the man who holds me so tight against him. I come hard enough that stars dance behind my eyes, and I’m worried I drew blood where my nails sank in his shoulder. But he doesn’t sound affected. He holds me through it until the shaking stops.

I don’t realize I’m smiling until he peppers kisses all over my lips, and the softest of laughs, coming from him, warms my soul. He eases me off of his cock and down to my feet, but he has to hold me through my shaky balance.

“But you, you haven’t… finished,” I protest when he pulls away, reaching for his cock through the darkness.

There’s a pause that lasts too long as I squeeze the hard length that throbs in my hand.

“Make me, then.” The grit in his voice turns the words to both an order and a plea, and I get an odd sense of power out of them.

The heat between my legs burns brighter and there’s only one thing I crave to do right now. Something I’ve never done before. I drop to my knees, my hand wrapped around the base of his cock, and when my warm breath touches the tip of it, he mutters a series of curses.

“That’s not what I meant, sugar. Jerk me off. You don’t have to—”

But the next words lodge in his throat and come out as an unintelligible jumble as I suck the tip of him between my lips, surprised at the saltiness and slight bitterness of his pre-cum. Before he can protest further, I suck him inside my mouth as deep as I can take him, stopping when a strange gag reflex pushes him back out. Then I swallow him back in, curling my lips against my teeth and press my tongue against the underside of his pulsing length.

“Fuck, Evelyn! Goddamn it!” he swears over and over.

“Guide me,” I whisper. “I’ve never done this.” Then I swallow him again, bobbing up and down his cock.

“You’re doing fucking amazing. You could do anything to me, and it would be the best I’ve ever had.”

I whimper around his member at the compliment, and a rumble shakes through him.

“Follow with your hand what your lips can’t reach,” he says on a throaty whisper, and I comply, running my hand up and down his shaft. “That’s it, Evie darling. Fuck, yes.”

He’s somehow even more rigid between my lips, and I finally understand the rock hard expression everyone seems to use.

“Faster,” he urges softly.

And I do as told, quickening the rhythm as he struggles not to thrust forward in my mouth, his hips rocking gently.

“Move away now. I’m gonna come!” he warns.

But I’ve already made up my mind. I want it. I want him to spill into my mouth and drown me in the taste of him. It makes me feel dirty, and god I want to be so damn filthy right now. So I slap a hand over his ass and press him right back into my mouth.

He curses low in his throat as he grips my shoulder and holds me there. I know his instinct craves to grab the back of my head, and the fact that even now he had the self-control to avoid triggering me, makes me want to reward him. So I press him deeper into my mouth, breathing through the gag reflex as the tip of his cock hits the back of my throat, and the sinful grunts that spill from his mouth are followed by the violent twitching of his cock as hot spurts of thick liquid hit my throat. I can’t avoid the choking, but he pulls out gently, letting his cum fill my mouth rather than straight down my throat, and I swallow it down the more it comes.

I’ve never looked at the condoms he threw away after sex, but this seems like a lot of cum. Is it normal? My core tightens when I imagine it filling me, spilling out as he strokes inside of me, and drips down my thighs. I moan as I suck his cock one last time, and he shudders between my lips.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he says, breathless. “You swallowed it all?” the man is genuinely surprised.

“Every last drop.” I smack my lips together as he helps me up.

“Such a good fucking girl.” He growls before he captures my lips with his, and kisses me until I’m panting.

Then he wraps me in his arms, my cheek pressed against his chest, as he rubs my back in slow, soothing motions. We stand like that for long enough that I start to worry what the others are going to say about our absence. Yet, I don’t push away. This feels… important. I’m not sure why, but it does.

A few more minutes pass before he finally speaks. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

He reaches somewhere to the side and light floods the space. I squeeze my eyes shut, grunting, but accept the fact that this has to happen. Oh, we’re in the bathroom. I was so disorientated, I didn’t realize this is where he shoved me in.

He moves me to the sink and reaches for some toilet paper he quickly wets and presses between my legs. I wince, but he holds me there as he wipes gently before he throws it in the toilet. He repeats it a few times, and heat flushes me cheeks each time. This is nice… really nice. I fix my makeup and hair in the mirror as he cleans himself, his glorious cock, and this moment is so intimate. It makes me smile. I like it.

“You should go to the toilet,” he says.

I cock an eyebrow as I look at him in the mirror.

“I’m serious.” He laughs, “After sex, you should always go. Apparently it prevents UTIs.”

“I’m not peeing with you here.” I smile like an idiot, the prospect sounding ridiculous.

“I licked frosting off your asshole, but we draw the line at you peeing in my presence.” He shakes his head, but the smile on his face is devastating. “Very well, my darling Evie.” He presses a quick peck to my lips, then quickly straightens his clothes as he walks out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind him.

I drag my fingers through my hair as I focus on myself in the mirror, looking all sexed up and satisfied. At least I’m not going to have to be the one to explain to the others why we both disappeared at the same time. Though the gleam in my eyes might betray us anyway.