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

EPILOGUE

Five months later

Brushed brass letters shine over matte black background in the early evening light—The Gothic Bakery. Evelyn’s dream has been slowly taking off.

I trusted her baking and creative skills from the beginning, but I didn’t know much about the market to be assured there would be enough clientele for her. Turns out there is. Queenscove’s elite especially seems to adore her dark, baroque motifs she makes out of sugar, fondant, and even icing. Her creativity is blooming along with her business, and she had to hire two more staff members, on top of the other two, to keep up.

To say I’m fucking proud of her is an understatement.

I stand outside, leaning against my Mercedes G-class that she pretty much claimed for herself now, waiting and watching as the deep plum walls turn black when she flicks the lights off, then steps out and turns to lock the door behind her.

“Ready?” I ask, extending my hand to her.

“Yup. You’re driving, though, I need to retouch my makeup before we get to Midnight.”

I nod and open the door, helping her up in the passenger seat.

“How was your dad today?” I ask. I know she went to visit him at lunch.

“Alright, I guess. It was one of those days. Harder. Twice he asked where mom is. But he’s okay. Happy.”

“I’m sorry.” I know he’s not been doing all that great, the moments of clarity rarer nowadays.

She shrugs. “He’s here, and that’s all that matters. Was Maya okay?” she asks.

“Happy to spend the night with Mamaw June, yes. Though she was apparently disappointed that it’s too warm now to turn the fireplace on,” I answer as I start the car and pull out into traffic.

Evelyn’s shop is only two minutes away from Midnight. We could have walked there, but she already had the car here. She laughs, a soft melodic sound that always seems to travel straight to my cock.

“It’s always too warm in Queenscove. Mamaw June was bloody sweating in January too, but she was still appeasing that stubborn girl.”

“She’s hard to resist, sugar,” I say, snorting.

“Well, people should try harder. Y’all are spoiling her.”

I say nothing because it’s hundred percent true. Instead, I steal glances as Evelyn taps a small brush over her face, refreshing her extravagant makeup. We are a decadent contrast against each other. Her plum, sleek hair against my wavy, blonde curls, her bold, dark makeup against my golden skin—leather, velvet, and metal against my clean cut clothes. We’re perfect. She’s perfect.

She’s a fucking goddess, and she’s all mine.

Just as I pull into the secure car park at the back of Midnight, Evelyn’s done retouching her makeup and looks at me with a pretty grin on her dark lips.

“Stunning,” I say with a smirk. “I can’t wait to smudge that lipstick all over your pretty face.”

The flush to her cheeks breaks through whatever product she used there and my smirk widens, giving her thigh a squeeze. Exiting the car, I walk to the other side and help her out, then guide her inside the speakeasy.

We’re not open for another two hours, so it should only be The Sanctum in here. As we walk inside the main barroom, I find Vin, Morrigan, and Madds lounging on the comfy sofas and armchairs around a coffee table. Low, warm lights illuminate the space, bathing the woodsy bar in a cozy vibe.

I slump into a winged-back armchair, pulling Evie onto my lap, my hand splayed over the fishnet tights barely covering her legs.

“Settle this for us, will you?” Morrigan asks. “Madds is the one who proposed that The Sanctum invest in Metamorphosis after half of it burnt down, and now it’s been open for about three months, he has not stepped foot in it. Shouldn’t he see what his money bought?”

Metamorphosis, her and Loreley’s fetish club, was only open for a couple of months, before an intentional fire burnt down half of it. In the heat of the moment, Madds offered to front them the money to renovate, something that shocked pretty much all of us. I still think there is much more to it. Like the way he looks at Loreley sometimes, with both exasperation and uncomfortable curiosity. She was adamant she didn’t want to be indebted to The Sanctum. Luckily, it all worked out, and the club is now reopened and stronger than ever. From what I heard, there’s a fight for memberships, as the place is even more desirable now than it was before.

“Why don’t you want to go, Madds?” Evelyn asks him.

He shrugs, turning his gaze toward the bar, pretending to focus on something. “I don’t need to. It’s going great from what I hear.”

“It is, but it would be nice if you could see it. Be proud of me and all of that,” Morrigan counters.

“I am. I know you both did a great job.”

Evie turns to me. “Can we go?”

“No” Madds and I shout simultaneously.

“Hey, that’s not fair. I want to see,” Evie says.

“Well, other people might want to see you and that’s a definite no for me.”

Morrigan laughs and shakes her head. “Your possessiveness is refreshing, but you know first-hand that no one touches anyone in my club without permission. You know you can just come for a drink. And a show.” She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

“Maybe just for a little bit.” Evelyn leans in, whispering in my ear.

I don’t answer, but the look in my eyes might be enough, because a cheeky smile spreads over her face.

“For the love of god, at least don’t go when Carter’s there,” Madds tells her.

“Ever the big brother you are,” she says with a chuckle.

“Speaking of the wolf. Where is he?” I ask.

“In the office,” Vin answers. “I texted him that you arrived too.”

Just on cue, Carter pops in through the back door, as always, dressed in pressed trousers, a light shirt with rolled-up sleeves, and tailored waistcoat. He looks every bit the man who belongs in a speakeasy. Only, there’s something different tonight. I can’t put my finger on it.

“Carter?” Vin’s tone sounds like he’s seeing the same thing I am.

“I have to tell you something.” Carter releases a slow breath that sounds too much like a sigh. Deeply uncharacteristic for the man.

“What?” I ask.

“I fucked up.” His gaze sweeps over each one of us. “About six months ago, when we were looking for Bartiste, I was looking for one of his men, and I went after him myself. I tracked him down one night, cornered him in an alley and after I got what I could out of him… I killed him.”

There’s a pause. “So?” Vin shrugs.

“Someone saw me.”

Vin leans forward in his chair, bracing his elbows on his knees, head cocked, as I guide Evelyn to go sit next to Madds.

“And?” I ask.

“I can’t find her.”

“Her?!” all of us say in unison.

“Sorry, a woman witnessed you killing a man, and in the last six months you haven’t been able to find her?” Vin runs through the story.

Carter nods, sliding his hands in his pockets, his expression one of annoyance, and maybe, just maybe, slight embarrassment. Amusement is common on his features, but anything beyond that is extremely rare. Which makes this highly worrying.

“You don’t know who she is?” Madds asks.

“No. Couldn’t find her. I kept track of reports, of stories, of damn internet posts, and no one has talked about it.”

“Maybe she recognized you, she’s scared, and knows better than to talk,” Vin adds.

“She certainly wasn’t scared,” Carter mutters under his breath, barely audible.

“What?” Madds asks.

“Nothing.”

The others accept his answer and I seem to be the only one who heard what he said.

“Why wait until now to say something?” I ask.

“I thought I would find her by now. The challenge became greater and greater, but nothing popped up.”

Vin leans back in his chair, shrugging. “Fine. If nothing has come to light in six months, I’m doubtful it will. I’m sure you’ll keep an eye and ear out anyway.”

“Yeah.” Carter nods slowly, his gaze now fixed on a random glass from the table.

I think he does feel some form of embarrassment. How peculiar. Although, I think the man has an inherent need to know everything. This must be bothering him to no end.

“Was she pretty?”

“Morri, Jesus,” Vin says, shaking his head.

Carter scowls in her direction, but she just curls her lips inward, as Evie looks away from him, clearly amused.

“Was she?” I quirk an eyebrow, because now I’m curious.

The Carver sets his gaze on me and I shrug, not even trying to hide my amusement.

“Right, I think it’s time for a drink. If you don’t mind, Carter, I’ll do the honors. I don’t trust you won’t poison our women, or me, if you make them.” I get up and head behind the bar, not missing how the man rolls his eyes before he takes my seat.

As I pour the spirits and mixers in the crystal glasses, I steal glances at my Evie, talking with Madds on the sofa. I know Madds is close with Morrigan; they’ve known each other since she was sixteen, but his relationship with Evie is completely different. They have a friendship that sometimes is lead in silence, because these two seem to share scars they don’t talk about, but understand nonetheless. She had to do a lot of apologizing after the stunt she pulled when she went after Frankie B, but Madds felt so guilty that she got shot during the whole Bartiste thing, that he didn’t take long at all to forgive her.

I’m happy for her. She didn’t just find a new, better life in Queenscove, or love—she found friendship and family. And knowing that she has others here who are willing to protect her, go through hell and back for her, makes me feel so much better.

I’m shaking a drink when Evie rises from the sofa and my mouth goes dry at the slow, deliberate sway of her hips as her thick soled Doc Martens hit the wooden floor. The minx knows exactly what she’s doing with those long legs barely covered in sinful fishnets, the dark green, tight velvet skirt hugging her frame, and the worn band T-shirt she tucked in and cut herself into a V-neck. But she had to add that leather harness over just to drive me crazy.

The tips of her hair graze the sweet spot where the neck meets the shoulder with each step she takes, and I’m jealous, because my tongue and teeth should be doing that.

Propping her forearms on the counter, she leans in, rewarding me with her most sinful smirk.

“So, Mr. Hennessey. Will you take me to Metamorphosis?”

Jesus, she’s gonna kill me with that seductive voice. I lean in, grip her chin, and she parts her lips for me, but I barely graze them as I dip to the side, blowing a breath over the side of her neck, before I capture her soft lobe between my teeth, nipping it once.

“Only if you’re a good girl. Prove it. Tonight.” I brush the tip of my tongue over the sensitive skin just under her ear for a brief moment, before I pull back and continue making the drinks.

“Tonight? What are we doing?” Her flush is evident, even in this dim light.

“Having one stiff drink”—I slide a glass her way—“and then go home.”

She cocks her head, biting her lip as she grabs the drink and turns around, her ass swaying as she walks away.

Oh yeah, she’ll be a good girl alright.

The next hour goes by excruciatingly slow. No one needs that much time to finish the vodka sour I made, but the minx has been sipping it so fucking slow, each drop of liquid is a pawn in her erotic game. She’s deliberate in her torture.

By the time we get in the car, my breathing is strained, just as my damn cock against my trousers is. She grabs my thigh as I’m driving, coaxing me on, but two can play this game. I keep her waiting, wanting, on the whole drive home. And since our house is just on the outskirts of Queenscove, down a private road that ends in our own, secluded little bay, the drive isn’t all that short.

“Finnigan…” She says my name in a breathy voice that stirs my cock.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, Evie darling. Good girl, remember?”

“But you like it when I beg,” she purrs, sharp nails digging into the top of my thigh.

We reach our gate, secured between two small cliffs, the road looking like it was carved through, and I’m ready to blast through them if they don’t fucking open quicker.

“I haven’t even touched you yet.”

“When has my craving for you ever needed your touch, darling Finnigan?”

Her words hit with a shattering lightning, the current spreading goosebumps through my nerves, urging my foot to press harder on the gas. We’re past the gates, and our two story beach villa, lit by beautiful, upturned lights, comes into view. From this distance, against the star-splattered sky and dark sea, it looks like a lighthouse, guiding us home.

Screeching to a halt in front of the detached garage to the right, that’s exactly what I want to do—find home. Right inside the pretty pussy of the woman who has flipped my life the right way up, and turned me into a love-sick bastard who can’t get enough of her.

With a tight grip on my hand, we rush through the front door and flip the moody lights on. Apparently the ceiling lights are a big no-no, and eventually I had to agree she was right. Funky lamps and picture lights are dotted all around, their glow bouncing off mismatched gold frames and rich-colored paneled walls, giving a deeply cozy quality to our decadent house. We aimed for comfort, and Evelyn added, as she calls it, a Gothic cottage-core vibe to it.

“You know what I’ve been wanting to do all evening, Evie darling? As you’ve been sipping that drink at snail speed just to get me all hot and fucking bothered?” I ask as I back her against a wall, caging her in.

She curls her lips inward, swallowing her amusement.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She shakes her head, but I grip her cheeks in my hand, forcing her lips to part as I hold her to me.

“Your pretty makeup running down your face as you choke on my cock.”

She gasps, the hitch in her chest pressing her peaked nipples against my shirt, and I shift up just enough to graze them, teasing her.

I swipe my tongue over the dark crimson lipstick, getting a hint of cherries. “Tastes delicious, but I can’t wait to see it smeared all over my fucking cock.”

“Oh god…” she says in a breathy voice.

Releasing her face, I take a step back, then grip her T-shirt and pull it out from under the hem of the skirt.

“I have to take the harness down,” she says pointing to the thick leather straps.

“No.” I push her hands away as she rushes to unfasten it.

Ever so fucking slowly, I lift the hem until it passes the horizontal strap rounding her ribs, revealing the soft skin from the underside of her breasts. They’re trapped between the leather framing them inside two triangle shapes, meeting over her sternum on a brass metal ring, and disappearing over shoulders. I pull at the side of the T-shirt, guiding her arm through the sleeve, then do the same with the other side at an excruciating pace, grazing the fabric over her hard nipples, relishing in her swallowed cry. Finally, I free her breasts, tugging the T-shirt from under the shoulder straps and over her head, then step back to admire her.

“My goddess…” I whisper.

She blushes a deep berry red that matches her lips so perfectly, her back straightening a fraction.

“Now, Evie darling. On. Your. Knees.” She drops before me in an instant, her hands making quick work of the belt, then the buttons of my trousers, freeing my aching cock.

I’m on the larger side, but in her delicate hands it looks damn right huge. It looks even fucking better as she takes me right to the back of her throat in one swift motion.

“Jesus Christ!” I groan, fisting the bottom of my shirt like it can help me hold my balance through the whirlwind of sensations.

She ignores me completely, pulling back to reveal the crimson marks her lipstick left over the veined ridges of my cock, but she takes me deep once more before I can fully admire.

I pull my shirt over my head while I still have enough conscious brain cells to manage the movement, and look down at the pretty sight before me. Swallows me down and I push forward, smirking when she chokes on the tip, spit falling off her lips and over her tits. Finally, tears brim her eyes, starting to mess with her makeup. She hums deep in her throat and the vibrations make my eyes roll back.

“Ready?” I ask.

She looks into my eyes, giving me a slight nod of approval, and I thread my fingers through her plum-colored hair, like we’ve been practicing for months. With a grin pulling at my lips, I tighten my hold on her as she steadies herself on my thighs, and I pump my cock into her plush mouth.

Tears bring the dark makeup down her cheeks as I fuck between her soft lips, and the sight is enough to make me come right now. Tightening my fist, I dig my nails in my palm at the ecstasy that threatens to bring me to my knees, calling on some pain to keep me from spilling all my pleasure too soon. But God, it feels glorious inside her mouth, with black tears streaming down her face, and red lipstick smudged all over my cock.

“Fuck!” I roar, releasing her in an instant and pulling out of her mouth.

It’s too much, too good, but not as good as sinking between her thighs, and it’s there where I want to come. I help her up, capturing her lips with mine, our tongues tangling as l walk her backward until her thighs hit the back of the couch.

“You”—I tease a nipple between my thumb and forefinger—“are…”—I nip at her lip, soothing it after with my tongue—“divine.”

I fall on one knee, kissing a trail down her bare torso, covered only with that sinful leather harness, and push the skirt over her hips. These fishnet tights are my fucking weakness. Every time she wears them I go feral. She could be dressed like a damn librarian, but if she had these tights underneath, I would still see her as the dirtiest little vixen.

Looking up at her with a smirk, she parts her lips when I grip the flimsy fabric covering her pussy, and pull harshly. She gasps, her brows drawing together, watching intently as I suck on two fingers, push her lace panties to the side then sink them inside her pussy at the same time I cover her clit, pulling it between my lips.

She cries out, the sounds tearing from deep within her chest as she grips my hair and grinds herself on my face. I pump my fingers inside her sopping core, deep and fast, exactly how she likes it, until her knees are shaking and she tightens around me.

“Please, please… Oh, please.” She chants between the lust-stained panting, a decadent prayer for the pleasure only I can bring her.

She begs so beautifully. So I give her what she wants, rubbing the sensitive spot inside of her as I suck the bundle of nerves between my lips. She breaks on wanton moans that travel straight to my cock.

Rising, I flip her around while she’s still whimpering, bend her over the back of the sofa, and guide the fat tip of my cock through the drenched seam of her pussy. Her spasms turn gentle, the orgasm still vibrating through, so I take my time as I push in to the hilt and absorb every tightening pulse of her sweet cunt.

“Divine…” I whisper, gripping the back of her leather harness as I dig my fingers into her hip, bracing myself.

The first few pumps are dragged and deep, following the rhythm of the soft waves that crash against the sand, beyond the wall of windows before us. I grunt as she whimpers each time my hips meet her ass, drawing out that pleasure from deep inside her as my own seems to coil around the base of my cock.

But it doesn’t take long until the surf no longer dictates the speed of my strokes, and the feverish slapping of our skins pulls all matter of lustful sounds from our throats. Each thrust brings bolts of current up my spine, pleasure twisting harder, low in my belly, quickly becoming too much. Too close.

I lift Evie up by the harness, wrapping an arm around her and guiding her lips to meet mine, just as I reach for the needy bundle of nerves between her thighs. She jerks her hips against me at the contact, biting on my lower lip on a lewd whimper when I rub it, my cock stroking madly inside her weeping pussy. Our mouths fuck just as well, licking and stroking, sucking and biting on the thrusting rhythm of our bodies, and when the first spasm of her core chokes my cock, I press harder over the hood of her clit.

The moment she breaks, I swallow her cries, my own orgasm ripping through me with enough strength, my knees go weak for a brief moment. I spill inside of her over and over, wondering just when exactly am I going to stop. It’s irrelevant, I’m in no rush to leave her warm core.

“I will never get used to this,” she whispers between our slowing kisses.

“This?” I ask, peppering more around her lips, her cheeks, the tip of her curved nose.

“Pleasure.” She relaxes into me as I wrap her in my arms. “What you do, what we do, it feels more like worship.”

It really does.

“I’ve only ever worshiped you, Evie darling. Pleasure has never felt like this before.”

Her cheeks flush and lips pull into a chaste smile.

“Let’s clean up. I could do with cooling off with a late night swim.”

She nods her answer, pressing another gentle kiss to my lips, and I reluctantly pull out of her, chuckling when she drops down a few inches. She always has to stand on her tiptoes when we fuck like this, and for some odd reason I find it deliciously cute when she dips down to her normal height.

We head to the bathroom, and while I help her clean my cum that’s dripping down her thighs, since it’s become both my pleasure and my specialty, she removes her messed up makeup.

She’s bare-faced now, and she looks so pure, so damn young. I beat myself up for a while, thinking I’m stealing from her years she could be spending making friends her own age, doing all sorts of crazy things, and experimenting like everyone else does at that age. Then I sat back and watched her go through her day-to-day life and those feelings dissipated. Even without me in her life she wouldn’t have made those types of choices. Not with Maya by her side. Not with her dad weighing on her. Her personality doesn’t fit.

She’s different, and she fucking refused to let me go. I suggested it twice—living her youth and all that. The first time, she looked at me like I grew a second head, the second time she threatened me with the knife she was using to slice cake. I was gently advised to shut the fuck up and stop saying stupid things.

“Where did you go?” Her voice filters through the dangerously hot memory of her aiming a buttercream covered knife at me.

“Nowhere, sugar. Come, let’s cool off.” I lie because I would rather not end up getting stabbed.

We walk stark naked over the wooden patio and onto the soft, warm sand toward the ocean. Most nights, Maya is here and we can’t skinny dip, but once in a while Mamaw June takes her for a sleepover and we spend hours out in the calm waters of the bay.

Evelyn hisses when the first slosh of the surf touches her feet and I laugh, shaking my head. “It’s pretty damn warm.”

“I’m surprised you think so. Your body runs at a hundred degrees. Celsius! This should be ice on your skin.” she teases, gritting her teeth as she keeps walking forward.

“Yeah, yeah. You say this every time.”

“Yup. Shows that it’s true.”

I snicker as I dive straight in, stroking underwater and reveling in the feel of it against my skin. When I finally emerge and turn around, Evie is floating on her back, eyes closed as the moonlight shimmers over her wet skin.

Goddess…

This is my life now. Every single day I wake up unable to fully believe that it’s not a dream running in a sick loop through my head. It’s not too good to be true, because we have our share of challenges, our own issues we’re working through, failings we haven’t fully overcome, but we’re doing all of this together.

The two of us… my darling Evie. My moonlit goddess.

“You’re doing it again. Losing yourself inside your mind.”

Her silver eyes seep into golden sparkles as she turns to me, and I realize I’ve been drifting over to her without thinking. She drops her legs underwater, swimming gently toward me, and I reach for her. Gripping her waist and guiding her legs over my hips, I tread water for the both of us.

“You’re mine…” I whisper, pressing a salty kiss to her lips.

The corner of hers quirks as she brushes the hair back from my face. “You sound surprised.”

“Every day.” I nod. “I wish you wouldn’t have gone through all that pain to get here. I wish I wouldn’t either. Yet…” I let the word drift away.

“I know. It’s funny, really. We condemn the terrible people who destroy us—our lives. We punish them, hate them, and yet… they created the connection between us, our moment, our opportunity for two to become one. They formed the basis of our love story. Without them I wouldn’t have been in that container, and you wouldn’t have been on the other side of it. I wouldn’t have sacrificed myself for those children, and you wouldn’t have looked at me with that gut-wrenching pain in your eyes you didn’t even realize you were bleeding all over the room. There wouldn’t have been an opportunity for us. We would have never met. This heartbreakingly beautiful, fucked up love would have been wandering all alone, drifting through the universe, crying for a loss that it never gained in the first place. Without the pain they caused us, we wouldn’t have felt this… serenity.”

I shake my head, a lump in my throat at the harsh words that make so much damn sense. I hate them nonetheless, but they are the harsh truth.

“I can’t picture a world without you in it. Without you by my side.”

She brushes the tip of her nose against mine, then presses a kiss to my lips.

“You will never have to. You are mine, Finnigan Hennessey.”

“All yours, Evie darling.”

* * *

Thank you for reading Evelyn and Finnigan’s story.

Carved Obsession is up next. Pre-Order to discover Carter’s story and the woman who brings him to his knees.