Fear The Reapers: A Dark Mafia Romance (Lovesick Villains Book 1)

The room’s temperature dropped ten degrees in an instant. Nice one, Stevie. Per usual, you just had to open your big fucking mouth.

It was as if for the last few hours Cyrus had slowly stripped away the wall between us; the one that separated us as captor and captive. He let me in. My big stupid mouth had just convinced him to work overtime to build that wall right back up.

“Let’s just forget I said anything, okay?” I asked, standing up from my seat and walking towards his.

“It’s fine,” he said, reaching for the jacket he had slung over his armchair, “I really should go, anyway.”

“No,” I said, placing my palm against his chest, “you don’t need to leave. Stay. Please.”

He stared at me for a moment as he tried to decide what to do next. It was obvious I had struck a nerve and I could see the indecision all over his face. It was the first time I had a genuine conversation with someone in days, and the selfish part of me didn’t want it to end.

I didn’t understand it, but something about Cyrus made me feel at ease. Maybe it was because he was one of the few people who had seen my scars and didn’t treat me like I was broken. He didn’t know everything about my past, but by now he knew enough to make some judgments about who I was, yet it was as if my past didn’t matter to him.

I needed to think of something, anything to keep him talking. After sleeping next to Alex for almost sixteen years of my life, the solitude I felt by staying alone in my room was maddening. I didn’t know if I could survive more time alone.

“How about we play a game?” I blurted.

“A game?” He asked, a gleam of mischief in his eye.

“Yeah… truth or dare?”

Ugh, really Stevie? What is this, a fucking thirteen-year-old’s sleepover?

“Alright, Princess. I’ll play.” Cyrus said with a gleam of mischief in his eye. “But let’s add a twist. If you refuse any request, you drink.” He said, flashing me a sinister smile.

Butterflies swirled within me. I told myself that it was just nerves about the questions he’d ask. If playing a stupid drinking game kept him hanging around a little longer, so be it. I desperately needed the company.

I retook my seat next to his and watched as he carefully took off his suit jacket and got comfortable again. As Cyrus moved to place his suit jacket on his chair, a sleek card slipped out of its pocket and tumbled towards the hardwood floor.

I knew exactly what it was before it had even hit the ground. I had seen that card countless times. Had obsessed over it ever since I saw Ezra use it on the back entrance of Hell’s Tavern. I never thought I’d get a chance to be so close to one and there it was, out in the open and staring right back at me. An access card.

It was the key to getting back everything Malcolm and The Reapers had stolen from me.

My Freedom.

My life.

Alex.

By some miracle, Cyrus had yet to notice it in the front of his armchair. I knew I only had seconds to stop him before he took away my only chance at escaping.

“I’ll go first!” I blurted, a little louder than I meant to.

“A little eager there, tiger?” He asked, shaking his head with a chuckle.

“Maybe a little,” I smiled, trying to mask the panic I was feeling.

My cheeks flushed as his emerald eyes gave my body an appreciative glare as he sat back in his seat. Even though I was slightly mortified, my little embarrassing outburst gave me more time to think. Cyrus had missed the access card laying mere inches from his left foot. I needed to act quick if I was really going through with this.

“So,” I began, as my heart pounded in my chest, “truth or dare?”

“I’m a risk taker,” he said, rolling up his crisp white sleeves, “dare.”

It took a few seconds for my stupid, thirsty eyes to stop staring at the thick, tattooed forearms he revealed. Now is your chance dummy, don’t blow it. I racked my brain, trying to think of a dare that would distract him long enough for me to grab the card.

“I dare you to let me straddle you.” I said, softly biting into my lower lip.

It was a low blow, and I felt like an asshole for using my body against him, but I needed to make sure he stayed seated.

If I were being honest, there was a small part of me that had been fantasizing about sitting on his lap ever since I saw the envious look he gave Ezra at the kitchen table. But this was about escaping. It didn’t matter that my reckless pussy was already wet just thinking about rubbing against his lap. She didn’t give a damn about keeping us alive, so she wasn’t allowed to be in charge.

The hungry look he gave me in response told me everything I needed to know. I had played my cards right.

Kicking off my heels, I slowly strode towards him. Cyrus’ face took on a primal look as his eyes devoured each languid movement. Once I approached him, I slowly leaned in and pressed my lips against his ear.

“Close your eyes…” I whispered.

Without hesitation, he obeyed. I only had a few seconds before he’d be expecting to feel the weight of my body on top of him, so I pressed my right foot against the access card and carefully slid it underneath his seat.

Gathering up the silky blue fabric of my dress, I planted each of my knees on either side of his hips and let the full weight of my body crush against him.

“You can open your eyes now.” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Fucking hell, Princess. Never what I expect.” He murmured, sinking his teeth in his lower lip. “So, does that make it my turn?”

“Oh, right,” I said, shifting to get off of him. “Here, let me just-”

“Not so fast.” He said wrapping his arms around my waist and holding me in place. “I dare you to keep this spectacular ass on my lap for the rest of this game.”

“Hmm…” I joked playfully, “that’s a shame because I’m picking truth this round.”

“Who knew you could be so cruel?” He joked, pressing his forehead against my chin after flashing me a devious smile.

I wanted to laugh with him and relish in the playful banter, but in the back of my mind; I knew I was a liar. The irony of his words was unsettling. He had no idea how cruel I could be to protect those that I love, but he would soon find out.

“Alright, so truth it is,” he continued, not missing a beat and refusing to let me move an inch, “who gave you the scars?”

It was probably the last time I was going to see him, and I no longer saw the point in lying.

“A guy I thought I knew.” I said, looking down at my hands folded between us.

He gently grasped my chin and tilted it up.

“Did he pay for his crimes?” He asked, his voice eerily calm as his captivating eyes searched mine.

“Yeah.” I answered with a frown. “With a slap on the wrist and six months of community service.”

“Explain.” He glowered, through gritted teeth.

I didn’t even know where to start. Even with it being four years ago, it was hard for me to talk about what happened, let alone speak of the fucked-up fallout.

“I guess that’s what happens when you have friends in high places. Or in his case, a daddy in high places.” I said with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter anyway, it was years ago.”

I could feel his entire body stiffen at my words, and I knew he didn’t like my answer. The past was the past and there was nothing he or I could do to change it. No matter how badly we wanted to.

“Your turn.” He said, after a few beats of silence. His hands were still firmly planted on my hips, but I could feel the change in the way he held me. Almost as if I were this fragile thing that would crumble if he applied too much pressure.

Fuck. Why was he doing everything so right? He held me like how I wish someone would’ve held me the night Gavin attacked me. In his arms, I felt safe and important and worthy of love.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Truth or dare?” I blurted after realizing I took way too long to respond.

“Truth.” He said, looking deeply into my eyes.

“What are you thinking right now?” I asked, my voice just above a whisper.

“You really want to know?” He asked, a clear warning in his tone.

I nodded. I wanted to know. This game had gone way further than I planned, and after everything I told him, his answer meant something to me.

“I’m thinking that I want to kill the asshole that hurt you.” He hissed, clenching his jaw. “I’m thinking that you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met. I’m thinking that your body…” he paused, grabbing my waist and pushing me down harder against him for emphasis, “this fucking body, feels perfect against mine and maybe I’m a real asshole for this, but all I can think about now is how warm and perfect your pussy feels against my cock.”

I was at a loss for words. The few times I shared what happened, the immediate reaction was always pity. ‘I’m so sorry that happened to you, Stevie’ or ‘Stevie, you poor thing’ were usually the go-to phrases, but his response was so unexpected. The truth of the matter was, what I went through was ugly and hearing about it made people uncomfortable. But Cyrus wasn’t uncomfortable with what happened to me, and he didn’t look at me with pity in his eyes. Even as I spoke about it, the primal hunger in them never left, if anything, it intensified and I was caught off guard by the depth of the man I had so quickly labeled as one dimensional.

It was then that I understood why Cyrus was so dangerous. He may have looked normal, may have acted and sounded like your typical hot himbo, but he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He was the handsome, smooth talking villain that you’d never see coming. The smart, intense, and beautiful man that took advantage of people’s lowered expectations of him so he could catch them off guard when they least expected it.

“My turn.” He said, grazing his index finger underneath one of the thin straps on my shoulder. “Truth or dare.”

I bit into my lower lip, contemplating what to do. If I said ‘truth’, I’d end up revealing more details about a life he wasn’t supposed to know about. Choosing dare was its own can of worms, but I didn’t want to risk getting more attached to the man that could see beyond my scars.

“Dare.” I said, looking up into his eyes.

“Terrible answer.” He growled, gripping my hips and pulling my body closer to his. “Hmm,” he said, rubbing the soft stubble on his sharp jaw, “I dare you… to let me taste that pretty little pussy of yours.”

I should’ve been pissed. His words were filthy and what he wanted to do to me was even filthier. But the way he slowly enunciated each word had my pulse skyrocketing and my thighs straining. I didn’t want to acknowledge the effect his words had on me. Let alone what the sensation of feeling his cock hardening below me was doing to my body.

But I couldn’t deny the truth. I wanted him. Badly.

I had spent my entire life walking on eggshells, always trying to make the most practical and smartest decisions. But what has being good ever really done for me? Aside from a few minor crimes as a kid, I had done everything right, and I still ended up here. Still ended up having a shitty mother who left me with an even shittier stepfather. Still ended up being owned by The Reapers.

For once in my life, I didn’t want to be good or smart.

I wanted to be bad, and Cyrus was the perfect man to guide me into the dark side.

“You aren’t just going to taste me,” I said, leaning in to press my lips to his ear, “you are going to devour me.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Princess?” He asked, pulling back to look me in my eyes. “Because once I have a taste, I don’t think I’ll have the strength to stop myself from gorging on you.”

Was I sure? Cyrus was right, once we started this, there would be no stopping it. The sexual tension was too strong for either of us to ignore, and I knew that once we started, neither of us would want it to stop. But when I looked at him and I thought about how he made me feel, there was no question in my mind. No nagging feeling of uncertainty. I wanted Cyrus, and he needed to know that I was ready to take on everything he offered

“Cyrus, I want you to eat my pussy until you’re satiated and spent.” I said, brazened from the hungry look in his eyes. “Is that clear enough for you?”

Cyrus ran his fingers through his dark hair, before flashing me a wicked grin as he gripped my chin.

“How the fuck can a mouth so beautiful spew such filthy words?” He asked, rubbing his thumb across my lips.

I parted my lips and sucked, slowly sliding my tongue up and down the pad of his thumb. His eyelashes fluttered as his head lolled back and I watched, fascinated, as the last bit of restraint left his body.

In an instant, he gripped my chin and captured my mouth in a ravenous kiss. I expected to taste urgency on his lips, but his tongue and lips were slow and languid as they moved with mine, almost as if time were inconsequential to him. We tasted each other, our tongues moving and exploring as our bodies created delicious friction against each other. He kissed me like he was savoring it, drawing out each tantalizing stroke of my tongue and tug of my lip.

“You taste like sin, Princess.” He said, pulling back with a smirk. I nipped it at his lips in response.

“Shut up and kiss me.” I taunted, running my fingers through his thick hair as our mouths collided again.

His tongue massaged mine as my body rolled and grinded against his unabashedly, feeling more and more uninhibited by the second. The need to feel him everywhere was overwhelming. I wanted his spicy scent all over me and for him to consume my every thought.

His hands slowly slid down the sides of my body, leaving a scorching trail of heat in their wake. Every single part of my body felt like it was on fire, yet all I wanted to do was burn in the inferno he created.

Feeling restrained by our clothes, I undid Cyrus’ black silk tie, while his hands massaged my ass. I tossed his tie to the side and began unbuttoning his crisp white shirt while my hips swirled and grinded on his lap. An appreciative groan escaped his lips and the next thing I knew, I was being lifted into the air, as his powerful legs carried us towards the bed.

Cyrus’ hands latched onto my waist as he pried me off of him, tossing my body on the bed with a devilish smirk. I landed on the silk black sheets in a heap of crazed lust and frazzled nerves.

“Eager girl,” he tsked, looking at me with hooded eyes, “I think I need to remind you who is in control here. What do you think, Princess, should I put you in your place?”

My heart thundered in my chest. I didn’t know what he had in mind, but I knew I could handle whatever he threw my way.

“Y-yes.” I stammered, staring at his chiseled torso peeking through his shirt.

“Good girl,” he cooed, “take off your dress and lay flat on your stomach.”

The authoritative tone of his voice had me jumping at his words. I scrambled to my knees, grabbed the silky fabric of my dress and tossed it over my head in one swift motion. I slid my fingers under the sides of my black thong, preparing to slide it off too when a loud tsk stopped me. I froze and looked up to find Cyrus staring at me. His eyes were as hungry as ever, but he had an almost amused look on his face.

“Did I tell you to take that off?” He asked.

I winced, pulling my hands away as I shook my head in response.

“That was your one warning,” he said, licking his lips, “next time you disobey, there will be consequences. Continue.”

This dominating side of Cyrus was sexy as hell. I almost wanted to disobey him again just to see what consequences he had in mind. But as I heard him loosening his belt, I thought better of it, and laid down instead. If I was going to make it out of there in one piece, it was better to be on my best behavior.

The second I laid flat, I felt the bed dip. There was something so thrilling about not being able to see what was going to happen, but feeling the anticipation of knowing something was coming. I felt Cyrus’ powerful thighs straddle my legs and in a split second, both of his hands had gathered my wrists above my head and restrained them with his black silk tie.

Before I could even register what was happening, the loud crack of his palm against my bare ass rang out across the room. The hit stung, and I could already feel the heat emanating from where his hand landed. No one had ever spanked me before. It was equally horrifying, as it was a turn on. Cyrus was serious about punishing me, and the masochist in me was dying to know what other kinds of torment tonight would bring me.

Cyrus gave me another two hard slaps to my ass, and then his lips were on me. Starting from the nape of my neck, he kissed and licked a delicious trail down spine while his hands rubbed and touched and squeezed my body. With every inch he moved, my body pulsed, like all of my nerve endings were seconds from imploding. When his tongue reached my ass and began licking and sucking on my sore skin, my eyes rolled into the back of my head as I relished in the feel of him. His mouth was so soothing and his touch was so gentle, I had almost forgotten that he was the one to bring me the pain to begin with. Then, without warning, his mouth vanished.

My body mourned the loss of his touch and I tried to shift around to see what happened.

“Don’t fucking move.” He hissed, and I froze, feeling his fingers slide up and down my folds. I was soaking wet as it was and his mouth hadn’t even touched my pussy.

Like a flash of lightning, he flipped me over onto my back. Even with the bind, my hands scrambled to cover the scars that marred my stomach. It was a reflex I hated. Most men that I’d been with since the incident averted their gaze completely or pretended like they didn’t notice. But not Cyrus. He took hold of my wrists with one powerful hand and raised them high above my head, exposing my body to him completely.

“Don’t hide from me.” He said, gently tracing my scars with his other hand. “These scars are marks of a fucking warrior, wear them with pride, Princess.”

And then my world shifted. Flinging my legs over his muscular shoulders, Cyrus got to work. His expert tongue dove deeply between my legs, sending delicious pleasure to every inch of my body. Even with my thong still in the way, I could feel the glorious stroke of his tongue as he licked my pussy with the perfect amount of pressure and at just the right angle. Cyrus was oral god and I would worship at his fucking alter every night, if he let me.

“Cyrus…” I begged, as my entire body shuddered from his touch, “p-please.”

“Please, what, Princess?” He mumbled, now moving his lips to suck and lick at my sensitive bud.

“The thong…” I cried with a shaky breath. “Get rid of the fucking thong.”

His fingers ripped my thong off of my body with one firm tug and now that I could finally feel all of him, the delicious sensation of it all was too much to handle. My hips bucked and my back arched as he continued his assault on my pussy. I wanted to take his cock in my mouth and return the favor, but Cyrus’ hands were firmly planted on my hips and he refused to let me budge.

He lapped and licked and stroked and sucked my pussy until an intense orgasm rocked through my entire body and I screamed his name like it was a prayer.

“Wow.” I murmured, staring up at the ceiling, with him still lapping lazy circles on my clit as his hands worked to untie my wrists. “That was… amazing.”

He laughed to himself as he lifted my body and tucked me into bed.

“What about you?” I asked, looking pointedly at the large imprint of his hard cock still in his boxer briefs.

“We’ll have plenty of time for that later, Princess.” He said, crawling in bed next to me. “Tonight was about you. Now let’s get some sleep.”

He wrapped his arm around me and I snuggled into his warm embrace, almost forgetting that there wouldn’t be a ‘later’ for us. Or any of The Reapers, for that matter. I didn’t want to feel, and yet each of them were evoking emotions no one else could. I had only been here a few days and already my priorities were skewed. I could no longer deny what was happening. I was falling for my captors. But I couldn’t let that happen. I wouldn’t let that happen. I knew what needed to be done.