Carnal Urges (Queens & Monsters, #2)

by J.T. Geissinger

“You’re the most amazing woman who ever lived.”

“That’s what this feels like to me. Standing stunned and overwhelmed at the edge of the Grand Canyon, staring at all the impossible beauty with my eyes nearly blinded and my mouth hanging open in awe.”

“What you just said is the best thing anyone has ever said to me. In my life. The bloody best thing. And I know I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my days, long after you’ve forgotten me. You’re young and beautiful, and you’ve got dozens of men in your future who’ll fall madly in love with you—” “Hundreds. At least.” “—and I’ll be nothing but a distant memory for you. But I’ll still be trying to scrub your face and your taste and your sweet voice from my mind fifty years from now, because I already know nothing else will ever be able to compare to you. Nothing and no one will ever come close.”

“You can decide later. For now, why don’t you just make me something to eat? I could really murder a salad.” “No sane person craves salad.”

“Stop. Please. This was a mistake.” “No, lass, it wasn’t. I’m betting this is the first real thing either of us has had.”

“My gentleman gangster,” I whisper brokenly, and spread my thighs.

What the hell am I getting myself into? “Promise me you’ll—” “Aye. I promise.” “You don’t know what I was going to ask.” “It doesn’t matter. Ask me for anything. To be careful with you, to be honest with you, to bring you someone’s head on a plate. I’ll say aye. You’re not the only one in chains here.

He murmurs, “‘Out of suffering have emerged the strongest souls.’” “And ‘the most massive characters are seared with scars.’” His heavy exhalation sounds depressed. “Fuck.” “What’s wrong?” “You know Khalil Gibran.” “I love him. Have you read The Prophet?” “It’s only my favorite book.”

“I don’t care about any of that, because the way you look at me makes me feel like I could fly.”

“Aye. She answered the door in one of them skimpy workout thingies. Like a full-body leotard, except with the middle missing. Nearly gave me a bloody heart attack.” I clench my teeth, aggravated at the thought of Kieran seeing Sloane in yoga wear.

“The wacky wife from that old black-and-white sitcom on the telly, I Love Lucy.” I won’t tell Sloane he said that. She’d take it as a huge compliment and adopt Kieran as her loyal sidekick. I forgot. She already has.

“Sounds manky.” “Looks it, too. But she said it had lots of roughage and would be good for me, so I feel like I should give it a go.” Roughage. Christ. Smiling, I say, “Aye, you can eat it. Don’t come crying to me when you have to purge your guts into the porcelain throne.”

Or is that normal? I don’t know. I’ve never visited Emotionville before. So far, it’s quite confusing. I wish I had a map.

“And the diamond bracelet. It’s crazy beautiful.” “Not as crazy beautiful as you. Why aren’t you wearing it?” “I thought you might like to be the one to put it on.” That pleases him. He murmurs, “Good girl.

This is heaven. I’ve died and gone to heaven.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers raggedly. “My sweet girl. You’re gorgeous.”

I know I’m the one kneeling, but damn do I feel powerful right now. He needed this so much, he didn’t even take the time to remove his jacket or undo his belt.

kisses my cheek, brushing my hair from my face, and says gruffly, “Who do you belong to?” “You.” “Who’s your master?” “You.” His voice softens. “And who thinks you’re the most precious angel in the world?”

His voice is so warm and full of feeling, and all at once, I’m overwhelmed. With a hitch in my voice, I whisper, “Y-you.” His lips brush my ear. “Aye, baby. And all I am is yours now, so take care of this monster you’ve enslaved.”

I’m aware on some semiconscious level that we both know despite me calling him master, he isn’t in charge here, and never has been.

I could hear his hard-on through the phone. You’re not a child, so I’ll never tell you how to dress, but I am a jealous man. I don’t share. And I’m not Stavros. If it were me that night at La Cantina and another man slapped your arse as we walked by, he’d be dead before he drew another breath. Not because of my ego, but because anyone who disrespects you will pay a price. And if they disrespect you in front of me, the price will be especially severe.”

When I turn back to look at him, he’s standing motionless in the middle of the living room, watching the news report with a grim, satisfied smile.

“You’re saying I’m eccentric.” “I’m saying you’re an individual, above all else.” “No, above all else, I’m smarter than you, remember?” “You’re also crazy about me.”

“Now. That Grand Canyon speech of yours has made me greedy for more.” “I can’t replicate that. It was extemporaneous.” “God, how I love it when you use all your big words.”

“No, I’ve never been here before. I’ve never felt like this about anyone. I’ve never lost myself, or wanted to lose myself like I want to lose myself in you. And I’ve never trusted a man, including my father. So if you break my heart, gangster, just know that you’ll be the first and last to do it. Nobody before you has ever been able to even scratch it, and nobody will be able to pick up the shattered pieces behind you if you leave.”

“I’ll never leave. Because you’re going to be my wife.” “Holy shit.” “Is that a yes?” “No.” “Then make it a yes.” “I’m not wife material.” “I wasn’t asking.”

My sarcasm makes his patience snap. “I know you don’t care about the bloody money! But it might make your life easier once I’m gone!”

“I hate that nickname, by the way.” “No, you don’t. You fucking love it. And you hate that you love it. Get used to being seen, and being with a man who won’t let you hide, and who won’t cower when you lash that barbed tongue of yours.” He crushes his mouth to mine.

He opens the passenger door, settles me into the seat, buckles me in, and kisses me. Hard. Then he says gruffly, “Please don’t freeze me out. Be angry all you want, but don’t shut down on me. I need you right now. I won’t be able to think straight if you don’t communicate with me.”

“Okay,” I say, looking into his searching eyes. “But just because I’m not freezing you out doesn’t mean I’m not breaking vases inside my head.”

He glances over. “Tell me what you’re thinking, baby.” “I’m thinking we’re a couple of lunatics.” That makes him chuckle. “Aye. But my crazy matches your crazy. That’s why it works.”

When I tremble, he kisses me harder. I lean into him with a sigh, and he wraps a hand around my throat. “I’m gonna give you everything, baby. Everything in the whole world.”

“I love the way you taste. A little cotton plug won’t stop me from putting my mouth on you.”

“Tá tú mianach, cailín milis. Mianach.” He tucks his face into my neck and whispers my name like a prayer. I wonder how I ever thought I’d known happiness before.

“Oh, that’s right. I heard Irishmen are the worst at cards. Now, who told me that? I can’t remember. Anyway, I’ll leave you to it! Have a great night, guys. And thank you for doing such a good job protecting the place. I really appreciate it.”

Wide-eyed, I stare at the pile of money in front of me. “Wow, beginner’s luck is a real thing!” “So is sandbagging. And disobeying orders.”

“No! Stop! Spider, stop!”

“You want this knife? Come and get it. I’ll bury it in your fucking skull, you savage. That man is your friend.”

“Then let me pay the consequences for them. This was my idea. Punish me instead.” The silence is profound. It’s like the vast, echoing silence of a cathedral, one that’s been abandoned to ghosts for a hundred years.

I sink to my knees on the floor. In front of everyone. I feel their shock. Feel it expand when I lean over and flatten my shaking hand against the lovely limestone tile. Feel it explode into panic when I grip the knife in my other hand and grit my teeth in determination.

“Bloody stubborn woman,” he rasps, giving me a hard shake. “Jesus, Mary, and fucking Joseph, you’re bloody mad!”

“Yes. The principle. I only have a few of them, but they’re airtight. One is that I don’t cause other people’s suffering if I can help it. Another is that I own my shit. I don’t blame anyone else but me for what goes wrong in my life. Put those two together, and you’ve got me kneeling on the kitchen floor threatening my pinkie finger with a knife.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t speak to any of your men ever again. Lesson learned.” “I doubt you’ll have a choice in the matter, considering they’ll all be laying wreaths of roses at your feet every day from now on.”

“Our heartbeats are in sync.”

“You asshole! I hate you! I hate you!” “I know, baby,” I say, chuckling and holding her tight. “You hate my bloody guts. Except you don’t. You’re crazy about me. You’re so in love with me, you cried because I’m alive.”

“Sweet girl. My fierce little lion queen. Give me your mouth.”

“When I came home, my parents were ecstatic. They didn’t notice my new silences. They didn’t notice how I always looked at the floor. All they saw was my thin new body. Success.

“I’m sorry.” “For what?” “What I said to you in the hospital. How I acted like what to do about a pregnancy was my choice, not yours.” She’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you.” “Fuck, don’t thank me. I’m an idiot.”

“I bet you do. How’s the nose feeling, Cliff?” “Fuck you.”

“Good morning, Sloane.” “You need a haircut. Was your ex the one who made the appointments for you?” Surprise registers in his eyes for a split second, then recedes as he draws a curtain of practiced blankness over his gaze. “I’ll be the one asking the questions.”