Nash (Belles & Bratva Beasts #1)

by Kelly Finley

Oh, she knows me. She just doesn’t know I’m the devil.

It’s wrong. Very wrong. She’s my daughter’s best friend, old enough to drink now but too young, too taboo for me to crave. But I do.

But before rapey Chad takes his last breath tonight for hurting what’s mine, I’ll tell him who it’s for, who I love. Vale will have her vengeance. It’s me. Nash Allen.

Nash Allen is a god amongst DILFs. He’s so zaddy with all that alpha sperm.”

I love Alena like she’s my twin, too, but my secret feelings for her father run deep. I hate him, and I think I’m in love with him. It confuses me. It scares me. Worse, it tempts me.

Nash Allen is wired into my erotic system in ways I’ll never confess. My nerves get tingly. My skin flushed. Heat blooms everywhere when I’m around him, even though he acts so cold to me now. I don’t know what happened.

Nash Allen is hot. He’s brooding. He’s intense. He studies you like prey and smells like primal sex. Like he’s an animal who just had it, though he acts too uptight to fuck. For God’s sake, the man fastens the top button of his snug, black golf shirt.

“I’ll never hurt you, Vale, and I’ll kill anyone who does.” I’m in awe. In shock. In love?

“Now,” he orders, “for once in your life, Vale Monroe, don’t give me hell. Do exactly as I say. Do you understand?” It stammers over my lips, “Yes, sir.” “Good girl.”

But what I’ve been afraid of … ever since she was eighteen and I was thirty-two … is that I crave Vale Monroe like I’m an evil, starving man.

“Does Alena know? Does she know her dad is really a murderous mafia dickhead with a rap sheet?”

“A dickhead? Yes. I grounded her so many times, I’m branded as such. And a rap sheet? Yes, she knows I have one. When she was a baby and I was seventeen, I landed in juvie for grand larceny. For stealing credit cards to pay for her diapers and food. I became a dad at sixteen and a dumbass thief to take care of her, but this…” he points between us, “she can’t ever know about.”

“Yes, I mean us, Vale.”

“You’re right, Vale. We are just getting started because now, you’re mine.”

“I mean, you’re my responsibility now,” he seethes, controlling his tone. “We’re exposed. We’ve been burned, and until I’m certain who they are and that you’re safe, you belong to me. You do as I say, go where I go, stay by my side, and shut up when I tell you to. Understand?”

And you know what makes me even madder than a cat being baptized? Nash Allen has a breathtaking smile. It’s rare. It’s beautiful. It’s bright. It reaches his eyes like a comet across the sky, and he goes from forty-something to a young golden god with tan skin and sexy, cropped, brown hair kissed by the sun. His beard is dark and neatly trimmed, framing his full lips that are almost pouty, but he’d never sulk. No, apparently, he’s brutal and menacing and covered in black ink… And his eyes? Call it.

“No, Vale.” His sexy lips snarl, and this time, he’s not amused. “I’m the beast keeping you alive.”

She’s right. Only amateurs drive cars that scream “criminal.” We blend in. Our homes are in plain sight. Our aliases are boring. Our jobs, too. They allow us to infiltrate, connect with pillars in the community, and secure resources like this dealership under nameless LLCs, and more. We’re everywhere in this city, from churches to sex clubs, and we have enemies. Enemies I’ve proudly earned.

but around her, I feel like a teenager again. Hungry. Angry. Horny. Alive.

No one knows who I really am other than the kings and our few queens … and yet, somehow, I’m tempted to let Vale see even more than they do. I’m tempted to let her see a man no one has known, not even myself.

She’s shaking. She’s scared. She hides it with sarcasm, making my pulse race faster than usual, my finger ready on the trigger.

“Just tell me one detail.” Then, her voice sounds so tender in the darkness. She doesn’t wait for my permission; she asks, “You don’t hurt innocent people, right? You don’t traffic in women or girls or something like that?”

“No,” I answer. “We kill the people who do.”

“You’d die and go to heaven in my mouth.”

I didn’t know that. I don’t want to imagine it, either. I don’t want to hear how Nash has been secretly dating someone. How some woman has his heart because mine suddenly breaks at the thought.

Who let the angel of death into the store? Nash is glaring at me. It’s predatory. It’s seething. It’s warning me like I’m about to cheat when I’m just doing my job. Oh, I get it, rolling my eyes at him. He can be all morally grey and murder for a good cause, but I can’t sell sex toys and satisfaction? Whatever.

“Men are so easy. All it takes is an audible simulation of a classic fetish, of a ‘bad girl being naughty for you,’ and you’re making pudding in your pants.”

“You couldn’t handle my tongue.” I dare. I desire. “Wet would be where you’d start, and squirting all over my face would be where I’d end you. Over and over again.”

“I’ll make you come, Vale. So many times and for hours, I’ll take my time and won’t give up until you do. I’ll give you more than what you need, what you can handle, and you’ll take it like a good girl. You’ll love it. You won’t be able to walk the next day. You’ll just lie there, satisfied and begging for more.”

So, all night and for another week, I fight the gravity I feel to touch her. But I can’t fight the other gravity I feel, the one that’s falling so goddamn in love with Vale.

“Listen, Nancy Drew,” Jace warns, “we’re not mafia, not like you think. But you’re too smart and ask too many damn questions and see too much stuff for us not to tell you a few things because honestly, shit will go sideways soon, and you have to know who you can trust, and we’ll have to protect you.”

“And for the record, I think Exxon is doing a beautiful job with your hair, and it’s cute when you dress like a tampon, and there is a man who cares way too much for you, and he’s not your father.”

But no man has ever swept me off my feet, literally, like Nash Allen does. Once the suite door locks behind us, he drops our bags and, in one deft move, carries me to a king-sized bed.

let a tear fall. Yeah, no man has ever loved me, but I don’t need love if I have Nash.

He settles into his spot on my bed, and I can feel his heat. Can he not feel this, too? How the air crackles between us. Is he not losing his mind? Because I am.

Why can’t I have this man, the only one who’s cared about me?

lips steaming over my ear, demanding, “Get out of your head, Vale. It’s time to let me inside instead.”

“I’ve wanted to touch you for so long.”

“But you know that, don’t you?” he asks, fondling my breast, palming its weight. “You know how long I’ve wanted you. You were eighteen, and I was thirty-two. Do you remember?”

“Just remember that night by my pool because I do. I can’t forget it. Every time I come, I think about it.” He pinches my nipple. “I think about you, Vale.”

“You were a very bad girl for me, weren’t you?” He pinches even harder. “Yes,” I moan. “And you liked it, didn’t you? You liked being dirty for me?” “Yes.”

lips on my ear wetting my sex and memory, “You caught me, didn’t you? You watched me jerk off by my pool.”

“What did you see, Vale?” “I saw you.” He tickles my right nipple, circling as it tightens, making me pant, “You were on a lounger. You had your pajamas pulled down.”

“What was in my hand, Vale?” He tugs my nipple, not letting go. He dry humps my ass, and I grind it back on him, moaning as he growls, “What was I being a filthy, fucking man about and jerking off with because I couldn’t help myself? You drove me fucking insane for you.”

“My bikini. My bottoms. I left them outside to dry, and you were jerking off with them. Into them.”

“It was like I was fucking your pussy, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” I pant, my nipples tingling, my cunt aching. “And what did that make you do?” Brutally, he tugs my nipple so hard, I love it, crying out as he confesses, “Because I could see you, Vale. I was watching you in the mirror above the bar in the cabana...

“Yes, you did.” His breath moves to my neck, his hand drifting down my belly. “You touched yourself … like this.”

“Fuck, my poison, you’re so wet for me now.” He does it again, drifting his fingertips over where I’m dying for him. The ache is excruciating. “Were you this wet that night?”

“You silently watched me stroke my cock for you, knowing that I wanted you, that I was imagining fucking you. I hated myself for it, but now, I don’t. I’m gonna love making you scream for me.”