My Sinful Valentine (A Beautiful Sinners Collection) by Elena Reyes (black authors fiction .txt) 📕

“What do you really want?” Gem opens her mouth, but shuts it at my raised brow. For a few seconds, she pouts as if I’m the one in the wrong. “Tell me—is this going to cost me my dignity or possible jail time?”

“You’re so overdramatic.”

“Am I adding kidnapping charges to my already thick criminal file?”

“If it gets me a private tour...”

“You, love, are shameless.” The man we’ve been waiting for comes to the front of the group and begins his spiel on the whos and whats and all the vast history of criminal activity that’s graced these very streets. That’s also when the people around me disperse and begin to head toward an eatery I’ve bought out with the sole purpose to entertain them until the next tour starts in a few hours. They’ll drink and stuff their faces while my girl gets the one-on-one I knew she wanted.

“How long?” Gem asks as the tour guide meets my eyes, and I signal with my hand for him to take a five. I paid a lot of money for this—more than what they sell out in one year for her to enjoy this—and if I want a moment with my wife, everyone needs to jump and run. A delicate hand cups my chin and turns my face toward hers. “Answer the question, Mr. Jameson.”

“On the plane ride back to Chicago after our Vegas wedding.”

“Only you would plan our Valentine’s after I was kidnapped and you massacred those inside the chapel.”

“It’s my gift to humanity, love. I’m the inappropriate planner.” At my response, her eyes narrow and a hand goes to her hip, the move accentuating my favorite place to grip. “Does that bother you?”

Gem tries to fight it, but I see the beginning of a smirk on her mouth. The cute curl of her upper lip and the twitch in her cheek give her away. “No...”

“No...?”

“I find you impossibly adorable right now, okay?”

“Much better.” Then I’m turning my lips and nuzzling her palm before licking it. “Ready to enjoy it?”

“But what about all those people?”

“They’re being taken care of and the next tour will be on me; I refunded everyone.” At once, she’s in my arms with her legs around my waist and peppering my face with kisses. Nothing is stopping her from showing me how happy I make her, not her goose-down jacket or the scarf around my neck. Gem is a woman on a mission, and when her lips graze my neck a second before she bites down, sucking the skin between her teeth and marking me, I grow hard. Motherfucking throb. “Behave, sweetheart. You know I have no qualms and will pull you between two buildings and bury myself deep while my men block the entire street. No one will see you, but fuck me, will they hear you.”

She shivers, biting her lower lip before placing them a hair’s breadth from mine. “Promises, promises.”

“You’ll pay for this.” Unwrapping those exquisite thighs from around my waist, I set her down and pull back just enough to not touch. My wife knows I bloody need her. All day. That I spend every waking second thinking of ways to get between her thighs, and if she wants to finish this tour, one of us needs to behave.

Moreover, it’ll be me because those gorgeous eyes are begging me to do the opposite...

To taste. To bite. To claim.

“Please.”

A throat clears, and I look over to where the tour guide nervously averts his eyes. “Would you like more time or—”

“We’re ready. Carry on.”

“Perfect.” The older man smiles, though he’s intimidated by me. “Would you like to start from the beginning or take up where we left off, Miss?”

“Mrs. please...” she says immediately, correcting him “...and yes. From the start is preferred by us.” The little shite. “Right, Mr. Jameson?”

“Of course, love.” Then, because I’m an arsehole without remorse, I pinch her backside, making her yelp and glare: two things that I find amusing. “I’m ready to learn about our shady history.”

He gulps, but his expression remains calm. “Of course, sir. Let us walk to the end of these buildings where the story of...” I tune him out, but I do find it amusing how arse over tit he becomes to please my girl as the tour begins. Instead, I watch her eyes light up with every rehearsed anecdote he shares, and that tiny notebook she holds in her hands doesn’t get used to point out facts or ask questions. The two become the best of pals while I walk close by and keep my ear open for anything that could pertain to the modern British mob.

Me.

“And this is where the body was disposed of.”

“Right here?” For something considered morbid, Aurora is smiling and taking pictures of the building and place with her iPhone. Her fascination with this is hilarious to me, especially coming from a mafia background and being married into another. Because I did take over for her old man—for her—but I never left the Jameson family.

Now, we are one and the same and stretching our control into an inter-continental operation.

One that doesn’t end in Boston or London.

I have bigger plans, and Aurora knows this. She agrees.

“Did you hear that, babe?” Gem asks, her voice taking on that high pitch of excitement. “He’s going to take us to a private hideout that’s not on the tour, but he has permission to show us.”

“That’s great.” I’d rather have you ride my tongue, sweetheart. “Lead the way.”

“My pleasure.” He looks at my wife with fondness, and not in a sexual way. More like appreciation for someone that actually enjoys this shite, even though we are the contemporary embodiment of this tour, something he knows, and his fear is