Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(30)

I remembered how she’d responded, the randomness and meaninglessness of their loss making it that much worse. I’d felt so much regret in that moment. The brutal unfairness of life was something I knew well, but to see her learn of it had hurt me as much as anything could.

We hadn’t talked about it after that, but I knew how it weighed on her, knew that whenever she went out on her own, these feelings and memories always came up. I also knew how much she hated Santo.

I also knew much of her hatred, pain, was my fault. I could have stopped Santo before he’d ever encountered Senna and her family, could have stopped him later. Still could now. That I didn’t and hadn’t yet shamed me, and furthered my conviction I would see that wrong righted and see Santo suffer.

“It’s awful, Maxim,” she said.

I didn’t respond but kissed her. She shifted, looked over her shoulder to meet my eyes.

“But I don’t want to think about that,” she said, exhaling and then pulling herself closer to me.

I kissed her neck again. “What do you want to think about?”

She smiled and then pressed against me harder. “Same thing as you,” she said, rolling her hips against my hardening cock.

I had told myself I wouldn’t take her again to give her time to recover, but my cock disagreed. When she reached down between us, stroked her hand along my shaft, I gave up all pretense.

I stroked my shaft along her slit, the warm wetness of her cream creating a slickness I wanted to bury myself in. So I did, her wetness allowing me easier entry.

Her pussy was tight, her walls clinching around me, squeezing me so hard, I almost came.

But I fought against it and instead held off, began to rock inside her slowly as I rubbed a large circle against her stomach and then grabbed her full tits. I loved them, would never get enough of them, of her, but I ignored that thought and thrust inside her until we both climaxed.





Nineteen





Senna



Four weeks later, I ventured outside, the bright sun calling me.

I hadn’t left Maxim’s bed since that first night, but he’d been preoccupied for the last couple of days, leaving me restless and a little bored, so I’d decided to leave. It was hot out, stifling, really. I could see the heat rolling low against the ground, felt the sweat beading on my forehead as the sun beat down on my bare shoulders, the waves of heat wrapping around my legs. The clothes I’d chosen covered far less skin than my outfits normally did. That was partially a concession to the heat, and, I could admit to myself, an outfit I hoped Maxim would appreciate.

I didn’t care about the heat, though, hardly paid it any attention at all. Instead, I focused on the festival.

Summer Festival was a tradition in the city, or so the brochures said, a huge three-day affair that had games, booths, parades, and pretty much any diversion that could be thought of.

Nearly every city I’d ever gone to had some similar tradition, and this one was particularly vibrant. Newborn babies, people well into their golden years, and every age in between had congregated here and were enjoying the fun.

I saw dozens of kids sitting atop their fathers’ shoulders, pointing and laughing, eating candy. Saw the young lovers holding hands, giving sly glances to each other. Saw the couples who had bonds that had extended for years.

And envied them all.

I’d never held hands with a lover on a sunny day, had never watched as the man I loved carried our child on his shoulders. Had never held my own sleeping baby in my arms.

Never would.

That awareness hurt, made it almost impossible to stay here, but I did. Stayed and watched the duality that was my life play out.

Because I would never again be one of those carefree people enjoying the Summer Festival, would never have a normal life, which was something I regretted.

But as much as I regretted it, I also knew that while I had lost normality as I had previously conceived of it, I had also had my world opened, could now see the festival through new, different eyes.

Saw the pickpockets working the crowd. Saw the tense meeting taking place near the vegan chef’s booth, most likely an attempt to resolve a dispute over guns or drugs, one where neither party felt safe enough to meet anywhere but a public place.

I could see the people who were different, like Maxim.

Like me.

Were he here, Maxim would have scoffed, been insulted I would compare him to such lowly criminals, his arrogance and certainty two of the things I loved about him, two of the things that made him so frustrating.

His arrogance was well earned, and as highly as he thought of himself, I’d seen no reason for him to think less.

His certainty let me sleep at night, knowing that if he gave me his word, he would never go back on it.