Twisted Cravings (The Camorra Chronicles Book 6)

She stood against the horizon, illuminated by the sinking sun, completely naked except for her biker boots. Her red hair glowed like flames in the last rays and her pale, beautiful body appeared almost pearlescent. I got out of the tent and watched her a bit longer.

She was so fucking gorgeous. She turned and met my gaze. A smile broke free on her face. It wasn’t one of the fake smiles, weighed down by darkness from the past. It was a free, honest smile. That didn’t mean she didn’t still harbor darkness. We both did. It was what made us understand the other so well. But we controlled our darkness now, like a tamed beast behind iron-bars. Sometimes we let it out to play but mostly it slept peacefully in its corner.

I still felt as stupidly in love with Dinara as I’d been when I’d rushed to Chicago to convince her father. We’d grown closer, Dinara and I, and even her father grudgingly tolerated me. We’d even celebrated the orthodox Christmas together in Asper for the first time this year.

Dinara bit her lip in that teasing way she had, turning fully to me so I could see the length of her naked body. One of her hands cupped her breast, teasing her piercing, as the other slowly slid down her belly to the apex of her thighs with the soft patch of red hair. Blood rushed down my body, gathering in my cock. She and I always took time away from camp, so we could fully enjoy each other’s company.

I strode closer to her, taking her in and the way she stroked herself. When I stopped right in front of her, she was panting softly, her lips parted. Two fingers worked her clit, spreading wetness all over it. I grabbed her hips and sucked her pierced nipple into my mouth. Her fingers moved faster on her clit and she let out a sharp moan. I sank down slowly, tracing my tongue over her belly before I arrived at eye level with her pussy. Her fingers circled her bundle of nerves and her lust had already gathered all around it. The sight of her glistening folds made my mouth watery. I leaned forward and teased her fingers and clit with my tongue, tasting her sweet arousal. Her fingers didn’t cease the circling of her clit. Instead, they soon began to fight my tongue for dominance. After she came, I pulled her down on my lap. Making love to her still felt like a revelation every time.

Afterward, we watched the night sky as we reclined on the hood of my BMW and drank ice-cold beer.

“In the past, I would have needed a smoke to really enjoy the moment,” Dinara murmured.

“I don’t even miss smoking anymore.”

“Me neither. You and racing give me the highs that I need,” she said with a teasing smile. I touched her cheek, unable to believe how lucky I was, how ridiculously happy.

And then it hit me. This was the moment I’d been waiting for. Of course, I wasn’t prepared, but it didn’t matter. I didn’t want to wait to get a ring. This was the right time and I hoped Dinara would see it too. I slid off the hood and sank down on the dusty ground before Dinara.

She sat up slowly, her eyes widening briefly, then disbelief took hold of her face. “What are you doing?”

I took her hand with a grin. “We made it to five years, even though you thought we wouldn’t. I think we’re still going strong. I’d bet all my money on us making it to fifty years.”

Dinara bit her lower lip, stifling laughter. “Considering our risky lifestyle, I doubt we’ll live that long.”

“I know you aren’t thirty yet, so your second requirement isn’t fulfilled, but I can’t wait another five years. I’d say we’re good to go…” I fumbled inside my jeans pocket and pulled out a discarded silver chewing gum wrapper.

Dinara let out a disbelieving laugh but didn’t comment. I formed the wrapper into a makeshift ring, then took her hand again. “Dinara Mikhailov, will you marry me?” I held up the wrapper ring, which glittered in the headlights, making it look more sturdy than it was.

“You are out of your mind!” Dinara exclaimed, but her eyes were soft and she had trouble fighting her smile.

I lifted the ring a bit higher. “I’m afraid I need an answer.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them again, she said, “Yes.”

I pushed the wrapper ring on her finger, then staggered to my feet and wrapped my arms around her. I kissed her fiercely as she pressed close to me. “For a second I worried you’d say no.”

“For a second I considered saying no. I really love our life of sin, without commitment, free-spirited and wild.”

I looked into her eyes. “Then why didn’t you?” Dinara and I had never seriously talked about marriage. She wasn’t like some girls who dreamed about a big wedding and a princess dress. If I’d had more time planning this moment, I probably would have gotten cold feet. But she had said yes, to me, to us, to forever.

Dinara

Adamo grinned as if he’d won the jackpot. I stretched out my hand and admired the silver wrapper ring around my finger, not answering his question yet. “I’m glad you put so much effort into our engagement ring,” I teased him. I didn’t really care. I rarely wore jewelry, even though I owned a shocking amount of it, all gifted by my father or family in Russia. I hadn’t taken any of my jewelry with me, and I didn’t miss it. The only things I really wanted to have with me were my Fabergé eggs, but a motorhome wasn’t a good place for valuable pieces of art.

He ran a hand through his unruly hair. He always cut it at the beginning of the season but allowed it to grow in the months that followed. “I thought you didn’t care about jewelry.”

He actually sounded worried. “I don’t,” I whispered. “This is the perfect ring for us.”

Adamo chuckled. “I’m not sure I agree. You’ll get a better ring soon.” He paused, raising his eyebrows. “But you didn’t answer my question.”

Why did I say yes? For a long time, I’d been against marriage, considered it superfluous and restricting. The mere idea of binding myself to a person like that had made me nervous, but when Adamo had popped the question, my body hadn’t reacted with a cold sweat or feeling of nausea. It had felt inexplicably right. “Because I can’t imagine ever living without you again, so we might as well make it official. I realized we were already committed, and marriage to you doesn’t mean we can’t be wild and free-spirited anymore.”

“I think that’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever said to me,” Adamo joked.

I boxed his shoulder before I kissed him hard. “I love you, and I love being reckless with you, and I know we can keep being reckless even when we’re married and that’s perfect.”

“And I love you.” He took my hand and inspected the ring he’d put together. “We can go ring shopping next time we pass a city.”

I pursed my lips in thought. I couldn’t really see myself with a wedding ring. “Do we have to get an actual ring? Can’t we get something else that shows we’re together? Or maybe we just don’t have anything but the love in our hearts.”

Adamo smirked. “Nice try. I want a sign of you being mine for everyone to see.”

“You’ll be mine too, remember?”

“I don’t want to forget.”

I wrapped my arms around his neck. “No ring. But if you have a better suggestion, I might be open for it.”

Adamo thought about it for a while before a grin spread on his face. He still managed to look like a boyish daredevil when he gave me that look. “How about we get a wedding tattoo? Nino could do the design and inking.”

My brows rose in surprise. I actually liked the idea. “Why not? At least that way we can’t lose it.”

“Perfect.”

“You realize we can’t have a big celebration, right?” The Camorra and Bratva still barely tolerated each other, and so far Adamo’s and my unusual relationship hadn’t caused my father any trouble, but a wedding feast that involved both our families might change that.

Adamo shrugged. “I don’t really care about a big party. This is about us. For all I care, it can only be you and I, and it would be the perfect wedding.”

“We could marry in one of those chapels in Vegas. You know, the ones where Elvis seals the bond.”

Adamo obviously had to stifle laughter. “Not Elvis, but we can marry in a chapel in Vegas if that’s what you want.”

“It would fit, don’t you think?”

Adamo dropped his forehead against mine, smiling crookedly. “A girl who hates Valentine’s Day, who hates rings and who doesn’t want a nerve-racking wedding feast. I’m pretty sure you were heaven sent.”

“I seriously doubt it. If anything, heaven dropped me on earth because I didn’t behave.”

“I like it when you don’t behave,” Adamo murmured.

“I know.” I pulled him on top of me.

Adamo

A week later, Dinara and I traveled to Las Vegas to spend a few days with my brothers and their families, and tell them about our decision. Of course, the second we announced our plan to marry, Kiara already fantasized about planning the wedding.

Dinara gave me a panicked look, so I spoke up before my sisters-in-law called a wedding planner. “Dinara and I don’t want to celebrate. We just want to elope in a chapel around here. No big deal.”

“Oh,” Kiara mumbled, exchanging a look with the other women.

“You realize you’re breaking quite a few hearts here, right?” Remo said, but he looked like he didn’t care. He’d never been one for the big celebrations, and probably wouldn’t have had any kind of wedding ceremony if Serafina hadn’t wanted it.

“For us, it’s not about the celebration, it’s about the promise we give each other,” Dinara said carefully.

“Considering the difficulty of having your family and ours under one roof, your decision is wise,” Nino said.

Dinara nodded quickly. “Yes, that’s another reason why we didn’t want to make a big deal of it. It’s just for us.”

“We don’t want a ring either,” I said. “Instead we want you to create wedding tattoos for us.”

Savio flashed Nino a grin. “Then you’ll have tattooed almost every member of our family. It’s becoming a heart-warming tradition.”

I scoffed. “A bull tattoo over your dick isn’t the most heart-warming sign.”

Savio sent Gemma a cocky look. “The sight of my bull always warms Gemma’s panties and heart, right?” She punched his abs, causing him to grunt.

“I hope you don’t want your wedding tattoos in similarly shady places,” Nino said dryly.

Dinara laughed.

“Don’t worry,” I said.

“When are you going to marry?” Kiara asked. I could tell she was bummed about not getting to organize a big wedding.

“Tomorrow,” Dinara and I said at the same time.

Kiara smiled hopefully. “Can we be there?”

Nino touched her shoulder.

“I think the lovebirds want to be alone,” Remo said.

I nodded. “We really don’t want to make a big deal out of it.” Inviting my family to the wedding wouldn’t go over well with Grigory, and there was no way we could have him at the ceremony in Vegas without causing a major scandal, and most likely bloodbath.

“At least, have someone record the ceremony,” Kiara begged.

“I think there’s a package we can book that includes photos and even a video,” Dinara said. “I could check.” She pulled out her phone but Remo waved her off.

“They are going to take photos and record everything if you ask them to. You’ll be a Falcone.”

Dinara and I exchanged a look.

“Actually,” I said. “Dinara will keep her name. Like we said, we just want to marry as a sign for us, not for outward appearances.”

“That’s reasonable given the situation with Grigory,” Nino drawled.

I laughed. “I knew you’d agree.”

Kiara shook her head, looking honestly disturbed. “You two are the least romantic people I know. Nino at least pretends to be romantic for my sake.”

“At least, they both don’t have a romantic bone in their body,” Serafina said.

Dinara shrugged. “Our idea of romance is sharing a beer on a car hood after kicking each other’s ass during a race.”

I pulled her against me and kissed her temple. “Perfect.”

When Dinara told her father about our decision that night, his excitement was limited. Not so much because she chose to marry me. I think he’d made his peace with me at this point, but he was appalled by the fact that his precious daughter would marry in a cliched chapel in Vegas. But he, like my family, had to accept our decision.

The next morning, Dinara and I followed Nino into a room that he’d prepared as a makeshift tattoo studio.

I was nervous if Dinara would like the tattoo I’d chosen. I’d searched the internet for days for possible options. Most of them were just tattooed rings but that would have been the too obvious choice. Dinara and I wanted something more subtle, not for everyone to see.

Nino pulled out the sheets with his design of our wedding tattoos. He pushed the sheet with the tattoo for Dinara’s palm over to her and the other sheet to me. Dinara scanned the drawing of an intricate lock in the shape of a heart then glanced over to my sheet with the matching key.

“Do you like it?” I asked when she didn’t say anything. She nodded with a slow smile. “Can you do something this delicate on a small scale like a finger?” she asked Nino, who frowned in response.

“I thought we could ink it into our palms. That way the key and the lock always merge when we hold hands. The downside is that tattoos in palms only last up to a year so we’d have to redo them regularly,” I said quickly. I hadn’t discussed this with her yet. It was meant as a surprise.

Dinara nodded immediately. “That’s actually perfect, because it means that we have to renew our vows every year.” She paused. “I feel bad that you’re the romantic in our relationship.”

“I’m glad your expectations are low when it comes to romantic gestures, trust me.”

Dinara and I exchanged a grin. Nino looked impatient. “So I assume you are both fine with me tattooing the designs into your palms?”

“Yes,” Dinara said, and I nodded.

“I should warn you that the palm is a tender spot and the tattoo is going to be at least uncomfortable, maybe even painful depending on your level of sensitivity.”This text is property of Nô/velD/rama.Org.

“I don’t think either of us is very sensitive to pain anymore,” I said dryly. I’d gone through torture at the hands of our enemy and more broken bones than I cared to recount during fights or race accidents. And Dinara had lived through enough shit as well. Not to mention that she had a nipple piercing, which Nino of course didn’t know.

“Who wants to go first?”

“Me,” Dinara said without hesitation and thrust her hand at Nino who disinfected it thoroughly.

He took the tattoo needle but didn’t begin right away. “If you need me to stop, just say so.”

Dinara nodded but she didn’t say anything as Nino tattooed the intricate design into her palm, only watched with fascination. While I admired my brother’s tattoo art, my gaze often wandered to Dinara’s gorgeous face, unable to believe that we’d actually say yes to each other today. When Nino was done, she held up her hand between us. The skin was red but it was obvious that my brother had created something magnificent.

“Your turn,” Nino told me.

I held out my hand but didn’t take my eyes off Dinara who gave me a small smile. When the needle pierced my skin, I twitched once. It was uncomfortable like Nino had said, but nothing close to the pain I’d felt before, only this time the end result was worth every second of discomfort.

After Nino was done with my tattoo, he nodded in satisfaction before he turned into warning mode again. “Try to keep the wounds clean and no hand-holding or tattoo merging in the next few days. The result will suffer if you get an infection.”

“We’ll behave,” I told Nino sarcastically.

He gave Dinara a look. “I hope you’re the sensible of the two of you.”

“I love racing and got my belly pierced in a dingy back-alley place that also sold second-hand cell phones.”

Nino sighed and got up. “I think you two are a good match.”

“We are,” I agreed.

Three hours later we stood in front of an Elvis imitator after all. Dinara and I had chosen matching outfits of our favorite leather jackets, ripped jeans, and white tees, no fancy shit. But I’d stuffed a white rose into the pocket of my jacket and Dinara held a bouquet of white roses in her hand. A single flower was also woven into her red hair, creating a beautiful contrast.

After we’d said our vows and kissed longer than was appropriate, I carried Dinara out of the chapel and toward my BMW. I lowered her into the passenger seat, then gave her another lingering kiss before I closed the door and took my seat behind the wheel. “Ready for happily ever after with me?”

“So ready,” Dinara said. I hit the gas and we shot out of the parking lot with a loud clattering. The kids had insisted we string a dozen cans to the exhaust pipe.

We let the windows down, turned up the music—“Highway to Hell”—which seemed like the perfect ironic touch to our day and raced through Vegas. Soon we left the city behind us to find a remote place for our first night together as a married couple. We had everything we needed to make it the perfect honeymoon. Each other, cans of macaroni and cheese for nostalgic reasons, and a six-pack of ice-cold beer.