Sins That Define Us: Madly Ever After, #3

By E.M. Lindsey

My name might be Alice, and this sure as hell isn't wonderland, but everyone is definitely a little mad here.

Promises were made, vows were spoken, and now it's up to me to usher in a new era and generation of the Walsh Family.

We just need to rid the world of the man who called himself my father in order to do it.

But it's not as easy as it seems. Not with hidden agendas and new chess pieces on the board. It's one thing to stand in front of the world and call myself Kane Walsh's wife—queen to his vast empire of death, but it's quite another to act on that power without proof I can be as ruthless as the four men who love me.

Revenge is close enough that I can taste it, and it will be sweet.

And all I can really hope for is that all four men will be by my side when all is said and done. After all, what would the new queen be without her knights in blood-stained armor?

The Sins That Define Us is the third and final book in an MFMMM, modern mafia fairy tale trilogy that tells the story of how heroes and villains might not always be what they seem. It features spicy MF, MMMMF, and MM scenes, and ends in a Happily Ever After.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E.M. Lindsey
• Release date: Apr 27, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223737582

Book preview

Chapter 1

ALICE

You’d think that finding out these men have probably lied to me and are using me just the same as my fath—as Guido—had done in the past would make it harder to climb into bed with them, but apparently, I’m just as depraved as they are. I went from a wallflower—a quiet, nervous virgin who only ever touched her deepest fantasies when the lights were out and no one was around—to this starving thing.

This creature crawling in and out of their beds, letting them ravage me one by one.

The only one of them I haven’t conquered is the king. Hades, the god of death.

Kane.

The one who keeps denying me, and maybe that’s why I can’t let go. Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m losing my mind every time I see him walking around. He must know it. The way he catches my eye and holds me pinned by his gaze for so long that I feel like I’d be willing to drop to my knees and promise anything?

There’s no way this is all happening by accident.

Jesus, I sound bitter. Which, ha, is probably because I am.

I walked away from the engagement party with a second secret living deep inside me. It split me in half between the would-be misfit falling deeply in love with her four killers and the woman who was itching for a taste of freedom.

But I don’t know what to do with any of it.

I don’t know who to believe or who to trust—including myself.

A small part of me wants to believe Leo because he’s family, and the desperation to have someone on my side from my past is impossible to ignore. But I’m not foolish enough to believe that blood means anything in this world.

All of it makes me feel young and naïve. It makes me feel like I really am that sorry, sheltered little girl Guido kept ignorant of everything.

How quickly I’d fallen under the spell of Kane and his misfits makes me realize how successful Guido really was with his plan.

I want them with every fiber of my being, and the fear that they’re using me or might betray me at any given second isn’t enough to make me turn away. My need for them follows me into my dreams—into strange, sex-laced nightmares that end in sobbing and blood.

I often wake with a scream lodged in my throat and my heart racing and a need to get lost in their arms.

When those nightmares happen, whoever is in bed next to me never asks me about them. They just hold me until I can breathe again and then fuck me until I’m too tired to stay awake.

When it’s Phoenix, it’s slow and powerful. He rolls me onto my hands and knees, forces me to grab the headboard. Then he takes me from behind until I’m a whimpering mess from his slow, rolling hips and his perfect, strong, dangerous hands. We sleep after that with his palm against my lower belly and his nose against my neck like he can keep me from shaking apart that way.

And sometimes it works.

Ariel isn’t as kind, but he’s more possessive. He wants to watch me as I fall apart so he keeps me on my back with my legs spread so wide I can feel my pussy lips part. He watches himself finger me until I can’t take it, and then he fucks me so hard and so fast, I see stars.

He never kisses me during, but sometimes he kisses me after. He places his hand against my throat—not enough to cut off my air, but enough to remind me that he isn’t safe.

And somehow, I sleep even better.

James is different than all of them. He fucks me with the edge of tenderness. There are whispered words of affection on his breath, his stump pressing to my chest, his hand tormenting my clit as his pierced cock drags along the walls of my cunt until I’m shaking.

He loves me.

I know he loves me, beyond the fact that he’s told me.

And there’s something about his love that’s wholly addicting. Maybe it’s the way he likes to share me more than the others do. More than once, he’d make sure we were angled toward the camera, and more than once, Phoenix and Ariel would find their way inside the bedroom to join us.

There’s something powerful about being under their full attention—but there’s something even more powerful about watching them together. Their history, their affection, their fears, their vulnerability. They became different men under each other’s hands, and watching Phoenix hold Ari by the throat and force him to open himself up on his cock shows me a side of Ari I wouldn’t get to see otherwise.

It’s the only time he’s weak. It’s the only time he allows it.

We sleep in a big pile on those nights, and it’s fine, except there’s a gaping hole in the shape of Kane, who refuses to join until the wedding.

And I think that’s what scares me the most.

Knowing he hasn’t given in. Knowing he won’t give in no matter how tempted he is.

I’m a patient girl, and I always have been, but there’s a small spark of fear inside me that the night he finally calls me his own—marks me as his queen—it won’t be enough. Maybe I need to be more like them. Maybe I need to crack my soul in half and get blood on my hands and prove to them that I can be a misfit and a monster.

That this is where I’ve chosen to be.

And this is where I’ll remain.

Maybe.

Probably.

Slamming the final drawer in my dresser, I do a spin around my room like somehow all my panties and yoga pants are going to miraculously manifest out of thin air. There’s a small flicker of rage inside me, which is made worse by these fucking baby hormones, and I know this is some kind of prank or sex bullshit, but I’m just not in the mood for it.

I’m not showing yet, but everything around my stomach feels tight and annoying, and I just wanted my comfy clothes.

Storming to the door, I wrench it open and stick my head out into the hallway. "Where the fuck are my clothes?"

There are a couple of snickers, a long stretch of silence, and then James has the nerve to say, Dinner’s almost ready, love. We can solve that mystery while we eat.

I’m in a skirt that rides up my thighs and a too-loose sweater that covers my hands. I’m half-tempted to strip down and crawl back in bed, but that will just lead to them coming to look for me. And if they find me like that, I’ll never get to eat.

Because that’s the other thing. All the books and websites warned me about the nausea. None of them told me about the ravenous hunger and the cravings. I didn’t spend time with my mother while she was pregnant with my sister—at least, not that I can remember. So my sole resources are crappy rom-coms that made me think I’d want pickles on ice cream.

Instead, all I want to do is stuff my face with Korean sticky ribs, cheese enchiladas, and a literal mountain of pico de gallo and salty tortilla chips.

Whatever’s on the table better satisfy because after this bullshit, they’re going to have a goddamn banshee on their hands instead of a partner.

Twisting my hair into a knot, I don’t even look in the mirror before I storm down the stairs—barefoot with my legs cold and my torso warm and my stomach rumbling. I throw open the door to the dining room, and I see Kane at the head of the table like usual, with James at his left and Phoenix at his right. Ari—like always—hasn’t joined us. He’s still weird about eating in front of me since the damage that paralyzed his vocal cords also makes it hard for him to swallow.

But even those two fuckers—because I know Kane’s not in on it—are enough to set me raging.

I fix them with a glower, even though Phoenix can’t see it, because I’m willing to bet it’s hot enough he can feel the heat.

"You."

Phoenix’s lips twitch, and James looks like he’s only barely holding in a laugh.

Kane clears his throat, setting down his wine glass and dabbing his lip with a napkin. What did they do?

They took my clothes, I hiss.

James sighs, standing up to offer me his hand, and I take it automatically in spite of my frustration. He walks me to his now-abandoned seat, sitting me next to Kane, and he takes the one to my right.

Kane’s got a frown on his face like he’s trying to figure out their game, and he will. And then they’ll be sorry. But until then, I’ll have to sit here all uncomfortable and irritated.

Relax, love, James says. He leans in to mouth at my earlobe, and I moan in spite of myself. His lips trail a path to the curve of my neck, where I’ve come to realize I enjoy a little too much, but before I can lose myself in it, he pulls away.

I lurch forward for a second, then glare at him over my shoulder. Asshole.

Kane clears his throat. Why did you take her clothes?

Why are you assuming we’d do such a thing? It’s probably just the laundry service.

My jaw tenses enough that my head hurts from it. My stuff was clean. I— My words are cut off by the appearance of Kane’s serving staff. My serving staff? Jesus, that’s a thought. They set a plate in front of me full of saucy enchiladas, rice, and beans, and I look up at Kane, who’s got the smallest smile playing at his lips.

He remembered. He fucking…he won’t touch me, he won’t kiss me, but he remembered this?

You’re awfully quiet there, beautiful, Phoenix says. He’s got fish and rice on his plate, and it makes me wonder how much time the kitchen spends on our meals since everyone gets something different.

But I suppose they’re paid well for it. Kane is nothing if not generous.

She’s just enjoying her meal, Kane says. Aren’t you?

I narrow my eyes at him and viciously stab my fork through the first wrapped tortilla, and I hate how good it is. Everything feels heightened now. Every frustration, every joy, every moment of fatigue, every rush of energy.

It’s like I really am pregnant with some sort of demigod, and this is a reminder that we’ve all sold our souls to become something other than human.

Conversation goes on around me as I eat, and it’s easy for me to tune out. Over the weeks, my brain has learned how to pick out the important stuff and store it away, filtering the rest into the unnecessary box inside my head. I suppose any sane person would be listening to every word in case I ever need to hold power over them, but nothing they say can shock me anymore.

They’re a crime syndicate, after all, and I know for a fact that Kane has nearly every person working for the local government either in his pocket or on his payroll. It’s something Guido has always wanted to do and never managed to accomplish. It was his own fault for moving into a territory that was already occupied and deciding to take over because of petty revenge.

Or…maybe not so petty.

I know there’s stuff Kane isn’t telling me that is probably fueling his every move—including marrying me.

It’s a bitter pill to swallow—knowing he’d never choose me if I wasn’t part of the Romano family. If I hadn’t been presented as Guido’s only living child, I would have been worthless to all these men.

Darling? James’ voice comes from very close to my ear. You look upset.

Kane puts his fork down gently, and I can feel his eyes on me, though I don’t look up further than the line where I can see Phoenix’s hands lying on either side of his empty plate.

Alice, he tries.

I still say nothing.

James chuckles, then drags his hand a touch over my stomach before hiking my sweater up. I have rolls there that are more pronounced now that I’m slouching. I’ve only ever been thin because eating was always a chore, but I’m filling out now due to the baby, and the guys are loving it.

And a small part of me hopes I get to keep some of it because I feel good now. The baby might not be ideal, but I’m looking at myself in ways I never have before. Loved. Cherished. Appreciated.

Beautiful.

Before, I’d been nothing more than a hollow, wasted figure floating from one moment to the next.

Here, I feel powerful.

James’ fingers drag down my thighs toward my knee, then back up, and the skirt comes with it. I feel cool air against my pussy, and when his fingers brush against my clit, I suck in air. Kane makes a strangled noise, and from where my eyes are half-open, I can see Phoenix’s fingers clenched into fists like he’s restraining himself from coming over to touch me.

No panties, James says, loud enough for the whole table to hear. Dirty girl. You came down here to put your bare, wet cunt against our dining chairs?

You left me no choice, I grind out.

Kane makes another noise, and I look up to see that somehow—in the midst of losing myself to James’ fingers—he’s moved us back from the table. Kane has a perfect view where my legs are slightly parted, and my skirt hem is somewhere near my hips.

What does she look like? Phoenix asks.

I know the question isn’t for James.

Kane clears his throat. Wet, he says. Her pussy lips are dark. James’ gorgeous finger is waiting at her entrance.

I don’t know if Kane wants to play this game, but I do know that he’ll never say no when Phoenix asks him to describe something.

Her face? Phoenix demands.

I look up in time to meet Kane’s eyes, and shit—it’s a mistake. His eyes are liquid fire. His lips are parted on a breath, nostrils flaring. To someone who didn’t know him, he’d appear to be relaxed. But I do know him. I can see he’s barely hanging on.

Desperate, Kane says. She wants James to finger her.

I say nothing, my voice trapped in my throat. My hunger for food is sated, but my hunger for them is endless. It’s like a purgatory punishment for lust and gluttony.

James toys with me until I make a needy noise, and then he slips two fingers in—just barely. Just enough for me to clench around him. That’s it, sweet, sweet darling girl. He twists his hand so he can rub his thumb over my clit, and he sucks gently against the crook of my neck. Take it. Take what you need.

I’m writhing now. It’s too late for me to do anything else. My nerves are too fucking sensitive, and it’s too much and not enough.

James, Kane growls in warning.

James doesn’t stop, of course. He just pushes his fingers in deeper—though it’s not giving me what I need. I want…shit, I want his mouth. I want to be laid out on the table and devoured.

There’s movement suddenly, a sort of tension in the air. I hear a chair flying backward and footsteps. James’ fingers disappear, and when I open my eyes, he’s been pulled out of his seat.

Kane has him by the throat, and he’s kissing him slow and deep and rough—like he’ll come away bleeding. I start to sit up, but another hand takes mine, and I realize it’s Phoenix. The fingers of his right hand dive under my skirt the second he has me on my feet, and his tongue is in my mouth.

He tastes like lemon.

His fingers plunge deep inside me—thick and heavy, stretching me wide. I rock myself down as the heel of his palm rubs my clit, and I start to feel myself spiral toward the end.

Enough. Kane’s voice cuts through the thick, heady pleasure, and Phoenix stills. You started this, so you watch it be finished.

Phoenix is gone suddenly, and Kane has me by the hips. He walks me to the table, and with a single sweep of his arm, the dishes clatter to the floor. My mouth drops open, but before I can protest, he lifts me up, shoves me back, then wrenches my legs apart.

To my left, I can see James with his hand down Phoenix’s pants, his lips moving against Phoenix’s ear. James’ words are coming in the same rhythm that he’s stroking Phoenix’s cock, and Kane stops staring at me for just a second.

Neither of you has permission to stop watching her. And neither of you has permission to come.

Phoenix lets out a short breath, but James just nods and keeps stroking as he quietly narrates what Kane’s about to do.

My whole body tenses as Kane turns his full attention back on me. His hand comes up and touches the side of my face. Say yes or no, little goddess. Once I get started…

Yes, I say in a rush. He can’t possibly expect another answer. He knows he’s forbidden fruit. He knows I’ve been desperate for too long.

His lips pull into a slight smirk, but his eyes look sad.

I sit up on my elbow. And you, I tell him. You get a say.

He meets my gaze, and something settles between us before he leans in and kisses me. He tastes like James and kisses like Ari—kind of mean and possessive. He eases me back down when our lips part, and then he sinks into the chair he pulled close with a foot, and after a long beat of silence, he lays his mouth to my core.

My scream is silent, but my whole body moves with it. This is everything and nothing like I imagined it would be when he finally gave in. His mouth is searing hot—his tongue thick and powerful as it moves in strong thrusts like he’s trying to drink from me. His hands keep my thighs spread, and then one moves along my skin, grazing my hip, my belly, then down between my folds. His fingers play my clit like he’s a musical prodigy at drawing a symphony of pleasure from my body, and I never want it to end.

I can feel each pulse of need