Blood Sky by S. Massery

Release Date: September 9, 2019

Cover Design: S. Massery


Kill those who betray you. Never trust someone with nothing to lose. Family is business. Delia I watched my enemies murder my father. On the run, I plot to return home and lead my mafia family as my father did. But some would kill for my inheritance, and unearthing those people from the shadows would be impossible without Jackson. He rescued me, and has saved me over and over again–and could be the key to my survival. The problem is, his morals keep getting in the way. Jackson It takes a lot to scrub bad deeds from a man’s soul, but God, I’ve been trying. All my efforts evaporate when I meet Delia. That woman has trouble written all over her, and she sucks me into the mud faster than I can throw a punch. Love has a way of blurring the lines, and Delia is igniting all of my old urges. I’m trying to be good, I really am. The problem is, I kind of like being bad.



I slip into the apartment. The living room is dark, a single lamp on in the corner of the room. Treading lightly, I move down the dark hallway, open Jackson’s door, and slide inside. I carefully lock it behind me. He stands by the window, immobile.

“You made it back,” I whisper.

He doesn’t turn around.

“Please forgive me.” For keeping my life a secret. For wishing you wouldn’t question it.

“Delia,” he says to the glass.

“I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t respond. Ice forms in my heart.

“Why do you want to go back to that?” he mutters. “Why can’t you come home with me? Be with me.” He spins now and meets my eyes. They’re wild.

I shake my head before I even realize I’m doing so. Go back? Turn on my family?

“Leave them like they’ve left you,” he says. “Be with me.”

“Jackson,” I whimper. He comes forward and takes my shoulders, walking me back until my spine hits the wall. I tilt my head up. “What do you want me to do?”

It’s much the same as he asked me—but somehow, I feel he would have an answer. He’d make one up, one to fit dreams of his that include both of us.

He’s in my dreams, too. I’ve never allowed myself to envision it fully, but the realness of it sweeps over me. He’d protect me. He’d protect our family.

“I have to go home,” I say. My hands glide up his arms, cup the back of his neck. I pull him to me and kiss him like I could love him. I bite his lip and he bites back, nipping my skin until I moan into his mouth.

“Stay,” he says against my lips, “stay.”

I kiss him harder. He lifts me by my ass until our faces are level. I put my legs around him and cross my ankles. This feels more like home than Vegas ever did. He feels more real. More transparent.

Home is filled with deceit. Lies.

“Stay,” he murmurs again, biting and sucking on my neck. I roll my head to the side, letting him mark me.

“I can’t,” I groan. “Come with me.”

He leans back and watches my face while his hand slips down my pants. My lips part as he runs his finger down the most sensitive part of me. He pushes a finger inside of me, and I suck in a sharp breath.

“Jackson,” I say, rolling my hips in small circles. The need for him is instant, stronger than I can control. My hands go to his belt, the button of his jeans. I free his erection and practically drool at the sight of it.

I palm it and watch his eyes widen. One finger inside of me becomes two, stretching me slightly, and I let my head fall back against the door. He drops my legs and lowers me back to my feet, then shoves my jeans down my hips. I kick them off and go for his shirt. He pushes my hands away and turns me around, pushing my torso down.

“Hold on,” he growls from behind me. I grab onto the dresser.

I scream when he slams into me, filling me so completely that it’s pain on top of bliss. He thrusts a brutal pace, hitting a spot deep inside of me that makes me cry out again and again. One of his hands slips in front of me and touches my clit, rubbing rough circles.

“Jesus,” I pant.

“Not quite,” he says, smacking the side of my ass.

I jump, surprised at the bolt of electricity that goes right to my core.

“Dirty,” he mutters. His rhythm picks up, as does his finger. My orgasm shatters through me at the same time his does. My forehead presses against the wood. He’s angry, but I like it. I want all of him, all of this. I’m not ready to admit that I want him forever. That I might be falling in love with someone I’ve only known for a few days.

I close my eyes and hold onto the wooden dresser, even as he pulls out of me and presses a kiss against my spine.

I don’t want to miss him, but this feels final. I straighten and look at him over my shoulder, only to find that he hasn’t moved. He’s close enough that I see the flecks of brown in his blue eyes in the dim light. I can smell the sweat on his skin.

I turn fully around and he lifts my shirt off of me. I pull his off and drop it to the floor. Silently, he lifts me and carries me into the bathroom, setting me on the counter and spreading my legs wide. My head falls back against the mirror.

He washes me clean, cleans himself, and takes me to bed. His body fits like a glove behind me, his lips pressing for a moment against my shoulder blade.

“Be with me,” he whispers, broken.

I don’t answer.

We don’t sleep for a long time.


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About the Author

S. Massery is a new up and coming author. She was raised in western Massachusetts and got her Bachelor’s in English Writing and Literature from a school in Boston. After a brief love affair with the state of Wyoming (and more specifically, the writing-inspiring Grand Tetons), she is back in Massachusetts with her dog, Alice. She loves good writing, grammar, and the Oxford comma.

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