by Nova Rain
“He just ignored his boss for me, remember?” I raise an eyebrow, turning my head left to face her.
“Sure, but…”
“No ‘but,’ Ava!” I exclaim, interrupting her. “Look, did Joe ever do anything to hurt you?”
“Other than shoving me away in Santone’s garden? No,” she responds, her tone relaxed.
“Then stop trying to change my mind about dating him,” I growl, throwing a vicious glare up at her.
“Dating him?” she scoffs. “You guys haven’t been on a real date yet. All you do is fuck.”
“Yeah, we do,” I grumble, padding closer to her. “We fuck all the time.”
“Hey!” Helena cries out, striding across her living room. “Knock it off! Both of you! What is this, a gutter war? You sound like a couple of prostitutes, for crying out loud!”
“All I did was respond to a nasty comment,” I claim, my tone stiff, my gaze still on Ava.
“I was just stating facts,” Ava smirks, making my blood pump even faster in my veins.
“You are not doing this in my house!” Helena yells, yanking Ava back. “What is the matter with you? We’re supposed to be friends.”
“That’s right. ‘Supposed to be,’” I point out, clenching my jaw. “Neither of you has been much of a friend lately. All you do is judge.”
“Honey…” Helena draws in a sharp breath, bringing her gaze down to mine. “I realize I have been rather harsh with you. I was only trying to help you understand that he’s not right for you. But…” she pauses. “It’s clear that you’re smitten by him. You wouldn’t defend him with such passion if that wasn’t the case. So, go ahead. Date him. I won’t try to change the way you see him. You have my word.”
“I was just looking out for you,” Ava says, her tone mellower. “I’ve seen too much in my line of work, girl. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Phew…” I sigh in relief. “Thank you. This means a lot to me.”
I’ve hardly finished my sentence, when Ava leans in towards me. Before I know it, I feel her arms around my upper back.
“Be careful, honey,” she whispers, leaning her head against my shoulder. At that point, Helena’s doorbell rings.
“Speak of the devil. Literally,” she smiles, starting off towards her door. I smile back at her, easing back out of Ava’s hold. At last, I’ve got their approval. I was fully prepared to keep on dating Joe without it, but now, I feel much, much lighter.
“Evening, girls,” He tips his head down in a polite manner, his hands in his pockets.
“Goodnight, girls,” I giggle, strutting towards him.
“Mancini…” Ava calls out his last name, drawing his attention. “Break her heart and I’ll break your neck.”
“What…”
“Let’s go,” I suggest, patting him on the stomach before the two of them can argue again.
“Okay, what the hell was that back there?” he asks, using his thumb to point at the door.
“Don’t mind Ava. She’s got trust issues,” I explain. “We almost had a huge fight just before you rang. But she’s right about one thing. We still haven’t been out on a date.”
“I know,” he admits with a nod. “Hmm…” he hums, scanning my body from top to bottom. “I think we’ll have to stop by your place first. I can’t take you where I’m thinking in jeans and high heels.”
“Why?” I roll my shoulders, puzzled by his statement.
“Trust me,” he snorts, a sly smile spreading across his face. “You’re going to need flats and shorts. Slippers would be even better.”
“Slippers?” I cringe. “Are you serious?”
“Absolutely,” Joe affirms, his smile widening to a grin. “Don’t worry; you’ll like it.”
To be honest, it doesn’t sound exciting. The only place I go out to in slippers and shorts is the grocery store across the street. I’d love to dress up for him, and have him take me someplace nice, like a fancy restaurant or a dance club. However, it will have to wait. Joe’s got something else in mind for tonight. And that enigmatic smile he is still wearing makes it perfectly clear to me that he won’t reveal his plans, no matter how much I push him.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Michelle
Joe drives out of Brooklyn, somewhat confusing me for a minute. However, once he heads north, guessing where he is taking me becomes easier. I can still recall Ava’s endless rants about the location of that mansion where she ran into him. It’s in Sands Point. And it’s this information that helps me figure out why he insisted so much on me wearing something casual. We’re going to the beach, which is not a bad idea at all. The weather is still quite warm, and it’s a nice change from living up on the mountain for the past four days. I loved the Catskills. I spent hours every day, marveling at nature’s finest creations. Nevertheless, it was getting colder, and I know how cold New York gets during the winter. I didn’t want that winter to start just yet.
I feel cool grains of sand on my toes, as we stroll across the beach. Staring down at the reflection of the moonlight on the calm surface, I let the scent of the sea into my nostrils. I halt just inches away from the splashing waves, when I catch Joe’s large shadow on my left, out of the corner of my eye. He’s just about to empty a crate of bonfire wood.
“There,” he mutters, logs and twigs dropping on top of one another. “That should do it.”
“Oh…” I gasp in surprise. “This is, uh…” I falter. “Well, it’s wonderful.”
“It gets better,” He says with a wink, turning away from me. Boy; was I wrong to call him a brute. That’s what he wanted me and everyone else to believe. Yet, the truth is much different. Tiny drops of water are moistening my skin as I watch him making his way back to me. And, what I see stuns me into stillness. There’s so much more to him than meets the eye. Joe has a black, hard shell guitar case in his hand, making me wonder if it’s him that’s approaching me or his romantic twin brother.
“Oh, dear Lord,” I huff, putting my fingers over my mouth. “Is there anything else?”
“Yeah,” he giggles, setting the case down on the sand. “I just called Jon Bon Jovi. He’s on his way.”
Shutting my eyes, I burst into loud laughter, my spine flexing. Joe pours alcohol on the wood, his eyes on me. Then, he sits down on his knees next to the case, pulling a piece of paper out of his back pocket. Clicking his silver lighter on, he sets fire to it first, and then shoves it under the pile of wood.
“I’m sorry,” I tell him, moving around the pile. “I just had no idea you played.”
“You’d know it if you weren’t thinking of slapping me around the one time you came to my apartment. My guitar room was just a few feet down the hallway,” he teases me as I seat myself beside him. “There are twelve of them in there. Playing the guitar was one of the few things I was good at growing up. Sister Margaret gave me my first one on my sixth birthday. After that, getting a brand new guitar became an annual thing. I had to take them back to the orphanage for safekeeping when I got evicted. The nuns kept telling me to sell them, but there was no way I was going to do that.”
“I’m sorry to say this, but I’d take their advice,” I give him my opinion, clasping my hands on my lap as I bring my knees to my chest.
“No, you wouldn’t,” He counters, reaching into the case. “I remember when I got each and every one of them. They’re the best part of my childhood, Michelle. I got this baby last year. Here’s to all the cowboys out there.”
Finishing his sentence, he starts his performance with an upward strum. The fingers in his left fly along the fret board, the first, melodic notes rising above the gentle sound of the waves. He flashes me a warm, bright-eyed look, his right hand rhythmically hitting the strings. In a matter of seconds, I realize his bond with his beloved instrument. He’s smiling throughout the intro, gazing down at the fine wood on his fingertips. As usual, he is overflowing with confidence, maintaining a loose grip on his pick. I lean my head on his shoulder, his passiona
te voice storming into my ears, taking me to a journey of emotion and melody…
It's all the same, only the names will change
Every day it seems we're wasting away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night just to get back home
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
Sometimes I sleep, sometimes it's not for days
And the people I meet always go their separate ways
Sometimes you tell the day
By the bottle that you drink
And times when you're alone all you do is think
I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
Wanted dead or alive
And I walk these streets, a loaded six string on my back
I play for keeps, 'cause I might not make it back
I've been everywhere, and still I'm standing tall
I've seen a million faces and I've rocked them all
'Cause I'm a cowboy, on a steel horse I ride
I'm wanted dead or alive
'Cause I'm a cowboy, I got the night on my side
I'm wanted dead or alive
And I ride dead or alive
I still drive, dead or alive
Dead or alive
His left hand is still on the fret board, the notes still lingering in the air, as he circles his arm around my shoulders. I sense his soft lips on my forehead, flames leaping in front of us.
“I’m officially stunned. And impressed,” I purr, tilting my head up to kiss his neck. “You are amazing.”
“Thanks,” He says with a smile, placing the guitar back into its case. “Bon Jovi got me in a lot of trouble back in the orphanage. One day, Sister Marianne found me banging my head to ‘You Give Love A Bad Name.’ Man, she was mad. She grounded me for the rest of the day. I couldn’t go outside and play. She said it wasn’t the Christian thing to do.”
“I thought nuns were supposed to be good with children,” I utter, my voice a little louder than a whisper.
“They were, most of the time,” Joe informs, looking down into my eyes. “But I didn’t bring you here to talk about nuns.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I whisper, my heartbeat escalating as I slide my hand up his chest.
“This…” he pauses, “...beautiful, elegant, brunette that danced into my life. I can’t believe I’m holding her.”
“Kiss me, you little devil,” I breathe, stroking the base of his neck. In the blink of an eye, I feel his warm mouth on my lips, demanding their attention. Joe reaches down and puts his free hand on my hip, before pulling me up towards him. A mild breeze blows through my hair, scattering ashes across the sand. His masculine scent brushes across my senses, my fingertips stroke his jawline. I may call him a “devil,” but I’m badly mistaken. This doesn’t feel devilish at all. Second after second, tenderness engulfs my entire being, pampering me, making me believe that I’m slowly lifting off in a bubble of emotion. And I’m not alone in this bubble. Joe is right there with me, surrounding me with affection and a fierce determination to shield me from harm, just as he’s been doing so far. My hair is whipping against his shirt as he trails his hand down my body. Desire ignites within me when I feel his fingertips squeezing my hip through my shorts. Wetness is running down my thighs, and dirty thoughts are beginning to barge into my mind.
“Oh, we have got to stop,” I whisper, my voice riddled with lust.
“I’d stop anyway,” he claims, pupils dilating in the dim light, sparkling with desire. “I don’t want us to make the headlines, do you?”
“No,” I chuckle, pressing my forehead against his. “Take me home, you big stud.”
“Not yet,” Joe puts some force into his voice. “First, we grab a bite to eat.”
I can’t object to that. I might be aching for him to get me into bed, but my stomach is growling. Moreover, it shows that having sex isn’t the only thing on his mind.
Before we leave, I glance down at the smoldering fire, and take a mental picture of that beach. In my heart, I’m certain that I will remember tonight for the rest of my life. It was a revelation for me. Joe put aside the flamboyant, macho façade and showed me his true colors. I liked the badass aspect of him, but the addition of some romance into the mix has enthralled me. In my mind, this combination is simply irresistible.
Later on, we have dinner at a nearby diner. To my disappointment, it’s quite crowded. Had this not been the case, I would have done something I would never have even considered before: seduced him in the men’s room. I may be devouring some delicious pie, but all I can think about is realizing some of the dirty thoughts that continue to pour into my head. My cheeks are still flushed, and the heat in my core is increasing, instead of dying out. Joe is holding a fork, and I imagine him holding my breasts while I ride him hard. He licks some pie stuffing off his fingertips, and I imagine him lapping at my juices. This is beyond frustrating. It’s as if he slipped some kind of drug into my mouth when he kissed me earlier, and everything he does turns me on.
And he doesn’t make it any easier for me on our way to his apartment. Whenever we stop at traffic lights, he reaches over and puts his hand on my inner thigh. He caresses it all the way down to my knee, maintaining eye contact with me. I steal glances down at the bulge in his crotch, my breath getting heavier. Each time doesn’t last more than thirty seconds, but it’s enough to add to my arousal even more.
The sight of his apartment building is a welcome relief. Still, as I’m about to kiss him in the lobby, the sound of slow footsteps on the staircase ruins my plans. An elderly couple joins us within moments, and I postpone my idea for later.
Once we’re in his apartment, Joe strides across his living room, sending waves of frustration washing over me. I meant to pounce on him, right there and then. Halting outside a room in the middle of the hallway, he curls his index finger.
“Come see them,” He invites me; yet, his guitars are of no interest to me right now. A seductive smile bursts upon my lips as I brush past him. Hooking my thumbs into the waistband of my shorts, I continue down the hallway, swaying my hips. I roll them down, exposing part of my ass. I turn right and into his bedroom, pushing them down my thighs and off my feet. Kicking my slippers away, I take off my t-shirt and let it drop to the floor, before climbing into bed. I lie down on my chest and put my legs together, the sound of Joe’s footsteps growing louder. Still wearing my sexy smile, I look up over my shoulder. He’s standing under the doorframe, his fingers fumbling with the button of his jeans.
“Do you like what you see?” I ask him, my voice husky as I slip my index finger into my mouth.
“Fuck, yeah. Stay right there,” He grunts, getting rid of his pants. Before long, he pulls his shirt up and over his head, offering me a prime view of his chiseled torso. The deep ridges in his abs and that sexy “V” in his chest beckon. Watching them draw near tempts me to pin him down on the bed and make him squirm with desire. However, I crave his touch. I long for some more of his delicious worship that has me aching for more, every time we touch. Joining me in bed, he crawls up towards me, his gaze studying the curve of my ass. I bite my lower lip, feeling his massive chest on top of me. Joe uses both hands to push my hair aside, and then bends down towards me. A gentle kiss on the nape between my neck and my shoulder raises every fine hair on my body.
“Your skin’s driving me crazy, baby,” He confesses with a soft whisper, kissing his way up the side of my neck, his fingers travelling up my sides. “I could lick you for hours,” he adds, the tip of his nose nudging my earlobe.
“Awww, God…” I whimper, closing my eyes against how good his lips feel on my skin. I put my hand down on the mattress and lean back to accommodate him. In a moment, he is hefting my breasts in his palms with eagerness, his tongue flicking my earlobe. Turning my head right to face him, I reach back and cup the back of his nec
k. Joe’s lips crash against mine as he presses himself into me. I can feel the head of his large, stiff cock brushing my inner thigh. Our tongues entwine and probe each other while his index fingers run circles around my nipples. Once again, his restraint is unbelievable. He demonstrated it when he meant to show me his guitars, too, but now is a whole different story. Our bodies are glued together. He’s caressing me, teasing me, kissing me, and yet, he doesn’t let his obvious desire consume him. Instead, he grunts into my mouth, keeping his hips firmly onto mine.
“Tell me…” He groans, squeezing my breasts. “Did you want me to fuck you on that beach?”
“Yes,” My response comes fast. “I wanted to suck your cock…” I pause, swiping my tongue across his chin. “And have you fuck me hard from behind.”
“Come on, then,” he urges, leaning back, slipping his hands out from under me. Joe wraps his fingers around his thick shaft, propping his legs under him.
“No,” I breathe out, rolling over on my back. “I’ve got a better idea. Lay down for me.”
Licking his upper lip, he releases himself, turns around, and complies. Sitting up, I keep my legs together and bend over, my gaze fixed on his dripping-wet cock. Pre-cum has coated the head, his inches making my pussy throb. I swing my leg over him, facing his feet. Placing my hands over his stomach, I slide them down his body as I lower my ass onto his face.
“Fuck, yes!” he growls, leaning upward. My lustful moan fills the room the moment I feel his full lips on my ass cheek. Gripping my hips, he pulls me down, taking a mouthful of my flesh into his mouth.
“Mmm, that’s it,” I whimper, biting my lower lip. “God, I love it when you do that.”
He doesn’t speak. Within seconds, he moves his lips up and nibbles on my ass cheek, the tip of his tongue tantalizingly close to my crack. I lean forward, desperate to give back some of the pleasure he is giving me. Grabbing the base of his shaft, I pull his foreskin back, exposing the entire head of his cock. I give it a gentle squeeze, forcing a drop of pre-cum out of the tiny hole. I snake my tongue out and hold him out in front of me, Joe’s mouth still wandering all over my ass. Dragging my free hand down, I cup his big, heavy balls, the tip of my tongue landing just above my index finger. I feel his cock pulsing against my tongue as I trace it up his shaft. Sucking the head into my mouth with vigor, I hum, tasting his saltiness. Little by little, I let him slide between my lips, and then move my head back. My reward comes in the form of a deep, guttural groan. Right after that, Joe splays his fingers over my ass and holds onto my flesh, before his tongue starts a slow, torturous trip down my crack.