by Renee Rose
Gio’s gaze falls on my body first, traveling from my breasts to my pussy and back to my breasts. Then he finally sees the dessert. “Tiramisu? My favorite.”
“I remember,” I admit. He always orders it when we have it at the deli. “My nonna’s recipe, but I made it special for you.” I blush at the admission.
He holds his arm out. “Come here.”
Setting down the plates, I walk over and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my naked body against his fully clothed one. His hand slides over my ass and squeezes.
“I fucking love it when you cook for me,” he murmurs against my temple, then tips my chin up and slides his lips over mine in a slow kiss. “I might have to lower your wages so you never pay off your debt to me.” He says it so warmly, with such an appreciative purr, the alarm bells don’t go off in my head. “I guess you were right about the Tacones after all.”
My pussy’s dripping again. I don’t know why my body’s so responsive to him—whether it’s his words or his touch, but I’m definitely owned, even without the money situation between us.
I look up and rub my nipples over his shirt. “Shouldn’t you making me an offer I can’t refuse?”
The broad smile stretches his lips again, revealing gleaming white teeth. “Angel, I’d give you anything. Make a list and I’ll start fulfilling it.”
A puff of surprised laughter comes out of my mouth. “Okay… how about erasing my debt?” Might as well go for the gold, right?
Regret flickers over his face and my belly twists up tight. “Not that one, baby. I’m not ready to free the little caged bird yet.”
I knew it was too much to ask—thirty grand is a huge debt to ask forgiveness for, and yet his refusal pierces me. Maybe because he’s so bald about what this is. I try to stumble back, but he holds me fast.
“We had a bargain, angel. We’re both enjoying it. Let it ride a while longer, baby. I’m open to renegotiating if that changes.
I relax a little. He brings his mouth down, hovering over mine, but doesn’t claim my lips. “Kiss me,” he commands.
The moment I do, all my misgivings and apprehensions fall away. I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls my legs up around his waist and I dive into everything it means to be owned by Gio Tacone. To be naked and at his mercy. He backs me against a wall and presses me into it, pinning me firmly so he can rub the bulge of his cock against my weeping pussy.
“Wh-what about dessert?” I gasp when he comes up for air.
“Spend the night,” he demands.
I blink. The truth is, I had already told Aunt Lori I might not be home tonight. That I was going to a concert with a friend and would probably crash at her place. “Okay,” I murmur.
Gio rewards me with his magnificent smile and slowly lets me slide to the floor. He kisses me one more time. “Then I guess we have time for dessert,” he says, cupping my ass and giving it an appreciative squeeze before releasing me.
Gio picks up both plates and two spoons. “Pick a wine,” he orders before carrying the plates out to the dining room.
I find a moscato dessert wine and pour it into small crystal glasses. I love that Gio has every size and style in his cabinet. I hate to admit it, but I love everything about his luxury place. Just being in it makes me feel wealthy, as if being around the expensive furnishings somehow nourishes my own body and being.
In the living room, Gio pulls me onto his lap, straddling him and feeds me the first bite. I take it, but as the delicious sweet confection melts in my mouth, I say, “You try it. I made it for you.”
“I know, angel. I’m still rewarding you for that.” I watch as he takes a bite and rolls his eyes with pleasure. “Mmm. So good, baby. I can taste the love you put into it.”
I laugh. “That’s what my nonna always says about her food.”
“It’s true.” He feeds me another bite.
“So,” I say, rolling the sweet, creamy fluff around in my mouth. “I haven’t seen a piano move into Michelangelo's. What’s going on with that?”
“Oh. Yeah. Still thinking about it.”
I make a scoffing sound. “What’s to think about? It’s your dream, Gio. Make Michelangelo's into something you love. As long as you love it, so will the world. That’s what one of my teachers at the culinary institute told us. She said yes, follow what’s trending, know the market, know what’s hot. But still create what you love.”
Gio’s gaze slides over to his baby grand.
“That piano in white would look perfect there,” I insist. “Where do you get a piano like that? Let’s go shopping tomorrow.”
Gio’s lips quirk. “You’re gonna go piano shopping with me?”
“Yeah, totally. It will be fun.”
“What time do you work?”
“I actually don’t work tomorrow. Not at Michelangelo's and my aunt can probably handle Milano’s—I’ve worked it alone all week with Mia’s recovery. She owes me.”
“That’s great. It’s my birthday.”
“It is?” I straighten up. I’m the type who goes all out for birthdays. I don’t know—product of being abandoned by my mom and hating every birthday growing up when she didn’t show. Now I work overly hard to make sure everyone else’s birthday isn’t as big a disappointment as mine always are.
Gio feeds me the last bite of tiramisu and pops the truffle in his mouth. “Ohhhhh yeah. This is so good, angel. Coffee bean?”
I’m ridiculously pleased with his appreciation. “Espresso, yes.”
“I love it.”
I wriggle over his lap and put my arms around his neck. “What do you want me to make you for your birthday?”
His smile is feral. “Oh, angel. There’s nothing you make that would disappoint me.”
“That isn’t what I asked. What’s your favorite meal? Or dessert? Why didn’t you tell me so I could make a special birthday dinner?”
He runs his hands up and down my bare back. “We do family dinner for birthdays. Will you come?”
I stop breathing.
I haven’t even accepted the fact that Gio and I are dating—or whatever we’re doing. I’m so not ready to be brought to a birthday dinner with the family.
But Gio looks like he’s holding his breath, too. And it’s his birthday.
“You, um, really want me there, or you’re just inviting me to be nice?”
I know he’s not going to give the answer I’m hoping for. He brushes both my nipples with the pads of his thumbs at the same time, sending a shiver straight to my core. “I want you there. For my birthday present. Will you come?”
Fuck.
A Tacone family dinner.
I swallow. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You leave the gun at home.”
It bothers the hell out of me that he wears a gun every time he leaves the house. Every time I see it or feel it on him, the memory of six dead bodies on the floor of Milano’s shoots me through the center of my forehead.
He hesitates for a breath. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” He shoots me that devastating grin. “Can I keep it in the car?”
“Leave the gun, take the cannoli,” I joke, quoting The Godfather, but I also get wet. Is he really asking my permission? This man who rules Chicago. Who lives in a world of crime and violence? Whether it’s a real power he’s giving me, or just the illusion, I freaking love it. I kiss his neck. “That’s a decent compromise.”
Gio grins and pulls my hips tight against his. “Twenty-four hours with the girl of my dreams. Sounds like a perfect birthday.”
“You mean nightmares,” I say to take away the flutters in my belly, the panic over what I’m getting myself into.
His smile is sad. No—haunted. “Same thing.”
Chapter 9
Gio
Marissa stares down at me from her perch on Michelangelo's bar. She’s in her jeans and a blouse I bought her after she complained ab
out not having clean clothes to wear. She still has that “just-fucked” look—flushed cheeks, glassy eyes, and a beautifully dazed expression, even though it’s been a few hours. And that makes me want to fuck her all over again.
Cristo, I haven’t had this much sex since I was in my twenties. Which I guess makes sense, since I’m with a twenty-something-year-old.
Last night I carried her to my bed and feasted on her pussy until she wept from the exhaustion of five orgasms. This morning she gave me a birthday blowjob, followed by breakfast in bed.
Then I took her to the piano store and let her pick out the baby grand for the restaurant. She picked a gleaming white beauty which I paid double for to get them to drop everything and deliver it today. So after I took her to lunch at one of the most expensive restaurants in Chicago, we went to Michelangelo's to meet the piano movers.
Now it’s installed in the corner, and I played her my best rendition of The Scientist by Coldplay, and I broke into the wine. I push her knees wide and bite the seam of her jeans between her legs. “I want this pussy again.”
She looks down at me.
I never would’ve guessed Marissa would be this freaky, but she gives me this wide smile and says, “You’re the boss.”
Jesus fucking Christ. She makes my dick hard on a moment-to-moment basis.
“All that resistance, angel, and then you suddenly surrender. Explain it to me.”
She tenses and I regret bringing it up.
I massage her inner thighs with my thumbs to loosen her back up. “ Never mind," I say. "I don't fucking care. I like you willing." I grip her waist and tug her down to her feet. With a flick, I unbutton her jeans and shove my hand down the front. She's sopping wet. Like a dripping peach, only slick and soft. I spin her around so her ass comes to my front to get a better angle, and I find her clit with my finger. She squirms, dropping her head back on my shoulder. I curl a finger inside her, grinding the heel of my hand over her clit while I dip a second finger in.
Marissa covers my hand with hers and urges me deeper. I walk her forward, my fingers still inside her. Her thighs bump into a four-top and she folds over it, catching herself with her hands. I shove her jeans down and slap her ass.
"Do you have any idea how hot this is, angel?" I ask as I spread her ass cheeks to take in the full sight of her. "Ah, what am I saying? Every time with you is hot." I rub over her wet folds again, then release my cock. I can’t get the condom on fast enough.
Now I know why men find a younger woman after their midlife crisis. I’ve never felt so alive as I have these last eighteen hours. It’s fucking invigorating. But no, it’s not because Marissa’s younger. It’s that she’s Marissa. She could be the older one, and I’d still find her fuck-all hot. I’d still want to bang her five times a day.
I ease into her welcoming pussy, and she moans. “You bending over and taking it from your boss, pretty girl? Eh bella?” I can’t stop the filth from pouring from my mouth. Fortunately, Marissa doesn’t seem to find it degrading. She moans, reaching back and pulls her ass cheeks apart for me. I bump her ass with my loins, grinding against her anus so she gets that added titillation. I go slow, watching the root of my cock disappear into her welcoming entrance and come out glistening.
I haven’t even come yet, and I’m already grateful. When she starts murmuring my name in that hoarse, urgent way, my control snaps, and I have to give it to her hard. I grip her hips and slam in and out, shaking the table with the force.
The angle’s good, but I want to be deeper in her. And I want to see her face. Last night has me addicted to watching her come. I pull out and lift her bare ass onto the tablecloth, then climb on top, one foot braced on a chair, one knee on the table.
Marissa’s giggle turns to a sex cry as I plow into her, using my foot on the chair for better leverage. It’s a brutal, dominating fuck, but she doesn’t complain, not even when I get fast and rough.
I try to slow down and remember her pleasure, but my own need overwhelms me. I’m senseless with desire.
“Gio… Gio.” When she starts that hoarse chanting of my name again, I come like a rocket blast, and it’s not until I’ve shot my load and am still stroking in and out in sheer bliss that my mind returns. I pinch one of her nipples, hard. “Come for me, angel.”
She does. Right on cue like her body was made to be commanded by me. The surge of power that rushes through me makes me come some more. Or maybe it’s the way her tight muscles milk my dick for every last drop of cum.
I ease out of her and off the table because I know it can’t be the most comfortable position. “My compliments to Michael on his tables,” I say, giving the surface a shake. “Very sturdy.”
She lets out a shaky laugh. “Gio, I don’t have all that much experience, but I’m pretty sure you’re ruining sex with other men for me.”
I have to turn away to hide the flare of possessive jealousy that floods through me at those words. “Pretty sure that’s the point,” I manage to say. I dispose of my condom in the trash. When I return, I help her off the table and use one of the cloth napkins to clean up.
And then I can’t stop myself. “Don’t mention other men to me, angel. I bought a whole restaurant to keep one man’s hands off you. If I hear of another, I’m not sure I’ll be so gracious.”
She stares at me with wide doe-eyes. I can’t tell if she’s pissed or scared, or just stunned.
“You really did, didn’t you?”
“You still don’t believe me?”
Her nod wobbles. “I’m beginning to,” she whispers.
I grip her jaw and taste her lips and she opens to me, a flower willing to bloom.
Marissa
I’m not sure I even recognize myself.
Gio cracked open this whole sexual side of me I didn’t know existed. And now that she’s out, I don’t know how to put her away.
I don’t want to put her away.
I love the way Gio makes me feel—like I’m the center of the universe.
Being abandoned by my mom as a child left scars on me. The kind that tell me I have to work extra hard to be worthy of love or affection. The kind that instilled fear of not being good enough.
Those fears are still present, maybe even more so, because I’m afraid of getting used to this feeling—to being important to someone. Celebrated, even.
But this is just sex. I have to remember that. Gio’s a player and this is probably how he plays.
He bought a restaurant for you.
I draw in a breath. He bought an entire restaurant—just for me. That’s not playing.
We strip the tablecloth from the table where he just owned me, and I set it with a new one and then it’s time to go to his birthday dinner.
He locks up and takes me by the hand, lacing his fingers with mine as he leads me to his SUV. “Don’t be nervous,” he says, even though I was trying to hide my mood. “My family’s easy. It will be just another loud Italian family gathering. Lots of food and talking over each other.” He winks at me, and I melt a little.
I want to believe him, but this is where my bias against his family comes in again. They’re the Tacones. The notorious crime family that held Milano’s hostage for forty years. The family responsible for six dead bodies on our floor last year.
“Will Junior be there?” I try to make the question casual, but Gio slides his gaze over and eyes me speculatively. He’s too perceptive sometimes.
“Yeah.” He opens my car door and helps me in.
I draw in a shaky breath, wishing I’d made an excuse for dinner.
But no, it’s Gio’s birthday and he wants me there.
And that’s the part that gets me.
He wants me there.
It’s a strange and foreign feeling, and one I like way too much.
We don’t talk much on the way to his mother’s. I fidget with my purse strap and the radio.
“Should I be more dressed up?” I blurt when it suddenly occurs to me that the Tacones are rich, and
I’m showing up in jeans.
“Stop,” Gio cuts in immediately. “You look perfect. No one’s gonna judge you, angel. They’ll be delighted I brought a girl.”
That news calms me down. I steal a sidelong glance at him. “You don’t usually?”
He flashes that panty-melting grin. “Never, doll. I was the consummate bachelor.”
I try to ignore the tingle of pleasure at the back of my neck, running down my arms. I’m special to Gio. More evidence that it’s true.
The news makes me bold enough to push for more. “And now?”
Gio’s grin widens. “Now I’m about you, little girl. Or hadn’t you figured that out, yet?”
My face flushes with pleasure and a bit of embarrassment that I just fished for that information.
“I’ve been trying to hold back—not to come on too strong, especially because you seem to have some hangups with me. But standing back and waiting isn’t my style, doll. I think I’ve shown remarkable restraint. But that shit is over. Consider my intentions declared.”
My pussy tingles at his declaration. Gio’s dirty talk is off the charts hot, but this? Real relationship talk from a tough guy mafia man? I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
I swallow. “Noted.”
Gio smirks as he parks in front of a lovely suburban Victorian and gets out. I push my door open and draw a deep breath. I can do this. I’m with Gio and he’s all about me. That pretty much makes any situation navigable, doesn’t it?
He stops right before we go in. “Hey, my ma doesn’t know anything about me getting shot, and I want to keep it that way, okay?”
Shock ripples through me. How did he keep something so big from her? And he seems so open with me, but what is he keeping from me?
We walk in the door, and his mother comes flying out of the kitchen, her arms stretched wide. “Gio!” Her expression turns to delighted surprise when she sees me. “You brought a girl!”
“Gio brought a girl?” I hear a man’s voice ask from the living room, and then family descends from all directions.