by Renee Rose
I may not have that much experience, but I do know how to give a good blowjob. I started young and learned early the power I could wield with my mouth. How it let me off the hook from having sex before I was ready. How it made me wanted. Keepable.
I grip the base of his cock firmly, making it jut out to meet my mouth, and I start by licking all around the head.
Gio’s breath grows ragged before I even take him down my throat. Then he gets rough. He wraps his fist in my hair and takes over, controlling my head to pull me on and off his cock. I notice he’s careful not to go too deep, which I appreciate, because it is slightly frightening to give up total control this way.
I massage his balls, move my fingers farther back and massage his taint, looking for the prostate.
“Oh, angel. It’s so good. It’s so good, and it’s not enough. I always want to be inside you.”
He pulls me off and stares down at me with bald hunger.
“Was I a good girl?” I don’t know what possesses me to say it—in what universe I became the sex kitten, but flames flare in his eyes.
“So fucking good,” he grates, dropping to his knees in front of me. “Pants off. Get those legs over my shoulders.”
Oh. My. Gawd.
I scramble to shuck my shoes, pants and panties while Gio rolls a condom over his dick. When I drop to my back on the freshly vacuumed carpet, he picks up my legs and props them over his shoulders.
“Are you wet for me, Marissa?” He rubs his thumb over my weeping slit, testing my readiness. I’m ripe and swollen for him and he groans as he brings his thumb to his mouth and sucks off my juices.
“You gonna come out here every night and suck my dick at the end of your shift?” He rubs the head of his cock over my clit a few times before spearing me with his erection.
“Yes,” I whisper. And that promise doesn’t feel like one ounce of hardship. I like the way it feels to be used by Gio.
He holds the tops of my thighs and fucks me fast and hard. “It’s not enough,” he snarls, surprising me.
And my own reaction surprises me even more.
The need to please him.
We’ve taken these roles. He’s in charge. I’m his property. I submit to his authority.
“I want you in my bed. Why can’t I have you in my bed, Marissa?” He’s plowing into me so fast and hard, I can’t think. Can’t figure out how to answer him.
“Gio,” I whimper.
“Come home with me.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand.
And yet there’s entreaty in his eyes.
His tactics may be to strong-arm me, but we’re still negotiating. I could say no.
“I-I have to work in the morning. At Milano’s,” I pant.
“I’ll drive you.”
And then I’m suddenly overwhelmed. Tears spear my eyes. I close them so he won’t see. “Yes, okay.” My cry is hoarse.
Gio roars and pounds into me hard, all his victory channeled into his release. He comes and my muscles instantly seize around his length, his body truly is the master of mine. He pushes in tight and stays there. My channel squeezes and milks his cock in waves of delicious release. When I finally stop, Gio rocks back and in a few more times and pulls out.
“Marissa?”
I still haven’t opened my lids. The concern in his voice makes me reluctantly pry them open now. Tears spill down my temples toward the floor.
“Oh, fuck, baby. Did I hurt you?”
I shake my head.
“What’d I do?” He thumbs away my tears on one side. “You don’t have to come home with me. I didn’t mean it, angel. I’m a dick, bambina. I’m sorry.”
I shake my head. “No, it’s not that.” My voice wobbles.
“Baby, tell me. Did I hurt you? Was I too rough?”
“You were perfect,” I say quickly to stop his line of thought. “You always are.”
He cradles my cheek in his hand. The gesture is infinitely gentle, the tenderness in contrast to his usual firm, controlling touch. “What is it?” The alarm still shines bright in his eyes.
I swallow. “It just… feels good.”
He drops his head to the side to study me. “What does?”
“To be so wanted. It just feels good, that’s all.” I push myself up to sit, embarrassed of my tears.
Gio catches my face in his hands. “Who ever made you feel unwanted?” And then he guesses, “That bitch of a mom of yours?”
I wince, but nod, wondering how he knows. But he’s been hanging out at Milano’s since he was a kid. He probably remembers when I suddenly showed up—the abandoned daughter of a drug-addicted mom.
He shakes his head. “Stupidest thing she ever did was run off on you.” His expression turns to one of chagrin. “Hell, all I ever want to do is run after you. And I’m getting tired of holding myself back.”
I manage a watery smile. “I have to admit, I like being chased. Way too much.”
Gio pulls me into him, straddling his lap. “Is that why you keep running?” There’s a serious edge to his voice that tears right through my defenses. Shreds the thin walls of the tent I’m camped in.
“No,” I admit.
He runs his hands up and down my back. “Then why? Because I’m a Tacone?”
I drop my forehead against his chest. I don’t want to admit it. I know it will hurt him. He may be a badass Family man, but he takes offense easily—at least with me he does. “I’m sorry, Gio,” I whisper.
“Look at me,” he commands.
I don’t want to.
I really don’t want to.
But he waits until I lift my head and meet his gaze.
“I can’t help the family I was born into. And I can’t change what I’ve been. The things I’ve done. But I want you to know things are different now. Our dad is in jail. Nico’s made us a fortune with a legitimate casino/hotel business. And after the bratva shit went down last year, Junior shut down all our remaining business in Chicago.” He lifts his arms as if to show me his waist. “Look—I left the gun in the car. I let your boss live, angel. I’ve changed. I almost died last year. And I’ve had a real hard time figuring out the point of living since then. But now I think I found it.”
My gaze flicks to the piano, but he catches my chin and pulls it back to him. “No, not the piano. Although that’s wonderful, too. No, it’s you, baby. You’re bringing me back to life. That must be why I kept dreaming about you. La Madonna was showing me where life was worth living.”
I burst into messy tears, and Gio pulls me up against him tight. I wrap my arms around his neck with a strangulating hold.
“I’m keeping you, baby. I just gotta figure out how to get you on board with that.”
“I’m on board.” I sniff against his neck. “Yeah, I’m on board. Take me to your place, Gio.”
Chapter 11
Gio
I don’t want to wake Marissa. Her face is so soft and innocent and she’s only had five hours of sleep. But she has to open at Milano’s, and I said I’d get her there.
Still, I don’t move. I just drink in the sight of her. I had the nightmare again. Woke in a cold sweat from the horror of seeing her with a gun at her head.
But she’s right here. In my bed. Safe and sound.
Where I want to keep her always. Where she belongs. I just have to figure out how to convince her of that.
I trail kisses along her hairline. “Wake up, angel. We have to get going.”
“Hmm? Mmm.” Her lids flutter, but she slips right back into slumber.
“I wish the fuck I could let you sleep, doll, but I promised you I’d get you to Milano’s on time.”
“Hmm?” She sits up at the word Milano’s. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks.” Her smile is sweet and fucking gracious. I want to kiss her, but if I do, I’ll be holding her down and feasting between her legs for the next hour, and there’s no time for that.
“I’m sorry, bella. I hate to wake you.”
“No, it’s good.” She pushes a lim
p hand through her hair. “Thank you.”
I hand her the latte I paid the doorman to fetch and help her out of bed.
“Gio.” I love the way her voice is husky with sleep. “You’re so good to me. Thank you.”
“Get used to it, baby,” I tell her, giving her bare, beautiful ass a light slap when she stands. “I keep trying to spoil you. Are you ready to finally let me?”
She stops trying to step into her jeans and blinks at me. “Yes.”
I cup her chin and give her a light kiss. “Good girl.” I leave the room to keep from distracting her from getting dressed. When she emerges, we head downstairs together, my fingers laced through hers.
I like the way this feels. Being in charge of Marissa. Waking her up, getting her where she needs to be. I’ve never had someone to care for before. Never wanted that. That’s why I didn’t look for the wife and family deal.
But this—it feels so right. So good.
I drive her to Milano’s, trying to figure out how I can help. The girl works too hard. And I’m a bastard, because I want more of her time.
“So, Milano’s. What would it take for you to be able to quit?”
She sighs as she twists her hair on the top of her head with a scrunchie. “Mia growing up to help my aunt run it.”
I snort. “And Mia’s what? Eight years old?”
“Yes.”
I shake my head. “You gotta think outside the box, baby. You believe there’s only one way to end your servitude. It was like me thinking violence was the only way to handle your dickwad boss. I needed someone else’s perspective to see there are other options available. Maybe I could provide that for you.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know, Gio. I’ve been trying to find my way out of this jail for a long time. I love my grandparents. I owe them everything. And Milano’s is their only livelihood. They don’t own the building, so it’s not like they can sell and retire on the equity. The neighborhood’s gone to shit, so getting new customers or new investors has proven difficult. We don’t make enough to even pay someone else minimum wage. And my grandparents don’t have much social security because they barely paid into the system. Besides, we can’t shut down Milano’s, because it’s my aunt’s livelihood, too.”
“Your aunt could find another job and make just as much,” I remind her. “If you’re not even paying yourselves minimum wage, she’d actually do better somewhere else.
“That’s true. But she couldn’t set her own hours. Take off when she needs to.”
“Yeah, but her taking off means you have to cover her shift. So I’m not seeing that as a selling point to staying open.”
Marissa’s shoulders slump even more.
I reach over and squeeze her knee. “Don’t worry. There’s gonna be some other solution. We just gotta solve your grandparents’ retirement.”
“And convince them it’s time to retire—yes.”
It seems easy to me. I just offer to buy the business for way more than it’s worth. But if I understand correctly, Luigi—who we thought was a friend all these years—actually hates the Tacones. So the chance of me making this end happily is greatly diminished.
“I’ll work on it,” I tell her.
She shoots me a suspicious glance. “Please don’t do anything crazy without consulting me first? My grandparents are… set in their ways.”
“Is that code for your grandparents hate me?”
She winces. “Kind of.”
Fuck.
I gotta get this Tacone problem solved. If I want Marissa for keeps, I have to make peace with her grandparents. Otherwise, I may never convince her I’m worthy.
“You can just drop me in front,” she says, but I ignore her and park the SUV. I take her keys from her hand to unlock the doors and walk her in, checking the corners for intruders, then trailing her to the kitchen. When she takes the dishes of food out of the walk-in to place in the display case, I do the same.
“What are you doing?”
“Helping you open the place,” I say, even though it seems pretty obvious.
Once more, she stops in place, and blinks back tears. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“Hey.” I shake my head. “No more tears. I told you to get used to it. I have your back. I’m here for you. Capiche?”
She keeps blinking rapidly. “‘Kay,” she says softly. Then lets out a watery laugh. “You’re so unexpected, Gio.”
She finishes putting the food out and puts on a pot of coffee to brew, then unlocks the door to customers. I sit in the corner when a few older men come in—obviously regulars because they call her by name. She brings them out their food.
I read the newspaper without seeing it, still working on the problem of winning over Luigi.
Marissa appears in front of me with a steaming espresso and a slice of bacon, egg and cheese strata on a plate.
“Mmm.” I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her closer. “I like it when you serve me,” I murmur, low enough that no one else can hear.
“I like it when you make me,” she murmurs back, then slaps a hand over her mouth.
I flash her a knowing smile, remembering how I ordered her on her knees last night. How excited she got about giving me a blowjob. She does like to be owned by me. With just a little more trust between us, she’ll surrender to those desires completely, knowing I’ll never abuse the honor of being her owner and protector.
“You don’t have to blush when you tell me how you like it, angel,” I murmur, even lower, letting her know I understand we’re talking sex, here.
The blush spreads across her chest and up her neck. Her nipples protrude, visible even beneath her bra.
I squeeze her hip and release her before the other customers get curious. “What time are you off?”
She shakes her head. “My aunt promised to be back in time for me to be able to take a shower and get to Michelangelo's for my shift.”
Damn. My girl works way too hard.
I have to get this figured out for her.
Chapter 12
Marissa
“Don’t think you’re not in big trouble,” Gio rumbles, catching me around the waist when I enter his apartment with my cart of food.
I’m late. And I had to reschedule because I got called into Michelangelo's yesterday on my day off.
God help me, I like being in trouble with him.
Over the past two weeks, we’ve had crazy mad sex. Sex every day, multiple times and it’s always good. But my favorite times are when he’s a little annoyed or frustrated with me. When I tell him I can’t spend the night, or I push him away emotionally.
That’s when he gets more aggressive. More dominant. A little punitive. It’s when he spanks my ass red and drills me hard. When his hold is rough and his passion fiery hot.
It’s a strange paradox though. I like when he’s mad, but I don’t like displeasing him. I don’t want him to be genuinely annoyed with me. Or hurt.
I turn into the circle of his arms and peer up at him. “I’m sorry,” I murmur in my best sex kitten voice. “You can punish me for it later.” I bite his chin.
His arm tightens around me, and I watch his hazel eyes flood to black as his pupils dilate. “Damn straight I’ll punish you.” His cock hardens against my belly. “I’m gonna punish you all night. Come here, baby.”
He throws me over his shoulder.
“Ack! Gio!” I shriek and giggle as he carries me to the bedroom. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“I’m always hungry, angel. For you, for your food. For this pussy.” He tosses me down on the bed and yanks my skirt up to my waist. “Oh fuck, bambina.”
I wore a skirt and heels because I know he likes it when I dress up for him, and tonight I have on black thigh-highs.
Gio rubs his stubbled jaw. “That is too fucking sexy.” He trails his palms up the outsides of my legs. “This goes a long way toward forgiveness, angel.”
Heat’s building between my legs and I’m already squirming. H
e slips one thumb under the hem of my panties, brushing the very top of my thigh. “And the panties match. What about the bra?”
He’s suddenly gentle as he works the delicate buttons on my blouse, but once it’s open, he throws it wide. “Fuck, yeah.”
They match. Everything’s black satin and lace.
“You’re lucky you’re so beautiful, babygirl. You know that? You’re as pretty as they come.”
I roll my hips on the bed, hungry for his touch. “Why am I lucky?”
His grin is wicked. “Because I hardly want to mark your skin.”
A shiver runs up my spine. I know this is sex, and yet there’s always that added danger in the back of my mind. Gio’s probably a killer. He knows violence. And it terrifies me, but it also heightens every single interaction we have. The risk level raises the heat level.
“But what if I want you to mark me?” I tease, rolling to my belly and looking over my shoulder at him. “Aren’t you going to spank me?”
Gio’s smile is feral. “Certainly. And I’m going to fuck that ass tonight. But first, I’m going to remind you who you belong to.”
Another shiver.
“How, Gio?” My voice sounds husky, full of lust.
He unzips my skirt and tugs it off, then pulls down my panties. “Put your ass in the air.”
I start to crawl up to my hands and knees, but he catches my nape and shoves my head back down. “Just your knees, angel. Keep those tits on the bed.”
My pussy gushes arousal.
Gio keeps the hand at my nape, holding me down, even though I’m not going to move and proceeds to spank my ass. As always, the first spanks are the worst. Hot and stingy. Shocking and loud. Then my body adjusts. My ass warms up.
But just as it’s starting to feel good, he stops. “Don’t move, angel.”
When he gets the lube, I think he’s going to fuck my ass now, but then he produces a bulbous stainless steel object. I’ve never seen one in real life before, but there’s no doubt what it is. I blush just at the sight of it.
“Here’s what’s going to happen, beautiful.” He dribbles lubricant over my asshole and then swirls the tip of the buttplug in it. “You’re going to wear this while you cook my dinner.” He pushes it against my opening, forcing it in an inch, and I mewl at the intrusion. “And I’m going to watch you prance around my kitchen in nothing but your sexy thigh highs, bra and this plug. Deep breath.”