“Me,” I said, sliding my nails into his hair. “And you. Touching, tasting…”
“You all alone in that bed?” Dale slipped off my bra, laying me on the mattress as he hovered over me, moving between my spread legs. “Where did you touch yourself?” he asked.
My body buzzed, aching as he slid his fingertips between my tits, teasing the underside, turning his hands to cup them in his palms.
He moved closer, placing my legs over his thighs before he returned his hands to my breasts, holding them. “Here?” He flicked his thumbs over my nipples, a smile pulling his mouth wide when I nodded. Then Dale pinched each nipple, massaging them until I closed my eyes, my hips bucking up when he bent down to suck one into his mouth. “Did it feel like this, Gingerbread?”
“No, ah…” I pulled him closer, loving the heat of his breath on my sensitive skin and the weight of his heavy body sinking into me. “This…this is so much better.”
Dale leaned up, releasing my nipple, smoothing his fingers down my stomach until he touched my center, sliding the black lace fabric against my skin. His eyes slowly closed the lower he touched me. “Did you…touch yourself here?” He inhaled, bringing his mouth to my hip, nibbling the skin there.
I moaned and writhed against him. My skin felt tight, and the slick wetness at my pussy doubled when Dale moved the fabric down my hips, sliding the thong off my legs completely.
He returned his attention to me, stretching me, his palms against my thighs as he kissed along my slit, sucking my clit into his mouth. “Look at me, baby,” he said, eyes sharp, focused.
I got lost as he watched me, mesmerized at the sight of this strong protector above me, worshiping my body, licking me, sucking me like only my taste, my scent would sustain him.
“So…fucking good… Delicious…” Then Dale slipped two fingers inside me, still sucking on my clit, stretching me wider and wider, opening me apart to taste and take until I felt his fingers hitting deep inside me, teasing that sweet knot, over and over.
“Ah…” I moaned, tugging on his hair, teasing myself, fingers against my own nipples, plucking, twisting as he worked me and watched me, his breath doubling, panting against my leg as he ate me. “Yes! Oh God, baby!”
I came in a thunder of sound, my orgasm cresting, the wave unbelievable, but Dale did not wait for me to recover. He seemed to want me, all of me and all at once.
“Roll over, baby,” he said.
I complied, still humming from the intensity of my orgasm. He was naked and behind me as I adjusted on the mattress, my tits on the pillow, my forehead against the duvet as Dale moved behind me. “Fuck, I’ve missed this pretty, sweet pussy.” He teased me with the head of his cock, rubbing against my opening. The pressure was too much, and I rocked back, needing to feel him inside me, taking the tip, wanting it now.
Dale gasped, gripping my ass as he slipped in, bottoming out in one swift movement. “Fuck.”
“Please…” I said, not sure what I needed, but he knew. Dale knew my body, he knew me, and I rocked back.
He held me, holding my shoulder to keep me steady, guiding himself deeper and deeper. “Fuck, baby, you have no idea how much I want you.” He slammed into me harder and harder, and my pussy contracted, teasing us both. “I want you always… I’ll never stop wanting you.” Dale lifted me, still settled inside, steadying me on one knee as he held my other leg up, and I leaned a palm on the wall above the headboard. We moved together, the room filling with the sounds of our bodies coming together and the low stretches of our voices as we called out.
“Gin…ah…”
“There! Right there.”
I threw my head back when Dale teased my clit, continuing to pound inside me until I couldn’t take the sensation, the pressure that built and tortured and brought me back to the mattress. He followed after me, coming hard, his fingers digging into my hips, body trembling, convulsing as I squeezed him, milked him until we were weak, settled.
Then Dale rubbed his stubbled face against my shoulder, lifting my arm over my head as he pulled out of me, coming around to my front to take my nipple in his mouth again. “This, right here, baby, it’s all I’ll ever need.” He reached between us, touching my wet clit, still sensitive, still aching.
“Dale…” I tried, thinking I could not take another touch but his tongue against my skin. His soft, slow strokes between my legs had my breath doubling, my heart rate rising the longer he touched me.
“You’re all I’ll ever want,” he said, his thick cock hardening again against my thigh. “And right now, baby, I want you again.”
I didn’t stop him when he pushed my legs apart. When he lifted up on his strong, wide arms and pushed inside me one more time.
Just then, I realized my forever was right in front of me.
Epilogue
Dale
Six Months Later
New York wasn’t so bad when you were just visiting.
I’d mentioned that to my Gingerbread when we left the hotel this morning and got rewarded with an elbow to the gut. Mainly because I’d said it loud enough that the city tour guide walking a group down the sidewalk overheard me.
But then I kissed her behind the ear and told her how beautiful she looked in her pretty green spring sundress, how proud I was that she wore my ring, and that sweet little blush went over her face. And just like that, I was forgiven.
Seemed like there was a lot of that going around. Had to be the time of year. Maybe it was in whatever liquor the caterer had spiked the punch with. In any case, I stood in the Carelli mansion, leaning against some Grecian-looking column, head shaking at how ridiculous this place was. I kept a close eye on Johnny Carelli and how forgiving he seemed to be toward Gin. From where I stood, it edged on the too much side.
Kiel rolled his eyes when he spotted me across the room, his focus on me, then his brother-in-law and my new fiancée, then back to me again. When he shook his head, I flipped him the bird, feeling almost like I had a fucking spring in my step when the asshole frowned at me.
Didn’t much care if I was supposed to be nice to the guy since we were here to celebrate his son’s christening. Carelli was getting a bit too forgiving with Gin, and Kiel thought it was funny. To hell with them both, a thought I meant, especially when Carelli leaned toward Gin to whisper something in her ear, his hand aiming toward her lower back.
Yep. That was enough of that shit.
“Everything good here?” I stepped between Gin and that nut sac’s arm just before he touched my Gingerbread. I caught his frown when he shifted it into a smirk before Gin noticed. That asshole wasn’t nearly as slick as he thought he was.
“Oh yes, honey, we are.” Gin curled against me. “Johnny thinks he might have a new host for his show. Isn’t that good?”
“Sure is,” I told her, my gaze on the man in question. He turned to face me, the smirk flattening out as I rested my hand against Gin’s waist. “Glad to hear you’ll be irritating someone else’s woman.”
“Hunter, really.” Carelli slipped his hands into his pockets. “She would have been phenomenal.”
“Of that, I have zero doubt,” I told the man, squeezing Gin’s side.
He watched me, the grin he wore tight, not remotely sincere, and I caught on to what he wanted. Carelli thought he had words he needed to say. I could respect that even if I thought he was full of shit.
I squinted, casting a glance across the room to Kit sitting away from the food table and Kane looking helpless as he pestered the waitstaff. “Hey, baby.” I lifted my chin to our friends’ dilemma. “Kit looks a little green around the gills.”
“On it,” she said, heading toward her best friend. She’d been first trimester backup for the woman since the morning sickness seemed to be kicking her ass, and Kane was utterly useless when it came to his wife being sick because he’d knocked her up.
“So.” I turned to Carelli when Gin was out of earshot. “You got something to say?”
The man took his time, co
ming to stand next to me, his attention, like mine, on the crowd in his father’s home. There were dozens of kids running around chasing each other, and dozens more mafia-looking assholes huddled in small groups drinking, laughing, or whispering to each other as Old Man Carelli sat next to Cara at the front of the room, with her and Kiel’s son, Keleu Michael Carelli-Kaino sleeping in a bassinet between them. The whole event reminded me of something out of a Coppola movie, but Gin loved Cara, and I followed her lead.
So here I was, getting ready to hear what I suspected was some pointless warning from a fucking criminal.
“I got something to say,” Carelli said, his voice low as he shook the ice in his glass.
I expected threats, maybe even taunts that he’d stolen her from me for just a little while.
But the man surprised me, exhaling as he looked down into his glass, taking a second before he slammed it back. “Even though there was never really anything between us…the better man got her.”
I whistled, turning to look at him. “Holy hell. Did that hurt? Like physically, did you want to puke your guts up saying that shit to me?”
Carelli slipped a glance at me before he put his empty glass on the table next to him. “I got zero illusions about the differences between us, Hunter. You did a job I could never do. Not many could, and for that, you have my respect.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him where he could shove his respect, but I decided to be civil. It was something I was trying—civility. Mercy being in my house every day, Tony and Jazmine there as well as we all took a turn in raising that bundle of beautiful energy, had done a lot to help center me. My family, Gin included, had taught me what it was to let others have their say. I’d do that now. Carelli had money and power, but he didn’t have the family I did, and he didn’t have Gin. I was the richer man, and I think we both knew it. I nodded, letting the man continue.
“Gin is a good woman. Talented, intelligent, fucking beautiful.”
“And taken.”
“I saw the chunk of ice you put on her finger, calm down.” He watched my woman, the right side of his mouth lifting as she rubbed Kit’s back and waved Kane away. “You’re a lucky man. I hope you know that, and I hope you don’t ever forget how lucky you are.”
If I didn’t know better, I would have sworn Carelli was feeling down about losing more than just Gin. He hadn’t known her that long, and from what she’d told me, they hadn’t had anything that would have left much of an impression. The poor guy looked ready to cry like a bitch, so I deflected the emotion, slapping his shoulder to ease some of the tension.
“Come on, man. Don’t worry about it. Every man has his one. Gin will be yours. One day, you’ll tell your grandsons about the beautiful redhead that got away.”
“No.” A smile slid back over his mouth. “Gin is remarkable, but she’s not the one who got away.”
“No?” I asked, wondering how blind this asshole could be.
There was no woman alive like my Gingerbread.
He shook his head, motioning to a waitress for another glass. “No. The one who got away is still running.” He took the glass from the woman when she offered it, taking a long sip before he finished. “And I have every fucking intention of catching her.”
Foreword
“Then love is sin, and let me sinful be.”
—John Donne
Johnny
St. Mary’s Catholic School for Young Women
New York, NY
May 2007
I wore my sin like armor. It fit me—all those lies. The sneaky, shitty things I did but pretended I didn’t. All the low-down, dirty things I saw fit to manage for my own devices because it needed to be done or because it felt damn good to do it.
Being who I was, living the life I did, in the family I did, sin and the weight of it were the least of my worries. It never bothered me—not the drinking or the gambling. Not the violence or the stealing. Most of that shit happened because it was expected, having a father like mine. He did the work his father had done. He ran the family. I would too one day. I’d worry about that weight of all our sin when I was an old man. If I got to be an old man.
But stepping into my little sister’s school for what felt like the hundredth time that semester, I swore that weight got heavier with each step I took. It all came down to her, Samantha Nicola, the source of my greatest sin.
“Johnny?” my cousin Dario called behind me as I walked through the hallway next to the cathedral. There was a crowd of girls, some of them in the show my kid sister, Cara, had organized for their senior program. All of them sporting the matching red collared button-ups and gray plaid skirts just on the too-short side to be acceptable by St. Mary’s standards.
I nudged Dario in the ribs when he stared a little too long at May Phan, making him lose his grip on the box in his hand.
“Jailbait,” I reminded him.
“Sixteen ain’t jailbait when I’m only six months older.” Dario shrugged.
“Her father or brothers wouldn’t see it that way, asshole.” He pulled his attention away from the girl when I slapped him in the back of the head and pushed him through the doorway at the end of the hall.
“Finally!” Cara barked as we entered the room, her frown not lessening when Dario handed over the box.
Jesus, she was a pain in the ass. Graduating or not. Kid sister or not, Cara could be an ungrateful shit.
“Where’s the box with the blue robe?” She glared at our cousin as if she thought he had a clue what she meant, then she shifted her attention at me. “Well?”
“Cazzo, Cara, how the hell…” I shut my mouth when two nuns came through the door and narrowed their eyes as they spotted us. “Sister Maria, Sister Agnes,” I greeted, betting the grin I’d shot their way for the entire month I’d been shuttling Cara around and keeping my eye on her after school hadn’t worn out its welcome. By the low blush the younger sisters gave me, I guessed I was still in their good graces. “Forgive my language, but my sister…” I nodded to Cara, who’d dropped the box to the floor and dumped out its contents. “You know how worked up she can get when things don’t go her way, si?”
The women smiled, hiding their expressions behind their hands when my kid sister cursed under her breath.
“Asshole,” she said, tossing a roll of ribbon at my head.
I caught it with one hand, dodging a second roll as she stood. “What?” I asked.
“There was another box. A smaller one. We need it. I put it on top, so I know it was in here.” She glared at Dario, who was facing the door, nodding at May when she leaned against the wall, motioning for him to follow her out of the room. “Hey, pay attention.” When our cousin stepped toward the door, Cara flicked the bottom of his ear and he flinched.
“Fu—” he started, stopping himself when Sister Agnes moved past him. “What’s your problem?”
“For your information, Dario,” Cara said, not bothering to lower her voice. “May Phan is a horrible cocktease, so you can forget about getting into her panties.” She pulled him away from the door and pointed down at the empty box. “Where’s the little white box that was inside this one? It had the blue robe. We just had it altered. It’s for my Mary’s costume. We need it.” When Dario tilted his head, looking lost, Cara inhaled as though it took everything in her not to scratch out his eyes. “The Virgin Mary? Blue for the Virgin, you chooch. The program is about great women in the bible, and Mary is the finale. We’ve already rehearsed Esther and Eve. Today we’re doing Ruth, Sarah, and Mary. I need Mary’s robe.”
“Can’t you just…” Dario swung his hand at Cara’s uniform, pointing at her red collar before he shot a glance back toward the door. “I don’t know…improvise?”
“You think the Virgin should wear red?”
“It’s just a school program,” Dario said, his gaze moving around the room when the small crowd of girls stopped to watch him.
“It’s our senior program,” Cara explained, her mouth tightening. “T
he Virgin can’t wear red. Besides, I put the box in there myself. I know it was in there.” She pointed to the box on the floor, stamping her foot.
Several of my sister’s classmates hadn’t returned to their jobs. They glared at Dario like he was clueless and insulting, so I stepped in, slapping a hand to his shoulder to quiet him before the asshole dug himself into too deep.
“Go check the car,” I told him when Dario laughed at the frown still pulling down Cara’s mouth.
Once Cara was in a mood, it lasted for-fucking-ever. I didn’t need the headache, and I knew the sisters here didn’t either. Cara shot Dario daggers as he went out the door.
I did my best to distract her, picking up the costumes and fabric to move them back into the box. “So, what about Ruth or Sarah? Can you dress either one of them now and practice while Dario looks for the missing costume?”
“We could,” she said, tipping her chin at a younger girl carrying a box of programs to a table near the back of the room. “But the girl playing Sarah is home with the cramps. And our Ruth… Well…” Cara stopped, her eyebrows drawing together as she looked around the room. “I don’t know what happened to her…”
“Who?” I asked, pulling out my Blackberry when it vibrated in my pocket. I was only half listening to my sister. I was more concerned with the phone number flashing across the screen. I’d called it before, many times, but being at St. Mary’s and getting distracted by my kid sister and her friends had put me off my game.
“Did you hear me?” Cara asked when I slid my phone into my pocket.
“No, sorry, rella. Who are you looking for?”
She lowered her shoulders, grabbing the ribbon from my hand before she chucked it into the box. “I said Sammy’s missing. She’s playing Ruth, and I thought she’d be back by now, but…”
A flash of Samantha Nicola’s face shot to the front of my mind, and everything else went out of it—the girl calling me, Dario trying to fuck some cocktease, Cara and her bitchy attitude. When it came down to it, I was a hypocrite. I gave Dario shit for messing with a high school girl, when I’d been looking a little too hard at one all semester. If I was honest, I’d had my eye on her since we were kids—a girl that nobody on this planet could touch.
Nailed Down: The Complete Series Page 51