by Howes, Ann
Oh…God!
I stop wriggling and melt instead. Because I give in. I surrender everything.
“But, you’re right.” His lips capture my earlobe and tug. “I should have asked your permission. Wanted to get in fast, in case he came back. I had your keys, we took advantage.”
“I’m still mad at you,” I whisper, lying.
“I was going to tell you this morning.”
Those lips have moved on to my jaw, inching closer to mine. “But then I got sidetracked.” A hand slips under my top, sliding slowly up my side, leaving a trail of fire on my skin. I whimper and drop my head back.
“I blame you,” he says.
Mmm. God, the things he makes me feel.
My naked nipple pebbles when he flicks his thumb over it, sending shudders through me.
Gianni hisses when he feels it. “Christ, De Luca. You do things to me.” Then so softly, I think I’m imagining it. “You always have.”
Fingers slide higher, scraping over my breast, then his other hand moves up the back of my neck. Fisting my hair, tugging my head back before his mouth slams onto mine. A deep, wet, sensual, tongue-twisting, mind-blowing kiss that leaves me even weaker and begging for more. Because now I know what more is with him.
My arms find their way around his neck while I press against him. Still kissing me, he slides his palms over my ass, lifting me up. My legs lock around his waist. Then he carries me to his room, lowering me next to the bed. Gianni undoes the top buttons of his shirt, yanks it over his head before tossing it aside to reclaim my mouth.
I can’t get enough of him, or he of me. Our hands are everywhere, his under my top, thumbing my nipples. Mine tracing the ridges of his abs and back muscles.
“Get rid of this,” he growls, his voice hoarse. “I want to feel your skin against mine.” Up goes my top and when it’s gone, he stops for a moment, raking his eyes over my body. They’re burning but when they hit my swollen nipples, they flare even hotter. A quick shove, and I’m lying flat on his bed. Shoes are next, then he drops his trousers and boxers to the floor.
Holy fizz pops, how can a man be so fucking perfect and hot naked, and right now, he wants me.
Me!
Before I have a chance to feast my eyes on his beautiful, hard cock, he unbuttons my pants and removes them, then grabs my ankles, pulling my legs apart, wide enough to settle himself between my thighs without hurting my knees. A nipple disappears in his mouth and he sucks, building tension one lazy lick at a time. Crazy, exquisite sensations shoot through me and culminate between my legs.
God!
This is so, so good. He sucks again, I arch my back, moaning and opening my legs further, needing to be filled. Needing him to fill me.
“Your first installment is due, De Luca,” he says, eyes hungry and demanding as they blaze into mine.
First?
That implies more than one.
Yippee.
“Shut up,” I whisper urgently. “And get busy.”
The little chuckle tells me he likes my answer while he rips the wrapper of a condom and rolls it on. “Gonna be fast and dirty the first time, babe. Waited too fucking long for you, I’m not gonna last.”
He’s right about that, because I can’t wait any longer either. I twist my fingers in his hair, pull his head to me, and devour his mouth while his hand slides between my legs, finding my swollen clit. I’m soaked and primed and in just a few strokes he brings me to climax. I’m still coming when his cock eases into me. To say he’s barely controlled would be understated. As he enters, his breathing gets harsher and with each thrust I sense him get closer to losing it.
“Christ, you feel good.” His voice is thick and growly. “So much better than I ever imagined. And believe me, I fucking imagined.”
Well, shit.
He imagined.
After that, it gets a little crazy. He pounds and I arch, meeting him, trying to get closer while it builds and builds. I’m so close, that when his stubble scrapes over my nipple, I shatter around him again, heels and nails digging in. And it’s a moment after that when his thrusts get faster and lose rhythm. As he reaches his own climax, one hand cups my face while he groans into my neck, calling my name.
He collapses but we stay connected, tangled up with him still inside me breathing hard for a long time until we come down and our heartbeats slow.
I expect him to rise, thinking he’d be done with me for now. Instead, he shifts his weight so his stomach lies against my side and drapes an arm over me. Then he rains soft kisses on the round of my shoulder. His lips are still on me when I fall asleep.
12
Damn crickets
* * *
There’s a cricket in the room.
It takes a moment for me to get my bearings when I open my eyes. If it weren’t for his body heat I’d think I’d been dreaming, but the tenderness between my thighs confirms it’s no dream.
My belly tightens and heat rises up in me. We’re in the same position, his face buried in the side of my neck and the soft rhythm of his breath fanning my shoulder.
Excellent. I get to check him out. A naked Gianni is a fantastic thing to behold. The man is nothing but muscle, ridges and pure male beauty with a sprinkling of just enough hair to keep him real. Only one tiny imperfection, the scar on his shoulder. I need to ask him how he got it.
The French doors are still open and a gentle, ocean breeze blows through. It’s grown dark, but there’s enough ambient light from the patio lamps outside, which I’m assuming came on automatically. At some point after I fell asleep Gianni dealt with the condom and pulled the comforter over us.
Crickets?
Really?
I lift my head and try to move his arm, but it tightens.
“Un uh,” he mumbles and sucks on my shoulder while shifting his position. “Not going anywhere.” He moves his leg from between mine, then slides his hand slowly up towards my breast. “Not done with you.”
God. I shift restlessly, aching for him again.
He’s not done with me!
This does insane things to my heart, but it’s nothing compared to the sensations flooding my body. If it’s anything like what we just had, I definitely want more. I grasp his hand and guide it until he finally reaches the place I need him to be. His breathing grows steadily more ragged as he cups my sex.
Then crickets again.
“Gianni,” I say, barely able to contain a groan. He’s already hard and throbbing against my hip.
“Either there’s a cricket in the room or your phone’s blowing up.”
“They can wait,” his voice is gruff. “More important things to do. Like watching you come.” His thumb finds its way to my clit and begins a slow rhythm.
“Ah!” My body jerks, and I push more of myself into his hand, like a bitch in heat. It’s building fast, curling my toes. When he slips two fingers inside and strokes me, working me both inside and out, it’s only moments before I come undone. “Oh, God,” I cry out, throwing my head back while fisting my hands in his hair as the spasms rock my body over and over.
“Fuck.” His voice is rough and full of wonder. “So beautiful watching you, knowing I did that.” His fingers vanish and I immediately miss them while he rolls on another condom, but then his knees are between mine, shoving them further apart. I feel pressure at my entrance as he whispers in a voice that’s a little shaky the words I so desperately need to here. “I’m gonna take you hard one more time, babe. Next time, I promise it will be long and slow.”
I’m unable to speak but manage a small nod before he claims my mouth and our tongues do battle.
I want him inside so much it’s an ache that only he can fix. I lift my hips to meet him as he nudges in part way, allowing me to adjust to his size. Then withdrawing a little before rocking deeper, repeating the process until he’s all the way in.
The tension in his torso, tells me he’s holding back as he withdraws. Touching his forehead to mine, he asks, “You goo
d?”
“So good.” I barely get the words out when he slams into me, hard.
So, so fucking good.
And again, it gets wild, almost brutal and a little out of control. He’s woken feelings and sensations in me I never knew existed and I can’t get enough or take enough. Before I know it, I’m building again. The familiar tightening grows with each thrust, filling me to the point of overflowing. My legs and sex clench around him as I get there and I cry out his name.
“Jesus, fuck, Shelley. What you do to me.” His breath is ragged and hot in my neck as he slams, once, then again and once more to the root before he stills, groaning as his own climax takes him.
Then he collapses on me and I lie beneath him, absorbing each shudder and his weight while I come down from the most amazing high ever. Both of us are slick with sweat. All too soon he lifts himself off me, moving to the side, but slipping an arm under my neck and curling his elbow while the other slides over my stomach. Lips against my temple, he mumbles, “There’re no words. I always knew we’d be good, but you blow my mind.”
It’s beautiful hearing him say it. My heart swells to the point I think it might burst and I’m grateful it’s semi-dark because I push back the tears and swallow the lump that’s forming.
I’ve wanted this for so long and to know that he got off on it as much as me means everything. Truthfully, it’s the best sex I’ve ever had, but I’m not so much of an idiot that I’m going to ask him if it’s the same for him.
Hell no.
But blow his mind?
“Always?” I tease. “It’s barely been a week since I saw you again.”
“Known a lot longer than a week, babe.”
And…boom.
He just blew mine.
I stare at him, blinking and wondering if I’ve developed a hearing problem.
“This marker thing…I…” Then his stupid phone starts chirping again. “Dammit.” He slides his arm from under me and rolls onto his back, dragging a hand over his face before flipping on the bedside lamp. “Hold that thought. Must be important if they keep trying. Sorry.” He shields his eyes from the light, then fumbles for his phone in his discarded pants on the floor.
As he reads the text he bolts upright. “Shit.”
Uh oh.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Shit.”
He leans over, lands a kiss on my lips. “One sec.” The bed dips slightly as he swings long legs over the side, pushing a button on his phone.
“What happened?” he says into his cell. When I make a move to get up, he snaps his fingers, then points at me. “Don’t move,” he mouths.
Two little words compounded with his others make my stomach flip and my chest fill. Unfortunately, I have certain needs that have to be taken care of along with taking a personal moment to freak the shit out.
“Bathroom,” I mouth back not trusting my voice.
I step out of bed and slip on Gianni’s discarded shirt, pulling the ends close and inhaling and his scent while I stride into the bathroom feeling him watch me.
It’s almost as spectacular as the one at his own house. The shower is big enough for four and encased in a creamy marble with frosted, etched glass doors. Accent tiles, the color of sea foam match slightly darker towels and rugs. It gorgeous and luxurious and if I didn’t know I was in Gianni’s room, I’d swear I was at a swanky spa. But really, I’m not paying any attention to the bathroom because I’M FREAKING THE SHIT OUT.
Did he just admit to wanting me all those years ago?
This is information I’m not sure how to process and while my mind is running in circles, I check myself in the mirror. My lips are puffy and my hair has that just done it look—all wild, kinda like what my eyes look like. My poor heart is thumping a thousand beats a minute.
When I have it somewhat together again, I exit the bathroom. Gianni’s fully dressed in faded jeans and a blue sweater.
Crap.
My bubble deflates. Well, it was magnificent while it lasted.
He laces steel-toed ankle boots, shoves his phone into the back pocket of his jeans, then walks towards me. One arm catches me around my waist beneath the shirt, the other cups my face with his thumb under my jaw. When his mouth finds mine, he kisses me until I’m weak-kneed and panting again.
God.
I feel it everywhere.
“I gotta go,” he says against my mouth, his tone full of hunger and regret. “We’ve got some talking to do, some things to clear up. But there’s a fire at one of my buildings.”
Whoa!
I swallow. “Anybody hurt?”
“Don’t know yet.” His nose traces the curve of my jaw. I feel him inhale before he says, “Promise me, De Luca, you’ll be in my bed when I get back.”
Oh, thank God. Yes.
“I promise.”
“All right then.” Waiting for him to let me go, I’m surprised but secretly overjoyed when he doesn’t. Instead, he slides his shirt off my shoulder, exposing my breast as he lays his lips on the bend in my neck. “I’ll see you later.”
My nipples react and harden at the prickliness of his stubble and hot breath on my skin. Seeing it, he sucks air through his teeth then cups me, pushing my breast up high. Gianni dips, then sucks one little peak into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until I whimper.
“Damn,” he mutters.
Damn, in-fucking-deed.
Before he pushes me away, the ridge of his erection pushing through his jeans against my leg tells me he really doesn’t want to go.
Gianni lets out a shaky breath. “You’re like fucking heroin. Can’t get enough.” He adjusts his jeans and clears his throat. “But I have to go, babe. Thomas is here. Marco will be soon. You won’t be alone.”
“Be careful?”
“You bet.” A last quick kiss, then he’s gone and the second he closes the bedroom door, I already miss him.
I collapse onto his bed and squeeze my legs together. I’m tender, but the ache he just left me with is far worse, and I can’t wait for him to come back.
The thought sets my heart thrumming and my face flaming. The best part about it is I know he wants to do it at least once more. And so do I.
Holy fizz pops, do I ever!
And about what he said. Can I afford to let myself trust it? Just this once?
God!
I want to. So freaking much. I blow out air through my lips, making little popping noises. What to do to distract myself until he gets back? To stop myself from fantasizing about what I want him to say. Because what I want isn’t necessarily what I’ll get. Not in my experience.
I glance at the clock on his wall. It’s only seven p.m. and he’ll probably be gone for hours.
Maybe a little sightseeing is in order. I wander around his room, touching a few knick-knacks. One being a baseball signed by Willy McCovey and a football, by Joe Montana.
Some photos on the wall of a teenage Gianni and Joey in baseball uniforms. They look happy, laughing, perhaps at something the photographer said. I remember Papa was a Joe DiMaggio fan and hoped one of his sons would make it to the big leagues. I’m suspecting that scar on Gianni’s shoulder may have killed any dreams he might have had.
Another photo taken on a sunny day at AT&T Park, shows him, Joey and Papa at a Giants game, enjoying happier times. But when I look closer, I can see the smile doesn’t quite reach Joey’s eyes. The date on the bottom right corner says it was taken eight years ago. Two years after I left.
Having done a full circuit of his room, it’s time to take a shower and freshen up for round three. I meander back over to my own room.
My blood is singing through my veins and I can’t stop smiling while I shampoo. I lather up with a dollop of my favorite petunia-scented lotion then pull on wide-legged black yoga pants, a long, hot-pink sweater and my Uggs.
My stomach dictates where I’m going next. It’s only when I’m halfway down the stairs, I realize Truman isn’t following me.
Huh.
Maybe he’s outside with the rest of the dogs. I wonder if they’ve been fed? They don’t seem to be complaining, so I guess so.
Connie left the first aid kit on the kitchen counter and I change the Band-Aids on my knees, tossing the old ones in the garbage.
It feels weird that Truman isn’t by my side and I miss him. First time the funny thing has left me since I got here.
I open the back door. No sign of any of the dogs. Strange.
I step outside and whistle, then call, “Truman.”
Nothing!
Not even a whimper.
I step out further. The next instant, someone grabs my wrist, then my elbow. “Hello, Shelley.”
Before I can react, even scream, something fast and blurry hits me behind my ear. My knees buckle and the world goes dark.
13
Somewhere over the rainbow
* * *
Everything’s rocking and moving. My cheek rubs against something coarse and gritty that smells like stale cigarettes and motor oil.
I can’t see anything, other than a thin sliver of light and scuffed tennis shoes at the bottom of my vision. A loud droning vibrates in my eardrum.
My arms seem to be stuck behind my back and something digs into my flesh if I tug too hard. The same for my legs. I can move them a little, but I can’t separate my ankles.
Someone, a man, is speaking. Sounds like he’s in a tunnel, and I can’t understand anything he’s saying.
Through the fog in my brain, it takes a moment to figure it sounds like Russian.
Oh, fuck…no.
Dean, or rather one of his goons, since I don’t recognize the voice.
How did he get past Thomas? Oh God…Thomas. And the dogs!
A million questions fly through my brain while my heart pounds so loudly, I can hear it over the droning engine.
Panic sets in and I begin to squirm, trying to kick my legs. I land a blow on dirty tennis shoes’ thigh.
The man emits a loud grunt before something, I’m guessing an arm, coils around the front of my neck. I know this because I can feel its hairy roughness under my chin.