by Renee Rose
Stacy’s eyes narrowed. “I gave you a chance. We could’ve shared him. But I’m not worried. He’ll get tired of you soon,” she said and flounced out of the bar.
“Um…” Gina said. “I hope she’s not as psycho as she seems. Maybe he should have told her she was going to swim with the fishes.”
Lexi forced a laugh, but her humor had vanished over the situation.
Damn Bobby for choosing such a loser, anyway. And how many more girls like her did he have in his past?
Although she had never planned on this being a long-term relationship, knowing she might be just another notch in his belt sickened her.
* * * * *
“Come on, girls, it’s time to go to the barbecue at Uncle Al’s house,” he called to the twins, who were sitting at the dining room table with their laptops open, ostensibly doing homework. He suspected the majority of their time online was actually Facebooking, but what could he expect? They were nineteen.
“Okay, Daddy,” Janine said, slapping the laptop closed and pushing back from her chair. “I’m just going to change my clothes.”
“Make it fast — we’re supposed to be there by 4:00.”
Juliana jumped out of her chair, too. “Okay, okay,” she said.
Twenty minutes later, both girls traipsed down the stairs. “Ready!” Janine called out.
“Don’t forget that antipasta you made from the kitchen,” he said.
“Jeez, Dad, you coulda grabbed it while you were waiting,” Juliana said as she passed him.
“Don’t get mouthy,” he said, but he knew she was only pushing his buttons for fun. The trouble with twins is they amuse themselves far too easily at the rest of the world’s expense.
“So why didn’t you bring Lexi to the barbecue?” Janine demanded when they climbed in the car.
“Yeah, Dad. Obviously you’ve been spending all your time with her. When are you going to bring her around?”
“I’m not. I already told you that,” he said, although the idea of introducing them actually appealed to him. The girls would like her and Lexi would like them, he was sure. It was worth considering for the future.
He drove to Al’s and they made the rounds of greetings, the girls crowding in to ogle Sophie’s baby.
“Where is Lexi?” Sophie asked.
Juliana gave an exaggerated gasp and turned to him, her jaw open. “Sophie’s met Lexi and we haven’t?” she demanded.
He rolled his eyes. “We went to a Cubs game together. It wasn’t planned.” He walked off before they could razz him any further, finding the men standing around the grill.
“So what’s the word with the Feds?” Al asked when only he, Joey and Dean remained.
“Crawling up my ass.”
“They gonna find anything?”
He shook his head. “Nope. But they’re going to cost me in lawyer fees, accountant fees and appeasing the nervous mayor payoffs.”
“That sucks,” Dean said sympathetically.
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. Chalk it up to cost of doing business. It kinda makes me glad to know they are pouring their resources into a fruitless investigation.”
Al chuckled. “Right. And I thank you for keeping their attention away from the real crime.”
“Anytime. I work for you, boss.”
Al clapped him on the back. “You’re a good man, Bobby. Your father was the first to drag our business toward the legal activities. Joey followed. By the time our kids inherit, Cosa Nostra will be all legit.”
He grinned. “I always figured I had the best of both worlds—a relatively safe and successful business with the Family to back me up any time I had problems.”
“Times are changing. The more we move toward center, toward influencing politics and building legal empire, the more we keep our power,” Al declared.
He nodded, wondering how much Joey’s chosen departure influenced this new philosophy. In the old days, he felt his portion of the business had been undervalued. It didn’t have the quick-rich sort of potential of other operations. But now, as the second generation businessman, his portion had exceeded all others, making him a million a year, with a healthy taste going to Al.
“Let me know if you need any help with the investigation.”
“Nah. I got it covered. It’s nothing more than a pain in the ass. But thanks.”
* * * * *
“I just taught my class,” she said breathlessly. She had dialed Bobby’s number the moment she walked out.
“And?”
“I went well! At least I hope it did. I’m so excited. I really loved teaching others how to design hair and it seemed like I was good at it! I am crossing my fingers I get this job.”
“I hope so, too, baby. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Listen, I know I haven’t seen you all week. I am up to my ears in a bit of a mess at the office, but I will try to get over there by 9:00, okay?”
She tried to swallow her disappointment. She’d been hoping for a fancy dinner to celebrate. “Okay, yeah. I’ll see you then.”
When 9:00 p.m. rolled around, though, Bobby didn’t show.
At 9:30 p.m. she got a text saying, Running late.
She sent back the simple one-letter reply, K, expecting he meant a few more minutes late. By 10:30 p.m., though, he still had not arrived and she grew angry.
What’s up? she texted.
Sorry, baby, I’m still tied up but I’m definitely coming. Be there in less than an hour.
At 11:00 p.m., when he still had not arrived, she texted, What the fuck? I’m going to bed.
He did not reply.
Furious, she stripped out of her sexy outfit and put on an old pair of pajamas. He had missed his window of opportunity, as far she was concerned.
She sat on the sofa, watching TV. She had mostly written him off, but still felt like she should wait up to see if he ever responded.
Twenty minutes later he walked through the door, looking pissed.
She didn’t bother standing up, to make a point of being put out, but when he stalked over to the sofa, she sat up straighter.
“What is this?” he demanded, showing her the screen of her text message.
Her heart picked up speed, and the unpleasant sensation of being in trouble tightened her belly into a knot. All her sulkiness disappeared in the face of his anger. She stood up, suddenly not enjoying looking up at him. “Well, I —”
“Unacceptable,” he said, tossing his phone onto the glass coffee table. He unbuttoned the cuff of one sleeve and started to roll it up. “I understand I disrespected your time, but we do have an agreement: you are available to me. Not the other way around.”
Her body went limp with instinctual submission to his dominance. Her bottom tingled in expectation of punishment.
He rolled up the other cuff. “I am sorry I didn’t make it here on time. I got tied up with something unavoidable. It was not my plan to stand you up. But you don’t send me messages like this. Ever.”
She stared at him with wide eyes and swallowed. “I’m sorry,” she managed.
He walked into the bedroom and she trailed behind him. He went straight into the bathroom and emerged with her wooden hairbrush.
She stopped breathing.
He walked back out to the living room, sat down on the couch and patted his thighs, looking up at her with the same stern gaze he’d been wearing since he walked in. “Pull down your pants and lay over my lap.”
Her anger had morphed into defiance, but it conflicted with a sense of guilt. She didn’t like being in trouble with Bobby. Not because she feared him, but because... well, she wanted his positive attention. She needed his approval.
Fuck. She wanted his love.
She obeyed his command, slipping her pajama pants down and kneeling beside him to drape herself over his lap.
He started spanking with his hand, her thin lacy panties doing nothing to protect her backside from his onslaught. He s
panked hard and fast, one cheek, then the other, then square in the middle. She squirmed as the fire began to set in.
He paused and yanked her panties down, ripping them with the motion. He began to spank again, this time with the hairbrush, which seemed to at least double the force of impact. She squeezed her cheeks together and straightened her legs, stiffening like a surfboard.
“Push your ass out,” he commanded.
She didn’t move for a moment and he didn’t resume, clearly waiting for her to follow his instructions. She considered ignoring them, but realized it would get her nowhere. She was the one folded over his lap with her panties down. She released her clenched butt muscles and hollowed her back, presenting her butt for his punishment.
“Thank you,” he said. He began to spank again, methodically, evenly, one side then the other, right on the place where cheek met thigh.
She began to sweat, panting and wriggling over his lap.
“I’m sorry!” she gasped when it hurt too much to take any more, reaching back to try to cover her butt. Bobby grabbed her wrist and bent her arm behind her back, pinning it there while he continued to apply rapid fire smacks to the lower half of her bottom. To her surprise, he shifted the grasp on her wrist so he held her hand instead, as if offering tenderness or support while he spanked so hard she wanted to crawl out of her skin.
She whimpered, the first sound she’d allowed to come out of her clamped lips. After another minute of steady spanking, her stoicism crumbled and she began to vocalize, emitting little cries and whimpers as he showed no sign of ceasing.
“I’m sorry!” she repeated.
“Sorry for what?” he asked, stopping the spanking and tracing a circle around her ass with the smooth surface of the back of the hairbrush.
“Sorry for pissing you off?”
“Wrong answer,” he said grimly, resuming the steady tattoo on her already sore ass. “Sorry for pissing me off means you don’t think you did anything wrong.”
She kicked her legs, panicked, certain she could not take any more. He clamped one leg over the top of hers to pin them down, locking her in place for his discipline.
“Bobby!” she shrieked. “I’m sorry!” She searched for the right words, her brain too occupied with the fire on her ass to work straight. “I’m sorry I cursed?” She kept groping. “Sorry I disrespected you! I do respect you, Bobby, I do! I respect you more than anyone!” Tears choked her voice, not from the paddling, but from remorse. “I don’t want you mad at me,” she said, a sob breaking free. “Please don’t be mad at me!”
He did not pause in the spanking, but he lightened the force, not that each strike did not still send ripples of pain when applied to her swollen, tender flesh. She lay still for it, giving up on her useless resistance, accepting whatever punishment he had to give.
“I’m sorry.” She wept, letting go completely as the torrent of tears and sobs released. She did not notice the spanking had stopped until Bobby’s hand tangled in her hair in an unhurried caress that seemed to tell her to go on bawling, that he accepted her tears as penance.
I gave the spanking, I can take the tears.
She had never let herself cry so much in front of a boyfriend before. The intensity of this relationship matched no other. With Bobby, she had been her most vulnerable and found in him more concern, attention and caring than she’d ever received from a man. He handled intimacy better than anyone she knew — hell, he demanded it from her. And he proved himself worthy of it, again and again.
When her tears had slowed to sniffs, Bobby lifted her to his lap, cradling her in his arms, pressing her cheek against his chest.
She wrapped her arms around his neck. “I don’t want you mad at me,” she sniffed, though in heart, she already knew he held nothing but tenderness for her. Still, she wanted to hear it.
“I’m not mad,” he murmured in her hair.
He also didn’t seem turned on, and where before it had been important for her to know his propensity to spank was kink-related, this time she didn’t care. If he wanted to resolve their differences with spanking, she would take it.
“Am I still your girl?” she prompted, still needing reassurance.
He lifted her face away from his chest, caressing her cheek with his thumb. “You know you are.” He kissed her, his lips soft and undemanding, almost reverent, as if she were a fragile treasure he cherished.
“Are you going to... fuck me?” she asked, the word sounding too harsh. Not that she considered Bobby the “making love” type.
“Most decidedly,” he said, touching her nose. “But not tonight.” He slipped his arm under her knees and stood, still cradling her. He carried her to the bedroom and her mind rebelled, not wanting him to leave before they’d had their make-up sex.
He laid her in the bed and left, returning with his phone. He took off his shoes, pants and shirt, crawling over to sit beside her.
“Go to sleep, angel,” he murmured, tucking her against his hip and tracing her ear with his fingertip while he checked messages on his phone. She sighed, exhausted but oddly content, despite the throbbing reminder of her spanking.
Chapter Nine
He spent the night with Lexi, unwilling to leave her after delivering such a firm punishment. He texted Juliana and Janine to let them know he would not be home.
Waking before Lexi, he leaned up on one elbow to study her as she slept. Her thick shiny hair fanned out across her pillow, her lashes long and dark against delicate skin. She had the sort of beauty that would last into old age — fine bone structure, big eyes and a generous smile.
He had to resist the urge to caress her face, not wanting to wake her.
Her lashes fluttered open and she stared at him, surprise dawning. Her face split into a wide grin. “You stayed!”
“I wasn’t going to run off after spanking you like that.”
She threw a leg over his and ground her mons against his thigh. “If I’d known you were going to spank me like that, I never would’ve sent you a snotty message.”
He reached down and cupped her ass, squeezing and kneading it.
“Ooh,” she squirmed.
“Still sore?”
“A little.”
“Good. Every time you sit down today, you’ll remember who is the boss of you.”
She ground harder on his thigh.
“Listen, Lexi. I don’t want you to feel like you can’t ever get mad at me, or express your feelings. Just do it respectfully, okay?”
“So... no cursing?”
“I’m not going to set rules about it. You know what’s respectful and what isn’t,” he said, sounding shorter than he meant to.
She stopped the grinding. “Sorry,” she said.
“No,” he said, annoyed with himself. “I don’t mean to keep lecturing you. It’s definitely over and forgiven.”
She slid her hand over his chest, resuming a slow undulation with her pelvis. “I wonder if this is something... cultural I didn’t account for.”
He smiled faintly, appreciating she remembered not to use the word mafia. He supposed she was right. He’d been raised to follow of a chain of command, to give respect to those above him and to demand it from anyone at his level or below him. Had he taken too much offense from her text? A sense of dread crept in. God, he never meant to be a bully to her. Not to Lexi.
He cupped her chin. “Did you think it was unfair?”
She squirmed away and hid her face, kissing his chest for distraction, as if the question made her uncomfortable. Or as if she did not like to see him doubting himself. “You’re the boss,” she said softly.
He laughed and patted her ass, picking up the cue. “That’s right, little girl. I get to spank as I see fit.”
The juices from her pussy dampened his leg. She got up to her hands and knees and crawled down over him. “May I suck your dick?”
His cock, already standing at attention, surged with delight. “Be my guest.”
She opened her mouth, swi
rling her tongue over the head of his penis. She lifted her eyes to his at the moment she took his full length into her mouth, making him shudder with pleasure.
“Lexi…” he muttered, his voice thick.
“Mmm hmm?” she hummed, sliding his cock into the pocket of her cheek, then down the back of her throat. She gave the best head, and she knew it, her confidence adding to the full experience.
She began to work her hands in a twisting motion at the base of his cock, dragging one up toward the head while the other gripped the base in a tight squeeze.
He groaned. When she picked up the pace, he started to come apart, fisting her hair to control her head. He moved her up and down until he pulled her off, shouting, “God, yes” as he came.
Not wanting to make Lexi wait to get off, he grabbed her and pulled her down next to him, spreading her thighs to return the favor. He licked into her, swirling his tongue around her clit, sucking the little nub, using his fingers to plunge inside.
Lexi lay back, making encouraging noises, but not really getting anywhere.
“Do you ever come when someone licks your pussy, Lexi?”
She shook her head. “No... I mean, it’s great! It feels good, but…”
He remembered their first night, at Plush, when she seemed doubtful he could get her off. He crawled over her. “How about missionary style? Do you ever orgasm in that position?”
Again she shook her head, then shrugged. “I never have, but maybe with you.”
He grinned, honored by her confidence in his abilities. “All right, I’ll take that challenge.”
He crawled off the bed and opened a dresser drawer, pulling out one of her bras.
“What are you doing?” she giggled.
He slid the arm loop of her bra over one of the posts of the bed, then grabbed her wrists and pinned them over her head, knotting the bra around them.
“Ooh,” she squealed. “I’m not sure it counts as missionary if my hands are bound.”
Hoisting her legs into the air, he held her ankles with one hand and gave her ass a hard slap.