Vendetta

by Christine Zolendz

  “Yeah, good call. Tatiana’s probably the only one of the girls who knows where I live. She stayed here for a few weeks. Her boyfriend roughed her up pretty bad one night…so I helped her out.” I take the envelope, I know what’s inside—it’s probably ten to twenty grand for me to put aside for Tony’s extra-curricular activities from his wife.

  “You’re a real stand-up guy.”

  I can’t help stare at her. She’s in my doorway and all I want to do is kiss her but the need to shove her far away is stronger.

  “You’re alone?” she asks.

  Shit. “Yeah,” my voice cracks.

  "Why is that?" she asks in a whisper.

  "I'm the only one I trust." I don’t mean to say it, but it comes out—the truth.

  "Want some company for a bit?" she asks softly.

  Her eyes trail down to my chest and stop and stare. I know what she sees. She sees two names written in thick dark script. Angelo and Giana. Her eyes travel down across the scar I got from a knife fight when I was seventeen, then back up to the names. She takes a step closer and skims a finger over Angelo, then Giana. My entire body shivers. "Someone important?" she asks.

  "They were everything to me."

  Her brow creases. She doesn’t understand. “They are everything to you? Or they were?” She takes another step closer and crosses the threshold to my apartment. Shit, if she stays…

  “Are, they still are. They were both murdered. Years ago. You’ve heard the stories and we’ve talked about—”

  “You had their names tattooed on you all this time? Why?”

  I rub my hand over Giana’s name. “So I never forget them. So they’ll be a part of me until I see them again. So they could live on, here, with me.”

  She pushes past me in to the apartment. Her expression is unreadable. I’m not sure if she’s jealous. I would understand that. She’s up against a ghost, and the truth is, no one will ever match up to either of them. No friend, no brother, and no lover. I’m going to die alone. Just like Angelo and Giana did.

  “If you could have them back, would you?”

  I stepped back. “What kind of question is that?”

  “If you could have one more day with them—if you could—”

  My heart pounds in my ears. My chest aches with fire. What the fuck kind of questions are these? “The day I would choose would be that day. The day they died. If I could, I would jump in front of those bullets and take each and every one.” I can barely spit out the words. “If I could just have one more day with my best friend, Jesus. I would do anything. But Gi? I’d give up everything—anything just to have one fucking night with her—with the woman she should have been if she fucking lived. And my sisters? God, my baby sisters.”

  Fuck my life. I said too much shit. I’m breathless, unstable, and raw. Everyone around me is dying—being hunted like animals—and all I’m worrying about is her and getting her away from it all.

  And she’s standing here in front of me with this deep intensity about her, living, breathing and so fucking beautiful.

  “That’s why I want you gone. It would kill me if anything ever happened to you.”

  Chapter 11

  Felony

  Before his words can sink in, Corrado pulls me against him, kicking the door closed behind us. We fall into each other, tumbling across his apartment. His hands are cupping my head, thumbs on my cheeks, crushing his lips down on mine.

  The shock of feeling his mouth on mine stuns me. His lips are hot and wet, encouraging—no, demanding me to open up for him.

  I want to talk about the things he just said—but I don’t want this kiss to end. For a moment I think I hesitate, my lips are closed and his mouth is pressed against them and I hear his breathing. The heavy deep rasps of it. His thumbs lightly slide over my cheeks and something blossoms and mushroom-clouds up through my rib cage. An intense heat that spreads through my chest and across my skin, and suddenly my body is on fire.

  I slip my hands over the smooth skin of his stomach up to his chest and groan against his mouth. My lips part—just a small opening and his tongue dips inside—and now he’s groaning and tilting my head back, deepening the kiss.

  I swear the world around us spins wildly, and my body, my body—every inch of me lets go, falls into it, and I melt into him.

  His hands drop from my face, instantly cupping my ass and lifting my bottom up until my legs wrap around his waist. He walks us backward, carrying me, until the back of his knees hit the couch and he falls back on it. I giggle into his kiss and he smiles against mine. I’m straddling his lap now on his couch, his hot silky skin under my palms, and all I want is to slip myself over him and ride him long and deep.

  The kiss slows, it softens and then he’s sucking on my lower lip, tugging it lightly before letting it go and leaning his head back.

  His eyes dart slowly back and forth between mine. “Are we really doing this?” His voice is labored, raspy.

  I can feel how hard he is underneath me. I can see the jutting outline of him straining against his jeans. Yes, we should do this. I need that big thick cock deep inside me. “Yes, God yes, I want to,” I say breathlessly.

  “Tell me your real name.”

  “Mallor—”

  “Yeah, sweetheart, I watched that movie. You ain’t no Mallory Knox.”

  “No?” I tease, offering a little grind with my hips, “You don’t think I got that in me?”

  His hands clamp down on my hips, trying to stop my body from rocking against him. “No, no you don’t,” he whispers. “Not even a tiny drop.”

  His fingers spread out and curl over my hips, grabbing two fistfuls of my ass and shifting me slightly over. Now his huge erection pushes right into the center of my open legs. I’m sitting on his cock, and the thought makes me crazy. Without our clothes I could tease him and slide up and down his shaft.

  “Your name?”

  “Judith.”

  “Liar,” I say.

  “Carol.”

  “Try again,” he says, pressing his cock hard against me and sliding his hands slowly over my ass, my hips, my waist. Everywhere he touches I turn to fire.

  “Maggie,” I whimper, rocking against him—the friction of our clothes sending the flames flickering low in my belly.

  “Maggie what?” he asks. His palms trail over my breasts, his thumbs tracing light circles around each nipple.

  “Maggie Greene.” My voice is barely a whisper.

  He’s at the top button of my shirt now, undoing each one, painfully slow. “Liar,” he calls me again, when he reaches the last button and pushes the material up off my shoulders. “Tell me your name,” he repeats, as his fingertips graze over the lacy edge of my bra. I want him to take my bra off—I want his mouth on my nipples—his hands fisting in my hair.

  “Michonne.”

  He smiles up at me, as his fingers toy with the lace. “Really? The whole cast of the Walking Dead?”

  I rock against him again and one of his fingers curls over the lace cup of my bra, and softly dips in. He’s taunting me. I circle my hips and grind my ass into him to taunt him back.

  His body stills, his hands fist and clench the material of my bra. It’s primal and animalistic. “I want to know what to call out when I come inside you.” His tone is harsh and demanding, a growl and rumble of words that make my body tremble.

  “Corrado,” I breathe. “This. Tonight. Just me and you, here now, then I promise you. I’ll leave. I’ll leave the club. Stop working for Tony, all of it.”

  His fists tighten, the material pulling and straining from the straps. His chest is rising and falling fast—with anger or arousal I don’t know—but whatever it is makes my clit ache and throb.

  “Going to need that name too,” he growls. Then with a quick hard yank, he rips the cups of my bra down and my breasts bounce free.

  I gasp, my breath catching in my throat, my body is like a live wire as his eyes roam over my nipples and his tongue wets his lips.

/>   He leans forward, hovering his mouth over a trembling nipple. “Your name, your legal name, and then for the rest of the night I promise you’ll be screaming mine.”

  Fuuuuuck. That promise is too good to pass up. “Sophia,” I say breathlessly. “Sophia Monroe.”

  He hesitates for a brief moment and I think I might cry. Then he’s against me—his mouth hot on my skin—sucking hard on the peak of my nipple.

  I cry out in relief and I savor the lavish attention. He runs his lips over my skin, nipping and sucking, his hand running over my ass, bruising and claiming it.

  My hands are between us tugging at the button of his pants and yanking down his zipper. His teeth rake at each of my nipples, taking them one at time between his lips and flicking them with his tongue, then sucking hard and rough, making me arch my back and whimper his name.

  He raises me up, shifting my balance onto one side so he can push down his pants. His lips break off with my breasts, leaving them glistening and wet from his mouth.

  I step my feet onto the floor and peel my stretch pants and panties down to my ankles. I’m almost embarrassed about how wet they are until I lift up my attention back to him and his enormous cock not being held back by anything—no fabric between us—no people to walk in. Just us. Just tonight.

  His fist is wrapped around his shaft and his eyes trail over every inch of me. “Oh God, you’re so fucking perfect,” he whispers. I watch as his fingers squeeze around his cock, and right out of the top, a glistening bead of precum balances. “I want to see all of you. All of you. Turn around,” he urges. “Turn around and bend over.”

  Goose bumps tingle from my the tips of my toes up to my scalp as I slowly spin my backside to him, then spread my legs and bend all the way down at the waist.

  I can hear him breathing heavily behind me.

  I start swaying my hips and running my hands up from my knees to my bottom until I’m gripping each cheek of my ass and spreading them so he could see all of me.

  “Yes, that’s what I want,” he moans.

  I’m about to lower down into a little dance move when I feel the heat of his mouth and the slow hot slide of his tongue on me. My knees weaken and I almost fall forward from the pleasure of it, but his hands grasp onto my hips and he’s pushing me against his mouth. His tongue is everywhere—thrusting deep inside my pussy—squeezing through the rim of my ass, his fingers sliding in wherever his tongue isn’t. My God, this man ravishes every part of you.

  And he doesn’t stop. Fuck no. He pushes me forward and bends me over the arm of the couch and fucks me with his tongue—fucks me with his fingers until I’m begging for his cock. Pleading with him to fill me.

  I have to squirm away because I’m too close to the brink, but when I whirl around, he pins me to the couch, wraps his lips over my clit and sucks so hard on it I explode instantly. “Yes,” he purrs against my inner thigh. “I’ve been dying to taste you come on me again.”

  I’m wild, now. Ravenous. I lean forward to get off the couch and his hand slaps across my ass as he sits himself down in front of me. I cry out a whimper and face him, sliding onto my knees. Then one of his hands is grasping me hard behind my head, the other guiding his cock to my lips.

  I slide my mouth over him until he’s hitting my tonsils and he groans out my name. On his lips Sophia sounds like a prayer.

  Both his hands tangle through my hair and ball up tight into fists. Slow and deep he pushes my head, over and over, fucking my mouth. He gives me no time to tease or taunt, no room to play before he’s tilting back my head and lifting me to straddle over him again.

  I stretch out over him, pinning him down with my thighs, my wet pussy brushing against the hot skin of his cock.

  His head leans back on the couch, his eyes searching mine. The way he looks at me is terrifying and beautiful at the same time. I want him inside me, filling me up, so badly, more than I ever wanted anyone before. I want this night to last forever.

  I rock my hips slow, sliding myself back and forth over the length of his dick. It’s so wet and hot between us, I moan.

  His arms wrap around my waist and he grinds his cock against my clit. I can’t help panting and gasping. One slight change in angle and he’d be inside me.

  He leans forward, angling his shaft closer, and his lips wrap around my left nipple. I just about lose my mind. My body is burning with need. Desperation. So is Corrado, because I feel him under me, his muscles trembling with restraint. I hear it in the grunts that are coming from deep in the back of his throat.

  I’m dizzy with desire, soaked with arousal. I wrap my arms around his neck, press him against me and lift up on my knees. His lips never break contact with my nipple, but he slides a hand between us and guides his cock exactly where I need it to be.

  Both of us slow our motions, and his head tilts up, his eyes locking on mine. I’m still kneeing tall on my knees, the head of his cock pressing against my opening. Our foreheads fall softly against each other’s, both of us looking down between us as we watch the tip of his cock dip into me. I lower myself all the way down, sliding over him and everything in me lights on fire. His moans—God, his moans—they send shivers through me.

  “You feel so fucking good.” His voice is barely more than a raspy whisper.

  I move my hips against him and his finger, his hands digging into my skin. “Sophia,” he whispers, lifting and rocking into me.

  “Yes,” I whimper.

  “I want to feel you come on me.” Then his tongue is in my mouth and his cock is pushing in and out of me.

  “Oh, God…I don’t think that’ll take so long,” I laugh against his lips. He chuckles darkly, sliding a hand over my leg, between us, right to my clit, and begins to rub me in small light circles.

  I can’t help but look down to watch his fingers move as he pushes up into me, deep. “You like to watch me move inside you?”

  “Yes,” I hiss. “And your fingers.”

  He groans something inaudible from the back of his throat. I can tell he likes watching it just as much as I do because he’s staring between us as well, and his breathing is becoming more raspy and quick.

  “Such a dirty girl,” he whispers, and increases the strength and rhythm of his fingers. “You like being played with? You like your legs spread and me inside you? My fingers touching you. Where else do you need my fingers?” He brings his fingers up to his mouth and wets them.

  I can barely breathe, where else do I need them?

  Everywhere. “Everywhere.”

  “I know what you want,” he says, gliding his soaked fingers over my legs to the back of my ass.

  I arch my back up, wanting to help him reach me—but he doesn’t need help. His fingers find their way, sliding soft and slow into my bottom, stuffing me.

  His head bends down and his mouth attaches to one of my nipples, and I’m in love with this feeling. He’s inside me everywhere, deep, as his tongue rolls and flicks around and around, stiffening my nipple. Sucking and pulling.

  His fingers move faster.

  His cock, throbbing inside me. I feel his balls tighten and his breath puffing out in tiny gasps along my breasts.

  An electrical current hums between my thighs and every one of my body’s cells feels its tingling heat. I grind down on him, and the feeling blossomed and expands. That intense waterfall of pressure is building and building. A hard pounding sensation of heat and small pulsing sparks of pleasure, climbing and climbing.

  We’re both moving faster, chasing the sensation. His mouth is open, pressing hard against my breasts, his fingers so deep I know he can feel his own cock inside me.

  My muscles begin to tighten, my thighs quiver and it hits me—the pure intense explosion rocks through me, erupting deep inside me and surging to my fingertips and toes. I’m clenching around him, riding the wave of sensations and his hips jerk up into mine. His moans are intense and his entire body tightens.

  When my insides stop pulsing, I lay my head on his chest and we s
tay that way for a long while, neither of us wanting it to end.

  In the end, he blinks up at me and my eyes flutter closed. His lips reach mine and our kiss is so deep and intense it feels more intimate than what we just shared, maybe it was because of it. Either way, it doesn’t matter. Because even though I don’t want to move from being on top of him, him still inside me, we both know I promised this is the last time we’ll ever see each other.

  Chapter 12

  Corrado

  Without Felony the club feels empty. It’s only been two days, but they’ve been two really fucking shitty days.

  My body’s all itchy and my gut is in a permanently twisted knot that tightens by the minute. I can’t focus on anything. I forget to eat. I’m even sweating for no reason at the most inappropriate times. I feel like I’m going through Sophia withdrawals.

  I’m probably just getting sick.

  Or—fuck my stupid life—falling in—nope, I’m not saying it. She’s gone and that’s it. This isn’t the life she deserves.

  Maybe I just miss her. Want to be inside her again. It’s not just being inside her, though. It’s more than that. A lot more.

  “I’m gonna get right to the point,” Tony says, holding up a small pair of gardening shears. I’m not really paying much attention to what he’s saying. Focus. I have to fucking focus. When Tony Fretolli holds up gardening shears, you should be paying close attention to what he’s rambling on about. “I’m going to snip the tip of your dick off every time you lie to me, okay?”

  “No! No! Why are you doing this?” a deep voice pleads.

  “Corey, take his dick out,” Tony says to me, pointing the sharp tool in my direction.

  Wait. What? Why is it always me?

  “Me? Why me? I don’t want to touch his dick.” What if this asshole has some sort of wart-infested one-eyed pus-filled rumpleforeskin thing happening down there. I ain’t touching that shit.