Until now.
I had several necklaces in my collection of jewelry, but I never really wore them. I admired this one in the mirror for some time, knowing I would cherish it for as long as I lived.
“I love it,” I shouted.
“Good. That’s what I hoped for.”
We walked into the living room and sat down on the couch. I hadn’t perceived the day as a special day, but realized that it was the two-month mark of our having met. I had every expectation of Michael not knowing what significance the day held, and believed our dinner date was something I would cherish alone.
Once again, Michael proved to be different than other men.
“It’s funny how things change,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Three months ago, I would have sworn that I’d be single forever. Now, I can’t imagine not having you.”
“I feel the same way.” I reached up and touched the pendant. “It’s crazy.”
“It’s not what I expected, but it isn’t crazy. You know, the day I met you, that was crazy. I saw that dipshit dragging you across the parking lot, and I knew I had to do something. So, in my mind, I’m thinking I’ll smack the guy, he’d let you go, and I’d go on my way. I thought you two were together. You know, in a romantic sense. Anyway, the closer I got to you, the more attractive you became. It made me sad thinking you were going to end up leaving with that guy, but I was sure that’s what was going to happen.”
“But I didn’t.”
“I know.” He smiled his dimple-revealing smile. “And I couldn’t get you off my mind. I sat at my office staring at this mountain of paperwork and I knew I needed to get to work, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t focus on anything. I just kept thinking about you. It wasn’t so much your looks as it was me wanting to know more about you.”
“Know more about me? You told me you wanted to eat me out.”
He chuckled. “I said I wanted to taste you.”
“You finger banged me in that restaurant and then licked your fingers. That was your first taste.” My pussy began to tingle thinking about it. I inhaled a deep breath, closed my eyes and exhaled slowly, hoping my charade would encourage him to do something.
“I get up in the morning and take a shower, and when I’m standing in front of the mirror shaving, I look at myself and think ‘what in the hell can she see in me?’ This happens like every other day, and eventually I decide I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. You obviously see something. I’m glad you do.”
“Are you kidding me?” I snapped. “Your eyes need checked. That day in the parking lot? You came walking up and told the asshole to let me go, right? That instant, and I mean right then, my pussy gushed. It wasn’t what you said. It was who you were. You’re attractive, Michael. Very attractive. But what’s inside of you, and you knowing what’s inside of you? That’s what makes you irresistible.”
He looked embarrassed. He grinned. “Thank you.”
Be it our landmark date, the necklace, or that I was simply filled with love for him, I didn’t know, but I wanted to tell him how I felt. Love. Something as sacred and satisfying shouldn’t be so difficult to communicate. I knew how I felt and I wanted to tell him—hoping that he felt the same way—but more than anything, I feared rejection.
I was twelve when I told Salvadore Tarrucci I loved him. He was thirteen. He was wearing a paisley shirt, one of his—and my—favorites. We were in seventh grade together, and it was almost summer. I wanted a lover for summer break, or at least I thought.
Visions of holding hands, my first kiss and getting ice cream together filled my twelve-year-old mind.
He stood and stared. I was sure he didn’t hear me. Maybe he was in shock, I thought. As far as I was concerned, I was the prettiest girl in school, and telling him may have taken him by complete surprise.
I told him again.
He smiled and reached for the padlock on his locker. While he gathered the books for his next class, I decided he hadn’t heard me, because if he had, he would have said something. I waited anxiously for him to reassure me he felt the same way, but it never came. So, I told him again. His face turned red and he giggled.
A month later, we broke up. Although I never counted, I expect I told him I loved him two dozen times. He never returned the gesture.
Bobby Cardone didn’t have a girlfriend. So, right before summer break, I told him I loved him. I was desperate.
He wasn’t.
He laughed.
It was the type of laugh you laugh when someone tells you something so stupidly funny that you almost pee and can’t catch your breath for several minutes. An eye-watering laugh.
I cried and ran to the other side of the playground, hoping along the way that I would just die.
But. I didn’t.
Those were my earliest rejections, but they certainly weren’t my last. From that point until my early twenties, I didn’t bother expressing my love for my significant other. With Vincent, I waited to express myself until I was sure, and fully expected his feelings mirrored mine.
I was wrong.
Although I should have left him over his abusive behavior, it was ultimately his inability to commit that he loved me that cost him our relationship.
Losing Michael would kill me. I couldn’t risk it. I loved him and nothing would change it. As nice as it would be to know he felt the same way, what I stood to risk was far too great. In the end, I chose silence over substance.
He tapped me on the leg. “Hello? Are you still with me?”
“Oh, yeah. I was just thinking.”
“About what?”
Loving you.
“Nothing. Middle school.”
“Middle school?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. Maybe because summer’s finally here. I think I was thinking about summer break when I was a kid.”
He seemed to lose focus for a moment. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have summer break as an adult?”
“I know,” I said.
In all actuality, I was on summer break all the time, but I knew I couldn’t tell Michael. At some point the truth had to come out, but I dreaded when the day would come. With each passing day, saying it got tougher, and the repercussions got greater.
He stood up and held his hand over my lap. “I’ve got something else on my mind.”
I reached for his hand, not knowing what he was doing or why he had got up from the couch. It was late, but I didn’t think it was so late he would consider leaving. He pulled me into him as soon as I was standing, and kissed me gently.
I wanted more.
Thirty seconds later, after lowering me to the bed, he gave it to me.
He lifted my dress over my head, but everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Maybe it was because I wanted it so bad. Maybe I was noticing all of the details that had escaped me in the beginning. Maybe it was that I knew deep down inside that I loved him, and my love allowed me to enjoy all of the small things that I had simply taken for granted before.
It didn’t matter.
I was enjoying it, regardless.
I nervously chewed my lower lip as he reached toward my hips. He hooked his fingers beneath the delicate fabric of my panties and met my gaze. With his eyes locked on mine, he slid them down my legs in what seemed like a ten-minute ordeal. When he pulled them over my feet and tossed them beside my dress, I inhaled a choppy breath.
Whenever I watched him touch me it seemed I even forgot to do the simple things.
Like take a breath.
He stood and removed his shirt. The color of his skin was a reminder that summer was upon us, and the light-bronze color suited him well. His biceps and upper chest flared as he reached for his belt.
I watched intently while he unbuckled his belt and remove
d his jeans. His gorgeous cock swung from side to side as he climbed onto the bed. Another labored breath on my part acted as a reminder of my desire to have him inside of me. I tore my eyes away and searched for his hypnotic eyes.
His mouth met mine, and at the same time, he guided himself into me. His girth made each time feel like the first time, and this time was no exception. I gasped for breath as he filled me with his thickness, and he bit into my lip in return.
Passionately, we kissed, his hands gently touching me, caressing me, reassuring me. He found his rhythm—a slow, steady motion—pushing himself into me fully with every stroke. Our mouths eventually parted and he kissed along my shoulder all the while continuing his predictable—and oh-so-enjoyable—punishment of my wet and willing pussy.
I squirmed while he nibbled at my shoulder, only stopping when he moved his mouth to my breasts. Kissing and gently sucking, he teased my nipples, sending small tingling shocks jolting through me from my nipples to my clit.
I opened my eyes only to find him staring back at me. He held my gaze, lifting his mouth from my nipples and slowly arching his back while deep inside me. With his head directly over mine, our eyes remained locked.
His rhythm increased steadily, as did his force. I spread my legs as wide as I was able, giving him free rein to do with me as he pleased. In a few seconds, he was fucking me steadily, the upper portion of his shaft tapping a tune against my swollen clit.
I closed my eyes.
It was the sex women dreamed of, but most would never know. In an unfamiliar state of sexual arousal, I felt myself inching my way to climax with each stroke. A few thunderous thrusts later, and we both began to moan.
I grabbed for the cheeks of his ass and pulled against his muscular flesh, forcing him to go as deep as he was able. His back arched further. I clawed at his butt. My clit began to tingle. His hands groped at my breasts. My mind tried to catch up with what was happening, only to give up and allow me to focus on nothing. Quickly, nothing became everything.
I felt him swelling inside of me. I reached for his balls and cupped them in my hand. Almost instantly, I reached the peak of my sexual bliss, and felt as if I exploded into the room. My eyes opened and closed repeatedly as he thrust a few more strokes, each one a little shy of full penetration.
My body shook. I cried out.
He erupted inside of me, filling me with his love.
He collapsed onto me. I realized we hadn’t spoken a word.
We didn’t have to.
We both stared up at the ceiling for some time. After several minutes, I turned to face him. “What was that?” I asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Was that fucking, or was it making love?”
“With you, it’s all the same,” he said. “It isn’t the act, it’s the person that determines it.”
“So, in your opinion, fucking and making love are one and the same?”
His eyes remained fixed on the ceiling. “Precisely.”
“I thought fucking was rough and deep and hard, and making love was soft and slow and sweet?”
He chuckled. “It’s all making love if you love the person you’re doing it with.”
“And it’s fucking if you don’t?”
“It is.”
I decided to take the risk. I cleared my throat lightly. “So what were we doing?”
He turned his head to the side and gazed into my eyes. “Making love,” he said.
I fucking love you.
“Michael?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you,” I said.
His eyes smiled. “I love you too, Terra.”
Chapter Eighteen
Michael
Following my promise to Agrioli, I spent a considerable amount of time struggling with what I perceived as right and wrong regarding the anticipated recovery of his son.
I lived in a world of black and white. Good was clearly on one side, and evil the other. Everything I did, I did with the belief that I was standing on the side of what was inherently good. Evil was wrong, and I did nothing if I believed in my heart that it was wrong.
Cap looked at me as if I had asked him to commit murder. In some respects, I suppose I had.
“You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me, right?” he asked.
I shook my head. “We’re extracting a fucking hostage. Were you thinking we’d be met with open goddamned arms? ‘Hey fellas, he’s right over here.’ I don’t think so. They’ll be armed, or at least have access to weapons. Christ, we just sold them a fucking truckload of AK-47s.”
“So, we’re going to kill the same guys we did the deal with the other night? Then, instead of havin’ Italians on us, we’ll have those crazy fuckin’ Bulgarians on us. I’m thinkin’ you need to rethink this, Tripp.”
“Listen.” I stood and began to pace the floor of my office. “I should have never let them take him. You were here when Agrioli came. I made a mistake. I was thinking it served Agrioli right for having his guys try and hijack us. But he’s right. That kid surrendered. Agree or disagree?”
Cap nodded. “He surrendered, no doubt about it.”
“So, we let the Bulgarians execute him if Agrioli doesn’t pay? And remember, he’s not going to pay. If we don’t get his ass out of there, that’s what they’ll do. They won’t think twice.”
“Well, fuck,” he said. “You got a point.”
“This isn’t about money, Cap. It’s about righting a wrong. I made a mistake.”
“I see that now,” he said. “We made a mistake.”
Cap stood, sauntered to the corner of my desk, and removed the bottle of scotch from the drawer. He cocked an eyebrow slightly and raised the bottle. I nodded. My stomach was in knots thinking about the possible options, none of which included the Bulgarians living through the mission. A glass of scotch wouldn’t hurt things.
“How ’bout this,” he said as he poured two glasses of scotch. “We create a diversion. Blow half their shop to fuck with some C-4, and then when they’re all tryin’ to figure out what the fuck happened, we go in and snatch the kid?”
He handed me a glass. I took a sip of the whiskey and considered his suggestion. “They’ll realize it’s a diversion, so they’ll leave at least one man with the hostage. If we time it just right, we can have Trace do a thermal image with a drone at the same time. We’d know if there was one man or ten men with the hostage.”
“Doesn’t matter if there’s one or fifteen. Once we blow the wall on that place, we’re going in no matter what. Agreed?”
“Agreed. If there’s one, we’re in and out. If there’s fifteen...”
“If there’s fifteen,” he said. “We’re fucked.”
I took another sip of the scotch. “We’ll need to add Trace to the team. Have him as our driver and operating the drone. You, me, Trace and Lucky. We get the kid, Lucky guards the exit.”
“There’s about a hundred ways this thing can go to shit. You know that, right?”
I raised my glass. “And only one way it’ll go well.”
He took a sip of whiskey and cleared his throat. “Odds are against us, brother.”
“They were against us in the Anbar Province, but that didn’t get us down.”
He raised his glass. “Here’s to bein’ outnumbered two hundred to one and livin’ through it.”
“Makes ten to one sound like a walk in the park,” I said.
“You know we’re gonna have to kill any of those sons-of-bitches who recognize us,” he said. “Even with our faces covered, they’ll recognize our voices.”
I finished my scotch and walked to the end of my desk. He was right. Anyone who would be able to identify us would have to be eliminated. The remaining occupants of the building would be left to assume Agrioli’s men ext
racted the hostage.
And Agrioli could deal with that when the time came.
I poured another double shot and downed it in one drink. “We’ll get the rest of the surveillance done tonight. Tomorrow night’s the night. You sure you’re in?”
“I’d follow you to the fiery depths of hell, you know that, Tripp.”
It was comforting to hear it.
Because I felt that was exactly where we were headed.
Chapter Nineteen
Terra
Michelle forced a dramatic sigh. “He does sound perfect. I need someone like that.”
I laughed. “You need someone, that’s for sure.”
“Does he have any friends?”
“I’ve met one. He’s really funny. And huge. Like bigger than big. And he’s really nice-looking, too.”
“Huge? Like fat?”
“No. He’s not fat at all. His muscles have muscles. And he’s so nice. You’d probably really like him.” I reached into my purse and pulled out my wallet. “But, your dad would kill you.”
“If he treats me like Michael treats you, I don’t give a fuck. I need a real man.”
“I’ll talk to Michael and see what he thinks,” I said with a light laugh. “That’d be awesome if you two hit it off. We could do stuff together.”
My relationship with Michael was basically a secret. Being able to talk to Michelle about how much I cared for him and what we did together made me feel better about everything, but it didn’t make my concerns about my relationship dissolve completely. I had come to realize Michael was a permanent fixture in my life, and there was nothing that would change it.
Finding a way to tell my father would be next. And, in one more hour, I’d have an opportunity. I just needed to figure out a way to do it without having him react inappropriately.
I pulled my credit card from my wallet. “Here, let me pay for this, and then I need to go.”
“I’ll pay for it.” She raised her drink, which was still half-full. “Get things set up for me to meet the big guy.”
The thought of her being with Cap excited me. “Okay. I’ll see what I can do.”
The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) Page 13