by Jo Leigh
Laughing, she stripped, and he was so quick to lift her onto the bed, she still had one shoe on. Her lust-addled brain somehow noticed that the comforter and top sheet had been folded neatly at the foot. “So I’m a sure thing, am I?”
“Not at all,” he said. “I’m just an eternal optimist.” He rolled the two of them over so that she was lying on top of him.
“Is this a hint?”
His dark eyebrows came down for a second before he grinned. “Not intentionally. I want to do everything with you, although not necessarily all in one night.”
“I think that would be quite ambitious.”
“Ah, to be seventeen again,” he said.
“Hmm, so you at seventeen meant—”
“Not talking about that.’
Sara laughed. It turned into a sigh as he touched her again, down and around, finally landing on her butt, which he kneaded, spreading her just enough to feel wicked. The motion also managed to move her against his cock.
“Sara, we have to stop,” he said, doing just that.
“Problem?”
“Uh-uh.” He leaned up, kissed her again, quickly this time, then rolled them both on their sides. Reaching over her, he had to really stretch, which trapped her face against his neck. She used the opportunity to breathe in deeply, welcoming the scent of him, something woodsy with a subtle hint of citrus. She loved that she had to get this close to really identify the scent. He should give lessons on how to apply cologne.
“Got it,” he said. “Oh, sorry. Did I just strangle you?”
“It wasn’t life threatening, so we’re okay.”
His smile was sweet, which didn’t match the fire in his eyes. “Good. I have plans for you.”
“Such as?”
“Be patient. It could be a...surprise.”
Sara grinned when he kind of messed up the last word. “I’m beginning to suspect you can’t hold your liquor at all.”
“You’re partly right. I’m a wine kind of guy.”
“So, this evening was solely for me?”
“I managed to eke out a decent time.”
Her laugh had him shaking his head. “I was pacing myself. Holding back for the main event.”
“Oh,” she said, arching her brows, all innocent. “You have some Jameson 18 in that fancy kitchen of yours?”
“God, you’re sexy.”
“Even when I’m teasing you?”
“Especially then. Now move. If we want to get this show on the road, I need to get this thing on.”
“Let me help,” she said, wrapping her hand around his aroused penis. She could feel the thrum of his heartbeat through the sensitive flesh when she gave him a light squeeze.
He choked on a laugh, then swore. “I ripped the condom. Happy now?”
“Shall I do the honors?”
He practically kneed her elbow in his haste to get another one from his nightstand. “Be my guest,” he said, settling down next to her.
“Lie back.” She pushed on his chest and didn’t even look when he grunted as he landed, too caught up in opening the packet carefully.
When she had the round latex in her hand, she thought about putting it on him with her mouth, but the icky taste and the very unsexy possibility of choking were enough to scotch that plan. Instead, she gave the crown a lick that made him grunt.
“Whoa...” he said, grabbing a handful of her hair.
“Fine.” Smiling, she tugged free and made sure when she used her fingers, she really used her fingers—rubbing a little, slipping underneath to touch his flesh, then squeezing his erection once the deed was done. She could actually feel him thicken in her hand.
Finally, she ran her hand down the inside of his thigh as she got to her knees. Since that made him close his eyes tightly, he hadn’t noticed she was climbing on top of him, but he certainly did the moment she straddled him.
“Holy sh—”
“It was your idea. But if you want, I can move.”
“No,” he said, gripping her at her waist. “This is great. Really. Great. Perfect.”
Bracing her palms on his chest, she raised up just enough to move into position. “Think you’ll stay just like that?” she asked, bending low to check her target.
“I’m not taking any chances,” he said, holding himself at the base.
She grinned, loving that he was so excited he’d gripped his lower lip with his teeth, and as she lowered herself down as slowly as she was able, his darkened eyes rolled up as his lids lowered.
Tempted to move more quickly, she forced herself to take it slow, although it was clear she should have worked harder on her quads, and not just relied on spin classes. But what was a little tension when she was making this gorgeous man moan as if he wasn’t sure he would make it out alive?
When she hit bottom, he let out a huge breath. “Oh, my God...please move.”
“What was that?”
His eyes flashed open. “I’m begging now. Seriously.”
Instead of rising, she used her internal muscles to grip him as hard as she could.
It might have been too much.
The second she unclenched, he took hold of her waist and lifted her straight up. Then, lowering her quickly, he stopped her progress halfway down until just the tip of his cock was inside her, before powering up again. Without his grip, she’d have fallen. It was the most erotic rodeo ever.
Waving one hand in the air wasn’t the smart thing to do. He laughed and gripped her tighter, keeping them both in one piece.
“You’re insane,” he said, his next attempt at liftoff rather pitiful.
“I thought we’d established that a long time ago.” Sara leaned down, moving her hips in a tight circle while she stole his grin.
Before she could catch her next breath, she was underneath him, his knees between her thighs, and he’d regained all the finesse he’d lost.
“One thing for sure,” he said as he filled her until she gasped. “You drive me completely crazy.”
Now it was her turn to meet his thrusts, and while she was no power driver, she was damned enthusiastic. And Dom...
He was just damned perfect.
* * *
DOM FIGURED THERE had to be another name for what they were doing. Because he felt everything.
She sighed and his heart beat faster. She thrust, and it was all he could do not to come on the spot. Her touch felt electric; her eyes drew him when any sane man would have looked away. It was as if they were plugged together, creating something brand-new.
He’d had enough experience to fully understand that this was not ordinary. Extraordinary didn’t even cover it. He had no friggin’ clue what was happening. All he knew was he didn’t want it to stop. Desperate to go deeper, harder, he was helpless to hold himself back.
She opened her mouth, but instead of words, she made a sound, her fingers digging into the back of his shoulders, the press of her legs urging him on.
Neither one of them closed their eyes. Until she cried out, nearly halting his hips with the strength of her orgasm.
Seeing her like this, her hair gone wild as she shook her head, her body trembling underneath him, blew him away. Each aftershock pushed him closer and closer to his own climax. Between one breath and the next, it was upon him. His muscles strained as if he were going to tear himself apart, his jaw so tight he could only groan, and he just kept coming.
It felt like a moment and an aeon until his body stopped straining. Until he could see again, look down into her astonished gaze. “So that wasn’t just me?” he murmured, sounding as if he’d swallowed gravel.
She still wore the flush, from chest to cheeks. Even the tips of her ears were tinged pink. Gorgeous.
“Not just you,” she whispered.
/> They stayed locked together for as long as he could, but finally his fatigued thighs had had enough. He was careful, leaving her. Both still trying to breathe normally, although he doubted they’d get there anytime soon.
He should have stopped for the water bottles. Parched as a desert, he tested his muscles, but nope, he wasn’t going to make it all the way to the kitchen yet. In fact, he might end up staying just like this for the rest of the week.
“Yippee ki yay,” she said, so quietly he might have missed it if it hadn’t been between breaths.
Laughing actually hurt. Not that he could stop. When he was able to look at her, she was holding her chest with her arms crossed, giggling like a schoolgirl.
It was the best sound ever.
16
IT WAS A rare occasion that the whole Moretti family could sit down at the table together for dinner—one of them was usually at the pizzeria. Sara would be enjoying the experience even more if her sister wasn’t still treating her like a traitor. At least Ellie saved the barbs for when they were alone.
Sara poured her parents and herself a little more Chianti since they weren’t in a hurry to clear the dishes. “Pop, do you remember stories about your great-grandfather or what was happening around the time he came to Little Italy?”
Giorgio Moretti, known by all as Gio, nodded. “Some.”
“I’m just starting to do some research on a group that sprang up in the 1890s. Did you ever hear anyone mention the Black Hand?”
He stared into his glass, nodded, took a sip.
“They were pretty horrifying. Threatening poor families with all kinds of nastiness, and I even heard they killed some people who didn’t given in to their extortion.”
Her dad looked at her mom for so long, Sara knew she’d hit a nerve. “Yes, my bisnonno knew about those sons of bitches,” he said quietly.
In fact, everyone was quiet. Her dad didn’t use that kind of language often.
Sara broke the silence. “Can you tell me what happened?”
“I only know what Nonno told me, and he didn’t like to talk about it much. They lived in a tenement near here. It was destroyed by a fire a long time ago.” He looked at Sara’s mom again. “Rose, you remember when that was?”
She shook her head, her expression grim.
Shrugging, he continued, “They’d come over in 1894, and Bisnonno was a digger for the Public Works. His wife, my great-grandmother, who was also from Napoli, did piecework, as did the two older daughters. Their oldest son was a cripple, one leg shorter than the other, so he would be outside on Mulberry left to beg, while his little brother worked at a factory. I don’t know what ages they were. Young. Very young.”
Sara topped up her father’s Chianti, and switched to drinking water. She wanted badly to go get her recorder, but she feared he would stop talking. Her father had never been big on reminiscing. Even her mother seemed surprised.
“He was a brilliant man, Bisnonno. After fourteen-hour days, he’d come home and work on his invention. A new kind of counting machine. I can’t be sure, there are no papers left, but my father said it was going to be a big improvement on a machine called a comptograph, although he couldn’t explain better than that.”
“This isn’t a good story,” Rose said, picking up plates for the dishwasher.
“It could help me with my thesis, Mamma.”
“The Black Hand found out that he was building something. When I say the Black Hand, it wasn’t one big organization. It was little groups of thieves and bastards who didn’t want to work like real men. They would copy the pictures from the newspapers. Skulls and bloody knives and nooses. There was no way to tell who they were because, by that time, everyone was a suspect or a victim, sometimes both. But Bisnonno, he had nothing to pay, and no one to explain that his machine wasn’t even completely built. They barely lived hand to mouth, and they ended up eating spoiled food that the crippled boy would beg from the nearby pushcarts. It was no way to live.
“Then came the cholera, and the little girl died, and the threats, even with all the death around, got worse. They lived on the fourth floor. In one room. A fire swept through the building, and some said it was one of the lamps that tipped over, but everyone knew it was a lesson for those who didn’t pay. The rest of the family lived in even worse conditions, but my great-grandfather’s brother, his wife and two of his children died in the fire. Everything was gone, his machine, the piecework, all their savings, which were so meager it was barely enough to get through the next day.”
Sara swallowed around the lump in her throat. Maybe it was because they were talking about her own ancestors she felt so awful. “They never found out who set the fire?”
“No.”
“What happened to them?”
“They survived. Bisnonna worked at a factory, Bisnonno kept on at the Public Works, but they saw he was smart, and he ended up making a little more money. Enough. It was terrible, though. Nothing got much better for the family until 1930 when Mamma Moretti came over from the old country with her sauce recipe, and then everyone pooled together and started Moretti’s Pizza.”
“Our Moretti’s?” Sara said, and she and Ellie looked at each other, for a few seconds, all animosity forgotten.
Gio nodded. “Somehow they got a deal on the building. And they saved enough to put in a big oven, and that was the start. People liked it. We still use the same recipe, almost. We updated a few things.”
Sara was embarrassed that she hadn’t known the origin of the restaurant, or thought to ask. “That was a terrible story, but at least it had a happy ending. I’m sure a lot of people didn’t have that.”
“The Black Hand was a scourge like cholera and dysentery,” Rose said. “They only stopped when New York police got fingerprinting. It still took a long time to find any of those evil men. But by then, the Mafia had taken over the protection rackets.”
“Not anymore, right?” Ellie said, her eyes wide.
Gio shook his head. “No. Not anymore. Anyway, it’s time for my shows. I hope this thesis of yours isn’t just about the terrible parts of our history.”
“Not at all. Thank you for telling me, Pop.” She got up and kissed his cheek. Then she helped her mother with the dishes, going over her father’s story in her head, so she wouldn’t forget anything. The moment she could break away, she would write it up.
She hadn’t even noticed when Ellie had left the kitchen. Which was probably for the best.
* * *
TONY LOOKED AT his watch. Again.
Dom wasn’t the only who noticed.
“Would you stop it?” Luca looked around the busy diner until his gaze rested on their waitress. “She’s coming right now with the food. When’s the last time the three of us sat down and had lunch together?”
“I’m as sentimental as you are, Luca. Wait, no I’m not, you little princess, but I told you I don’t have a lot of time. I’ve got an appointment in an hour.”
“An hour and fifteen minutes.” Dom spread his knees, enjoying having his side of the booth all to himself. It had paid to come early. It also felt great being at the Landmark Coffee Shop. The three of them had been going there for years, over the course of which most of their conversations had centered on sports and girls. “Besides, you can walk there in ten minutes, so stop being annoying and enjoy the moment.”
Both his big brothers stared at him as if they were going to give him a lecture, but he just rolled his eyes and smiled as his cheeseburger and fries were set down in front of him.
“Anything else I can get you?” the waitress asked, smiling at Dom.
“No, thanks.” When he looked back at the table, his brothers had already dug into their meals, the Philistines. But he was starving, too, so for the next few minutes the only sound was chewing. After the initial frenzy, Dom picked up
his soda and studied it as if he’d never seen one before. “I got a job offer. Sort of.”
“What do you mean, sort of?” Tony asked, at the same time Luca said, “Already? You’ve only been interviewing for a couple of weeks.”
“It’s with New York Adventures. And it’s more of an offer to be considered for the position. There are still plenty of hoops I have to jump through.”
“No kidding,” Luca said. “We check out the events section all the time. Last month April dragged me to a hot sauce festival at the Brooklyn Expo Center.”
Getting right to the point, Tony asked, “What’s the position?”
“Director of Events. They’re trying out a pilot program, sponsoring events instead of just providing information about them. They want someone to spearhead a creative team. Come up with ideas for new and different concerts or shows or whatever.”
“Holy shit, Dom.” Luca looked at Tony, then back. “That’s fantastic.”
Dom took anther bite of his burger.
“What are these hoops?”
He met Tony’s eyes, and even though he knew his brothers supported him no matter what, he wasn’t sure how much to tell them. “Mostly more interviews with whoever’s in charge of publicity, marketing. Probably more that I don’t know about yet.”
“No sweat, right? You’ll knock ’em dead, just like always.”
Dom shrugged. “They also want me to be the face of New York Adventures Productions. If it works, then they’ll start doing events in London, Paris and LA. If it doesn’t...”
Tony stopped his fork halfway to his mouth. “They’re not kidding around. That’s a damn big opportunity.”
“Maybe too big.”
“Come on, you’re not worried, are you?” Luca leaned back in the booth. “This was made for you. You’ll kill it.”
Shit. That was exactly what he thought they’d say. “Look, I’m just starting out. I’ve worked for our business all my life and I’m damn sure there’s still a lot I don’t know. A job this high profile my first time out? That’s a pretty big tightrope to walk when I’ve never even been to the circus.”