Making of Them

by Lexy Timms

  “Taking care of another jelly packet.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Saks smirked “What? Have you heard about the jelly packet puzzle?” He put his arm around her. “I assume we’re taking your car unless you want to ride in my junker.”

  “What? No, big bad Harley?”

  “You know what? I think that’s a good idea.” Saks steered her toward the back garage where he stored his Harley.

  “You’re crazy. I’m wearing a dress.”

  “What? You don’t want to get used to riding a bike in a dress for when we drive away on our wedding day?”

  “You’re ridiculous. I want a nice stretch limo.”

  “Hmm,” Saks thought. “You don’t own a pair of jeans?”

  “If you remember, I came here last night in my dress.”

  “Ah, yes. The walk of shame.”

  “The only shame here is how you shamelessly seduced me—on a pool table, no less.”

  “I refuse to feel bad about that.”

  “I imagine you wouldn’t. But you were bad. Very, very bad.”

  “Hmm.” Saks changed gears and pointed her toward the door of the clubhouse. There was something entirely arousing about the idea of being alone with her again, especially as the faint scent of her perfume drifted on the breeze.

  Chrissy’s lips curled. “What are you thinking, Mr. Anthony Parks?”

  “I think I have a pair of gym pants that might fit you, so I can put you on the back of my hog.”

  “Hog? Do you even call them hogs anymore?”

  Saks opened the door to his tiny apartment and pulled her in with the speed of someone with a guilty conscience. “All I know is I want to see your legs spread open on my hog.”

  The tiny fall of her parted lips brought forth a gasp of a breath. Silence, thick and charged with the energy that lay between them, hung in the air as Chrissy leaned her full weight against his chest.

  “Something tells me,” she whispered, “that we aren’t talking about riding Harleys anymore. But Saks, my family—”

  “Christina Serafini, I can’t get enough of you.” Even his finger, which trailed through the hair that framed her face, itched for more. “I’ve never needed anyone like I need you. Just... with all the shit going down can’t we have a few minutes together?”

  Though Chrissy’s lips still lay parted, not a word came out. Instead, her response came in a crash of their lips that nearly brought Saks to his knees. Her tongue plunged into his mouth, seeking out the taste of him as his hands wrapped around her form, pinning her between his body and the door. He scarcely knew where his hands were at any one second as they roved over every inch of her, not wanting to miss the touch of any of her skin.

  Between her legs his fingers dipped, brushing at the thin lace that separated him from her silken flesh. From her lips he pulled himself, desperate for air as she rubbed at his erection still caged in his pants. A quiet groan fell from his lips as she palmed his length urgently, as if she couldn’t wait for him. Her every movement was just as ravenous and fumbling as his as she struggled to tear open the button and zipper of his pants that were keeping him at bay.

  Saks could no longer take the swaths of her body that still lay shrouded under the fabric of her dress. Grabbing hold of the hem he yanked it overhead, leaving her flushed skin bare to him save for the bits of black lace left behind.

  “You are so fucking gorgeous,” he groaned as he hurriedly unsnapped her bra and ripped it free, giving him full view of her already-hardened nipples. She wanted him as badly as he wanted her, and he wasn’t certain he had the strength to hold back.

  His head dropped to her breasts, lavishing each one with a rough swirl of his tongue.

  Into his ear she whimpered, her breath hot and quickened as her teeth grazed the lobe of his ear.

  “More, Saks,” she breathed, “I need more.”

  Driven by the sound of her voice Saks teased her entrance with two fingers, easing them in and out while he imagined his cock driving into her instead. He pushed his fingers inside deeper and curled them to hit her g-spot.

  “Oh,” she groaned. “Come on, Saks. I need you.”

  Saks sucked her other nipple sharply, earning another moan. He let go, and she whimpered.

  He slid his fingers in and out of her, and she bucked her hips on them, her breathing growing more ragged by the second.

  Again, Chrissy struggled with his pants, until finally Saks felt them fall from his hips to hit the floor. In a hurry he stepped out of them, just as Chrissy yanked his boxers free, leaving him assaulted by the chill air. It only made her hands feel all the hotter when her fingers wrapped firmly around him.

  “Oh, fuck,” Saks groaned as fire spread through him, setting his skin ablaze. The mere brush of her fingers left him feeling like he’d explode, and he hadn’t even had the taste of her he wanted so desperately.

  “You want me?” he said roughly.

  “Yes,” she breathed, “now.”

  “Bed,” he demanded.

  Saks tossed her to the bed, leaving her lying there with flushed skin and lust in her eyes as he eyed the bit of lace that still kept him from her. Any other time and perhaps he would’ve gone slow, he would’ve taken his time and laved her with kisses all over, but not today, not the second time he would have her since she left. Deprived of her for a long month, for thirty days that had stretched like an eternity, he needed her now.

  The desperation in her eyes told him she felt the same.

  He pulled at her lacy panties that looked delicate enough to rip off her in a single tug, and smiled.

  “Don’t ruin another pair of panties,” she said.

  “I’ll buy you more.”

  “That’s—”

  The delicate lace tore free with a single yank. “I can’t help it.”

  He stared at his prize, the sweetness between her legs glistening, bright pink and swollen. He stroked her tender flesh, and she writhed under his hand.

  “You’re imp—” she started to say, but he took her mouth in the space of a lightning flash, devouring her lips with all-consuming passion. She pushed at his pants and boxers frantically, managing to move them off his ass and onto his thighs. He gasped as she pulled his cock, guiding him to the wet softness between her legs.

  Saks’ teeth grit as he pulled back one last time and yanked his boxers free. Nothing was going to stand between him and the beautiful woman sprawled across his bed.

  His woman sprawled across his bed.

  Back atop her he fell, their lips crashing together as his callused fingers grasped for her hips. Forward he pushed, driving the length of himself all the way into her damp core. Her back arched, drowning out the height of her moans as she buried her face into his pillow. Her breasts and torso pushed into his chest, as if she needed him to be even closer than they already were.

  “Chrissy,” he gasped. He’d barely been in her, and yet he already felt as if he would explode. She was too much, too sexy, and he couldn’t get enough of her.

  His own moans grew louder, mixing with hers as he thrust in and out of her with needful speed. Down his head dipped, sucking in another nipple sharply as he willed her to come. Around his hips her legs tightened, meeting each of his thrusts with a frantic push of her hips. One glance into the depths of her glazed eyes told him she was near.

  “Saks!” she cried out with one final jut of her hips. That was all it took, the sound of his name on her lips, to send Saks tumbling over the edge with her. Into one another they convulsed, riding out the waves of passion in a tangle of limbs and cry of moans that made it difficult to tell one from the next.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Chrissy held Saks’ hand as they entered the newsstand where Uncle Vits did business. Tobacco and newsprint hung thick in the air and caused her nose to wrinkle. Racks of magazines filled one short wall while glass counters were filled with boxes of cigars, and cigarettes hung like puzzle boxes on the back wall.

 
; It was a small place on Main Street, Westfield, with barely enough room for several people on the floor. But long association with the Serafini told her that this was not where the action happened.

  “Hi, Dave,” Saks greeted the man behind the counter, who was busy ripping mastheads from old papers. “I’m here to see Uncle Vits.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed on Chrissy. “Who’s that?”

  “My fiancée.”

  “Congrats. Let me check,” Dave said. He picked up the handset for an old landline phone.

  “Anthony is here to see you. Yeah, that Anthony.” He hung up the phone. “Okay, you can go back.”

  “Thanks, Dave.”

  A buzzer sounded, and a door in the paneling at the end of the shop opened.

  “Come on,” Saks told her as he pulled the door open. The room they entered was large, and filled with tables lined with old-fashioned landline phones. All of that space and all of those tools, though, and it was devoid of anyone at all.

  “These days people place their bets from their cell phones,” Saks explained, “Vits’ boys work from wherever and deliver their bets to a secure server.”

  “Wow,” Chrissy said. “Nice to know that work-from-home options exist for wise guys.”

  Saks scoffed. “Be nice to my uncle.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll show him respect. I know the drill.”

  Saks wrapped his arm around hers. “I know you do.”

  Chrissy leaned into him and put her head on his arm for a second. She didn’t want to admit that she was nervous, but her stomach churned uncomfortably. From what Saks said Vits was against their marriage, even though he was the one who’d initiated their meeting.

  At the end of the room, a young man stood at another door.

  “Sal,” Saks said with a nod.

  “Anthony,” the man replied. “He’s waiting.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sal knocked on the door and then opened it.

  Vittorio Rocco sat behind a beat-up wooden desk, looking over a ledger book. Another man stood over his shoulder. Vits looked up and handed the book to the man.

  “Later,” he said.

  “Yes, Mr. Rocco.” The man passed by them to leave the office and Vits sat back in his chair, looking over both of them.

  “So, Anthony, why are you here? And why is the Serafini girl with you?” His eyes narrowed in disapproval.

  Chrissy resisted the urge to pop off at the head of Anthony’s family. She cared more about her own family’s reaction, but when she and Saks married Vits would be part of that. And that seemed strange to her. All these years, Vits was the enemy. Now, she might have to spend holidays with him.

  “You were right all along, Uncle Vits.”

  “I was,” Vits asked with suspicion.

  “Yes. Chrissy is the right woman for me. We’re getting married.”

  “What!” A vein on the man’s forehead looked ready to pop.

  “You can stop being indignant about it,” Saks scolded. “I made up my mind. And if the family doesn’t get behind this, Chrissy and I are perfectly willing to move away.”

  “You would, eh?” Vits challenged, his voice all gravel and grit.

  Saks said nothing, but locked his eyes with Vits. Chrissy held onto Saks' arm as the two men continued their stare-down. Chrissy wondered how long this would go on as the tension in the room climbed. She squeezed Saks’ arm, but he didn’t react. He just kept staring at his uncle. Finally, Vits looked away.

  “Well,” he said. “I’m not the one that you have to convince.”

  “No?” Saks said, arching his brow.

  “It’s that one’s grandfather.”

  “That’s Chrissy. She’s going to be my wife, and I’ll thank you to refer to her by her first name.”

  Vits nodded his head and drew his lips into a tight line. “Yeah,” he said roughly. “So, you love this girl?”

  “Vits,” Saks warned.

  “Of course, you do. You wouldn’t come to me like this if you didn’t. Well, congratulations.”

  “We want you to know, but that’s not why we’re here.”

  “Oh?”

  “Chrissy’s father is in the hospital.”

  “Yeah, I'm aware.”

  “But also, Pandolfo Serafini has left the state. We aren’t sure where he is.”

  “And?”

  “There’s no one to mind the store,” Chrissy explained.

  “That seems like a Serafini problem.”

  “It’s your problem, too, because trouble within the Serafini ranks will spread out to the Roccos, too.”

  “And now,” Chrissy went on, “since we’re to be family, I’d like to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

  Vits spread his hands. “What do you want from me?”

  “You have a first-class medic on staff,” Saks said. “We’d like him to care for Chrissy’s father for a couple of days to monitor his condition. That way we can show him as back in charge, and make sure he recovers well from his surgery.”

  “And you’d trust me to send this man to help.”

  “Uncle Vits. It annoys my father I don’t work in the family business, but I’ll let you in on a little secret. He’s glad I’m not. Upset me and you’ll lose your most trusted advisor, and you’ll also lose your place at our dinner table.”

  “That is a low blow, Anthony, threatening to withhold your mother’s food.”

  “It won’t be my father pressing for it. My mother will let no one get in the way of my happiness, even if her last name used to be Rocco.”

  A sigh escaped Vits’ lips as he looked to Chrissy. “You look like your grandmother. She was a beautiful woman. And a spitfire. No one was going to get in her way. You take after her, yes?”

  Saks put his arm tightly around her.

  “Some people have said so,” Chrissy replied with a curl of her lips.

  Vits cleared some phlegm from his throat and turned his gaze to Saks. “I see you thought this out. And you could do worse than marrying this young woman.” He smiled warmly at Saks. “You always were intelligent, probably too smart to hang out with a bunch of old goombahs.” He waved his hand. “Congratulations, you two. I wish you the best.”

  “And you’ll help as I asked?” Saks asked.

  “Yes. Yes. You call when Serafini is on his way home. I’ll get my guy over there.”

  “Thank you, Uncle Vits.”

  “And one last thing. Did you get her a ring?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Well, I said I would get you one.” He opened the top drawer of his desk and fumbled around. Finally, he pulled out a blue velvet box.

  “It’s not brand-new, but never worn.”

  Chrissy stared at the box.

  “Go ahead, young lady. This isn’t what I would have gotten for you, but seeing how you are so much like your grandmother, I think it’s right.”

  She looked at Saks, and he shrugged.

  Chrissy picked it up off the desk and opened it.

  She stood stunned as she gazed at the contents of the box. It was gorgeous.

  The round-cut center stone set in platinum had to be at least a carat, and the round diamonds at either side a quarter carat each. They had to be the brightest diamonds she’d ever seen. “Oh, Mr. Rocco, this is too much.”

  “No, Ms. Serafini. I think this is very right.”

  A tear trickled down her cheek. She barely remembered her grandmother, because she died when Chrissy was young. But this kind of ring bought on the hope of a promise not yet made by a young man meant only one thing.

  He’d loved her very much.

  A tear trickled down her cheek when she thought about how Vittorio Rocco lost the woman he loved and lived without her all those years. Swallowing hard she looked up at Saks, and promised herself that would never happen to him.

  “I’ll treasure it always.”

  “Well,” Vits said roughly, “do with it what you want. Sell it, get what you want.”

  “
No, Uncle Vits,” Chrissy whispered. “It’s perfect.”

  He waved them off, as if he couldn’t take the sappy moment. “Get out of here. I have business to do.”

  Saks wrapped his arm around her protectively as they walked out of the back room and then the shop. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and smiled at her.

  “Damn, you’re good,” he said with a half chuckle. “If we stayed a half-minute more we’d have seen him cry.”

  “You’re awful,” Chrissy admonished. “But you might be right.”

  “That’s one down. Let’s go see your father.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A single, reassuring breath was all Chrissy allowed herself time for before stepping into her father’s hospital room. “Hey, Mom. Hi, Dad.”

  Her mother’s eyes widened the moment she looked up to see Saks at her daughter’s side. Saks mused it was hard for the woman not to recognize him since he wore his club jacket. But who stood with her mouth open was dark-haired Gloria. She smirked at them as if she’d won the lottery.

  Vincenzo’s head lolled to the side, and his lips drew into a tight line. Saks didn’t blame him. If he had a daughter who brought home a man like himself, he wouldn’t like him either.

  “And who do you bring?” he said. Vince squinted at Saks.

  “Anthony Parks, though he goes by the nickname Saks.”

  Vincenzo Serafini’s mouth formed a small “o” before it quirked.

  “To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Saks? He leaned on Saks’ name like he was muscling some goombah, giving him a difficult time.

  “I’ll come to the point. Chrissy and I are getting married.”

  “What? You don’t ask me for permission?” Vince’s voice shot up in indignation.

  “You already gave that permission when you offered up your daughter as a peace offering to my family.”

  “Saks,” Chrissy warned as her hand settled against his arm.

  “No, Chrissy. Let’s call it what it is: a damn shitty way to open up the lines of communication between two halves of an organization that never should have split.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Chrissy,” Saks said. “Show him the ring.”