by S. M. West
“You didn’t have to do this, you know. I’m content to have dinner with you at the bar or just do nothing with you,” she whispers.
Leaning in, I capture her mouth, my lips roaming lazily over hers, savoring, discovering, unhurried. She sighs with pleasure and kisses me back.
My heart’s thumping wildly at all I want to do to her and knowing the reality is close at hand. I’ve always prided myself on having formidable control and it’s served me well in the military—still does in my line of work—but with Carys, control means nothing, especially now.
“Do you like it?”
“I love it.” She smiles.
“I know we could have gone somewhere or done something, but I wanted to do something to make up for the birthdays and holidays that I missed, and I know how much you love our indoor picnics.”
Even after we moved in together, we continued our picnic tradition. It was our special time together without having to go anywhere or do anything, just be together.
We have countless memories of talking, making out, reading, and loving each other on this very blanket. I want her to remember, take her back to those moments, although I’m certain she never forgot.
“I do.” She pulls back, her fingers lightly lingering on my wet lips that taste of her.
Moving in with a sweet and subtle smile, her kiss is tender, a whisper on my lips, slow, measured, and sweet. When she moves back again, lust and happiness sparkle in her eyes.
“Evan, make love to me.” Her command is soft and low.
With a strangled sigh, I kiss her deeper, longer, wishing I was already inside her. I push her back onto the blanket and our hands greedily explore each other’s bodies, caressing and stroking as we remove our clothes.
I suck on her tongue impatiently, cupping her ass as blood rushes to my throbbing cock, which is threatening to bust out of my briefs. In no time at all, we’re both bare and she leans into my ear.
“Evan, fuck me.” Her strangled moan is like a squeeze to my dick.
Closing my eyes, I drop my chin to her shoulder and exhale on a hiss. Fuck, I don’t know if I can go slow, or if I can even make this last. I may orgasm in under five minutes. No joke, it’s been that long. Rubbing one out doesn’t compare to being inside Carys’s slick, tight pussy, and once I’m there, I’ll make it good for her, that’s for sure, but as for the rest, fuck if I know.
“Evan,” she pleads, her nails digging into my back as her wet pussy glides along my achingly hard cock. “I need you, now.”
Not one to leave my girl hanging, I push up slightly and gaze down at her fantastic breasts with her pink nipples puckered and begging for me. I lower my face to her left breast and my tongue flicks over her bud, tasting her sweetness. Carys sighs, so responsive, wriggling and sinking her nails farther into my back.
“Evan,” she whispers, now running her hands through my hair as she holds my head in place.
I move to her other breast, sucking and nipping at her tight nipple as her moans and sighs get louder and longer in pleasure. My fingers trail down her flat stomach and between her legs to spread her folds, my finger rubbing her wet and engorged clit.
Her mouth opens wide as I sink one, then two fingers inside her. She’s so hot, slick, and tight. She’s mine.
“Sweetness,” I rasp into her mouth before my fingers plunge deeper into her, pumping in and out as I kiss her again.
“Evan,” she cries, arching her chest into my face. Her long neck is exposed, head thrust back and hair fanned out on the blanket. She’s fucking beautiful.
I thrust in and out and she’s slick and hot, tightening and pulsing around my fingers. She moans and bucks as her hands seek and find my cock. Her long slender fingers wrap around me, jerking me off as I bring her to climax. She clenches and releases a strangled cry of my name. I don’t relent or ease up on my hard thrusts, hitting her spot, the spot that sends her soaring like a rocket into the sky.
§
Carys
MY HEART’S ROCKETING AND my insides are on a perpetual roller coaster as I give in to my never-ending orgasm. My body tightens, spirals before I’m falling, gradually coming down. Evan slips away from me and instantly, my pussy misses him, his fingers. I want him again.
He’s straddling me, naked, his powerful, rugged body taunting me. His fingers are wet, coated with my arousal as he places them in his mouth, swirling his tongue around with my cum. He moans in appreciation as his eyes darken into molten pools of desire for me.
“Sweetness, we shouldn’t have to have this conversation, but we will. Once and for all.” His voice is hard and low, not angry, just pointed. He has my attention. Some of my lustful haze dissipates at his tone. “Do you want me to wear a condom?”
It’s subtle, but there’s a hint of anxiety in his eyes. Both of us understand the significance of his question. Before he left, we’d only ever been with each other. I was on the pill and we never used condoms. Then there was… shit, it didn’t matter. It didn’t change things for us. Greg and I always used condoms.
“No, never.” My voice is just as hard and forceful as his, but for another reason. “Nothing will ever be between us. I want you inside me, now.”
His features soften, and his lips claim mine in what starts out as a slow kiss but quickly morphs into a frenzy as his thumb teases my nipple, flicking it lightly, then pinching, and I suck in air between us.
“I fucking love you, Carys.” His voice is gruff, practically a groan into my mouth.
I love that he has a special name for me, a name that only he uses, but when he says my given name, something he rarely does, its significance is otherworldly and brings tears to my eyes. It reminds me of how starved, lost, and lonely I was without him and now, with him here in my arms, I’ve found peace, ecstasy, and home.
“I”—I kiss his taut, warm pec as his eyes peruse my nakedness—“love”—I lick my tongue from one nipple to another and he hisses as I tease each of them—“you.”
We both lose control and grab for each other, reckless with need. Our mouths and hands are everywhere. One of his hands grabs my ass and squeezes, steadying me as his other hand wraps around his cock, guiding it to my pussy. With one measured flex, his dick sinks agonizingly slowly into me.
“Evan,” I purr, my eyes fluttering closed.
He stops and my eyes snap open. “Fuck, that’s my girl, keep your eyes open. I need to see you, all of you.”
I lick my lips as my fingers run down his damp chest and he pushes all the way in. Both of us sigh as he grunts, pulling almost fully out, giving me a second before he’s diving back in. I hook my leg around his hip and rise to meet him. He sinks deeper into my pussy and it’s fucking amazing.
He thrusts into me mercilessly and we move in unison, a perfect rhythm. Our mouths fuse together, his hand tightly gripping my hair and my fingers grasping his tight, firm ass.
“I’m not gonna last much longer,” Evan groans, his teeth clenched.
“I’m close,” I whisper, hugging him.
Before long, the stirring of pleasure increases and intensifies as my sex clenches around his cock. My breath quickens and head spins as my heart rate climbs sharply.
“I…I’m…coming.” I manage to push the words past my lips as a torrent of sensation washes over me. His lips are so close, the warmth of his breath skating over mine.
Evan’s body is tight and his muscles clench as I gasp for air, both of us screaming each other’s names as we come together. Clinging to each other, we ride our wave of euphoria together, and through laboured breaths, we slowly come back down.
We lie silent and content on the blanket until my stomach growls and I groan in embarrassment. Evan laughs before getting up to fix a plate of food. We sit on the floor and quietly eat our meal in the candlelight.
The smell of sex and us lingers in the air, and every so often, one of us smirks or chuckles until our eyes find the other. Then something smoldering and weightier takes over. It’s hard to explain; it�
��s not shyness or embarrassment, but it’s almost like we’re both finding it hard to believe we just had sex, that we’re both here, together, finally.
After dinner, Evan lures me into the bathroom with the promise of a hot bath. I’d never be crazy enough to turn that down. I carefully submerge myself in the hot water and he slips in behind me as he cradles me in his arms.
He brought the fruit in with us and feeds me grapes and strawberries dipped in chocolate. I moan and deliberately take the tips of his fingers into my mouth, sucking hard and long on him.
He peppers kisses down the column of my neck, stopping to bite the tender skin by my pulse point. It’s light but charged, and I whimper.
“Sweetness, if you don’t stop that, I’m going to have to fuck you again,” he playfully threatens.
“And that should worry me, why?” I taunt.
“That’s it.” He carefully pulls me up to sit on his growing and hardening erection, splashing water over the sides of the tub in the process.
“Uh-oh, you’re gonna have to clean that properly or else Ma’s not going to be too happy.”
Laughing, he tightens his hold around my middle and I shiver at both his touch and the cool air on my mostly exposed body.
“You cold?” he murmurs into my neck, his warm breath drifting down onto my breasts.
“A little.”
“Let me fix that,” he croons, his long fingers slipping between my legs to find me wet and ready for him.
He slides me slightly down and my wet pussy coats his throbbing cock as he lines my entrance up with the crown of his formidable erection. As his warm lips kiss the back of my neck, he enters me, stretching and filling me one torturous inch at a time. Having him inside me seems more intense from this position. His hands grip my hips and he begins moving me up and down as he pistons hard and fast into me.
“Oh. My. God. Evan. Fuck. Evan. Don’t stop,” I breathlessly chant, as the tip of his cock hits my spot with every thrust into me.
When I close my eyes, sparks fly like my own personal display of fireworks and a flush of heat spirals down my spine. It seems like just seconds before I’m detonating, my climax throwing me off a cliff to free-fall into bliss.
I sense Evan’s mounting orgasm midway through mine. His fingers grip me tighter, almost to the point of being painful as his thighs tense, becoming steel beams as I experience the true meaning of washboard abs, his stomach like steel against my back. His hard cock swells, pulses, and I feel him coming inside of me.
“Fuucckk.” His teeth sink into my shoulder, and I whimper as the heat from his mark intensifies the aftershocks of my orgasm.
Now
Evan
“ARE YOU GIANNA MARI?”
She stops abruptly and her eyes narrow, studying me from top to toe. Finally, her eyes meet mine.
“Who wants to know?”
Her tone is cautious as she pulls her school books up to cover her chest, her arms crossing over them defensively.
“I’m Evan Hart.” I extend my hand.
She eyes my hand warily like I have leprosy or something, and she doesn’t move to take it.
“Who’s Evan Hart?”
Her dark eyes are shuttered, and in between glances at me she’s scanning everything around her, very much like her grandmother did. Is it a by-product of growing up in the mob? It’s reminiscent of what we do in my line of work, always being aware of your surroundings, alert to potential threats.
A light breeze brushes her shoulder-length hair into her face. Pushing her locks out of the way, she nibbles on her bottom lip.
“That’s what I’d like to tell you. Can we talk?”
“I don’t know you. I don’t talk to strangers; a girl could get into trouble doing that. So, no.”
She turns to leave.
“Wait.”
I stride after her, easily falling into step beside her. I feel like a giant alongside her. To my six foot three inches, she’s at least a foot less.
For every one of my steps, it’s about three or four of hers. Now, up close, it’s clear that she shares similarities with me, but she looks a lot like her mother. Renata was a beautiful woman with a bright smile and big doe eyes. While I haven’t seen Anna’s smile, she’s got her mother’s eyes, and she’s definitely a looker.
In the short distance we walk, several punks have checked her out. My inclination is to warn them, to make them take their eyes off her, but something tells me that wouldn’t go over too well as far as first impressions go.
It amazes me how readily I’ve accepted the brother role, and I don’t even know this girl. All the shit my father did has tainted all the wonderful childhood memories I have, but discovering I have a sister and the possibility of getting to know Anna is the silver lining in all this.
She’s the only family I have left—well, that’s not true. Carys is my family and so are Ry and the rest of them, but Anna is the last connection I have to blood. I didn’t realize I cared about that until now.
“I saw a coffee shop just a block down the street, we could go there?”
Looking left then right down the street and then back at me, she finally nods and says, “Fine.”
She turns on her heel and we walk in silence for a bit, until I can no longer keep my curiosity at bay.
“Your given name is Gianna, but you go by Anna. How come?”
Halting, her head tilts back as she guardedly observes me. Her eyes assess and contemplate while she wrinkles her brow and bites her bottom lip.
“My name’s Anna,” she says stiffly.
“Okay, but you were born Gianna Mari, right? And your mother was Renata Mari, and Paola is your grandmother?”
She hastily stops, ramrod straight, her arms further tightening around her books as her gaze sharpens and her lips form a thin, tight line.
“Who are you?” she asks pointedly.
“I’m trying to tell you.” Sensing her unease and wanting to put her fears to rest, I say, “Let’s go inside to talk. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I know,” she scoffs defensively, although everything about her screams anxiety.
I hold the door for her and we enter the coffee shop, the very one I first saw her in nearly two weeks ago. The place is busy with a mix of college students and professionals hanging out and waiting for their drinks.
There’s a vacant table by the door. I’d have preferred somewhere more discreet, but knew it wasn’t possible. She likely wouldn’t have agreed to it and her entourage, Mari’s men, who are looking on with interest, wouldn’t have let it happen anyway.
This meeting will be reported back to her grandfather, and in time he’ll figure out who I am. It couldn’t be avoided, and I’m prepared to face him.
“Do you want anything?”
“No, can we just get this over with?” Her unease paints her tight expression. “You wanted to talk to me, so talk.”
“Fair enough,” I say, sitting across from her. “There’s really no easy way to say this. What do you know about your father?”
Pursing her lips into a frown, she pushes the chair back from the table. Her body language is closed off and uncertain. “I don’t know anything. Why?”
“Okay, this isn’t how I wanted to do this, but this is my only chance. I’m your brother.”
“What?”
“Your father is Ciaran Hart.”
“And you know this how? Why should I even believe you?”
“I found out not too long ago and had all the same thoughts and questions. It was your grandmother, Paola, who told me.”
She sucks in a sharp breath, her mouth slightly open as her eyes search mine skeptically, perhaps looking for the truth or some sign of a motive.
“She reached out to me to tell me who you are.”
“Why would she do this? You keep calling her my grandmother, but she’s never been anything to me. She’s not my grandmother. I have no clue why she’d say something like this to you. It’s likely some plan and
I want nothing to do with it.”
She gathers her books with the intention of leaving and I gently grab her wrist. I hope I can get her to stay.
“Let go of me.” Her voice is soft and shaky, not nearly as firm as she intends it to be.
She’s putting on a brave front, but I sense she’s lived a sheltered life. From what Coop’s gathered, her aunt was her only human contact. I’m not sure how comfortable she is in public. Her unease may be due to a combination of me, our conversation, and the fact that she’s out in public.
I recall the last time I saw her here, when she very much tried to be invisible. Perhaps she knows she’s a target or of interest to her grandfather? Perhaps she feels if she’s small and insignificant, he’ll leave her alone? Unfortunately, there’s no chance of that.
“I know you’re confused and I don’t know your story or your relationship with Paola, but her story checks out and it makes sense. We can do a DNA test if you want, so that we’re both one hundred percent sure.”
I never set out to suggest a test, although I usually would have one done to make sure. Strangely, in this case—and I don’t know why—I believe she’s my sister. I don’t need science to tell me so.
Also, knowing what I now know about my father, this fits. He destroyed enough lives that adding two more—Renata Mari and their child—isn’t that far of a stretch.
“You’d do that?” She’s now interested, sitting back down and facing me head on.
“Yes. Anna, I know you’re my sister, but if you need proof, I’ll get it. More importantly, Paola fears for your safety. That’s why she came to me.”
“What? She’s worried about me?” She’s incredulous.
“With your aunt dying”—her lips slightly tremble at the reality of her aunt’s death—“and you having no one else to care for you, she feels you’re vulnerable, that your—”
“I’m twenty-four, an adult,” she fires back. “She’s worried about Franco, isn’t she?”
“Yes. You may be an adult, but you have no freedom.”
She swallows with difficulty. I’ve hit a nerve.
“What can you do about it?”