by Krista Lakes
“I'll need that in writing,” I tease, changing my mind about telling her more.
“You got it. Let's order,” Sara says. “I have to meet my client in three hours and I am not going on an empty stomach.”
It's early December, but the tight jeans and sweater I pick out should keep me warm enough. Today is supposed to have sunshine. It looks quite a bit like Sara's outfit from earlier. I smile at the way the jeans and sweater hug my own curves. Working with what Mama gave you, I thought.
My thoughts flash back to my mom for a moment, and I quickly push the darkness that often follows from my mind. Today is all about fun, all about the now, and I shouldn't be thinking about the past at all. I take one last look in the mirror, wink at myself, then stroll out the door.
The piano bar never picks up until later in the evening, so it's practically deserted. However, there is one man sitting at the far side of the bar, nursing a drink.
For a moment, my breath is taken away again. Even from this distance, his dark brown eyes seem to pierce into my soul. He smiles, a wry, crooked smile that seems to show off just how handsome and confident he is.
He waves at me and I walk over to him. Again, his eyes wander up and down my body, making no move to disguise himself. It's an attractive quality, to be honest. He knows what he wants. As I get closer, I see he's wearing an expensive suit jacket and pants over a white, button up shirt. It's definitely nicer than what he was wearing last night.
“Hey there, Vesper” he says.
“Hey there, Bond,” I reply. I wave my hand up and down his body. “I feel like I may have under-dressed for this. You're all dressed up now.”
He chuckles. “It's all part of being a spy,” he says. He gestures to the bar stool next to him, and I sit down. He orders me the same drink I was drinking yesterday.
“How was your day at work?” he asks.
“Work?” I say, forgetting that was my excuse for leaving so early last night. “Oh. Work. Stressful, but fine,” I say, recovering quickly.
“Great. What did you say you do again?”
I draw in a deep breath. “I didn't,” I say. I don't want to get caught in a lie, just in case he knows something about retail or whatever. I don't dare say anything about mattresses.
There's a pause between us. “Fair enough,” he says when he finally figures out that I'm not talking.
“How about yourself?” I ask.
He makes a tsk tsk sound. “I'll tell you, if you tell me,” he says.
My drink arrives. I raise my glass to cheers him and say, “I guess we're at an impasse, then.”
He clinks my glass. “I'm usually better at negotiation than this.”
I sip at my drink. “Maybe it's time to try a different negotiation strategy.” I wonder just how many negotiation strategies he knows. Probably not all of them nice ones. That comes with being in the mafia.
He thinks about that for a moment. “My name's Dante,” he says.
“That's not a very good negotiation tactic.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “I guess I can keep calling you Vesper, then...”
He sounds like he's starting to give up the fight. I can throw him a bone here. “Lucia.” I go with my middle name. That should be safe enough. “Or, at least that's what it says on my driver's license.” As one of my names.
His eyes light up. “Lucia. That's good to know. And it's good to know that you have a driver's license.”
I laugh. “So maybe I'm not as much of a rebel as I pretend to be. You, on the other hand, are still drinking in this bar.”
“I told you, I own it,” he says, this time much more matter-of-factly.
I roll my eyes. It's an act, because I do actually believe him. “Well then, Bond, should we spend the entire evening here so that you can get free drinks?”
He can't help but grin. “I had a better idea, Vesper. How often do you go to Central Park?”
“Never.” Like most people who live in New York, I try to avoid the tourist traps.
“Then this should be a lot of fun.”
Of course he has a limo waiting outside for us, one that I didn't even see him call. And of course he has a change of clothes in there.
The Russo Family likes to flaunt their status. They may be hurting for cash flow, but they won't let the rest of the world see that.
“Do you mind? I don't want to be overdressed for this date,” he asks.
I laugh. “You want me to turn around?”
He shrugs. “Look out the window. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about me.”
I can tell he's just teasing me, but I look out the window anyway. “Okay, I'm looking at some boring buildings instead of you.”
“Good,” he says. I can still see him in the reflection of the glass, and as he takes off his jacket and unbuttons his shirt. I like what I see. He's in great shape, with a set of muscular pecs and a six pack of abs. He throws on a soft t shirt and a light jacket over that. I try not to peek too much as he quickly slides into a pair of jeans. The fancy suit is tossed carelessly to the side. I wonder if he just came from a meeting.
“Okay, you can look now,” he says.
I make an exaggerated look of surprise when I see his transformation. “That was quick.”
He smiles. “I don't want to waste your time, Vesper.”
I laugh. “So this is a date, now?”
“If you want it to be,” he says with a shrug.
“Hey, your words, not mine,” I say.
When the limo gets to Central Park, I let him help me out of the car. He immediately walks over to the closest hot dog stand and orders us two hot dogs. “Hope you don't mind, I'm starving.”
My stomach is grumbling as well. It has been a long time since I had a street vendor hot dog. Most guys tended to take me to fancy restaurants on our dates.
We walk through Central Park, our hot dogs in hand. I'm still extremely surprised at how quickly I feel comfortable with him already. I never feel this way with anyone. I'm usually on edge, especially with anyone not from the family. Yet, I feel comfortable around him. It's kind of exciting and wonderful.
“So, why the piano bar?” he asks.
I shrug. “I've always liked the piano. It seems like a surefire way of telling that someone is cultured.”
“And that's what's important to you? Whether someone is cultured? I mean, I can play the piano and I don't feel too cultured,” he says, that wry look back on his face.
“I don't know. I mean, when I play, I feel like a different person.”
“You really do play? I thought you were just talking trash yesterday,” he cuts in. I immediately regret saying anything.
“Well, yeah. I'm not all that good.”
He shakes his head, as if he doesn't quite believe me. “I bet that's not true. I bet you practice every day. I bet you have a piano in your house.”
I can feel my face immediately turn red. How could he have guessed that? “Joke's on you, I don't live in a house.”
He looks at me. “Nobody in Manhattan lives in a house. You know what I meant.”
I nodded softly. I did. “Well, somehow I believe that you live in a house.”
He shrugs. “I used to. Not any more.”
I leave it at that, and we continue to walk, eating our hot dogs. He turns us so that we are headed deep into the park. I wonder briefly if walking through Central Park with a rival crime mob member is a good idea, but I let him lead. I am safe with him. I trust him. I don't know why, but I feel like I would let him take me anywhere.
Chapter 5
When we arrive back at the piano bar after walking the park, he seems excited. It's not that he bounces around, but more that his movements have just a little more energy to them. He smiles more. There's a lightness I his step.
“Come on!” he says as he holds out his hand to help me out of the limo. He's smiling. It's contagious, and I can't help but laugh as he drags me toward the bar.
When we get inside, the pl
ace is filling up. Soft piano music plays from the speaker system instead of from the piano. They must be waiting for the piano player to arrive. However, when Dante enters the door and goes to the piano, the music cuts off. He starts playing some upbeat song and grabs the mic, something that he hadn't done all of yesterday.
“I want to thank all of you for coming out here tonight. I have a special guest joining me. Please welcome Vesper!”
My jaw drops in horror. He should have cleared this with me before putting me on the spot, but I don't think I can back down now. People are looking around and some have already fixated on the girl in the jeans and sweater.
The truth is, I've always wanted to play that piano. I just didn't think that it would happen like this.
I slowly start to walk toward the piano and people start to clap and whistle at me. Dante is such an asshole, I can't believe it. I'm a ball of nerves, both excited and apprehensive, and the whole time Dante just sits there with a big grin on his face. I feel like smacking him and kissing him all at the same time.
When I get to him, I cross my arms in front of me. He just looks up at me innocently and pats the spot on the bench next to him, beckoning me to sit down. I make an exaggerated sigh but sit next to him anyway.
“What do you know how to play?” he asks, putting his hand over the microphone.
“I can't play anything well,” I tell him. Not compared to my mother.
He smiles at me. “Well, you better learn something quickly. A whole lot of people are expecting you to play.”
I look around and see all eyes on me. For someone who helps run an entire organization, this feels strangely unnerving. Still, I manage to blink away all the people around me and just let my thoughts drive my body.
If I could chose to do anything, this is what I'd do every night. It's in my blood. My fingers begin to move across the keys, and I begin to play one of the classical pieces that I know by heart. Dante takes his hand off the mic and puts his fingers on the keys next to me.
I don't know if he has the backup music of this piece memorized, but he begins to play a note here and there that only seems to accentuate my own playing. It's similar to something my mother and I used to do as a game, but different enough that I don't compare him to my mother. I do know that it takes a talented musician to play like this on the fly, and the synergy I feel with him as my fingers slowly play the notes just brings me closer to him.
I lose track of time as I continue to play, shifting from one piece to the next, Dante by my side the entire time. I can feel the heat of his body radiating into mine. His leg presses against me and I can smell the clean scent of his soap. I like the way he feels next to me.
We play for what seems like hours. It's effortless to play with him. It's like we share a mind and every note we play sounds better when we play it together. I didn't know it was possible to have a connection with another person through a piano like that. There are some in the bar who have gone back to milling around or drinking with friends, but we have built up a pretty sizable audience. When I stop playing, they burst into applause. I love the sound.
When I stand up, Dante grabs my arm. He grabs the mic and says “Can we give an extra round of applause to Vesper?” The entire bar looks our way and begins to clap. No matter how many times a man has told me how beautiful I am, I've never felt as beautiful and sexy as I did in that moment.
Dante smiles and takes my hand, leading me over to the bar. Two drinks are waiting for us, and he hands me one of them.
“So,” I start. “How often do you put ladies on the spot like that?”
He shrugs. “That's the first time that I did it to someone else, but a friend of mine once put me on the spot like that when I was learning to play the guitar.”
I smile when I think of him being as uncomfortable as I was just a moment ago. “Well, thank you. I always wanted to play piano in this bar some day, so I guess I just got my wish earlier than I thought.”
He's all smiles, and it seems like he can't stop looking at me. Suddenly, he leans forward, tilts my chin up with his finger, and kisses me. It takes me by surprise, and for a moment, he seems like he might pull back. Then, he doubles down and presses into me further. I kiss back, feeling his muscular chest and abs against me. The heat between us is incredible. We are incredible.
I break from the kiss. There are several onlookers, same as when I had played the piano, though I don't feel like putting this kind of show on for them. I do, however, want to continue to play this music with him.
“I have a piano in my apartment, Bond. What do you think about going up to my apartment to play for a smaller audience?” I ask.
He has a wry grin on. “I would like that very much, Vesper.”
As we ride the elevator up to my apartment, I can tell that he wants to take me right there in the elevator so badly, and that something is holding him back. His eyes look at me hungrily, as if I'm the prize he has been waiting for all week.
Again, I wonder if he knows who I am. He hasn't said anything, so I assume he thinks I'm just a regular girl. I don't know why, but it makes me feel a little bit guilty.
When I open the door to my apartment, he pushes me into the wall and begins to kiss me. Suddenly, he breaks away. I practically whimper as he pulls away. “I don't believe it,” he says.
“What?” I ask. I quickly scan my apartment, wondering if I left out something that easily identifies me as a member of the Savio Family.
He gestures toward the corner of the room. “You actually do have a piano up here. I thought that was just a line.”
I laugh. He pulls off his jacket, tossing it on the back of the couch, and practically skips over to the piano and sits down, starting to play. It's one of the pieces that he played the night before, obviously one of his favorites. I cross the room and stand next to the piano, crossing my arms and frowning.
He notices me after a moment and ends the piece in an exaggerated manner. “Of course, where are my manners? I didn't come here to play this instrument.” Showing exactly what he did come up to play, he stands up and moves to me, moving his hands to my hips and lifting me up. He kisses me hungrily as I wrap my legs around him, locking my feet behind his muscular ass. My fingers go behind his strong shoulders, wrapping around his body.
He begins to walk, bringing us toward the bedroom as his hands firmly grab my ass. Before we get there I pull his shirt up over his head. His hair, which was just the right amount of messed up before, is now even more messy. I run my hand through his hair, trying to smooth it back out, but its no use. He seems to be oblivious to it as he leans back in to kiss me.
When we get to the bed, he throws me down on it. I'm glad I didn't leave a stiletto or something in there. For a moment he stands over me, clearly thinking about what he'd like to do to me. He undoes the belt of his slacks, pushing them down to the ground. I smile as I'm finally able to see how hard he had already gotten through his boxers. I unbutton my jeans and begin to push them down but he stops me.
His lips meet the top of my panties and begin to kiss downward. I gasp for a moment as he puts pressure on my clit through my underwear, but instead of lingering, he keeps moving down. He begins to pull on my jeans, and I arch my hips to allow him to pull them off. He kisses his way down my leg as he pulls, sending shivers down my spine.
As he begins to kiss back up my legs, I pull off my sweater. The white bra and panties that I'd picked that day was nothing special, I didn't plan for things to go this far. Still, he looks at me ravenously, as if I am dressed in the most provocative outfit I own.
He lowers himself over my body, kissing me fiercely. He has an energy that I rarely feel in men, and I enjoy it. He seems to match every movement, every writhe my body makes.
“Lie down on the bed,” I say. I stand up and kiss him, placing my hands on his shoulders and guiding him down. He smiles as I reach behind me and unclasp my bra, allowing my breasts to be exposed to the world. I run my fingers up the sides of his legs, up underne
ath the fabric of his boxers. I bunch the fabric up, grabbing them in handfuls, and begin to pull them down.
He audibly groans as his cock is set free, springing from his pants. His V-shaped groin muscles point down in the most delectable way. I immediately trace the V lines down with my fingers, feeling the muscles attached, wondering how good it's going to feel to have those muscles thrusting into me.
I move my hand to grasp the base of his shaft, then lick from the bottom to the head in one smooth, long lick. He watches me with a smile on his face as I envelop the head with my mouth, looking up at him sweetly.
“You are so beautiful, Lucia,” he says to me. Reverence fills his voice.
I'm not used to people saying my name like that, even if it's not really my name. It makes me feel warm and tingly inside. I reach for a condom in my nightstand and quickly slide it onto him. I smile and crawl my way up to kiss him. I feel him at my entrance, hard and ready, and I let myself slide over him. He gasps as he enters me, and I gasp as well, surprised at how good he feels inside of me.
I begin to writhe against him, moaning into our kiss as we move together. His hands go to my ass, moving me up and down as he begins to thrust into me, going even deeper than he had before. I gasp and throw myself up, kneeling over him as he continues to thrust. His hands go to my tits, kneading them and pinching at my nipples. As he leans up to a sitting position to kiss them, I rub my hands all through his hair.
His hands grasp my back tightly, pulling me in farther as we begin to move in tandem. Our every motion is reflected onto the other, and I feel a synergy that I've never felt with a man before. We are perfectly matched. It's like we are made for one another. I think he feels it, too, because he begins to make grunts that are just so hot. I thought that because of his youth, I would be showing him how to do things, but he knows what to do almost better than I do.
Suddenly, he lifts me up, then rolls over with me on the bottom. I come crashing down to the bed with him still inside of me, and he barely misses a beat. He's thrusting into me, and I get to watch that ass as he fills me over and over again. As he pistons into me, his dick rubs against my clit in just the right way, and I find myself getting closer and closer to orgasm. I haven't felt this level of pleasure in ages. It's hard and fast and exactly what we both need.