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Second Down Love: A Second Chance Sports Romance

Page 21

by Kara Hart


  “Then cum for me,” she whispers gently. One of her hands drops to my balls and she begins massaging lightly. “Cum.” I tilt my head back and feel my lower half swell up until I feel like I’m about release a bucket full of pleasure. I feel my whole body twitch along with her rhythmic hand motions, and I’m suddenly forced over the edge. I feel a pleasure I’ve never felt before in my life and I’m reeling in it.

  I explode. I shoot my load everywhere. It falls against her hand, dripping down onto my suit. “Oh, fuck,” I moan. “You’re good, baby.”

  She smiles, wipes her hand on the grass, and kisses my cheek. She pulls away from me and smiles. “See you later,” she says.

  “Wait. Where are you going?” I ask her. But she’s already halfway inside of her house. Fuck, she’s tricky. “I still want to please you,” I say.

  “Don’t worry about it. I was doing you a favor,” she says, standing at her door. “Goodnight, Hunter.”

  “Shit, woman. You’re too much,” I shake my head and zip up my pants. “Can I see you again?”

  “Doubt it,” she laughs. “We lead very different lives. Tonight was fun though. Try to keep it in your memories.” She opens the door and blows me a kiss. Harsh.

  She’s good though. Too good. I’ll get her someday. I have to. I’m confident of that much. I walk home with a limp, soaked in my own sex. Well, that sure was a night to remember.

  Bianca

  “No you didn’t, Bianca. That’s crazy,” Teresa says on the phone. “Like, I know you’re impulsive and all, but you didn’t get fingered by some stranger on your lawn, did you?”

  I laugh loudly, feeling my heart rush thinking about it. “I gave him a hand job too,” I say. “I don’t know why, really. You know, for a complete creep, he’s actually really hot.”

  “So?! He’s a total stranger. Not to mention, he’s in the mafia. This is so not like you.”

  Okay, so she doesn’t get it. I’m impulsive and sometimes it’s fun to go out of your bounds. Maybe she’s right. Maybe I should be a little more cautious about how I handle these things, but this trip has been utterly boring and I just wanted to shake it up a little.

  “Yeah, well. I’m only here for a week. I thought I’d spice some things up,” I laugh. “When I go back, I’ll be back for good. I’ll never see him again.”

  “That’s what you think. He’s probably outside your window right now, stalking your every move like a total perv.”

  I know it’s totally crazy, but the thought of that actually sort of turns me on. It’s dangerous, but the way he looks at me tells me I shouldn’t worry. It’s like he’ll do anything for me. And I mean anything.

  I open my windows and look outside. Nothing there, other than birds on the lawn and cars driving by. “Okay, don’t do that to me. You’re going to freak me out.”

  “That’s what I’m saying, girl. You need to be careful. You need to be freaked out!” If she’s trying to warn me, she’s not doing a very good job. In fact, I can sense the excitement in her voice. It’s almost like she wishes she did it herself.

  “Don’t try to play innocent with me, Teresa,” I say. “Remember high school? Remember when you started dating Lorenzo?”

  “Ugh. Don’t even bring up Lorenzo,” she sighs. “That was a complete accident. It’ll never happen again. Besides, that’s why I’m warning you. I have experience in these matters.”

  I laugh and roll my eyes, “Okay, Teresa. Whatever you say.”

  She can scold me all she wants. It’s not going to change the fact that it happened. It’s all just fun and games for me. It’s not like I’m into the guy. He’s just someone to have fun with. A summer fling. I laugh at the thought of having a full on summer fling with a deadly assassin. Is that what he is? I can’t remember. In reality, he was probably just some low-level dealer who hasn’t gotten laid in over a year.

  I’m not like Teresa. I don’t feel guilty for these things. To me, it’s just something that happened. I hooked up with a hot guy and that was that. He’s dangerous, sure. But my whole fucking family is dangerous. What does that mean to me? Nothing. None of these guys would harm a woman. It’s in their “code of honor” or something.

  From outside of my room, I hear the door slam and someone yell out “Giovanni! Giovanni!”

  The house is empty. I groggily walk into the hall, wearing my nightgown, and find Ricky eating an apple and leaning against the wall.

  “Hey, sweetie,” he says. “Looking hot.”

  I groan, wishing I never left the hallway. “God, Ricky. You’re absolutely repulsive. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Sure do,” he laughs. “Think I give a shit?”

  I shake my head. “Yeah, well. What do you want? Why are you in my house?”

  “I’m looking for Giovanni,” he says, taking another bite from his apple. “You see him anywhere?”

  “What do you want with my brother?” I ask him. “He doesn’t need any more trouble.”

  “What are you? His mom? Of course he doesn’t need trouble, doll. He does need to go with me on a ride. We’ve got business to take care of.”

  “My mom died, remember? My father and I are the only people he can rely on,” I say. “What kind of business do you need to take care of? Stop being vague.”

  He eats the rest of the apple and throws it behind him. It misses the trashcan and falls on the floor, but he doesn’t bother to pick it up. “I just want to talk to the kid. Don’t worry so much. I won’t let him get into any trouble,” he says, moving toward me. He puts his hand against my cheek and I shudder with disgust. “You know, I’m not such a bad guy. Maybe someday you’ll recognize that. I’ve done a lot for your family.”

  “Sure, Ricky. You’re a real standup guy,” I roll my eyes.

  He slaps my cheek lightly, as all Italians do, and squeezes. Only, this time he’s squeezing hard. I try to move away, but his grip is too strong. “You better start treating me with a little respect,” he says. “Remember, I’m the God damn boss of this family. I call the shots. I do, not you. Your little family business that your daddy’s got going… I could end that in a second if I wanted to. All those taxes he evaded last year could somehow turn into a real problem for him.”

  “You wouldn’t,” I growl. “My father’s done nothing to you.”

  “I would,” he scowls. “Sure, your dad’s been a good guy and all. However, you and him have been holding Giovanni back for years. He should have been made by now. Instead, he’s a chump.”

  “Don’t call my brother that,” I say. I don’t care what he is, it’s not up to Ricky to decide anything for our family. “He’s worth more than you will ever be. You’re a washed up, piece of shit, Ricky. Now I’m sorry I have to be the one that breaks it to you, but you need to get your shit together without my brother or my father.”

  “Your brother could have been a great leader!” he suddenly yells, face turning red. His eyes are bloodshot and his pupils have dilated. “He’s lost, Bianca. He has no education, no job prospect, no nothing! All he has is me.”

  “Well, he’s not here. He’s been gone the whole day, probably helping you make money,” I say. “So if you want to find him, you better ask one of your goons.”

  “Maybe I didn’t come over for him,” he says, smiling. He leans close to my face. His lips are practically touching mine. I can feel his disgusting hot breath fall across my cheeks and I close my eyes and pray he steps away. “Maybe I came over for you, sweetheart.”

  “Please leave, Ricky,” I whisper. I can barely breathe. My chest feels like it’s caving in. I fall into a full-blown panic attack and I am totally freaking out.

  “Why don’t you make me, bitch,” he laughs. “You know, I’ve wanted you for years. I used to spy on you at all the family holiday parties. I used to cum to your picture back when you were in high school. God, I can remember that uniform. So sweet and innocent. So Pure.”

  “Stop!” I cry out. “You’re disgusting. Please, leave now!”
r />   He backs away, holding his hands up as if he hasn’t done anything wrong. When he sees the fear in my eyes, he begins to laugh. “What? Can’t you take a joke?”

  I’m left with a knot in my throat, tears in my eyes, and a racing heartbeat. I feel like my legs are about to fold in any second. I don’t say anything and I think he gets the picture, since he’s close to the door. I don’t want to take any chances so I continue to stay silent.

  “Oh! I have another question for you, doll,” he claps his hands loudly. “You haven’t seen a man recently? About six feet tall, a big and burly type of guy. He’s got slicked back hair and tattoos?”

  My stomach drops. Hunter? Did he know? He couldn’t. “The only people I’ve seen lately are your friends, Ricky,” I calmly say, though I feel like my voice is about to give out. “Just your friends and our family. That’s it.”

  He leans against the door and strokes his chin. “Hmm. You sure about that?” he asks me.

  I gulp down hard and try to remain strong. “I’m sure about that,” I say, unable to break eye contact.

  He tosses a picture my way and it lands on the floor. I bend over to pick it up and I instantly see Hunter’s face. It’s an old picture. He looks younger, about my brother’s age now. He’s got a heather grey suit on and he looks dapper and confident.

  “I’m trying to find this guy. If you get any leads, send them my way. Okay?” He waits for my reaction to the picture, but I don’t let him see through me. If he does somehow know, my whole family is fucked. My guess, however, is that he is grasping at straws.

  I hold the picture up. “Is this one of the New Yorkers? One of the Tuccianos or something?”

  He laughs and twists the door handle open. “Now, here I was thinking you didn’t get involved in our affairs.”

  “I know a little,” I admit. “I’d rather I didn’t.”

  “Just keep an eye out,” he says, unable to give me a real answer. “Let’s just say, I don’t consider him a great friend. Don’t worry, I just want to have a chat with him.”

  He steps out onto the porch and digs inside his jacket. He pulls out a cigar and lights it, biting at the end. I ask “You want to have a chat with him? Just like you wanted to have a chat with my brother?”

  “Exactly,” he says. “You’re learning.”

  He laughs and shuts the door and I’m left alone once again. I fall to the floor and have to catch my breath. “Fuck,” I whisper. I can barely breathe. It’s my fucking anxiety working against me again.

  I crawl back to my room and press my back against the wall. I extend my arms in the air and take three deep breaths in. I hold the air deep within my lungs.

  I didn’t think I’d ever be alone with him again. I thought I would be safe in San Francisco. I was safe there. But now I’m back here, right in the center of danger. The way he touched my cheek, how he nearly kissed me… he is my cousin for Christ’s sake! I know that they want to “keep it in the family,” but I didn’t think he wanted to fuck his family too.

  I wish I had someone there. I hate to admit it, but I wish I had a man to protect me. I wanted someone who would knock the shit out of Ricky, someone who could send a warning not to fuck with me ever again.

  Back in Detroit, I’m powerless. It’s like entering a time machine. Did I want to take my chances with the cops backing me up? Hell no. Would my family do anything? Not if they don’t want to get shot.

  I’m alone.

  When I push myself back onto my feet, I see a piece of cardstock with some black ink on it. It reads: Hunter Brancaccio. Below his name is an address.

  “What the hell?” I ask aloud. Who put this here? Ricky? And what is this address?

  I hold it next to the picture of him. This is not good. How the hell did I get mixed up in all of this drama?

  Oh yeah, maybe when I gave him a hand job on my father’s lawn. Whoops.

  Hunter

  I look at my list as I lay against my old, worn out mattress. “Ricky Luciotti,” I say to myself. “I will wipe you from the face of this earth if it’s the last thing I do.”

  I’m going crazy up here on my own. Every time I hear something scurry past, I reach for my gun. You never know when an enemy could be mistaken for a rat.

  I rest my head against that dingy mattress and nod off. Besides working out, this is my favorite past time. I fall into a deep sleep and then the nightmares set in again. I hear screaming and realize it’s a little boy’s voice. I follow the voices to a house nearby, at the end of the cul-de-sac. This isn’t Detroit. It’s somewhere far off, although I’m not too sure where. It looks strangely familiar.

  Suddenly, the screams grow louder and I start to run. I’m running and running, but it’s like my legs are glued to the floor. It’s either that, or they’re made out of putty. “Help!” I hear the boy scream. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Come on, legs. Don’t fail me now.

  I finally reach the door, although I’m completely worn down and out of breath. The screaming stops when I touch the handle. Am I too late? I wince when I realize the handle is hot. What the fuck? My gaze moves upward to the second floor window and the whole fucking house is on fire.

  I do what I have to do. I have to save that kid. I have to pull everyone out of that house. I smash open the door and fall inside the house. Finally, I can find him. Only, the house isn’t on fire. It’s freezing cold and the wind is pushing me back. I fight against it and walk upstairs. Each step creaks underneath my heavy feet and I suddenly realize that this is the house I grew up in.

  “No,” I whisper. “Not here. Why am I here?”

  When I’m upstairs, I open the first room. There’s a man in the corner, laughing. He’s got a gun to two parents’ heads. I guess they’re mine, but I can’t make out the faces. It’s like they’re scratched out of my memory. “Hey!” I scream, pulling out my gun.

  I attempt to load the bullets, but they just turn to chocolate in my hands. “Freeze!” I yell again, only it’s in vain and the man knows it. He’s wearing a grey suit with a purple vest and tie. His face is forced in a twisted perpetual smile and I quickly realize who it is. It’s Carmine Loccardo, the man with the greasy smile, as they used to call him. The man who raised me. The man who brought me into this life.

  “Jesus Christ,” he laughs. “You? I thought I raised you better than this, kid. You had such promise, such talent. You could kill a thousand men with three bullets. Remember your aim?”

  “Yeah, so what?” I spit out. I look in my hand and my gun has turned to a bouquet of wilted flowers. I throw it on the ground and stomp on the leaves. “I can do a lot of things.”

  “Look at you now. You’re a fugitive to your own kind. Everyone hates you. You’re just like your father here.”

  He turns to the man hunched in the corner and suddenly he shoots at his gut. The man falls dead against the wood panel. The boy, whose screams I heard earlier, is huddled in the center of the room. He’s whimpering and covering his eyes. Carmine walks up to him and pets his hair. “There, there,” he says. “Everything will be just fine.”

  He turns to me and his eyes grow wild with fire and rage. I get the feeling that I shouldn’t be here, that I should have kept this memory locked up a long time ago. “I’m nothing like my father,” I say. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit,” he says loudly. He shoots the woman in the corner, my mother, and laughs wildly. The two bodies disappear, as well as the house. We’re standing in a field and now I’m above him.

  “Well, old friend. I guess this is it,” he says with a tear in his eye. Then he starts singing. “It’s one for the money. Two for the show. Three to make ready. And four to go.” Almost mechanically, the gun in my hand goes off. Carmine falls to the dirt and the sun above me rises to an unimaginable degree of heat. That’s when I wake up.

  “Hello?” A woman’s voice yells, muffled through the walls. I jump out of the bed. Shit. I’ve been having that nightmare for decades. “Hunter?”

  Fuck! I run downstairs, wielding m
y gun. Sweat runs down my body and face. I feel like shit. “You there?” I lean against the door and peek out of the sliver I cut from the metal. I put my gun away when I see her, that beauty. Bianca, my bella from the homeland. Okay, maybe she’s not from the homeland, but she’s close enough.

  I slide open the door, grab her by her shirt, and pull her in fast. “What the—”

  “Get in,” I tell her. “You have to be careful around here.”

  I shut the door quickly and drop to the floor. “What’s going on? You look like total shit,” she says.

  “Didn’t get much sleep,” I mutter. “I’m surprised you came. I didn’t expect you to be here so soon.”

  “Yeah, well. I’ll take any opportunity to leave that house,” she says. “This place isn’t too bad. Needs some work, but it’s nice and big, that’s for sure.”

  “Yeah, it’s three stories. Plenty of space to, er, sit around,” I laugh. “Come on, upstairs. There’s coffee if you want it.”

  I don’t know what possessed me to put my address in her purse that night. I’ve just been in hiding for so long. If I didn’t do it, I would have gone crazy. Still, it wasn’t too smart of me. If anyone were to see her bangin’ on that door, they could have killed both of us. In the future, I have to be more careful.

  We walk upstairs, until we reach the top. I’ve got my makeshift kitchen in the corner and I walk up to the shitty coffee maker and turn it on. “I hope you like your coffee strong,” I tell her.

  She shrugs. “I’ll take two sugars and some cream please.” I can’t help but laugh.

  “Sorry, sweetie. I don’t have any of that Starbucks shit here,” I say. “But if you want, I have a bottle of Jameson I keep next to my pillow.”

  She laughs and walks over to my mattress. “Jesus, you really are in hiding, aren’t you?”

  “I told you, I don’t lie,” I say. “It doesn’t give me much comfort to think that I might have to live like this forever.”

 

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