by C. D. Reiss
“God!”
“More,” he said.
“And you put your tongue inside me, and rub your teeth on my clit.”
“You are dirty, Contessa. And detailed. Do you want to come?” He let the pinch go and rubbed with the pads of his fingers.
“Please.”
“Sit still.”
I caught sight of him, between the spaghetti of red hair, glancing my way and smiling.
“Yes,” I said. “Yes.”
“Keep your legs open.” He dragged all four fingers over my hard clit once, twice, the bumps and ridges of his fingertips a pulsing rhythm at seventy-five miles an hour.
“Yes.”
“Keep still. And no shouting.” He ran his fingers over me. Even though it was autumn, I was sweating, muscles clenching, nerves firing. My jaw went slack then tightened when he flicked his nails over me.
Without an outlet in movement or sound, I felt everything. My body connected with wires of pleasure, tightening with the orgasm, twisting, my ass clenching, my pussy pulsating for a cock to fill it, grasping for him in waves. The white noise of the freeway was consumed by my own vortex, and any cares about people seeing me disappeared.
His touch got lighter and lighter, prolonging my orgasm. It went on and on. I closed my eyes and got lost in his fingers, my silence, and stillness.
When I finally stopped coming, Antonio removed his hand from under the jacket and got off the freeway.
He put his fingers in his mouth, and when he stopped at the red light, he brushed his pinkie over my lower lip, painting me with our mingled juices.
“You know what made Paulie crazy enough to break everything he worked for?” Antonio asked.
“It was me, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Partly, it was you.”
ten.
theresa
e made a few more turns, but I more or less knew the neighborhood after the night Marina had tried to shoot me. We were probably five blocks from his burned-out auto shop. He was committed to the neighborhood, for sure. If I owned a business on the east side and someone set fire to it, I’d never want to cross the LA River again.
He didn’t say much after revealing that I was not only a target for Paulie because of the feud, but the reason for the hostility in the first place. As if he knew I’d need a minute to absorb the new information, he just drove and waited.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’m driving around until you ask what you want to ask.”
“I thought I wasn’t supposed to.”
He stopped at a light and twisted to face me. “Go ahead.”
“Can’t you just say what you want without me trying to ask the right question? I’m not the lawyer in the car, here.”
“Apparently. And your hair is a mess. Your lips smell like pussy. Did someone just finger the hell out of you?”
“Antonio! You’re deflecting.”
“I am, Contessa. Mi dispiace. This has been obsessing me, and the only time I don’t feel obsessed with it is when I’m around you. When I’m around you, I want to pretend it’s all gone away.” He drove, but with purpose, not as if he was killing time waiting for my question.
“This is going to be a constant battle, isn’t it?”
He smiled a devil of a smile. His parents had skimmed from the very top of the gene pool to make that mouth. “If you make things into battles, yes, they are battles.” He pulled into a narrow alley and parked in front of a garage.
“Why was he scared of me?”
He opened his door. “Come.” He went around the car, keys jingling, and opened the door for me.
“I’m being really patient,” I said.
“Yes, you are.” He planted a kiss on my lips, and I tasted my sex on his mouth, from the fingers he’d licked. “Women scare him. Especially the wild, unpredictable ones.”
“Me? Wild and unpredictable?”
We put our arms around each other, and he led me out of the alley and to the street. The row of buildings was connected, and flush with the street in the old tenement style, with storefronts on the first floor and one story of apartments above.
“To Paulie, you are,” he said.
He stopped in the middle of the block. The storefront was empty. A large window had crusty bars in front and cracked glass behind. The door was original to the building, which looked as if it has been built just before the depression and not updated since. On the right of it stood another empty storefront that had been updated in a grotesquely ugly way, with chipped brown stucco and a poorly installed vinyl window. On the left was a store with a purpose I couldn’t divine, with hours posted and the sign in the door flipped to “Closed.”
“What do you think?” Antonio asked as he unlocked the front gate.
“I think it needs a coat of paint.”
The gates creaked, and he slapped them home with a metallic smack. “What color would you like?” He fingered a bouquet of keys.
“Capo, what’s happening? You can’t turn this into an auto shop. It’s in the middle of the block.”
He opened the door, turned, and flipped on the lights. He repeated a version of his previous question. “What would you turn it into?”
I didn’t answer but stepped past the door, onto a linoleum floor covered in grease and dust. Metal racks lined the right; stacked round tables stood on my left. I glimpsed a dark back room that looked like a place where unpleasant scientific mysteries waited to be solved. “A clean room, first,” I said.
“And then?” He jingled his keys. He seemed relaxed and happy, leaning on his right hip slightly, shoulders sloped, face waiting for something joyful, and I knew what our visit was about.
“Capo.” I took two steps toward him, with my arms out. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re sweet?”
His hands took me by the waist and drew me close. “No.”
“You are.”
His head tilted slightly, and his cheeks got narrow, as if he sucked them in. His eyes were hard and defensive. I remembered who I was dealing with and how little I knew him, but I refused to be scared.
“I don’t want a store.”
“The shop is close. I can watch you. And you’ll have something that’s yours.”
I wanted to protest that I had plenty that was mine, and I did. I had a condo. I had money. I had three-thousand-dollar shoes. And if I wanted a store in one of the worst neighborhoods in Los Angeles, I could have one very nicely arranged without his help.
I tamped back all of my resistance because the store was a gift, and a thoughtful one. Most men gave women flowers or jewelry; Antonio gave buildings. I didn’t need a dozen roses, and I could buy myself a diamond necklace, but I could see the value of Antonio’s gift.
But I didn’t want a store. I didn’t want to be handed a life.
“Can I think about what to do with it?”
“Si! It’s zoned for food, not liquor, but any licenses you want…” He held his hands out and said no more. I was sure I could get it zoned as an amusement park if I wanted.
That store was his dozen roses and box of candy. It was completely useless. Pointless, even. In a moment of peace, he’d tried to give me what he thought would make me happy.
“Thank you, Capo. Can I take time to decide what to do with it?”
“Of course.”
I reached up to kiss him, twisting my fingers together behind his neck. His tongue hit mine, filling my mouth with aggression and lust. His hands went up my shirt, shoving my bra out of the way with his fingers, thumb teasing my nipple as he pressed his hardness against my hip. Would he take me in that filthy store? Knock me against the metal shelves and drag me into the dark back room? Yes. Yes, he would.
He kicked the door shut. And that slam threw me off for a fraction of a second, so that when the other sounds hit, I thought they were echoes of the door. When Antonio threw me to the floor, I thought it was part of his seduction. I was primed for hard, lustful, thoughtless sex.
But the door kept s
lamming, and his weight on me was not amorous. His breath came in gasps on my neck, hot and sharp, and he held my wrists down hard enough to bruise.
Glass broke, plaster popped, and what I thought was the crack of a slamming door was no less than the constant pop pop pop of gunfire. And my body under his, with the threat of death a sudden stink in the room, was on fire.
eleven.
antonio
t stopped. I didn’t know if the guy with the gun was reloading or getting out of the car to finish us off. So when I had a second, I let go of Theresa’s wrist and pulled her up. It was not graceful or chivalrous. I had no time to apologize, and she didn’t have a second to ask what the hell had happened. I pulled her into the back so fast she almost tripped. It would have been fine if she had fallen. I would have preferred to have dragged her.
No windows. It was dark and infested with a cloud of flies louder than mere machine guns.
I heard her say my name, a question in her voice. Next, she’d ask who, how, and why. Only the last question had answers.
Because there was no peace. No truce. Because my name was Antonio Spinelli, and this was my life.
“Antonio.” She pulled against me when I got to the back door. I yanked her close.
“No questions now.” I growled it harder than I should have, knowing I’d regret it in retrospect.
“Your car.”
I turned to her. The light from the front room reflected blue on her eyes. I held my hand still on the door.
The car. A blue Maserati, parked in the back like a cursed beacon.
We stared at each other. She was right; we were trapped.
The windows were boarded. I peeked out, holding her hand. She wasn’t shaking. She wasn’t even sweating, but her lips were parted, and she looked ready to fuck. I considered taking her, but gunshots wouldn’t go unnoticed, and a yellow Ferrari pulled up next to the Mas. It was the man himself.
“Stay behind me.” I unlocked the door.
“No, Antonio. Wait.” She was flushed, but still sharp. Her eyes flashed, scanning my face. Oh, she wanted to fuck all right, and yet, she seemed more alert, as if her arousal was mental as well as physical.
Paulie, who had been a friend to me, sent a chill up my spine when he got out of the car and stood on the hood.
“Spin!” Paulie shouted. “Come out.”
“I should go in front,” Theresa whispered.
Paulie held up his hands. “I got nothing. I’m unarmed. I promise; I ain’t gonna do nothing.”
“He’ll never shoot me,” she said.
Paulie called out before I could answer. “If I wanted you dead, I woulda come in and done it already.”
That son of a whore. He knew it would bother me that he had control. And if I asked for concession for Theresa, if I made sure she walked away, it would be perceived as weakness.
“You stay here,” I said.
“He knows I’m here. He could have come in the front. Listen.”
“I got a news flash out here, Spin.” It was Paulie again. Like the buzz of a fluorescent light that you couldn’t fix.
“We have to go out side by side,” Theresa urged.
“Listen to me,” I said. “Do not speak. Do not make a move. Do not insinuate yourself. Do you understand?”
“Antonio, but—”
“You will stay behind me, not because he’ll shoot either one of us. If he kills me, he’s a dead man, and he knows it. If he touches you, his life isn’t worth anything. But if you come out at my side, I will look weak. Do you understand?”
That last statement was a lie. I wanted to protect her in case Paulie had lost his mind or brokered a deal for my life that I didn’t know about. A man has to live with himself and God, and I’d already alienated God.
“Behind this wall right here.” I touched the wall by the doorframe. “Stay in arm’s reach.”
I tried to remind myself that that was Paulie out there. That was a guy who had helped me avenge my sister, who laughed at my pronunciation then helped me get it right. That was a guy who’d thought of us as partners from the minute he met me at the airport. He jumped down from the hood of the car then pulled his gun out of the holster and dropped it in the front seat.
The thup-thup-thup of a helicopter came over the distance.
“They’re coming, Spin. Come on. We got about five minutes.”
I opened the door. It was brighter outside than I’d expected, and I fought to keep my hand from shading the sun. It would look like a sudden movement.
“Come in, then,” I said.
“Where is she?” He kept his hands out, an unusually wise move from him. I would have shot him dead if he’d reached for a pocket.
“You try and kill us, and you want to know where she is?”
Theresa stood right at my side but behind the wall, unmoving. I could smell her perfume and shampoo. I could hear her long breaths and the ticking of her watch.
I did not sense fear on her.
If she’d been scared, I might have moved too quickly or made a rash decision. If she’d been whimpering or crying after being shot at, I might have put a bullet in Paulie without a second thought. But she wasn’t afraid. Thank God for her.
“I aimed over your head,” Paulie said. “I was trying to get your attention.”
“You were always impulsive. Always reckless.” He grinned and looked at his shoes for a millisecond.
I’d enjoyed and feared his impulsiveness at the same time. He’d been valuable, but I’d so often had to smooth over an overzealous shakedown or unnecessary insult that, in the end, I stopped letting him manage politicians by himself.
He still needed me. But I didn’t need him, and that scared him. He wasn’t breaking with me because of his ambition; I had to remember that. This break wasn’t about money, and it wasn’t about power. It was about fear.
“I wanted to tell you something. It’s gonna hurt, Spin. Gotta admit.”
“About?”
“This thing we have—”
“You," I said. "This is your grudge.”
He admitted nothing. He’d already said everything he was going to say the night he burned the shop. He wouldn’t tolerate me with a woman so deep in the establishment’s pockets. He would never trust her. He would never trust me. I had to choose between him and Theresa. I tried to understand why he’d make such an ultimatum but came up empty-handed.
“You heard about the Sicilian virgin’s fiancé?”
“Stupido?” I said.
“Nice Neapolitan kid. But yeah, a little dumb. He and his girlfriend just washed up in Malibu. You know why? He refused to marry a nice Sicilian virgin because he already had a girlfriend. Stupido is right. Made enemies on two continents.
“And?” I didn’t want to talk about it in front of Theresa.
“Numbers Niccolò. Our accountant. He’s mine. I’m the future of this side of town. You know why?”
“Is that what you shot at me for? The accountant?”
“Niccolò’s playing the odds. I got the bloodline for the virgin. She’s mine now that stupido is dead.” Paulie glanced up. The helicopters had gotten closer. “I know you’re there, Princess,” he called out. He jumped from the hood of the car to the uneven ground of the alley. “Don’t get too comfortable. This asshole’s shit’s gonna be mine in a few months.” He got too close. Not to me, but to her.
Something took over me. It was the old Tonio-botz, the man who wasn’t much more than muscle, bone, and rage. Even if Antonio was a thoughtful man, Tonio moved quickly because he didn’t think.
Paulie had never seen that side of me. He didn’t know how swiftly I’d react to him addressing Theresa, even if there was a wall between them. He didn’t know I didn’t give a shit about his restraint, and he didn’t have his guard up when I grabbed the front of his shirt. The defense came up, but it wasn’t fast enough.
I heard the thunk of his head on the brick wall. When he tried to push away, I leaned all my weight on him.
<
br /> “Don’t talk to her, Paulie. Not a word to her.”
It was too late. She came out from behind the wall and leaned in the doorframe with her arms crossed.
twelve.
theresa
ad I gone through my adult life without once thinking I was going to die? Had I never been threatened? Never almost been in a car wreck? Had I never been in the wrong place at the wrong time?
When Antonio threw himself on top of me, while his chest rose and fell as the gunshots broke the windows, I knew I’d never tasted life as closely as I had with that man. The blood rushing between my legs, the juice collecting there, every point of light in my life dropping to that point was painful in its speed and intensity. I thought I’d explode from the desire for his cock before a bullet could even touch me.
Then it stopped, and all I could think about was his mouth and his neck and his sweat, scented with worry and adrenaline. I knew we were in grave danger, and I’d follow him through it. I’d follow him anywhere.
I’d followed him through the store, my ears dulled from the shots, while outside, Paulie waited with his threats and talk of the virgin, the wedding, and a poor, stupid boy sold into a marriage he didn’t want and who was killed along with the woman he loved.
Even after that, when Antonio pushed himself against Paulie, close as a lover and angry as a pit bull with the stink of savage rage coming off him, I didn’t panic because I didn’t need to. All my passion, rage, panic, and arousal stayed tightly confined behind a hard black shell.
Antonio and Paulie were evenly matched, physically, but my Antonio was stronger in his fearsomeness and clarity of purpose. He would never back down, not until he stood over his enemy in victory. His determination was clenched in his jaw and held fast in his fists.
Leaning in the doorframe with my arms crossed, I saw the meaner man take advantage of the weaker one and the force of their bodies against each other, the intensity of Antonio’s face, the force of his arms, and I wanted those tight lips and that rigid cock between my legs.
“Antonio,” I said.
“Get inside,” he growled, his fingers resting on Paulie’s cheek and tensing, tensing, until a shadow of a divot appeared in the skin. Their bodies were so close they could have been one person.