by Naomi Wyatt
Gabe, now as serious as I was, asked, “Who could this be? Who do we have conflict with? The Baldi’s? The Donati’s?”
“No one,” I answered at a loss. I fucking hated feeling lost. I was never lost. “We don’t have beef with anyone.”
“Apparently we do,” Gabe remarked.
“Apparently.”
I spent the rest of the plane ride in silence, but, my mind was racing with questions. My heart beat rapidly, fighting images of this son of a bitch putting his hands on Baby.
Baby; she was everything to me – everything. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. The fact that someone had tried to make that nightmare my reality was fucking with me as I rode shotgun in my truck while Gabe sped down the Dan Ryan Expressway.
“Look, Roc. I’ll look into this tonight and I’ll call with any info I come up with, first thing in the morning. It’s been a long week. Go on in and spend some time with Baby. I’m sure she misses you.”
She did. As I glared out of the window towards our house, I could see her mature, curvy figure and curls peering out of the bedroom window. Just the vision of her shadow convinced me to set aside the murder scheme for the night and get to what was mine.
I don’t even think I told Gabe goodbye before I left the truck and took such full strides to my front door that I had reached it within seconds. The door seemingly unlocked for me and it felt as if I flew up the stairs.
For days, I couldn’t wait to get back to her.
I needed her.
But now she needed me and I couldn’t take that feeling.
“Daddy,” left her lips in a sigh of relief as she met me at the bedroom door. She was dressed in one of my tank tops, so her ass fell into my hands as she fell into my arms.
“Are you okay?”
It felt like she was melting into me. Her face was buried into my chest, so I took her face into my hands and lifted it so that I could look into her beautiful brown eyes.
“I’m fine,” was what she swore to, but I could feel her shaking in my arms.
Instantly, she awakened my heart. Even after five years, I was still getting used to it. All of my life I had been an emotionless man, but the moment she was in my arms, all that changed. At first, I never used my heart, and now my heart wouldn’t let me lose this beautiful woman that, even at 5’6”, had to stand on her bare tip toes to introduce her lips to mine.
“I’m okay,” she repeated. “I promise,” she breathed into my mouth. “I missed you.”
She knew she was my weakness, and she was using that to calm anger that she knew was brewing beneath my skin—and as always, it was working.
I would have much rather spent every hour finding the motherfucker that made her feel anything but happiness, but at the moment I didn’t mind showing every inch of her body how much I missed her.
“You promise you’re okay?” I asked, taking her mouth into mine and squeezing the voluptuous hips that I’d missed every day that I was gone.
“Mmmm,” she moaned into my mouth, and I nearly lost it. “I promise. I’m okay.”
“Good,” I breathed, as my hands fought to touch her.
I nearly ripped my shirt from her body. I couldn’t take the damn thing being in my way in anymore. I had been waiting to lay eyes on her for days.
Baby was beautiful, to say the very least. Skin the color of a Hersey Kiss housed a mountain of curves that made me dizzy trying to keep up with. She had a head full of multi–colored curls in shades from brown to blond, with the most gorgeous bedroom eyes, the most delicate nose, and cheek bones. She had a smile that I prayed our daughter would inherit. Her natural glow didn’t need makeup, but she transformed from beautiful to goddamn sexy when she put some on.
Quickly pulling the shirt over her head, Baby stood before me, each curve making me woozy with highly anticipated pleasure.
Though I wanted nothing more than to put my lips to her, she dropped to her knees so suddenly, as if she wanted nothing more than the same for her own. She clawed at my jeans and won the fight with my belt. My cock nearly smacked her in the face and I was even mad at it for nearly hurting her. But the anger quickly subsided as she sucked me into her throat.
“Grrrr… Fuck,” I moaned, as I leaned back against the wall.
Her sexual noises filled the air and I could feel her tight grip around my cock as she pleased me with both her mouth and hand simultaneously.
“Goddamn, I love you, Baby.”
There was no reciprocation of the affirmation from her, only gagging noises as she filled her throat with every inch of me.
“Shit!” left my throat in a low growl. “I should make you swallow every drop of how good you’re making me feel.”
The sensation of her wet mouth made me want to cum right then and there, so I pulled out of her throat to fight the urge. She smiled, opened her mouth, and tried to wrap her tongue around my length again, but I refused. “Stop, Baby. I don’t want to cum yet. Come here.”
She smiled bashfully as she rose to her feet, but I was too fucking horny to even walk the few feet to the bed. I lay her down right there in the middle of the floor. Kneeling between her thighs, she smiled up at me as I ripped off of my shirt.
I couldn’t figure out what to kiss first, what to suck first. Her body was my playground and I wanted to horse around on every inch of it. But those statuesque hips were hypnotizing me, calling me. Yesterday, when I sent her a text, saying that I missed her for the umpteenth time, she replied, “Don’t tell me that you miss me. Tell me that you’re going to give me head when you see me. #Actions.” Baby was being funny, but at the time, that is just what I planned to do; spread her legs, palm her ass, and eat her pussy until she came on my face.
I couldn’t wait one more second to taste her, so I drove my face right in.
“Sssss,” was her initial response. As I sucked her clit, it throbbed between my lips. I looked up. She was on her elbows, and, even though her curls had fallen into her face, I could see those bedroom eyes boring down on me as her mouth stalled slightly agape.
I spoke into her pretty, wet mound. “Fuck, I missed this taste in my mouth.” I opened it further with one hand and smacked her ass with the other. “Ride my face, Baby,” I encouraged her. And she did just that. Her fingers wrapped around my slick, black hair as I felt her rock violently against my face.
Goddamn if tasting her wasn’t just as good as being inside of her.
It might have been better.
I felt my cock pulsating, fighting to get inside of what it owned. My mouth and dick were having an aggressive debate and I was just there, ready to surrender to either.
“Shit, Roc! I’m cumming!”
“That’s what I want, baby. Cum on my face. Now.”
Her hips were rotating in small circles in a fast pace and I could taste her orgasm cumming down. I looked deep into her eyes because watching her cum was just as good as tasting it.
“Arrrrrgh! Shiiiiit!”
She fell back and jerked against the carpet just as I slid into her and hovered above her. I was more than ready to give her the rough, long strokes that sent her into orgasmic seizures, but being inside of her was so warm, so tight and so inviting that I now felt like I was home. Not when I walked through the front door, but now, right this moment.
“This pussy is fucking amazing,” I breathed out with each stroke.
Though her eyes were closed, she found my mouth and kissed me like it was the only thing keeping her alive. “I love you, Roc.”
“What did you call me?” I asked as I suddenly deepened my stroked.
“Shit!”
“Humph?” I was turning into the dominant man that engulfed me when I was with her, but with each stroke, I was coaxing my own premature orgasm. “What did you call me?”
“Daddy,” she corrected herself and I chuckled.
Our love had not only changed me; it had changed her as well. In public, to everyone else in the world, she was strong and domineering, but in my h
ands, she was like putty.
I owned her and this pussy.
****
“I have to be honest, Baby, I don’t know who could have done this.”
Now, we were in our tub, with hot water rinsing off our sex. She lay back on my chest with her curls in a high ponytail. The lights were off, candles were lit, and the July nighttime air was blowing in from the window.
“I don’t know what I would have done if something had happened to you,” I told her, as I kissed the top of her head.
She reached back and grabbed my hair. “Don’t think about that.” There was a brief pause before she sighed and asked, “What are you going to do?”
“First, I’m going to kick Courtney’s ass for talking to me like that. I know he thinks I let that shit slide.”
We both giggled.
“Then I’m going to find out what’s going on. Somebody has it out for me, and I need to know who.”
She didn’t argue with me. She knew better. She knew me. She knew how I operated, so she was quiet, but I could sense her heart began to race, so I changed the subject.
“I also have a meeting with my father tomorrow.”
“Really?” she asked curiously.
“Yes. Something is going on at the club.”
She chuckled. “Good luck with that.”
“I don’t need luck as long as I have you.”
Even in the shadows of the candlelight, I could see her smile. “You know you have me.”
Again, I kissed the top of her head and told her for the umpteenth time. “I love you.”
She leaned back and cuddled underneath me as if being closer was possible. “I love you too.”
This wasn’t us at first. We had grown into this, this love.
Well, she had to. I knew from the moment that I saw her that she would be mine.
1987
Chapter 2
Rocco de Michele
“Mettilo giù! Per favore, Alesandro? Mettilo giù, ora!”
My mother was screaming at the top of her lungs. She was asking that my father put me down. She was begging really, as she followed behind him. She was literally on his heels as he ran down the stairs of our home in Little Italy.
I was in his arms.
I was five years old.
“Per favore, Alesandro?!”
“No!” my father barked, as he reached the bottom of the staircase. “He wants to be amongst trash! I’ll show him trash!”
“Mr. de Michele, please?!” I peered into the eyes of Tracy, my nanny. She was crying. And so was I. I didn’t understand what I had done wrong.
Tracy and my mother screamed for him to stop, to let me go, but he wouldn’t. He dragged me along as he opened the front door. My mother attempted to grab my legs, but he was stronger.
“Alesandro!”
Her threats fell on deaf ears. He was flying down the steps outside of our home. It was easy for him. He was in his late thirties, but he was a tall, brawny man, so he carried me down the steps like a baseball.
I couldn’t see anything beyond my father’s fat belly that my face was pressed against. That and tears. Lots of tears.
I didn’t understand what I did wrong.
“Vuoi essere di spazzatura?! Con sporcizia?!”
I was confused. I didn’t understand what the fuck my father was ranting about. I didn’t want to be with trash and I didn’t want to be amongst filth.
I couldn’t comprehend what the fuck the old man was fuming about.
Suddenly, my body was being tossed. I hit the metal trash can along the sidewalk. He’d put me in the trash because I insisted on being amongst what he thought was trash. But to me, she was a treasure.
I could hear my mother’s cries as she pulled me out of the trash can.
“I’m so sorry, Mrs. de Michele. I won’t brang her ‘round no mo’.”
Hearing Tracy say that made me feel something that I didn’t recognize at five years old. I remember looking at her as she held her daughter’s hand.
“I think that’s best,” my mother told her.
And I immediately started to whine, “Mama, no! Please. She’s my friend.”
“That’s enough! Let’s go in, Rocco. It’s time for dinner.” She was attempting to save face for the neighbors that had exited their homes in curiosity. She dragged me along quickly, as I continuously looked back to catch a glimpse of her as she and her mother walked towards the bus stop.
She was the love of my life. At five years old, I knew that I wanted her to be my girlfriend. I wanted her to be to me what my mother was to my father. That’s why I had kissed her as we played in my room. Unfortunately, my father had caught me smack in the middle of me putting my lips on hers and now she was trash and so was I.
Her name was Yanna E. Hill.
Yanna E. Hill
“What you doin’ kissin’ that boy, Yanna?! You gon’ make me lose my job!”
My mother was practically dragging me down the street towards the bus stop. We rode that bus every day that summer. Traveling from our place in the projects on the South Side of Chicago to Roc’s family’s home in Little Italy on Chicago’s West Side was like taking a field trip every day. The people were like the difference in night and day.
I really liked playing at Roc’s house because he had all of the nice toys! Me and my brothers had put the same toys on our Christmas lists, but we never got them. Roc even had a TV in his room! And he had his own room at that! Me and my two brothers shared a room in our two–bedroom apartment. Low–income housing wasn’t very spacious, so we were literally on top of each other.
I couldn’t wait to get home to tell my brothers about what happened. I thought maybe they’d help me understand. Since they were older than me, mama let them watch themselves while she worked. But I had to go with her since I was the only girl, and the baby.
“I can’t afford to lose my job because you’re being fast, Yanna! How we gon’ eat?!”
How in the hell was I supposed to know at three years old? I didn’t care about anything except… “I can’t play with Roc anymore?”
“No!” She fussed as we finally made it to the bus stop.
“Why? He’s my friend.”
“No, he’s not!”
That made me cry. Ball really. At three, who wants to hear that the friend that you thought was your friend wasn’t? I was mortified. And I was scared to death about him being in the damn trash can.
“We only good enough to work for folks like that–”
“Folks like what?”
“Folks with money. Lots of it.”
Still I didn’t understand, but she kept ranting as she attempted to turn her hand into an air conditioner in attempts to cool down under the August sun. “Now I gotta find you a sitter! Who’s going to watch you while I work? I can’t afford to pay –”
Yadda, yadda, yadda.
I didn’t understand any of it. I just wanted to know why I couldn’t play with my friend anymore. For the life of me, I didn’t know we’d done that was so wrong.
But it had to be really bad because I didn’t see Rocco de Michele again for a very long time.
Present day….
Chapter 3
Rocco de Michele
I left Baby in an orgasmic coma the next morning. I felt bad for taking her all night and all morning, but every time I tried to close my eyes and get some sleep, her arcs kept provoking me, taunting me.
I hated to leave her, after being away for so many days, but I had to get to the bottom of this… and see what the fuck my Pops wanted.
“What’s this about, Gabe?”
We both sat in the truck, looking up at the bright lights of Tantrum with telling expressions that we hated to be there. The family owned Tantrum. It was initially a front for all of the illegal money that my father was bringing in. But being one of few Italian owned clubs in downtown Chicago at the time, it became very popular, thus maturing into a life of its own. Though my father owned it, many of the family
members ran it; now twenty years since its grand opening. The old man didn’t know shit about hiring a DJ or go–go dancers, so he just basically told people what to do.
Not me, though. Which was why me and Gabe couldn’t understand why I had been summoned to this “emergency” pow–wow.
My father and I have had an estranged relationship for years. Against tradition, my dealings in the street weren’t under my father. Though I held the de Michele name, I had my own operation and my own reputation. Though my father loves to claim that my reputation is solely birthed from his influence, I, and every soul in the streets, knew different.
I was my own man. I was a respected and feared man, and that had nothing to do with Alesandro de Michele.
“Beats the fuck outta me,” I answered Gabe.
“Humph,” he grunted. “Well, anyway, the streets are quiet as a mouse pissing on cotton. We have no enemies, so we think…”
“So we think… Well, I got that fuckers blood off of my fucking fifty thousand dollar Persian fucking rug…” I groaned. “Why don’t you see if our friend, Detective Dope Fiend, can get that DNA analyzed for us in exchange for some product?”
Gabe nodded as he grabbed the door handle. “Will do.”
We both hopped out and made our way towards the blinking lights of Tantrum. It was about ten in the morning, so the usual bouncers were ghost. The club was pitch black, but lights from my father’s office on the second floor could be seen through the glass floors of the second level.
On any given night, this place was full of naked twenty–one year olds and horny idiots trying to get some ass.
I fucking hated this place.
I didn’t bother knocking on his office door, Gabe and I just barged in.
“Rocco, my boy,” my father greeted me. He hugged me with a kiss on the cheek. “Gabe, I didn’t expect you to be here too.”
“Now, Pops, you know I don’t go anywhere without him unless it’s to get in some pussy.”