by Stacia Stone
He kisses like he wants to eat me alive. It’s all heat and the hard press of lips and teeth. He moves so the lines of his body meet mine, pressing me down into the mattress.
I’m drowning in him. My breasts are hard against his chest, enough that the pressure on my nipple piercings is just this side of painful. My fingers twist in his hair. To push him away or pull him closer, I can’t decide.
When one of his hands inches down my bare thigh, my core clenches hard in response. Desire rocks through me like a bolt of lightning.
No one else has ever made me feel like this. Mushy kisses and fumbled groping from drunken guys at frat parties just can’t compare to the skilled way he plays my body. It’s enough to help me ignore that every part of me that’s still capable of logic is screaming about how dangerous this is.
The fanciful part of me is convinced that everything that’s come before in my life happened only to bring me to this moment.
Because I know he’s perfectly capable of destroying me.
When his hand moves higher up my thigh to slip under the edge of my panties, it feels like the temperature in the room has been turned up a hundred degrees. A single finger strokes through the heat at my center and stars burst behind my eyes.
The thick finger pushes roughly inside of me. I let out a low moan, no longer able to control my reaction to him. I tear at his shirt, not caring if I rip the fabric or tear off buttons, just desperate to feel the heat of his skin.
His mouth smiles against mine. I know he’s laughing at me again. But I don’t care about that. All I care about is having as much of him touching me as possible.
I’d never thought about how large his hands are until a second finger joins the first. A shock of pain gives way to the seep of wetness and an overwhelming feeling of fullness that nearly sends me over the edge on its own. His fingers pump in and out of me, their rhythm excruciatingly slow.
A moan spills from my lips as my hips twist to match his thrusts.
Leo breaks our kiss. His mouth slides over my cheek, kissing a trail to my ear. He catches the lobe between sharp teeth. “You like that, baby?”
I can’t speak, it’s too overwhelming. All I can manage is a frantic nod followed by another low moan.
He chuckles. “Tell me what you want, Mara. If you beg me sweet enough, maybe I’ll give it to you.”
“Please, please.” My fingers catch in his hair again, pulling frantically. I don’t even know what I’m asking for. But I know if he doesn’t do something, I’ll disintegrate into a thousand pieces.
“You want me to fuck you?” The filthy words are punctuated by another twist of his fingers. “Beg me.”
I’m so close, so close to falling over the edge into oblivion. “Please, Leo. I can’t take it. Please fuck me.”
His smile is triumphant. He pulls away.
“I’d love too, sweetheart. But I’m thinking you’re right that we should wait.” The look on his face is so smug that I wish I was strong enough to slap it right off him. “I’d hate for you to think I was taking advantage.”
“Asshole!”
He levers himself off of the bed, wisely moving out of striking range. "Sleep tight, Mara.”
I’m wound up so tight that I’m about to shoot off into outer space, and he fucking knows it. Sexual frustration builds in me until it’s a physical pain.
“Fuck off.”
He did that to me on purpose. Probably another lesson, that he didn’t have to spank my bare ass to punish me.
I roll over and squeeze my eyes shut, desperately trying to shut out the sound of his laughter.
I hate him.
Chapter Nine
Leo
Mara slumps in the passenger seat with her knees pressed up against the door. A pair of sunglasses sits low on her nose to keep out the morning sunlight that I bet is excruciating whenever a single ray hits her bloodshot eyes. I figured she’d be hungover when I got her up this morning. But the moaning mess that crawled out of my bed was even worse than I had imagined.
I did feel a momentary stab of sympathy until I remembered it was her own damn fault. I still can’t believe I walked in on her swigging some of my best Scotch like it’s fucking iced tea and pawing through all of my shit.
Every time I think I have a read on this girl, she goes and surprises me again.
She’ll be fine. The drive up to Ithaca takes about four hours. She can sleep off the worst of it on the way and then take her test.
I took a look at one of her textbooks after she passed out and it’s some next-level, Einstein shit. I didn’t even know you could do math that’s more letters than numbers. And from what she’s said, it sounds like her grades are good so she’s not even really struggling with it.
But how do you square that with the chick who thinks it’s a good idea to get drunk by herself while sitting in the closet of a man she barely knows?
The girl is a mass of contradictions.
It unnerves me how little I understand about her. But it also makes me want to keep putting the pieces of her puzzle together until I figure it all out.
Not to mention that just thinking about the way her body feels has me hard as a rock. I can’t even close my eyes without seeing her face or imagining that I can smell the perfume on her skin. I’m never like this with women. Fuck them once, maybe twice, and then forget about them. I’ve left a string of women in my rearview mirror and I probably couldn’t pick most of them out of a lineup if you were holding a gun to my head.
But something about Mara makes her different. I like teasing her and pushing her to the edges of what she can handle. Watching the little play of emotions across her face — pain, fear, desire — is like a drug.
She’s like an obsession.
I probably just need to fuck her. That’s a more reassuring thought. I’m just not used to wanting a woman and not immediately having her, especially one that’s got me running around like her personal bodyguard/chauffeur/benevolent landlord.
Although, the look on her face last night when she realized I wasn’t going to let her come — that almost made it all worth it. I’ve never seen a woman that hot and bothered before in my life. It was the best punishment I could think of for gulping down my best liquor and snooping through my room.
But one of these days I’m gonna watch the play of emotions over her face as I send her over the edge. I want to see the little bit of fear that gives way to unrestrained pleasure.
And that day is going to be soon.
I glance over at Mara, trying to determine if she’s really asleep or just faking it. She hasn’t said more than two words to me since she woke up this morning, probably still pissed off about last night. Not that it matters to me. Let her be pissed, she got exactly what she deserved.
I pull into a Starbucks drive-thru for coffee. She shifts slightly on the seat when I shout my order into the speaker. I laugh a little to myself. Definitely faking it. I go ahead and order a second one when her pride finally lets her go back to acknowledging I exist.
I’m not a total monster.
“You take cream and sugar?” I ask as we slowly roll up to the window.
Half a minute passes and I don’t think she’s going to answer. She finally grumbles, “no sugar.”
I set her cup in the center console, not forcing her to interact with me more than is necessary. I’ll give her some time to work through her shitty mood. What I really want to do is pull her into my lap and make her ride my dick until we’re both raw. But I’m resisting my baser urges so she can focus on her exam.
I’m practically applying for sainthood here.
Mara slowly unwinds her body until she’s sitting up in the seat. She picks up the coffee cup, holds between both her hands and gently blows in the little opening. The movement makes her look like a kid with a cup of hot chocolate.
That’s the only childlike thing about her.
“Your books are in the back if you want to study,” I say as I merge back onto I-80. “
I just grabbed the whole bag.”
She doesn’t respond. I hold back a laugh when I catch the obstinate look on her face. I wonder how long she’s gonna be able to keep this up before her natural instinct to cuss me out takes over.
I have no idea why broads think the silent treatment is an effective punishment for men. We spend most of our time trying to figure out how to get them to shut the fuck up. Men love silence.
The radio is tuned to some classic rock station. I turn it up and focus on the road.
It only takes another twenty miles for Mara to finally give it up.
“I forgot to tell you the justice of the peace called before you came back yesterday.” Her voice is without inflection. “He can meet us at the courthouse on Tuesday.”
“Okay.”
The engagement ring shines dully on her finger as she raises the cup to her lips. I’m not sure what I was thinking telling her to wear Amber’s ring. Not because it holds sentimental value, but because any reminder of that bitch I used to call my wife makes me see red.
Amber was one of those broads who loved the idea of being with a connected guy. Or she did until she had to deal with the consequences of what it means to be in the life. She never understood that I sometimes had to take calls in the other room where she and the kid couldn’t hear or unexpectedly leave in the middle of the night because I had work to do.
The one thing she never did have a problem with was spending my money.
After that, I started avoiding women who seemed at all interested in being with a guy in the mob. Their fantasy of the sexy bad boy with the heart of gold never lives up to the reality.
I’m a bad man — who does bad things — and there’s no changing me.
Mara’s very different, at least in that respect. She was born smack in the middle of all this shit and has been fighting like hell to get away from it ever since. I have the feeling that she’d give up all that money in a heartbeat if it meant she could walk away and never look back. But I’m sure I’ll find a way to let her down too, in the end.
It’s just what I do.
I glance over at her to find Mara staring at me. With a little start, I realize I’ve probably been quite for a long time, lost in my own mind.
“Not having second thoughts, are you?” she asks, her voice mocking.
My eyes return briefly to the road before sliding back over her. “Are you?”
“I was never doing any of this by choice.”
The defeat in her voice hits me hard for a moment, but I push the feeling away. “We all do shit that we don’t want to do. That’s part of being alive.”
“Maybe being alive is part of the problem, then.”
What is this maudlin shit? I glare over at her while trying to keep one eye on the road. “You don’t fucking mean that.”
Mara crosses her arms over her chest and huddles down in the seat, seeming to draw into herself. “You do realize that I am completely alone, right? I don’t have anything left. It’s all been taken away.”
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself.”
I feel the heat of her glare shoot through me without having to see it on her face. “Excuse me?”
“You’ve been dealt a shit hand, I’ll give you that. But that doesn’t mean you just give it all up, roll over and wait to die.”
“Fuck you, you don’t know what it’s like.” Mara shakes her head, mouth squeezed into a thin line. “I’m completely alone.”
“First of all, I came up in the foster system, sweetheart. I know what it feels like to be alone.” She’s turned away to stare out the window. I give her shoulder a hard shake to make sure she’s listening. “And second of all, you’re not alone. You think I’m driving out to fucking Ithaca for my health?”
“That doesn’t count.” Mara makes a rude sound. “You just want to have sex with me.”
You’re not wrong. “What do you think family even is? It’s people who are there for each other out of love or obligation, or whatever the fuck. So the family you were born into didn’t work out. So, what? Find a new one. Make a new place for yourself in the world. You don’t need blood to be family.”
I can almost see the wheels turning in her head while she considers my words. I shouldn’t be giving anybody life advice, but I’m the best she’s got for now.
With a sigh, Mara turns to grab the backpack that’s sitting on the backseat. “Don’t talk to me anymore. I need to study.”
Silence, I can do.
The campus is nicer than I expected. Most of upstate New York is a cesspool, but Ithaca isn’t too bad. Mara gives me directions to her dorm. I’d told her that I’d pack up the rest of her stuff while she takes her exam.
I can’t help but notice how much better she fits in here than she did back in Newark. Her posture is more relaxed even just from driving into town and there’s a small smile on her face that’s the first real one I think I’ve ever seen her wear.
If I thought it would be safe, I’d tell her not to bother coming back to Jersey.
And there I go pretending to be the good guy again. The fuck is wrong with me, right now?
My cell phone vibrates in my pocket. I check the screen to see its Carmine, the new boss, calling for the third time since we left. I hit the button to send it to voicemail. He’s gonna be pissed and I need to get back with him soon, but I can’t talk where Mara might overhear.
I can only hope that wherever Vito is, he appreciates the mess I’m making of my life for his granddaughter’s sake, all because he couldn’t find some other asshole to pawn her off on.
Mara leaves me alone in the small apartment. The roommate isn’t there, probably already gone for the winter break, Mara said. As soon as the door closes behind her, I put in a call to Carmine.
“Where the fuck are you?” he bites out into the phone, not bothering to waste time with a hello.
“Ithaca.”
“Why the fuck are you in Ithaca?”
Carmine is young for a boss and he curses almost as much as I do. But you can tell he’s really pissed when every other word he says is “fuck.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I need you back here. Soon. We got to sit down with a local MC — Devil’s Advocates, or some shit.”
“Devils Rejects?
“Yeah, that shit.”
“Sit down?” A feeling of unease trickles down my spine. “I didn’t hear about a fucking sit down.”
“You’re hearing about it right now, asshole.”
“What’s the problem?”
“They’re pissed off — saying some of our guys put a couple of theirs in the hospital. They want compensation.” Carmine pauses and I can hear him chewing on the end of a cigar. “You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”
Anything — or everything. “I can’t keep track of what happens to every piece of shit in Newark. Why are we even bothering with this? Devil’s Rejects are small time.”
“Apparently, they’ve hooked up with the Sons of the Apocalypse MC, out of Philly. We don’t need to start a war, so we’ll play nice for a bit and see what’s what.”
Fuck. “Yeah, okay.”
“I need you here tonight.”
“I hear you, Jesus.”
“Don’t start that shit with me, Leo. I’ve been hearing things about you that I don’t fucking like, either. It’s raising my blood pressure. I know you were close with the old boss, but I’m head of the family now. You can’t be running around out here doing whatever the fuck you want.”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it.”
I hang up the phone and slip it into my pocket with a muffled curse. I hadn’t let Carmine in on the details of what happened with the Devil’s Rejects. My crew is small, but I run it how I see fit. Those MC fucks were in our territory — technically.
And now I have to go to a fucking sit down.
It’s not just that I don’t want Mara involved in business, but I really don’t want anyone to know about our little arrangement. It
sounds crazy when I’m just running it over in my own head, I can’t imagine how dumb this shit would look if I try explaining it to someone else.
Everything is gonna be fine, I try to reassure myself. I’ll go to the sit down, pretend to agree to some bullshit compromise and that’ll be the end of it.
The sound of a key scraping against a lock puts me on high alert. I slide back behind the wall that separates the tiny living room from the even smaller kitchen, just before the door swings open.
A round-faced girl with short blonde hair walks into the apartment. This must be the roommate that Mara had assured me already left town.
I step outside of the shadowed corner, smiling a bit as the girl jumps half a foot in the air.
“Jesus. Who the hell are you?”
“Leo,” I say smiling at the strong Midwest accent. “I’m here with Mara.”
“Oh, I’m Lynn.” She looks past me in the darkened apartment, obviously hesitant to get too close. “Is Mara here.”
“She had an exam to take.”
“That’s good,” Lynn says, a relieved smile stretching across her face. “I was worried she wouldn’t make it back in time. Can you believe they only gave her a one-week extension? Like hello, her granddad just died.”
The girl’s voice is animated and perky. She’s like the polar opposite of Mara in every way imaginable.
“Yeah, sure.”
“I was supposed to drive back to Wisconsin the day before yesterday, but I wanted to try and wait until Mara got back. You wouldn’t believe how dead this place gets after finals are over. The campus is like a friggin’ ghost town. It was kinda starting to freak me out. Do you know if Mara is still planning to come to Aspen?”
The word vomit pours out of her at such a rapid pace, that I can barely follow it. It’s only the way her voice lilts up at the end that clues me into the fact that she’s asking a question. I have to rewind in my head to remember what she asked.
“What did you say about Aspen?”