“I’m not Mafia. I’m no mob boss, all right?”
“Then what are you?” Gemma asked pointblank. “If you’re not in the mob, then what are you in?”
“I’m in looking out for my friends and family. And running my businesses. That’s all I’m about.”
“But having people tailed---”
“Sometimes it’s messy.” He was attempting to avoid profanity. “You’d better believe it is. And I hate that it comes to that. But what the fuck . . . I mean, what the heck do you expect me to do? Sometimes stuff, I mean shit, I mean stuff, oh fuck! Sometimes shit falls into your lap, all right,” he went on in his natural tongue, “and you have to deal with it. I deal with it, Gemma. I have to.”
Gemma continued to stare up at him. She looked so vulnerable to him at that moment in time that it buckled his knees. He went to her, and knelt down in front of her. He took her small dark hands into his large bright ones. “I’m not smooth,” he said. “I told you that before we went down this road together. I told you I’m not going to be the kind of man you deserve. I’m not that guy and I’ll never be that guy. Too much baggage, sweetheart, too much of a messy past. But I promised you I would be faithful to you, and I would cherish you, and I would make certain that you’re loved and protected every day that I’m alive.”
Then a concerned look came onto his face. “This isn’t easy for me, either, baby. I know what you’re going through. My anxiety is nothing compared to yours, I know that too. But it’s there and it’s real.”
Gemma placed her hand on the side of Sal’s face. She knew what it was taking for him to be this exposed. Especially since he wasn’t, as he often told her, touchy feely at all.
“I’ve never been in love a day in my life until I met you,” Sal admitted. “And I mean never. I’ve gone from, and excuse the language but it’s the way I talk, fucking women up and down the line, from coast to coast, to just being with you. That’s a hellava change, Gemma. But I’m doing it because I know you’re worth it. Our relationship is worth it to me.”
Tears welled up in Gemma’s eyes as she rubbed the side of Sal’s gorgeous face.
“Most people would say I’m not worth it for you, considering the kind of wonderful and upstanding woman you are, and if I’m honest I would have to agree with them.” He said this with a smile, but Gemma could see the pain. “But it’s not what people say, or even what I say about it. It’s what you say, Gem.”
Tears dropped from Gemma’s eyes and Sal’s heart plunged. “Oh, babe,” he said with his own level of emotion as he stood her up and pulled her into his arms. They stood there, as she quietly sobbed, and he held onto her tightly. It was Gemma who finally pulled back.
She grabbed tissues off of the dressing table and began wiping the mascara from beneath her eyes. “Sorry about that,” she said. “I didn’t mean to cry. I’m sure I look like Wolfman Jack’s sister right about now.”
Sal managed to laugh. “I’m sure you don’t,” he said.
Then she frowned and exhaled. She looked at Sal again. “You’re more than worth it, Sal, please believe that. It’s not about your worth. It’s just that . . . those times, when you have to look out for your friends and family, does it sometimes involve illegal activities?” She asked this and stared at him.
Sal didn’t flinch. “It involves me looking out for them.”
“Whatever it takes?”
Sal nodded. “Whatever it takes.”
Gemma frowned. “And I’m just supposed to accept that? Without you even telling me what it’s about?”
Sal grasped her by her arms. “You don’t accept anything. You trust me. And just like you told me to let you handle your business, you let me handle mine.”
It still sounded tough for Gemma to accept. But she knew, if she wanted to be with Sal, and she did, she had to accept it. She put her arms around him. And nodded her head. “Okay,” she said.
Sal smiled grandly and pulled her back into his arms. “Oh, darling,” he said. “You won’t be sorry.”
“I don’t know about that,” Gemma said. “I’m sorry already.”
Sal’s heart dropped. He pulled back and looked into her eyes.
She smiled. “Dang, Sal, I’m kidding, all right? Lighten up!”
Sal laughed and began stepping into the tub. “Why don’t you go round us up some food while I bathe? That garage action worked up an appetite in me.”
Gemma looked sidelong at him. “Round up food?” she asked, and started removing her robe. “Are you out of your mind? I haven’t seen you all week. You’d better move your ass over and make room for mama. We’re about to fuck the bubbles out of this bitch!”
Sal laughed so hard he cried. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, making room. This was the Gemma he loved so completely. Strong, unashamed to show her affection, and funny. Always had that sharp wit. This was the woman he loved. This was what he was talking about!
But if he though Gemma was playing, he was wrong. She wanted that dick in her so bad she could feel it already. That activity in the garage was good, and she enjoyed it, but it wasn’t complete. Nothing satisfied her sexual urges the way Sal’s dick did, and complete satisfaction was what she was after.
Sal sat down in the tub as she stood over him. He was thrilled he wasn’t fooling with some kid, but had a real woman on his hands, a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to go and get it herself. But when she sat in that tub, with her back to his chest, he took over.
He kissed her on her long, dark neck, and the side of her face, and he fondled her breasts. She leaned back and lifted both of her hands, wrapping them around his head, rubbing his thick, silky hair. Her backward movement alone caused her breasts, to his pleasure, to take on that tautness he loved.
She smiled as one of his hands left one of her breasts and began to fondle her clit and rub her folds. For the longest time she enjoyed this massage. But as his dick began to expand and butt against her vagina, she took her hand and began to massage him too.
But it was Gemma’s time as far as Sal was concerned. He wanted her to relax and appreciate every inch of her body the way he appreciated it. And it worked. She leaned back against him as his rubbing and fondling and kissing relaxed her almost to the point of sleep. Until he entered her.
It was a slow entry, unlike the way he mouth-fucked her in the garage. He guided his dick into her vagina and then slowly, carefully, pushed it on in. Then he pulled it out, and pushed it in again. Out and in until he was steady, and was able to push in, and almost out, in and almost out. Gemma was, by now, breathing heavily. It was the feeling that was getting to her. That fullness and hardness that overwhelmed her insides and kept expanding until it felt as if it was stuck in her.
And then he’d slide in and almost out again, sideswiping her sensitive walls, and making her near cum the entire time. This was how Sal always did her. He made her feel as if she was floating, flying, fading in and out with sensuality. This was the best fuck she could ever get, the kind Sal put on her. She rubbed his hair, and leaned even further back against him, their faces touching cheek-to-cheek, as he fucked her.
But Sal, being Sal, wasn’t about to leave it there. His gyrations inevitably increased. But it was always just when Gemma’s body was begging for the increase. This time was no exception. Gemma was begging for him to lay it on harder. And he did. Harder and harder. He pumped into her, pounded into her, until it felt as if he was ripping through her body in a deliciously sensual way. Every sensation she could feel, she felt, as she screamed and lifted up and caused the water in that tub to start splashing out. She was cumming with a vengeance. She loved Sal, but to be able to do her this way was priceless to her. It had made her love him even more.
Sal was loving her even more as he came too. He thrashed into her and then, when he broke loose, he pushed in and stayed in. Deep down inside of her. And the muscles of his arms began to vein, his dick began to throb so hard that it felt as if he was going to explode, and he began to trembl
e. He poured and he poured into her. The water caught some, but she caught most, making her so full that she tried to force him out of her. She didn’t think she could take the heightened feelings. But she took it. Like the woman Sal loved so completely, she took it. And when his pouring had ceased, and all of their sensations had ebbed, he wrapped his arms tighter around her, and pulled her even closer.
“You’re mine, you hear me,” he said to her in a sturdy, but emotional voice.
And she felt the power of his body, and his tongue. “I hear you,” she said. “You’re mine too,” she added.
After dinner, they watched a movie in bed. It was a repeat of the BBC production of Sherlock on public television, with Benedict Cumberbatch playing the famed detective. But although Gemma was all into it, Sal wasn’t feeling it. He fell asleep within minutes of the opening scenes.
At first Gemma lay there, and continued to watch the movie, but then she found herself watching Sal. She fingered his hair out of his gorgeous face and watched him as he slept. He was such a complex man, she thought. Strong and tough, a loudmouth wise guy in so many ways, but so vulnerable too. Loving him wasn’t ever going to be as simple as loving him. And Gemma realized it. Every time they were together, she was realizing it more. She used to dream of such a simple love affair. She used to dream of meeting this great looking professional black man, who treated her like a queen, and who gave her cute little black kids and that perfect black family. Instead she got Sal Luca, a straight-up gangster if she was to tell the truth of it, who was Italian and brash and who would probably give her almost as much pain as he gave her joy. But there it was. No simple boyfriend for her. No simple life for her. She was still coming to terms with it, she knew, as she looked at him.
But then she thought about what he said too. He said their relationship wasn’t easy for him either. He had to give up a lot to be with her, not least of which his numerous females. But what if he couldn’t do it? What if, one of those lonely nights in Seattle, he gave in? Just as the fact that if she didn’t accept his “other business” interests it would be a deal-breaker for him, his going back to his old ways would be a deal-breaker for her. Which meant, she thought warily, their young relationship was nowhere near where it needed to be. They were still, in a lot of ways, on shaky ground. They were both, in a very specific way, sizing up the distance.
When she realized she wasn’t helping to make it any easier by constantly thinking about it, she turned her attention back to the television. Sal eventually woke back up and pulled her into his arms again, and he started watching the telecast too. But it was still too boring for him. He fell asleep again.
When he woke back up, the show, thankfully, was going off. “The things you like to watch,” he said as he shook his head.
“What do you mean? That was one of the best Sherlock Holmes I’ve seen since Jeremy Brett.”
“Whoever he is,” Sal said. Then he took the remote and turned the television off. He turned on his side, toward Gemma. “Now, I have you all to myself again.”
Gemma smiled, turning on her side and facing him too. “You always had me all to yourself, and you know it.”
He smiled. But he could tell she had something on her mind. “Out with it, child. What is it?”
She started to say nothing, but she knew that wouldn’t be true. “My parents, Sal,” she said, and he dropped his head.
“Not again.”
“They want to meet you.”
“And I want to meet them. And I will.”
“But when? They think I haven’t introduced you to them because I’m ashamed of you.”
“It’s not about that.”
“But they don’t know that, Sal.”
“We’re going to meet, all right? But not now.”
But Gemma couldn’t let it go the way she had in the past. If they weren’t asking about him, then it would be different. She wouldn’t mind waiting. But they were asking. “Why not, Sal?” she asked. “You were the one who told me I should tell them we were dating. They ask to meet you, then you suddenly don’t want to do it. Yeah, our relationship isn’t perfect. Yes, it’s been a little shaky sometimes and off and on, I’ll admit that. And I’ll admit my part in that. But it’s back on now. And we’re both hopeful. Right?”
“There won’t be any breaking up, if that’s what you mean. But that has nothing to do with your parents.”
“Yes, it does, Sal! I’ve never slept with a man, and was serious about a man, who I didn’t introduce to them.” Then she looked at him. She knew it would hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. “I went and saw your father,” she said.
It hit a nerve. “My old man had no say, none, in this relationship!”
Gemma frowned. “What are you talking about? My parents won’t have any say in this relationship either.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Don’t yeah, right me! They won’t. My parents never had any say in any of my relationships.”
“You respect them?” Sal asked her.
“Of course I respect them,” Gemma replied.
“You respect their opinion?”
“Sal, what in the world does that have to do with anything?”
“Answer my question. Do you respect their opinion?”
“Yes, I love them. Yes, I respect their opinions.”
“Fine.” Then Sal looked at her. “What if they hate me?”
“They won’t hate you.”
“Don’t give me that! What if they do, Gemma?”
“But they won’t.”
“What if they do?”
Gemma had to think about this. “Then . . . we’ll just . . . we’ll just have to disagree.”
“Bullshit!”
Gemma felt as if he’d just slapped her. She didn’t like his tone at all.
But Sal wasn’t backing down. “What if they hate me, Gemma? I’m not talking dislike and disagree. I’m talking stone cold hate. What if they hate me? Will you still love them and respect them then?”
“I don’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“Well see,” Sal said, “that’s the problem. They’re your wonderful parents. You only get one set. I’m just the boyfriend. The one they hate.”
This distressed Gemma because she knew he spoke the truth. “They won’t hate you,” she ultimately said.
“Yeah, right,” Sal said.
“Stop saying that,” she snapped.
“What do you want me to do, Gem? Want me to play games with you? I’m not exactly Mister Lovable and you know it. My own mother didn’t give a fuck about me, so don’t pretend I’m easy to love.”
“Oh, Sal,” Gemma said heartfelt. She knew about his past, about his mean, abusive father and absent mother. About his trunk-load of pain. Family was a tough subject for Sal. She knew it. She moved closer to him, and put her arms around him. “It’s okay,” she said. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s still too early in our relationship. Maybe now isn’t such a great time.”
He looked at her. “I don’t want to lose you,” he admitted. “I don’t want you to have to choose.”
“You won’t lose me,” she said, “and I won’t let anybody, not even my parents, get between us. Maybe later in our relationship, when you realize you aren’t in love with some punk, you’ll believe me.”
Sal smiled, touched her face, her smooth, black skin. “You’re no punk, hun?”
“Not a punk-ass bone in my body,” Gemma said, causing him to laugh heartily. Then he got out of bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked him.
“Pee,” he said.
She smiled as he walked into the bathroom, his long rod seen swinging between his legs as he walked away from her. And just like that she was craving his dick again. She could feel it as if it was still wedged inside of her. And she knew she was going to get some more. That was the wonderful part about Sal being in town. He was completely in tune with her wants and needs, and he made it his business to satisfy those wants and needs.
She lay on her back, listening to him pee and how insanely normal it sounded. She could get used to having him around, she thought. Then she realized she was hearing nothing more from the bathroom, but she was feeling his presence. She looked over and saw him standing there, leaned against the bathroom doorjamb, staring at her.
“What is it?” she asked him.
He folded his arms. She could tell that he was thinking, considering, deciding. She looked down, at his flat stomach, at his enormous dick, and then back up into his face.
“Set it up,” he said.
Her heart began to soar. Did he mean what she thought he meant? “Set what up?” she asked, to be certain.
“Set up a meeting with your parents. The sooner the better.”
She wanted to scream with joy, but she had to be absolutely certain. She studied him. “Sal, are you sure?”
He nodded. “I’m sure. Because you’re right. My woman, the only woman I’ve ever allowed to be called my woman, is nobody’s punk.”
She smiled, and immediately reached for the telephone. “Love you,” she said with a grin on her pretty face.
“You’d better,” he said, inwardly smiling and happy that he could please her. Then he pushed away from the doorjamb and returned to the bathroom to do those wonderfully normal activities of flushing the toilet, and washing his hands.
FIVE
Gemma poured coffee in her coffee mug and then thumbed through her smartphone to read up on the morning news. This was her relaxation time. She’d already showered and brushed her teeth and combed her hair. Now she was in her bathrobe enjoying the calm before the storm of her usually hectic day. Sal was upstairs, still asleep, and she could actually hear him snoring all the way downstairs. But she didn’t mind. The man was bone tired. He deserved a morning off. Besides, she loved the idea of having, not just a man in her bed, but Sal in her bed. Whenever he came to town, she got that warm, fuzzy, Christmas feeling. Whenever he left, she kind of got the blues. She got over it, but for a day or two, it was a very depressing feeling.
Romancing Sal Gabrini 2: A Woman's Touch Page 5