“No. I’ve thought about it too. I was being greedy. I moved you too fast and didn’t take enough time to be more sure about what you’d like. It’s not a mistake I’ll make again.”
I give a little shrug. “I like that you think about it so much. About pleasing me, I mean. It’s like a science to you, but somehow not in a cold and detached way.” I laugh a little at my terrible explanation. “It’s sexy.”
“I take it very seriously,” he agrees. “Reading the signs. Reading the body language. There are tells, you know,” he says.
We stop beside a rock outcropping that cuts across the shore until it reaches a group of dunes farther inland. There’s a little semi-circle tunnel that looks like it was carved through the rocks to give unrestricted access between both sides of the beach. He takes me inside the rock tunnel and puts my back against the wall.
It’s still dark, but the first hints of sunrise are staining the sky behind us pink.
“Tells?” I ask. My heart is already thumping and my chest feels tight. He wants to act like body language is mysterious, but there’s no mystery in his. Every time I’ve seen that look in his eyes, I’ve ended up naked or nearly naked with his hands all over my body within minutes.
“Skin temperature,” he says, “for starters.” His finger sends chills up my stomach when he slowly moves his thumb, circling above the waistband of the shorts I borrowed from Neela after they rescued me from my father. “It tends to elevate when you’re aroused.”
“Is mine elevated?” I ask.
“Very. Heart rate increases, too.” He presses his hand to my chest, letting his palm casually rest on my breast with his fingertips over my heart. He nods, as if confirming something he suspected.
“Increased?” I whisper.
“Very much. There’s one sign that is the most foolproof, though.”
“There is?” I ask. My chest feels so tight I start to be afraid I’m going to pass out from a lack of oxygen. I hadn’t experienced the horny phase of pregnancy I’d heard so much about yet, partly because horniness was one of the farthest things from my mind while I was locked away at my father’s house. It’s as if my body is making up for lost time now. Angelo doesn’t need any help from me to look good, but whatever chemicals my body is pumping me full of are putting everything into overdrive.
Warmth floods my lower belly and there’s a constant, pleasant tingling kind of buzz between my legs.
“It’s a tricky test,” he says, as if admitting something embarrassing. I barely notice his fingers which had been exploring the elastic band of my shorts start wandering around to the front. “Sometimes it’s not so easy to get your fingers where they need to be to check.”
He moves his fingers inside my panties and cups me between the legs, letting his middle finger glide along my valley, where I feel my slickness easing his way.
“Just as I thought,” he says seriously, face only inches from mine.
“What?” I whisper.
“Highly aroused. You’re showing all the signs. There’s only one thing left to do at this point.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“I’m going to have to make you cum all over my cock.”
The warmth in my belly explodes into heat at his words, tingling through my body and to my fingertips and toes. “What if you’re not as good at reading body language as you think?” I ask. My lips brush his neck as I speak and I can smell the familiar and sexy scent of him, like home and something exotic and expensive all at the same time.
“That would be a problem, because I don’t need to be an expert to know I’m showing all the signs, too. I need to be inside you,” he breathes into my ear. “I need your walls choking the life out of my cock. I need your hands on my back. Your tongue in my mouth. I need to taste you. I need you, Ana. I fucking need you so bad it hurts.”
I bite my lip, searching his eyes. “Only since you asked so nicely,” I say, grinning.
His lips crash into mine, warm and sweet. The stubble of his beard tickles me, our tongues swirling together in a hot, wet tangle that is as delicious as it is out of control.
He’s careful not to crush his body into my belly, but that’s the only restraint he seems to have energy for. His hands tangle in my hair, gripping so tight it almost hurts. He kisses me hard, fast, then slow and soft, but there’s a rhythm and naturalness to the kisses that makes me feel like I could get lost for hours with his fingers threaded through my hair and his mouth against mine.
He, on the other hand, seems to have other plans, because he pulls away from the kiss long enough to strip off my shirt and bra, followed quickly by my pants, panties, and then his own clothes, until we’re both very naked on a public beach. I’m not feeling even close to sexy with my belly the size of a half-inflated basketball, but it’s hard not to let Angelo’s relentless, frenzied exploration of every inch of my skin start to convince me that he’s not having any trouble finding me sexy.
“No games,” he says into my ear, then bites my earlobe hard enough to sting. “I just need to fuck you.”
I put my hands on his shoulders, and grip tight so I can wrap my legs around him, using my back against the rock and his shoulders to keep myself from falling down to the sand. He grips my ass and takes all the weight into his own hands like it’s nothing, then with a single thrust of his hips, he enters me.
A gasp spills out of me. Shock and surprised pleasure mingle together. He uses one hand to grip my ass, whether to help hold me up or just because he’s enjoying it, I don’t know, but the other hand is clearly for his enjoyment, because his face is drawn in concentration and pure bestial hunger as he palms my breasts, my neck, my face, and runs his thumb across my lower lip all while he pounds into me with a kind of urgency I haven’t yet seen from him.
He wasn’t lying when he said he needed to cum. There’s none of the measured, deliberate pace he adopted when he slept with me before. He isn’t the one in control while I’m the squirming, inexperienced girl under his masterful touch. This isn’t the kind of sex meant to be had on silken sheets behind lacy curtains.
It’s the kind of sex that’s meant to be outdoors. Wild. Untamed. Pure unadulterated lust.
He grunts with his pleasure each time he drives his cock into me, grip growing tighter and tighter on me as he nears his climax.
My own body can’t catch up or acclimate itself to the barrage of sensations: the dig of smooth rock against my back, still cool from the night and smooth from years of constant, salty breezes, the hard muscle of his ass against my heels while my legs are wrapped around his naked waist and the way it flexes with each powerful movement of his body against me, the feeling of his tight, warm skin covering nothing but endless inches of carved, shifting muscles, and the impossible fullness I feel when he’s deep inside me.
It’s perfect.
It’s terrifying.
It’s magic.
I squeeze a handful of his hair and he leans his forehead down to rest against mine, ripped body still moving ever-faster, ever-more powerfully.
The pain of months apart are blasted away in a white wash of pure bliss.
He tenses, and his own pleasure is the final straw to send me into my own pleasure filled oblivion.
We climax together in the pink-washed cave while the first hints of the sun rises up above the waves behind us, while the only sound is our mingled, ragged breaths so much like the white noise of waves and water and wind.
We say nothing, and we don’t need to, because all the meaning I’d ever need in the world is in the way he tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear and lets his fingertips graze my jaw before he leans in to kiss me.
20
Angelo
You’re sure about this?” asks Enzo, who is watching Gino with a skeptically raised eyebrow.
We’re at Club Seven, it’s just past noon, so the place is empty except for employees who are cleaning up and preparing for the guests tonight. I asked Gino and Enzo to meet me here. Ana is curl
ed up in one of the booths just a few tables away and sleeping like a baby. I made sure to position myself where I can see her clearly. I tried to get her to sleep upstairs in one of the beds because I didn’t like the idea of her lying in such a cramped space while she’s pregnant, but she didn’t want to be that far away from me.
Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn’t deny her that, because I didn’t want to let her out of my sight, either, even though I added so much security to my club since Rosiano forced his way in that it’d take a couple S.W.A.T. teams to get in.
“I’m as sure as I can be,” I say.
Gino leans against the bar while Enzo and I sit, facing him. His eyes are narrowed. “I’m starting to think if I let you do this, I’m going to end up finding some girl who makes me clean up my act in a few months and I’ll want to walk away too.”
I chuckle. “You should be so lucky.”
“Fuck,” says Gino, who looks more serious than his usual, laid-back self. He flicks his arms out, adjusting the sleeves on his jacket and pulls at one of the buttons below his neck. “You want me to run the family by myself?” he asks. “Not much of a family if both my brothers have bailed out.”
“There’s no other way,” I say.
“Did you try talking to Rosiano Torretti?” asks Gino.
“I did. On the phone, but his message was very clear. I’m sure he’d never admit as much, but we had the shit scared out of him in that basement last night. Probably could’ve got him to sign an agreement to disband the Torretti family then and there. But now he’s just pissed. Back to his old self, and I think being embarrassed like that has him even angrier. I need to get myself out of the family and find a quiet place to hunker down with Ana while everybody cools off. I can’t keep running the family.”
“He makes it sound hard,” says Enzo. “I made sure it’s a well-oiled machine before I handed it off to him. Took care of all the redundant, old-fashioned shit leftovers from dad, and cleaned it up. Hell, if this big idiot had half a brain, he could’ve had the entire operation legit a year ago. There’s enough money in the family that you could do it, Gino. Let the Torretti’s have the neutral territories. Give up on all the pride. We have enough real estate and connections. Let the accountants keep managing the money that’s coming in and you’ll never need to break the law for the rest of your life.”
“What he said,” I agree with a grin.
Gino leans back and blows out a sigh. “I don’t know about going legit,” he says after a few seconds, then smirks. “I’d kinda enjoy tearing Rosiano a new asshole. Maybe snag a couple of those neutral territories just to wipe the smug look off his face.”
I glance toward Ana, then back to my brother. “If that’s the way you go, there are no hits on Torretti guys. Understand? Unless it’s an eye for an eye. The Torretti’s may be shit stains, but once I marry Ana, they’re going to be my in-laws.”
“Even more reason to kill ‘em,” says Gino.
“I’m serious. Unless a Torretti comes knocking on your door and puts a gun in your face, you don’t shoot first. You find another way.”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m not a violent guy. You know me.”
“I know,” I say. “So what do you say? You’ll do it?”
“Fuck. You know I’ll do it, Angelo. I think you’re a prick for putting me in this situation, but I understand. And I’ll enjoy my bigger share of the money.”
“Take all the money, for all I care,” I say. “I’ve got plenty to last me for a few lifetimes.”
“Nah,” says Gino. “I think I’ll keep giving you and Enzo a cut. That way I can hold it over your heads if I ever need a favor.”
Enzo gives Gino a dry look. “A favor? I’m on the straight and narrow now, and Angelo will be too. What kind of favors do you think we’ll do for you? Move a fridge?”
“Nothing so mundane,” says Gino, who is already puffing up his chest. “I was thinking you could call me Papa Gino from now on.”
“Like hell,” I say, reaching to shove him.
He tries to dodge, but nearly falls over anyway.
“Careful, that’s the head of the Luciani Crime Family you’re assaulting,” warns Enzo.
“Doesn’t look so tough,” I say.
Gino pops the collar of his suit dramatically and makes a severe face. “And that,” he says in his best Godfather voice, “will be the last time you underestimate me.” He tries to quickly jab his hand toward me and slap my face, but I catch him by the wrist and quickly pop him across the cheek with my palm.
He scrunches his face in irritation and then lunges for me, knocking me from my chair and into Enzo’s, who falls down with us. When Ana wakes up and groggily raises her head from the booth, she finds the three of us in a confused, tangled ball on the ground. When Gino finally manages to slap me, it’s only because Enzo locks my arms behind my back and kicks my knees out from behind.
The three of us grin like we’re boys again, then clear our throats a little awkwardly when we see Ana watching us with a slightly disapproving but still amused look on her face.
“If only my father knew his biggest rivals were just three overgrown children,” she says.
21
Epilogue - Angelo
I’ve felt the fear of knowing I may have to end another man’s life, and the fear of wondering what might wait for me in the afterlife for the things I’ve had to do. I’ve felt the fear of knowing only the twitch of a finger stands between my head and a bullet. I’ve known what I thought were the greatest depths fear had to offer and walked away unscathed, straight-backed, and whole.
Nothing I ever experienced compares to the fear of childbirth.
Ana’s grip on my hand is nothing short of Herculean. I’m standing beside her hospital bed, her small hand trying to break every last bone in my hand. She’s nine hours into labor now, and the doctors were never able to give her the epidural because she was never dilated enough. The nurses said it happens that way sometimes. Instead of gradual dilation, sometimes women can almost fully dilate in half an hour.
That’s what happened with Ana, which meant no epidural.
All the doctors and nurses are female because I’m a jealous asshole and made sure of it, but I underestimated how distracted I would be by my little pet’s pain. I don’t think I would’ve even noticed if everyone in the room was male right now. All I know is I’ve been watching her writhe in gradually intensifying pain for nine hours and known the only thing I could do for her was to hold her hand, feed her ice chips, and wipe the sweat from her forehead.
One of the nurses promised she’d eventually reach a point of near-delirium and hardly remember what was going on, but she didn’t know how stubborn my Ana can be. Ana is still bright-eyed and very conscious. Too conscious, because her painful grip hasn’t slackened at all and she hasn’t run out of creatively vulgar things to shout at me when the contractions hit.
I know she’d never call me a “nipple-tittied turd” or a “piss bag” under normal circumstances, so I’ve weathered the verbal storm with an amused, if somewhat terrified, look on my face.
The heart rate monitor beeps like some frantic, electronic metronome, and the whole room feels too hot and damp. The lights are too bright and her grip is too tight. There are too many doctors and nurses.
And then the doctor tells her to push.
Ana grunts, squeezing my hand so hard I feel something pop in my knuckles.
Another push.
Another squeeze
Then there’s a head, and the doctor is cradling the baby, standing up and asking me to cut the umbilical cord.
I move through the motions, not fully taking everything in immediately. They hand our little girl to Ana, who finally lets go of my aching hand and looks like she isn’t in pain for the first time in nine hours. Ana’s eyes light up at the sight of our little girl. She takes her carefully and reverently as if the baby might break from a strong breeze, then cradles her on her chest and smiles down at her, eyes watering.
“You did so great, baby,” I whisper to Ana. “I’m so proud of you.”
“She’s so beautiful,” whispers Ana. “She looks like an Evie. Evie Luciani. It sounds good, doesn’t it?”
“It sounds perfect. Evie,” I say, trying it out and liking how the name feels. We discussed a few possible names, but decided we would know better when we saw her. I know waiting was the right choice now.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding and take in the sight of both of them. The moment seems to crash in on me, like the weight of my entire life all coming down on me in a single moment of earth-shattering clarity. All the terrible things I did to get to where I was. All the mistakes I made. All the times I thought I was too far gone for saving. The times I asked myself why someone like me should be allowed to continue living when better people die.
I can’t change what I’ve done, but I can feel good about where I’m going. I have to cling to that. Finding Ana and saving her from her father. Helping to bring Evie into the world. They are good things. Worthy things. They don’t justify all the bad in my past, but they are just the first steps in a long journey, and I think it’s a journey I’ll enjoy.
22
Epilogue - Ana
Once the nurses have cleaned Evie up and finished taking care of me, they let us have time alone with Evie.
I don’t even feel groggy from the pain medications, which is great. I didn’t let them give me anything too strong once I saw I could survive the pain, so I only have percocet and ibuprofen to dull the pain. I wanted to be mentally present for this, as much as I could be. I know it was the right choice now as I watch Angelo hold Evie by the window. He’s pointing out skyscrapers and naming objects to her in the sweetest, softest voice I’ve ever heard him use.
Baby for the Brute_A Fake Boyfriend Romance Page 15