by Amarie Avant
Do not be apprehensive about my own family, my own blood… I tell myself. Evan and I haven’t divulged the seriousness of our relationship to our parents at my request, yet he is my reassurance. We’ve all had a serious discussion about Evan keeping an eye on me since we live near each other.
Leaning against a flurry of pillows, I watch him sleep, I pray Evan is never put into a situation because of me. Unlike Grayson, he didn’t run after hearing of Giovanni. Upon seeing the love, doubt, and guilt in my ex-fiancé’s eye, I know that Lolita warned him.
I smile down at Evan, with a flurry of emotions running through me. Happiness that he hasn’t run after learning about the Giugliano family. Angst at the thought of him one day deciding I am not worth the fight. And I suppose the greatest sentiment I have is ‘selfishness.’ Can I honestly love Evan the way he loves me if I’m too selfish to let him go? I’m afraid to say that three letter phrase: ‘I love you.’ But I’m too damn selfish to want better for Evan than being tied to me.
He’s become my place of refuge. He handled all of the murders at my apartment. After initial questioning, the cops never gave me a second thought. On the first day of winter, Nook will open. Jamie and I have strategized on having a winter solstice type of event to garner new customers and perk the ears of our weary, loyal ones. And I can officially get rid of my ‘Amityville’ apartment. There are boxes all around my bedroom, and we usually sleep at Evan’s, but this morning…
Evan’s big, buff bicep locks around my thighs. And he pulls me closer to him, leveraging his head in my lap. His tone is a mixture of a wet, groggy dream, “Stop staring at me. And why'd you wake up so early?”
“Sorry.” I give a wry smile. “Cannoli. I’m up to make cannoli. That’s why we had to sleep here, at the little shoppe of horrors. One of my longest running customers flies to LA every month for business. Since he’s virtually the only one who hasn’t abandoned me, I’ve felt obliged to continue on with our routine month after month, and have a fresh box ready for him at dawn.”
“Mmmm...” Evan becomes king of the jungle, his tone vibrating into my lap so raw, so animalistic my entire body aches for him. If it weren’t for being loyal to my customers, there’s no way I’d get out of bed.
“Okay, big boy, I've gotta get downstairs to the kitchen.” I feather his perfect, wavy hair.
“No ya don't.” Evan grips my ass and in a flash, I'm beneath his girth.
“Oh, hell no, morning breath. C’mon, stepbrother, this is getting scary.”
“You've got morning breath too.” He chuckles. Then his warm mouth comes down onto mine. It's tingly, cool, minty.
“What!” I pull away. “No fair.”
“I woke up around four this morning. Brushed my chompers and I've been waiting for you,” his minty mouth glides across my cheek.
I hold a hand over my mouth, “Sneaky snake!” I gasp the words.
Evan pulls my hand away from my mouth with ease to my protest. He says, “We’re in love, doll. You're mine.”
Then his mouth clamps onto mine. My sweet Evan knows I’m still too chickenshit to utter my adulation for him. I struggle to save my sanity but his teeth sink into the flesh of my lip. I sense his dick rising before it even pokes into my thigh. Evan’s callused hand touches along the same spot of my neck, then around to my cheek. Then his thick lips go to that soft spot right behind my ear. The kiss lingers and makes my breath catch and my heart skip a few beats.
“I’m still mad,” I barely can get the words out for smiling.
“Is that so?” Evan licks his lips as he pulls the zipper down the front of my footie pajamas. “I should be mad at you for wearing these darn cartoon pajamas.”
Whimpering, I say, “But it gets cold at night.”
“The next time I’m in Armani, I’ll push through discomfort to see if they design some sort of onesie.” His laughter is warm as it sinks into the soft skin of my chest.
“Okay, the day you do that, I’ll have no problems forcing you to the store to purchase tampons too.” I grin. “Worse! I’ll have to tell my mom about our freaky relationship. She’s a piranha when it comes to my well-being. See how much Lolita likes you, then.”
The affable glow in Evan’s gaze warms over with lust. He palms one of my breasts, then helps me take the pajamas off. Granted, there is no sexy way to get out of my favorite pair of footie pajamas.
His eyes move down from my breast and rock-hard nipples, past my smooth, tiny waist and to the tiny lace triangle hiding his solitary goal.
“You’re still dressed, Detective,” I give a sly smile. “And now I’m freezing. Is that fair?”
Evan nods, and climbs to his knees. He takes one of my boobs in his hands and flicks it softly with his tongue. Mmmm, every single time his tongue brushes my skin, my toes curl.
This is torture. It feels so fucking good.
Then he shows my other breast the same amount of attention. My hands go to Evan's hair, fingers massaging the mass of chocolate-brown curls. His tongue and lips begin to leave a sweet, wet trail down my chest. He plants a smooch to my belly button, hands over my abs and he bites my panties pulling them down with his teeth.
He sits up, leaning over me. Silently his golden eyes taunt me with delights that are yet to be had. His hand slides down my belly. My breath hitches, moist pussy ready. Yet his hand slides back up over my breast, as his hips hitch to the left in pure amusement. Evan then squeezes both my breasts before allowing his large hand to trail its way back down again. He pets between my legs. Not delving into the gift I have to offer him, but allows his hand to cup over my trembling pussy.
“Open your legs wider, Reese,” Evan’s order sends a thrill up my spine. My legs slip apart, giving him a visual of my bare pussy walls.
Evan takes in a breath as if the sight before him is magnificent, new, a sight to behold. “If I could, I would paint— ”
“Not over my dead body,” I snap, though inwardly giddy at how attracted he was just staring at the sight of my luscious, silken folds.
Evan places a hand to his lips. “Shhh.”
My face beams in a smile as I stay quiet.
He leans down. My heart skips a beat. His face is poised inches away from my slit. Evan’s finger barely grazes against my clit. I shudder to his touch. “You’ll let me paint your gorgeous, sweet pussy?”
And because I’m not dumb enough to deny him, and live, I utter the word, “yes.”
Evan smiles.
I inwardly grumble, fingers clutching the sheets.
“Don’t tense, Reese.” His warm breath glides over my thigh as his finger traces along the lips of my womanhood. When satisfied that I’m no longer seizing and twisting the linen, the pad of Evan’s finger slides over my clit.
“You’re getting wetter,” his tone has deepened.
“Evan, fuck me, baby,” I moan, my hips twirl attempting to coax his finger inside of me.
“Open your legs wider.”
His finger penetrates my body, my eyes flutter closed, and I nearly faint. Two fingers begin to stroke, pace quickening by the second.
My mouth opens wide, head tilted back. At my brink, Evan hefts my legs over his shoulders one after the other.
I die in this moment, he growls against my thighs, his nose nudging my pussy.
When he touches his tongue to the lips of my labia, it’s as if my body opens wide for him. I inhale deeply through my nose and arch my hips granting him full access. His tongue plunges into my body. His nose prods at my clit, adding to the titillating stimulation. My pussy has become a sugary confection as his long tongue works its way to my g-spot. Pure bliss feathers my entire body. He growls like a beast and my hips buck. My legs start to spasm, first orgasm radiating throughout my soul. Evan tastes every morsel I have to offer.
I sink into the pillow incapable of lifting even my head.
Evan sits up again, and pulls his undershirt over his head.
“Condom… condom. Put on a condom,” I beg.
/> 29
Evan
“There's no fucking way, I'm wearing a condom, Reese's Pieces.” She’s already on the pill. The monstrosity of a story Lolita spun a few months ago has Reese paranoid. These days, protection during sex is our only argument.
“But my mom said–”
“Okay, it's true. Lolita said if you have a son, Milo’s father is going to take interest. You're taking birth control pills. Good. I kinda want the wife and house before the baby crib. But either way, I'm giving you a son first.”
The saccharine from her pussy is on my lips, coating my tongue, enticing me before she pulls away. My body sinks into the mattress. I grumble and cuss under my breath. More. Fuck the Giugliano family! Arguments between us have become seldom. The only time we fight is when it has something to do with fucking Giovanni. A man I don’t give two shits about. Reese begins to rise from the bed.
I grab her hand, sit on the edge of bed, and pull her down onto my lap. “So after I marry you, Reese, my son will grow in your womb.” My eyes bore through hers as Reese glances at me from the dresser mirror. Hand caressing her tummy, I say, “One day when we have our son, I dare that motherfucker to come out of the woodwork, Reese. You’re gonna be pregnant with a Zaccaro baby boy, there’s a million of us. Despite that, I don’t even need an army of Zaccaros to keep my son safe.”
“Stop being so machismo.” She tries to softly elbow me.
“Hey, even your mom believes in us Zaccaros.” Reese told me her mom had saved up a few millions of dollars from all of her past marriages. That’s why Lolita never pinched not one penny to help Reese with the bakery. She’s a true example of what a mother would do for her child. Now Lolita is Tony's wife, and anticipates staying as much. Part of the money Lolita had put away for safe keeping, if she and Reese ever needed to flee, has been placed into the reconstruction of Flour Shoppe in a less ‘police headline’ location and Nook too.
“Not fair, Evan. I’m not like my mom.” Reese takes a deep breath. Though she loves her mom, their relationship has been tensed since Milo’s untimely demise. “I didn’t say that I don’t believe in you.”
“Then just trust in me, Reese. Always trust that you belong to me. When you’re ready we can work out the dynamics.”
“A wedding,” she smiles. Reese readjusts herself on my lap, taking my face in her hands. “Evan, I… I care about you more than you know. I trust you, babe. We can have a little girl...”
“And if you get pregnant with a boy first? We abort, we give him away? How the fuck are we to react?”
Her face contorts, “Evan, don’t be so cruel.”
I rub the back of my neck. Yeah, it was harsh. Sighing deeply, I start over, “We'll have a boy. Then a little girl. I want both.”
“I’ve got to go bake the cannoli now.” Reese stands up.
As her fingers glide through mine, I let go. Then I grab her wrist, my thumb kneading over her racing pulse. She’s still troubled. I caress the silk of her wrist to determine her heart rate, I’ve noticed it helps calm her heart. I raise her hand to my lips and kiss her fingers. “Look at me.” My other hand tips her chin. I joke, “The boy’s name will be Tyrone.”
She scoffs, eyes twinkling. “You're a fool. You and Tyrone are not naming your sons after each other.”
“He's saved my life. His lady is okay with a little Evan.”
“Better not be,” Reese's eyes slit with jealousy and then she's laughing again. Tyrone’s girlfriend is expecting, and the ladies have become friends during our double-dates over the past half year.
“No Tyrone’s. Jamie won't let me live it down. Every chance he’d get, that fool would be singing Erykah Badu’s song.” Reese shudders while laughing.
I shake my head. “I'll have to search that song the next time Ty gets on my nerves.” Again I pull her into my arms. “Now go make me a cannoli.”
“Damn,” she sighs, heading toward the bathroom. “My customer will be here soon. And who said you'd get one, buster?”
Water streams down my body, and I lean a forearm against the shower wall to think. Reese pushes me away ever so often, so do I really want to tell her the truth about her father?
She’d finally told me the story as to how he was gunned down. I knew a war raged within her soul as to if she should hate all cops, hate me, over her father’s misdeeds. He’d been holding her… Lolita says Reese has erased the bad part from her memory. The part where Milo Benincassa placed a gun to his daughter’s head. He’d been so high off cocaine, so invincible in his mind as he held a ten-year-old Reese against him, shielding him from the cops. He’d been surrounded, no means to escape, and ready to take out anyone, even his own flesh and blood. A sharpshooter had taken the shot. I’d reviewed the case file and it corroborated the phone call I’ve had with Lolita. I turn off the water, the steaming condensation begins to evaporate as I step onto the cupcake-print rug.
With a towel tied around my waist, I sift through Reese’s closet for one of my suits. Though this site for Flour Shoppe will be moving soon, for good reason too, we both have clothing at each other’s houses. I dress in a simple pair of black Armani slacks and a button up. Stomach growling, I decide to head down to Flour.
Since Reese and Lolita have placed much investment in promoting the pending opening for Nook, there’s no hustle and bustle of the morning crowd as I come downstairs. Reese has spoiled me when it comes to breakfast, so I’m gonna have to figure out what we’re eating while she bakes only desserts.
There are boxes along the hallway leading into the kitchen, filled with items which will be transported to the new Flour location once construction has finished. Maria is singing softly to Mariachi music while piping some sort of cream into tiny triangle cakes. Jamie's index fingers are in his ear as he sticks his tongue out.
“Good morning,” I nod. I walk past the duo, smile on my face as they say a quick greeting.
In the front of the bakery, Reese is happily chatting as one would with their father. Not sure why this strikes me as the proper analogy but it does. Leaning against the doorframe, I cross an ankle over the other and watch the love of my life. From my angle, I’ve got the perfect view of the curve of her ass. The side of her face is bright with a smile. I can’t see the old guy who’s harmlessly flirting.
“Sal, I've out done myself this month,” she says tying a satin bow around the light-blue box.
“Delizioso,” the old man sounds like he’s kissing his fingers, while telling Reese she's beautiful, sweet, in Italian. “Every time I stop by, you get better and better. One day, soon and very soon, your cannoli will taste like my late-mother’s.”
“I hope so,” Reese says, each word is infused with a smile. “I’m counting the days until you’ll have to visit our new Flour location. I hope one day; you’ll consider breakfast at Nook too. Just a few more weeks and it’d be nice to offer you a cup of coffee with your cannoli.”
“Hmmm, I’m not a cup of joe kinda guy in the morning, but I promise to swing by. And, Oh, I can’t wait to visit the new Flour,” he says. In Italian, the guy tells Reese what a beautiful businesswoman she is.
“Aw, Sal, I’ve really gotta learn the language,” Reese says.
“I'll teach you one day. I plan to settle down here, Reese.”
“Wow, Sal, you’ve traveled the world and want to settle in smoggy LA?”
I straighten up. This bit of their conversation has become a red flag. So far, they’ve made small talk. Why mention this?
I walk toward Reese, as she stands at the display. On cue, Giovanni Salvatore Giugliano removes his Vuitton sunglasses. His eyes land on mine. “I was waiting to meet the famous Zaccaro. Cosenza, right?” Giovanni mentions my family’s hometown in Italy. “Very touristy,” his lips curve in distaste. “But your Italian, that Vande… whatever his name was. It’s good that things didn’t work in his favor.”
I stand before Reese. My forearm pushing her toward the back exit, but she won’t budge. She’s glued to me as her conf
usion yields to fright.
“Signor Giugliano, you're not welcome here,” I assure.
His fat jaw curves upward into a smile. “You keep our girl safe, until I'm ready to settle down. Spend some time working on my great-grandson, capiche?”
“Like I just said,” I begin again, jaw tensed, hands balled at my side. “You are not welcome around this bakery. If I so much as hear of you lurking near Reese, you and I will have a motherfucking problem. Know what I’m saying?”
“You're a soldier. I like that. Because of me, you are a MADE MAN, Valentino. Stay that way.” Those eyes tell me Giovanni’s crew is right outside but he doesn't need a single one to help him.
Reese begins to curl behind me. Her grandfather picks up the box of goodies, he gestures toward his granddaughter. “Reese's Pieces–”
“You can't call me that anymore,” her voice is tiny, yet strong.
“Okay, doll. When you're ready,” he gazes at her lovingly, then his eyes slither over mine as if to tell me I’m in this too.
“Was it two or three more times here before the new Flour?” He inquires. She is mute. Giovanni nods, “Alright, see you next month.”
30
Evan
January…TWO MONTHS LATER
“The first person who dies has to cook dinner!” Reese shouts, voice full of playfulness as I lean against the doorframe of the entrance of her apartment. There are boxes everywhere. Low and behold, on top of the cardboard box to my left is a Super Soaker.
I sigh, shaking my head. “No fair, Reese, I've had a long day at work. You've made cupcakes.”
“Whatever, Evan. I resent that. Not to downplay baking, but I’ve actually been arguing with the moving company all day. They’re charging me by the room, as if a hallway and a smidge of a bathroom count. Now, pick up the gun,” she says.