Wild Knights

by Blaise Kilgallen

  She couldn't miss the searing desire pouring from beneath his thick lashes.

  He thumbed her breasts, watching for her reaction, then ran his hands over her ribs, to her waist, and tightened on the swell of her hips. "You're so feminine and ... well, I guess I like touching you just as much as I like fucking you."

  He reached around to unhook her brassiere. Meanwhile their gazes locked. The look in her eyes told him she wanted the same things he did. He saw her breathing had accelerated as her hands rose to his chest. She circled the firm pecs of his male flesh, searching for his nipples through the Polo shirt he wore.

  Gently, he pushed her hands away. "Later," he whispered. "You first."

  He stripped her bra off and reached for the zipper of her jeans. He pressed her down onto the mattress and pulled off her sandals and pants, leaving her naked except for pale blue nylon panties.

  "Slide over to the middle of the bed."

  She did so without a word.

  He sat beside her and removed his running shoes. He knelt on the bed then. She lay waiting, in anticipation. The lush mounds of her breasts, nipples pink-tipped and visibly prominent, pointed at the ceiling. Carla had developed early and now wore a size 36-C bra.

  Evan bent over her and squeezed her nipples between thumbs and index fingers, pulling on them, taunting the pebbled aureoles, driving her crazy. She closed her eyes to heighten the intense sensations tightened by her wishful thinking. She lifted her hips slightly, enticing him to come closer to where she wanted him, inside her, shoving in that thick, silky penis, and massaging the walls of her vagina until she came.

  "I'll get to it, don't worry," he promised, murmuring. "Let me show you something new."

  He dipped his head and taking one of her nipples into his mouth, licked it, then sucked on it so hard that sensations zapped to her core in a wave of pleasurable magnitude, and she cried out.

  "Oh, please. Oh, Evan!"

  "Good," he murmured, releasing one nipple and switching to the other. "One good turn deserves another."

  With his lips still tantalizing her breast, he began yanking off her panties. When they caught on her hips, he reached down with a fierce movement, and tore the flimsy fabric. He flung the damaged nylon underwear across the room. Grabbing Carla's spread knees, he separated her legs wider, lowering himself between them before dragging her shapely calves over his broad shoulders and letting them droop down his back.

  Carla felt totally embarrassed. He must be peering directly into her exposed cunt. Words stuck in her throat until she exclaimed, "Omigod! Evan, you mustn't!"

  His big hands cupped her buttocks. He raised her legs higher and bent toward her wet, pink cunt. When his hot tongue touched her clit, lapping it like a cat drinking milk, she almost leapt out of bed.

  "Ev-an... Oooh, good grief!"

  He stopped tormenting her with his tongue, but only for a moment. "Jesus, Carla," he asked. "You mean no one kissed you like this before? It's about time, then. I love your pussy. You taste salty and sweet at the same time. Lie back and let me do this for you."

  She struggled to sit up.

  "No, no, don't move, sweetheart. It's all right. You'll like it. I want to make love to you like this, so just relax. Enjoy what I'm doing. I'm real hungry for you, and I especially want you to come. I hope more than once. I won't stop till you do," he added.

  She closed her eyes and did what he asked. Her mind and body went crazy from his ministrations as he licked her clit. He bit gently on the swollen nub until she thought she would melt into a puddle of jelly. He made love to her, his lips sucking her into his mouth, scraping her clit with the edges of his teeth. Carla almost went mad. She couldn't stop moaning as she writhed on the mattress.

  She couldn't decide which sensations were more erotic--pain or pleasure--until everything came together at once. Every miniscule nerve in her body pulsed, swirling her over the precipice in a rioting waterfall of senses: her tingling nipples, her convulsing clit, and the highly sensitive walls of her vagina.

  Evan took a deep breath, and using his tongue like a fierce lance, shoved it into Carla's cunt as far as it would penetrate, moving it in the same manner as his rock-hard penis.

  "No-oo. Oooh," she screamed. "I can't..."

  He brought her to orgasm more wickedly and more decadently than she'd ever experienced. And he didn't stop there. He spread the nether lips of her snatch wider and pinched her engorged nub with a thumb and finger. Already ravaged by his mouth and his touch, he watched her go wild with untamed pleasure and pain. She screamed like a cheerleader at the Medieval Showtime's performances, wracked by prolonged, numerous, monumental orgasms coming one after another. She panted, breathless, consumed with unbelievable things that were happening in her body. Sexual spasms ripped through her. She felt woozy, a mass of trembling, quivering nerve endings, so weak and faint she was uncertain she'd make it through this sexual orgy alive.

  Finally, limp and spent, she lay unmoving. She could hardly breathe. It had been the most excruciatingly extraordinary--and heavenly--pleasurable experience she'd ever known. She closed her eyes, rolled her head to the side, and drifted into sleep.

  * * * *

  Evan's head lay on her stomach. He remained that way for several minutes, catching his breath. His cock had swelled to maximum size and was hard as a rock; his balls burned, painfully sensitive. When he looked at Carla, he saw she was drowsing. It was no wonder; he had watched her come again and again, experiencing orgasms so profound and devastating, he knew she never before went through this. He smiled and congratulated himself, genuinely proud of his oral performance. Finally, he rolled back on his haunches, and studied her. She didn't move a muscle. Her breathing was unhurried and quiet. She was definitely asleep and well satisfied.

  What the hell was he going to do with himself? He certainly couldn't take his satisfaction from her while she slept. As he massaged his cock, trying to ease the hard-on pushing against his zipper, he decided to take a cold shower.

  He picked up a folded coverlet from the foot of the bed and gently threw it over her naked form. The room was air-conditioned and cool; he didn't want her to catch a cold.

  His quickie shower helped a little. He changed into fresh clothes then scribbled a note and left it on a pillow next to her head. Jingling his car keys in his jeans pocket, Evan grabbed the room keycard and left, gently pulling the door shut behind him. He'd give her an hour or so. Enough time for a couple of beers. Maybe even a short trip to the casino just to take his mind off the night to come.

  Meanwhile, he had a lot to think about. His Uncle Tony had pressured him for a favor. He knew he would do what he wanted. Still, it was difficult to contemplate arranging someone's demise.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Rocco Gardenia was a bull of a man--short, stocky, all pouter-pigeon chest and a loud, pugnacious attitude to go with it. His small, pig-like eyes displayed not an ounce of kindness or conscience. Rocco was Evan's cousin. His father was Rose's older brother.

  The Gardenias, an offshoot of the Lupo family, grew in power during the late 1960s when the families clashed and factions split. Later, Evan's father was killed by two bullets in the back of his head. The two thugs who dropped him off, bleeding and scarcely breathing, at his home in Nutley were never heard from or seen again.

  At the time, Tony Lupo was fighting a different kind of turf war. He'd been investigated by the federal government, meaning he'd kept his mind on business, his friends close to his vest, and his contacts under wraps. But Tony was old and frail now and knew he hadn't long to live. He believed the Gardenia family had something to do with his younger brother's murder, and he wanted vengeance, some satisfaction at the end his life. He wanted Evan to avenge the family. Which was why Evan was here, in the casino, talking with his cousin instead of where he wanted to be--with his sexy new lover.

  Not that Rocco was a stranger. The cousins had attended Monsignor John Bacco's high school in Bloomfield, and both had been on the school's wrestl
ing team--Rocco as a senior and Evan as a freshman. Despite being teammates, they'd never liked each other. Rocco frequently denigrated Evan's wrestling skills, and one afternoon had viciously slammed Evan onto one of the gym's wrestling mats, twisting the younger boy's shoulder so badly he couldn't compete for the rest of the school year. It was well known the cousins never got on, in school or later. As the two men grew older, their differences became even more apparent.

  Rocco graduated to Armani suits and Italian leather shoes styled in the latest fashion. Evan wore sweats or jeans and running shoes. Both men drove powerful Cadillacs. While Evan polished and babied his 10-year-old model religiously, Rocco drove a top-of-the line model that he purchased new every year. Rocco had been a punk soldier in the Gardenia family before graduating from high school while Evan had left Newark immediately after graduation, not wanting to be involved in his uncle's nefarious business affairs.

  These days Rocco was a force in Port Newark's politics, a man who had the ear of the mayor and city council members. Evan, who hadn't laid eyes on Rocco for years, wasn't anxious to "accidentally" meet his cousin face-to-face--especially now, inside Caesar's casino. But Rocco smiled as he approached Evan and slapped him on the shoulder, a bit too effusively.

  "Hey shit, Evan, what the hell are you doing here in Atlantic City? A little far off Lupo turf, ain't you?"

  "Visiting," Evan replied, not imitating Rocco's false smile. "How about you, Rocco?"

  "In the pink, Cuz. Never better. Come on," Rocco invited. "I'll buy you a man's drink. You still sucking on that cheap stuff?" Rocco's intimation was clear--nobody with a buck in his pocket drank beer, a poor man's alcoholic buzz.

  "Thanks, I'll stick with the lighter stuff." Evan deliberately tilted his bottle of Bud(r) and swallowed.

  "Me and the boys are down here for a builder's convention." Rocco said conversationally. "I never bring Teresa with me if I can help it. Enough loose snatch running around on the beach to keep a man screwing 24 hours a day if he wants to. What about you, Evan? You getting any?"

  Evan had a sudden urge to slam his cousin against a nearby wall, long-suppressed anger and bitterness boiling up in his throat.

  "Yeah. More than I can handle," he said, choking down his raw feelings.

  "Well, if you're looking for real good pussy, give me a buzz." Rocco pulled out his business card and shoved it into Evan's hand. "This Josephina is a real hot number. The cunt is wild and young, too. She'll blow your balls out of their sockets if you let her, and she loves Italians. I keep her busy sucking on my cock." He winked. "Gotta go. Catch you later, Evan boy. Maybe we'll get together sometime."

  "Yeah, right." Evan hated when Rocco called him "boy."

  "Ciao." Rocco punched Evan on the shoulder again. Evan grimaced, taming his temper as his relative strode to a group of men in business suits who were entering the casino. Rocco was all smiles and loud greetings--always the politician.

  Evan finished his beer and left, taking the elevator to the fourteenth floor.

  How the hell am I going to duck Rocco if we butt heads for the entire weekend?

  * * * *

  Evan heard the shower running as he unlocked the door.

  "I'm back!" he yelled so Carla could hear him. He heard her muffled reply when an interesting idea occurred to him. Within minutes he had stripped and was in the steamy bathroom. He opened the glass door to the shower and stepped inside.

  "Hi. Want company?"

  His cold shower earlier had been for medicinal reasons, if you could call it that, but now the shower was hot and the water felt good on his skin. "Let me soap you up."

  Not waiting for an answer, Evan stood behind her and rubbed the bar of soap over and over in his hands, working up a lather. He swished the foam over her shoulders and back.

  "Evan, I'm pretty clean already."

  "Yeah. But this is a hell of lot more fun with me doing the soaping, right?"

  She let him soap her.

  When he finished with her back, he stooped and slid the soap along the crack between her buttocks. He pushed her legs apart farther.

  "Ev-an..."

  "Shut up, Carla. I like what I'm doing."

  Next he dragged the cake of soap down the insides of both legs. On the upward stroke he stopped and pressed the slick bar against her cunt.

  Carla gripped the faucet handles.

  Hot water beat down on their heads and bodies, running like crystal dewdrops over their heated skin. Swiftly, he turned her to face him. Her spiked, wet lashes rose to meet his gaze. Wanting to touch him as well, she ran hands up and down his chest, over his rib cage, and across the washboard musculature of his torso. Not tearing her eyes from his, Carla leaned in and kissed a nipple, then shifted her mouth to the other one and licked the splashing water away from it.

  Evan reached behind her and turned off the water jets.

  They explored one another inside the shower stall, caressing the sensitive places, steam blurring the glass enclosure with their rapid breathing. Carla teased his nipples and danced her fingertips down his chest and stomach. Finally, she wrapped both hands around his jutting penis. Evan was endowed with a cock unlike any she'd seen or imagined. It didn't take long for his erection to swell to mammoth proportions.

  He felt like steel sheathed with silk, a foot long and as big around as a baseball bat. How did this ever get inside of me?

  The words "Italian Stallion" came to mind. But Carla knew her body had accepted the huge sex organ once, and it would slide into her more readily the next time. She wanted him inside her, pleasuring her, flinging her into realms of euphoria, leaving her mindless and satisfied again as she dissolved into a limp, wet dishrag. She only hoped it was time to take that ride again.

  Oh yeah!

  He pulled her against him, bending to stick his cock between her legs. He rubbed the length of it back and forth, teasing her opening

  Pushing her against the tile wall, Evan grabbed hold of her buttocks, lifting her onto him until his cock took a slow, titillating glide into her. The whoosh of sucked-in breath might have exploded from either one of them.

  "Wrap your legs tight around my waist, Carla. I don't want to drop you," he ordered.

  Bracing his feet against the rough texture of the stall's floor, he thrust into her where she half sat, half leaned with her back against the tile wall. She came within seconds, biting his shoulder, crying out, and leaving teeth marks. The rippling, pulsing contractions of her inner muscles massaged his shaft until he jerked with a violent series of spasms, his seed spurting into her. He roared his release, his male shout echoing in the tiled confines of the bathroom. Evan's big body pressed against hers, capturing her, holding her up. Only then did he realize he hadn't used a condom. Carla sighed with pleasure and lightly kissed his shoulder this time, not aware she might be pregnant already.

  "Evan, that ... was stupendous," she murmured. "Thank you, again."

  "God, I thought so, too," he agreed as he pulled out of her.

  She braced herself when he set her down, her legs wobbling like cooked spaghetti.

  He turned the water jets back on and adjusted the temperature, allowing the spray to wash between their thighs with a gentle flow of warmth that wasn't uncomfortable to sensitive areas.

  "Guess we should get dried off," he commented, opening the glass shower door, which was fogged by steam. Evan grabbed a big fluffy towel from the heated towel rack and rubbed Carla down. She returned the favor, reveling in the strength and beauty of his masculinity. They wrapped themselves in terrycloth robes supplied by the hotel and padded from the bathroom barefoot.

  Evan slumped into a chair and turned on the TV while Carla stood and looked out the windows, watching the whitecapped ocean waves rolling onto the beach on the far side of the boardwalk. The afternoon seemed to fly by, but she knew why. Two sessions of fucking with Evan Lupo made time disappear in the snap of a finger. It was nearly suppertime on a normal day.

  Finally, she asked, "What shall we
do now?"

  "What do you want to do?" he replied, tearing his gaze away from the baseball game.

  "It may seem strange, even funny to you, Evan, but I've never been to Atlantic City. I think I'd like to take a walk on the boardwalk. Can we do that?"

  "Sure," he nodded. "Then we can get something to eat. I'm starved. I wonder if there's a Burger King(r) nearby on the boardwalk."

  He's like a big kid, Carla thought. With the body and stamina of a sex-starved elephant.

  "That's fine with me. I'm kind of hungry, too."

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  They found a Burger King(r) and Evan chowed down as if he hadn't eaten since yesterday. Even Carla finished a Whopper(r), fries, and chocolate ice cream. He stole one good lick from her cone and wiggled his eyebrows at her. She blushed, remembering where his tongue had been and what it had been doing earlier in the day.

  They strolled leisurely along the boardwalk, hand-in-hand. It was a warm night. Numerous summer visitors trod the boardwalk of Atlantic City; there was plenty to see and more to do as well, inside the hotels lining the strip. After their dinner settled, Evan towed her back to Caesar's.

  "Come on, let's do a bit of gambling. What do you like? The slots?"

  She reminded him she'd never been to Atlantic City and therefore had never gambled, but he insisted she give it try. He brought her a container of nickels, showed her how to feed the machine and pull down on the handle. She whooped like a schoolgirl when one she fed gave her back more money than she had put into it.

  "Are you caught up in betting now, Carla?'

  "No, of course not. I'm not that dumb," she replied haughtily.

  The late show at Caesar's was just starting. Evan decided they should take it in, but when he saw Rocco and his companions going inside, he changed his mind.