by Gabby Grace
But then there’s my feelings for him. Is it love? I don’t know. I know it’s strong. I know we’re strong. I’ll just have to have trust and hope upon hope that when the dust settles, Vito and I will still be standing together hand-in-hand, rising above it all.
All of it.
38
Vito
Showered and dressed now, I sit out on the lanai, the sounds of Florida’s nighttime bugs filling the air with chirps and clicks, and somehow, it’s helping my thoughts.
Let’s take stock of where I’m at. Don Antolini sent me down here to get an inside look at the Sirico crime family’s heroin operations. I located a warehouse, and it turns out it was a processing location that took drugs that came in on boats from the Middle East, made their way through the docks, and were delivered to that warehouse, probably by truck.
Nero Petrone knew I was the one that infiltrated his factory, eliminated three guards, and burned it to the fucking ground. He also knew about Bella, which means that other people probably did, too. Were we being watched? Is someone watching us right now?
Don Sirico would have been briefed by Nero Petrone, before I blew his fucking head off, about a potential new location for the warehouse. I need to consider that they would have moved the location to another city, but it just doesn’t add up. They would have greased some customs official’s palms to get the stuff into Miami, then there would be the relationships with whoever was the point person in the Middle East, and of course, the shipping companies that were involved.
It probably took months to set that all up, and I find it hard to believe that Sirico would go through the trouble of setting up shop somewhere else. It would require too much time, and as it was, he was probably behind schedule with orders to fill up in New York, and probably in Las Vegas.
So assuming – and this is a strong possibility – that Sirico still wants to operate out of Miami, how do I find his next location?
My thoughts are interrupted by warm hands massaging my shoulders, kneading my muscles deep and hard. Sometimes it’s hard to know how tight and stressed I am, until someone puts their hands on me and starts working through those kinks.
“Ahhh…” I let out a sigh and a deep breath that empties my lungs. I need to breathe through this shit, otherwise, it would be too much.
“You’re tight, baby. Let me loosen you up a bit.” Her voice, sultry and seductive, only compliments what she’s doing with her soft hands.
Before too long, her hands travel down the front of my shirt and start massaging my chest. I’m even tighter there. The closer she gets to certain places, the more my cock jumps in my drawers.
She steps out from behind the chair a bit, working my shoulder and upper chest on my right side as she goes, but I can tell she has something else on her mind. Her right hand wanders down my chest and finds my abs, and she slowly finger walks her way down them to just above my boxers.
The combination of her left hand working my chest and her right one slipping beneath the fabric is just what I need right now. My cock, damn near fully engorged at this point, springs up with each quickening heartbeat, as her tiny hand wraps around the shaft, stroking it up and down.
She removes her hand just for a second to lick her palm, then returns it to its rightful place. She starts stroking it hard and fast, squeezing tightly as she goes. Her lips are on my neck now, her hot, wet tongue breathing fire as it travels all the way down my torso, and then she repositions her body for what I know will be next.
Pulling my drawers and shorts down with both hands, just enough to expose my cock, massive, heaving, and glistening with her saliva, she brings her lips to meet the tip, as she kneels next to the thick, cushioned lounge chair I’m sunken into.
I pull on the arms of the chair to lean it back a bit farther so I can relax and enjoy this, and give her better access.
Bella’s taking me deep now, alternating with releasing me fully to lick all around and under my hood with her talented tongue. I lift my head up slightly, just so I can watch her, and as she releases my cock from her mouth and licks the shaft, her eyes rise to meet mine. I can tell she’s enjoying herself.
There are women who give head because they have to, and there are those who agree to it because their man bugs them until they do, and then there are women who suck cock because they fucking love it. Bella fucking loves it. She makes love to it, her passion obvious behind every lick and flit, and her seductive eyes completely focused on mine only adds to my pleasure. As much as I’m enjoying this, I need to fuck her right now.
She gets my meaning when I grab her hand from my inner thigh and pull her up to me off her knees, but not before she finishes pulling off my underwear and shorts, and throwing them in the bushes with a giggle.
I mouth, “What the fuck?”
She undresses in front of me, almost like a quick striptease, as I clasp my fingers behind my head, taking it all in.
Her perky breasts pop out from below her shirt as she lifts it over her head, no bra to contend with. She slides her jeans and panties down ever so slowly, kinda’ wiggling out of them, thoroughly enjoying the cock bounce she gets from getting me excited.
Fully exposed now, the light from the flanking tiki torches dances across her fucking gorgeous body, its warm, soft glow flickering across her like a moving flame. She moves closer to me, too slowly, and she’s using her hands to touch herself in the most sensual way.
I’m fucking losing it. I need to fuck her. Now.
She steps over my hip, sliding her slick pussy along my cock, as she settles down into me. Her pussy pushes my cock into my stomach, as she glides back and forth along my shaft, and I can feel her wetness caressing along every inch of me.
Moving her hands to my chest, she slides along me, moaning into my hair, her pussy being stimulated by the serious friction she’s creating with her hip grinds. She raises her hips up, puts her hand on the base of my cock, and slowly encases me in her slickened channel, accompanied by an audible gasp that lasts the five seconds it takes for me to enter her fully. It feels too fucking good, and I feel like my eyes must be rolling back in my fucking head.
39
Bella
I’m teasing my man and he knows it. I can see the pent-up energy in his eyes, it’s emanating from his every pore.
His masculine energy, powerful and strong, is wanting to burst out like a locomotive blasting out of a darkened tunnel ready to speed down the tracks. I’ll give it to him now. But first, I wanted it slow. I wanted to feel our desire build. He’s not used to that. I don’t ever want him to get bored with me. It happens a lot with couples. It’s the same old, same old, before one of them is looking for something exciting and different, but with another partner.
I feel every inch of him filling me deeply, completely, his hips thrusting up slightly as our bodies meet, wanting and needing to get him inside of me as deep as possible.
I ride him low and hard now, my breasts pressed up against his chest. This position is my favorite. It hits my g-spot at just the right angle, his monstrous cock grinding along my roof, creating the perfect friction.
As I fully experience him now, lost in a sensory overload of trying to be consciously aware of all I'm experiencing physically and emotionally, I doubt another man could ever make me feel this way during sex. It’s so deep, so intense, in every way.
I pick up my pace. Leaning back now, with my hands planted firmly behind me on his knees to support my weight, I’m holding on for fear of being bucked off. I ride my man, so overwhelmed right now with emotion, my heart ready to burst as he thrusts his hips up to meet me.
So close, I can feel the pending release building up inside me. This must be what a surging tidal wave building and growing, collecting energy as it goes, must feel like. “Ahhhh… ahhhhh…” I can’t form words, and only sounds that are strictly instinctual and animalistic, primal, escape my mouth. I’m almost free.
My weight shifts to my knees, my hips r
ise up off him, as he pistons into me hard and fast, almost unbelievably so. His stamina is staggering. Rising… so close… now… I… “ahhhhhhh…hhhh…” My head flips fully back, my hair dangling and caressing his legs, I’m arched fully as waves of pleasure pour off me, radiating all over my body as he plunges harder, and deeper. With a roar, he explodes into me, his hot sticky streams filling me over, and over, and over, until I think he must be done, but then there’s more.
My weight carries forward. I fall into him, his arms are like vices wrapped around me, pulling me in. His hands shift smoothly to my face, and then he’s stroking my sweaty hair away from my lips so he can kiss them tenderly. He pulls his cheek to mine as we finally catch our collective breaths, and I never want to leave this space with him.
Never.
40
Vito
The next morning, my mind is working overtime. Not able to sleep any longer, the questions are rolling around in my head, when out of nowhere, the answer comes to me so clear and so fast, it’s like it was placed there on the tip of a lightning bolt. The key is Marco. The unspectacular, pudgy meatball-shaped guy who let me into the warehouse that night. He is the key. Without him, we are blind and clueless to Sirico’s next steps.
I wonder if he knows about Lucenzo? Did he bail on the operation after that? There’s only one way to find out.
_____
“Hey, Joey, it’s me, Vito.”
“Yo, Vito.” Joey Gentile always answers me like that. Must like the sound of it.
“I need a favor.”
“Anything.”
“I need to get back in touch with Marco. Do you remember I mentioned him?”
“Yeah. He’s the guy that got you into the warehouse, right?”
“That’s right. But after Lucenzo died, I have no way of getting hold of him.”
“What do you suggest?”
“We need to contact the Tortelli’s and get his number, or at least set up a meeting.”
“I’ll see what I can do. Let me run it by the boss and I’ll get back to you.”
“Sounds good.”
_____
I owe Bella a nice something. She’s been through a lot, and until I hear back from Joey, I’m dead in the water anyhow.
She refuses to work, probably still scarred by what happened at Fave. She really doesn’t want to talk about it, although I’ve asked. I’ll give her the space, but right now, she just needs something.
“So, Bella, is there anything you want to do today?”
“Actually, there is. It’s going to sound crazy, but it would make me happy to see my family.”
“Where’s your family?”
“Up in Jupiter.”
“Where’s that?”
“A few hours up the coast. My mom has planned a dinner for some relatives in the area, and there used to be a time when I would go up there for every one of them. Lately, I’ve been so busy with work that I’ve turned her down.”
“So what are you waiting for? Give her a call and let her know we’ll be there.”
“You want to go?” she asks in surprise.
“Why not?”
She smiles her beautiful smile, then throws her arms around me in the most genuine hug. Even though I want to take her again right here and now, it doesn’t seem appropriate.
“Thank you, Vito.”
_____
Shortly after our conversation and as I was cleaning out the Mustang for our trip up north later today, my phone vibrates in my front pocket. Joey.
“Hey, Joey.”
“Yo, Vito.” There he goes again.
“I got Marco’s number. We have the blessing and support of the Toretlli’s. They want to put an end to this business as much as we do. They’re not happy about someone trying to set up shop in their neighborhood without permission.”
“You know the Sirico’s. They just take what they want. This is no different.”
“We supply the muscle on this, though. They already took a loss with Lucenzo, and I understand they’re involved in their own little war with a rival Mexican family. They can’t spare anyone.”
“And Marco?”
“Well, he’s already inside, and they’ll keep him there to help us take down Sirico. It’s in their best interests to do so.”
“Give me that number.”
I hug my phone to my ear while scrawling the number on the registration envelope with an old Marriott Hotels & Suites pen I dug out of the glove box.
“Got it. Thanks, Joey, and I’ll check back when I know something.
____
Marco wanted to meet down on the South Point Pier on the Biscayne Peninsula. It’s a sunny day, as most are this time of year, and I walk the wooden pier a few hundred yards out over the Atlantic. I find Marco sitting on a bench with a large brown paper bag. He’s grabbing handfuls of bread and tossing them out over the side of the pier, watching as waves of seagulls catch the pieces in midair, while others follow them down to the water to pick up the chunks with their beaks off the top of the water.
I sit down next to him on the far side of the bench, making pretend I’m a tourist, my eyes looking straight ahead in case anyone is watching. “It’s amazing how they can snatch those right out of the air.”
“They have many skills, and getting food is one of their most impressive. I’ve seen them take sandwiches right out of people’s hands on the beach.”
“That’s pretty ballsy.”
“So was burning down that warehouse.”
“You noticed, huh?”
“Hard not to. It was on every major news station.”
“Did you catch any flack?”
“Everyone was questioned. I played dumb and they didn’t seem any the wiser.”
“Was it Nero Petrone who questioned you?”
“Yes. I heard about him, too. You always bring trouble with you?”
“I try. It’s all part of getting the job done.”
“And what’s the job now?”
“Locating the new warehouse and taking the operation down for good.” I lean forward, my knees out and my elbows resting on them, palms together.
“You talk like it’s an easy thing.”
“Confidence goes a long way. You have anything for me?”
He dumps the bag upside down, and crumbs and scraps fall to the wooden planks. “I know where they’re opening up shop.”
“Can you get me an address?”
“348 Wharf Way.”
“Are they operational?”
“They will be in a matter of days.”
“Do you still have access?”
“As far as I know. We’re all on standby until it’s ready to go.”
“Who’s running this new operation?”
He stops to consider, his hand strokes his chin. “I know what he looks like, but I don’t know his name.”
“Is he in his late fifties with an Addam’s Family mustache and glasses?”
“I couldn’t have described him better.”
“That the boss of bosses.”
“He has that air about him.”
I’m going to push a little to get what I need. “Can you get me a layout of this place?”
“It’ll take me time.”
“Call me when you know.”
41
Bella
"You ready, Vito?”
He comes strolling out of the bedroom, a sharp-dressed man in his patterned open-collared shirt, dark jeans – at least they’re new – and brown socks with no shoes on. “Yeah. Have you seen my shoes?”
“I think they ended up under our bed after, well, you know… after.” I put my head to his chest and look up into his eyes knowingly. He pulls me to him and kisses me passionately, seducing me with the irresistible combination of his musky aftershave and good old-fashioned manliness.
“After, huh? Are we talking about last night or this morning?”
“I can’t remember. It all seems to blend together.”
“We’ll have to figure out how to make them stand out for you. There’s always later.”
“Later?”
“Yeah, maybe at your mom’s house.”
“Vito! How could you even think that?” She slaps me on the chest and attempts to pull from my grip.
“You do things to my mind… dirty things.” He kisses me one last time before releasing me and going off in search of his shoes.
____
Roughly two hours later, we pull up to the curb outide my mother’s house in Vito’s hot black Mustang convertible. It’s that same rental he's had since the day we met and he refuses to turn it back in. It must be costing him a small fortune, but he doesn’t seem to mind.
The quaint house that my mom has lived in ever since she immigrated to Florida with my dad maybe five years ago, looks like many of the others in this neighborhood, but she does a little extra to make it sparkle. She has strings of multi-colored lights zigzagging in a pattern across the length of the front porch, and then more at the back of the house over the veranda.
Vito walks around the car, knowing full well I expect him to open the door for me. He may be a bit rough around the edges, but I’ve been able to train him on a few things. As far as I’m concerned, chivalry is not dead. He opens the door with one hand, extending his other hand to help me out. My free-flowing, strapless sundress is longer in the back than in the front. It billows around me when I exit the car, accenting the dramatically cut flare halfway up the front between my knees and thighs, and pulling a smile from Vito..
“What a gentleman, thank you.”
He stops and faces me with a serious look on his face. “So, what should I call your mom?”
“You’re nervous aren’t you?”
“What are you talking about?” He’s a bit annoyed that I hit the mark.
“I think it’s sweet.”
“I’ll wing it. Let’s go.” My hand still grasped in his, he leads me up the wooden steps to the front door that’s set off a few feet to the right of the stairs. He turns his head to look at me, clearing his throat.