“If I’m making a mistake, it’s mine to make. Surely, you can understand that seeing as you have made so many yourself.” I turn my head. “Let’s go, please.”
Marco nods, and without another word, we walk away from them. We make our way through the crowd and are stopped by two police officers. They question Marco, but he doesn’t give away much. All he tells them is there was a disagreement before pulling me away.
In the car, he remains silent and I try to decide how I’m going to come clean about everything. Now that he’s met my father there is no use in hiding any part of my life from him. If this is going to go anywhere, he should be aware of how thoroughly fucked up my family is.
I steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye.
“How’s your hand?”
He flexes it around the steering wheel and cringes, but he doesn’t say anything. Another minute passes before he slows for a light and draws out a deep breath.
“Is your father always such a dick?” he questions. He must regret the words because he closes his eyes and shakes his head. “I’m sorry, I—”
“No,” I interrupt, pausing to pinpoint exactly when my father went from being my best friend to my number one enemy. “He started to lose his shit when I took the job at “Ask Ida” and then when he found out I was dating a cop that just drove him over the edge.”
“He doesn’t like cops, huh?”
I cock my head to the side and study him.
“C’mon Marco,” I murmur softly. “You saw his vest. You probably know better than I do what kind of man my dad is. He doesn’t play well with your kind.”
His fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
“What exactly is my kind? Because I didn’t see your dad putting that asshole in his place.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Sighing, I push the hair away from my eyes and turn my attention toward the window. “He doesn’t trust cops, okay? He thinks they’re all out to get him and the only reason you’re dating me is because you want to get close to him.”
The minute he slams his foot on the brake, I feel his eyes on me.
“What did you just say?” he asks.
A horn honks behind us, causing me to sneak a glance at the sideview mirror.
“Marco, you’re holding up traffic.”
“I don’t give a fuck,” he grinds out. “Look at me, Antonia.”
Hesitantly, I turn my head and drag my eyes to his.
“Two weeks ago, I was sitting outside the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel in my cruiser when a motorcycle zoomed past me and blew through a red light. I flipped my siren on and pulled you over. I didn’t know jack shit about you other than you were the most gorgeous thing I ever laid eyes on. Then I got a dose of your smart mouth, and I was hooked. It was pure chance that you wound up working for Soraya, and I spent most of our lunch asking about you. I brought you your license because I needed to see you again. I thought if I got you out of my system, I could forget our paths ever crossed, but I was only fooling myself. You’re not the kind of girl you purge or even forget and I’m starting to think we would’ve found one another whether you worked for “Ask Ida” or not.”
“Traffic court,” I whisper.
He reaches across the console and touches his good hand to my cheek.
“I don’t give a fuck about your father or what he does. It’s not the reason I wake up anxious to see your face or hear your voice.”
I swallow hard, emotion clogging my throat. A whole slew of horns beep behind us and one driver shouts for us to “move our fucking car”—we ignore both.
“I didn’t want to believe him.”
“Then don’t because he’s full of shit,” he grinds out, dropping his hand away from my cheek. He turns his head and brings both hands to the steering wheel, gripping it as tight as his battered knuckles allow.
“You and Hound…” He bites the side of his cheek and his jaw goes rigid. “You said he wasn’t your boyfriend.”
“He wasn’t.”
“But you were involved.”
“Briefly,” I admit. “That’s over, Marco.”
He gives that some thought. His eyes slice back to mine, and he shakes his head.
“It’s not for him,” he says in a gravel tone.
If I had it in me, I might’ve laughed. It was over for Hound before it even started, but I doubt Marco wants to hear any of that. He draws out a deep breath and rolls down his window. Turning his head, he shouts for the offensive horn blowers to fuck off and slams his foot on the gas.
We ride to his apartment in silence. Once we make our way inside, I go straight into the kitchen and open his freezer. Popping some ice cubes from the tray, I wrap them in a dishtowel and make my way into the living room.
“I got you…” my words fade as he pulls his shirt over his head. “Ice…I got you some ice for your hand.”
“Thanks, but I think I’m going to take a shower,” he says, closing the distance between us. “Make yourself at home,” he adds before giving my lips a quick peck.
Something feels off with him, but we’ve both had quite the night. Emotions are high, and I suppose I’ve given him a lot to absorb. Nothing will throw a guy into a tailspin like revealing your dad is a notorious biker with a rap sheet.
“Right,” I say, lifting the dishtowel awkwardly. “I’ll just go put this in the freezer in case you change your mind after the shower.”
He gives me another peck and disappears down the hallway. I go to the kitchen and put the towel with the ice back in the freezer. A moment later I hear the shower running in the bathroom and I make my way back into the living room. Taking a seat on the couch, I drop my head into my hands and my father’s face flashes before me. I wonder if he heard what Hound said or if he walked up afterward. I like to think he wouldn’t let his protégé talk about me like that, but the man I saw tonight was a different version of the man who raised me. Tonight, I was treated to the side of him he preserves for his rivals and I didn’t like it. I don’t know what happens now.
Even if by some miracle I can smooth things over with my dad, I don’t want to be anywhere near Hound.
His words replay in my head, and I cringe.
I can’t believe I got involved with him. That I gave him the ammunition he used against me tonight. I guess that is what happens when a girl has horrible self-esteem. She kneels for some undeserving prick, hoping she’ll hold his interest a little longer. It doesn’t work, and he throws her aside like she’s yesterday’s trash. She wonders what she could’ve done to keep him. What she did wrong. But it’s not her. It’s him and that’s something she doesn’t realize until another man comes along and kneels for her.
Suddenly I’m on my feet, pulling my shoes and clothes off as I pad down the hallway. Reaching the bathroom, I turn the knob and push the door open. Steam immediately engulfs me as I step inside. I spot Marco through the foggy shower glass. Keeping his head bowed and his good hand braced against the tiles, he lets the water stream down his back.
I swallow at the sight of him as my feet carry me closer. His head lifts and he turns, his eyes find mine through the glass before trailing the length of my bare body. Silently, he opens the shower door and I step inside.
His gaze continues to rake over me, pausing at my chest and I notice his cock jutting between us, fully erect. My fingers itch to touch, my mouth begs for a taste.
I lick my lips and take a step closer.
“Is this okay?”
He doesn’t reply with words, instead, he backs me up against the cool tiles and lowers his mouth to mine. A moan rumbles deep in my throat as his tongue slides along mine. Reaching between us, my fingers close around his thick cock. Using slow, even strokes, I work his shaft, letting my thumb occasionally caress the head.
He groans into my mouth before breaking the kiss and touching his forehead to mine. With his eyes cast downward, he watches as I cup his balls with my other hand.
“Christ,” he hisses.
; “You like that?” I whisper.
“I fucking love it,” he rasps, meeting my gaze.
“Then maybe you’ll love this too,” I say. Keeping my eyes on his, I drop to my knees.
“What are you doing…no.”
“No?”
“Antonia, you don’t have to—”
“I don’t have to do anything,” I say, cutting him off. “I want to.”
As I say the words, I realize I wholeheartedly mean them. I want him this way. I want to watch him fall apart at the mercy of my mouth and not because I’m desperate to keep him, but rather because I want to feel that intimacy with him and only him.
He pushes his fingers through my hair and his hand molds to the back of my head as my lips part and my tongue touches the tip of his cock, slowly circling it. Inhaling a sharp breath, his nostrils flare. I lick the underside of his shaft and angle my head. My tongue flicks his balls before my lips slowly trail up his veiny cock. Opening my mouth wider, I take him in. Inch by inch until the head of his cock touches the back of my throat and I gag on it. As a knee jerk reaction, my eyes begin to water but I don’t tear them away from his.
Closing my lips tightly around him, I start to suck. My head bobs up and down as my fingers curl around the backs of his thighs.
My eyes plead with him to move.
To take.
To fuck.
His control finally snaps and he fists my hair. Jerking his hips, he thrusts deeper and deeper. My fingers dig into his thighs as I open wider. Drops of pre-cum slide down my throat and he quickly pulls out of my mouth.
“It’s okay,” I croak, reaching for him.
He shakes his head and untangles his fingers from my hair. Pulling me to my feet, he spins me around and plasters me against the wall. I gasp the second my sensitive nipples touch the tile and spread my legs. Pressing his cock against my ass, he gathers my soaking wet hair and wraps it around his bruised fist. Biting through the pain, he pulls my hair and turns my head. His lips crash against mine and his tongue wastes no time entering my mouth.
The ache between my legs intensifies and I break the kiss.
“Please,” I beg as his mouth drops to my neck. He sucks and nibbles, making his way to my shoulder.
“Say it,” he growls, pressing his dick against my ass harder. “Tell me your mine. Tell me I’m the only one who fucks you from now on.”
“I’m yours,” I pant. “Please…I…” my words fade into a moan as he reaches between my legs and touches my clit. “Just you.” My eyes roll as he circles my clit. “You’re the only one I want fucking me,” I cry.
His fingers leave me, and his knee moves between my legs, spreading them further apart. I brace my palms against the wall of the shower and prepare myself. With one hand on my hip and the other still pulling my hair, he thrusts deep inside me, feeding me every inch. My knees buckle against the tile and I moan his name.
“Fuck,” he growls.
In an instant he finds a rhythm, pulling out and plunging in. My pussy stretches and my legs wobble as I try to keep up, but it doesn’t take long for my orgasm to cripple me. Moaning his name, I close my eyes and surrender to the pleasure coursing through my body.
Marco continues to pump in and out of me. He untangles my hair from his fingers and moves his hand to my other hip, holding me steady as he rotates his hips and fucks me.
Harder.
Deeper.
One orgasm rolls into two and then another.
I can barely stand when I feel him pull out of me, but I force myself to turn around. With my back pressed against the wall, I watch him jerk his cock. His release spurts out, decorating his hand.
“Look at me,” I whisper breathlessly.
His eyes snap to mine as he continues to pull his release from his body.
“You’re mine too.”
Chapter Nineteen
Marco
I could get used to waking up to Antonia’s hair draped across my chest and her soft body curled against my side. A shocking thought for a man who swore he’d never engage in sleepovers of any kind. I had long ago mastered the art of goodbyes and creeping out of a woman’s bed before she woke and yet, here I am, perfectly content watching her sleep.
There’s no fear of getting too attached when it comes to Antonia.
I knew things were different with her before last night, but after the showdown with Hound and meeting her old man, something shifted between us. She left the feast with me, taking a stand against her father. She even divulged the details of her relationship with Hound and Tank’s crazy suspicion that I was using her to get to him. Her trust and honesty spoke volumes, but it wasn’t until we were back at my apartment and in my shower that I realized how deep things were getting. It didn’t matter where she came from or who she was with; I wanted her to be mine, and in the shower, that’s exactly what she became.
Mine.
I don’t know what happens from here, but so long as she’s game, we can take it one step at a time and see where it goes. With any luck, we will go the distance and I can spend every morning just like this.
Winding the ends of her hair around my finger, I kiss the top of her head. She stirs slightly, hooking her leg over mine as she nestles closer to me.
Yeah, I can definitely get used to this.
“What time is it?” she groans.
With my free hand, I reach for my phone. My hand is still fucked up from the beating I threw Hound, but I’ll live. Unfortunately, so will he. I glance at the time on the screen before tossing the thing back on the nightstand.
“A little after ten,” I say, wrapping both arms around her. Sliding them down her back, I reach the hem of the t-shirt she’s wearing—an old NYPD shirt I got when I played in a charity softball game. Finding her bare ass, I grab both cheeks and pull her on top of me. Why she bothered with a t-shirt at all when she opted for no panties remains a mystery. I prefer her naked on all counts…and while we’re at it, on all fours.
Her head juts from my chest, and she stares at me with groggy eyes. Lifting the shirt, I drag it up her body, over her perky tits. Unable to help myself, I lean forward and take one perfectly pert nipple into my mouth. After a moment, I release it with a smack of my lips and pull the shirt over her head. Her mass of curls hangs wildly, framing her face. The ends kiss the tops of her breasts and the vision of her is like a punch to the gut.
There’s nothing more perfect.
Nothing more beautiful.
I lift my gaze back to hers.
“That’s better,” I say huskily, bringing her back to my chest. I kiss the top of her head and let my hands travel over the globes of her ass, to her back, pressing her closer.
“You’re dangerous, Pirelli.”
“No more than you, DeLuca,” I murmur.
She lifts her head from my chest, and our eyes meet. Touching a hand to her cheek, I wet my lips.
“You hungry?” I ask. “We can DoorDash breakfast.”
Cocking her head to the side, she eyes me curiously, a small smile playing on her full lips.
“What happened to the master chef who cooked me breakfast last week?”
“He’d much rather feast on you. If we order now, that gives us about twenty minutes or so before the dasher knocks on the door.”
“Hmm…” she murmurs.
Pushing up on my chest until she’s fully seated on top of me, she runs her hands up my body. My eyes drop between her legs and I growl at the sight of her bare pussy—already wet and begging for attention. It’s nice to know we’re on the same page, seeing as my dick has been ready for over an hour.
“Or we can just eat later. The party isn’t until eight, right?” she asks, lifting her hands to her tits. She rolls her nipples between her fingers, and I lose all train of thought.
“What was the question?”
“The party…it’s not until later, right?”
“Yeah, we got all day,” I croak as she releases her nipples. I reach out to tease them with my
own fingers when she suddenly rolls off me.
“Shit!”
“What the hell just happened?” I ask, staring at my fully erect cock.
In an instant, she’s out of the bed, pacing in all her naked glory.
“My clothes.”
Why the fuck her clothes are a concern right now boggles my mind, but I play along.
“They are here somewhere but I assure you they’re not needed at the moment,” I say, looking back at my cock. The poor thing looks like it’s going to explode. My eyes slice back to Antonia. “Can you come back here?”
We need you.
Stat.
“The outfit for the party,” she clarifies. “The skirt and the shirt, my boots…it’s at the clubhouse.” Bringing her hands to her head, she threads her fingers roughly through her curls. “I’m such an idiot,” she berates before resuming the pacing.
I’m fucking dizzy just watching her, or maybe that’s not the case at all. Perhaps I’m feeling lightheaded because all my blood is in my groin.
“I was trying to hide the fact I was a byproduct of a criminal from you, I had no intention of getting dressed there or having you pick me up from there so why the hell didn’t I pack my shit?” She freezes mid rant, and it becomes clear my dick isn’t getting any relief anytime soon.
“Oh God.”
What did she forget now? Her comb? Perhaps her birth control.
That last one sobers me up.
I didn’t wear a condom in the shower, something I realized last night, but between then and now I had done a marvelous job of pushing it out of my head.
Sitting up, I lean my back against the headboard and call her name. She snaps out of her meltdown for a second and looks at me.
“Everything I own is at the clubhouse,” she reveals. “Including my bike.”
I was expecting we’d need to have this conversation, I just figured we’d be having it Monday morning when the bubble burst and everyday life resumed.
“Were you not planning on going back?”
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