by Chelle Bliss
“So, help me God,” he says, placing his other hand under Lulu’s bottom as he sits up.
“No. Nothing happened. I’m just so happy,” I tell him, waving my hands around because I know I must seem foolish. “Coming home and finding the two of you snuggled on the couch, I realize all the things we’ve missed.”
“Baby.” He touches my cheek, wiping away a few tears with his thumb. “I like seeing you happy.”
I turn my face, capturing the pad of his thumb between my teeth, suddenly overcome with need. “I want you,” I murmur against his skin. “I need you.”
His lips part and his eyes close as I pull his finger into my mouth and suck hard, twirling my tongue around it like I’ve done with his cock. He sways back and forth as his breathing grows more ragged and labored with each passing second. “The kid,” he says like I forgot he’s holding Lulu.
“Upstairs,” I say around his thumb and waggle my eyebrows because I’m more than ready to put my daughter down and get busy taking Lucio to bed.
He groans as he pulls his finger from my lips, and I suck harder, teasing him as much as possible. He’s on his feet, almost gliding up the stairs as he takes them two at a time. I’m not as fast, the alcohol still working through my system. I hold on to the railing, swaying just like Lucio had on every step, but somehow, I don’t fall backward.
He’s waiting for me, having already put Lulu down, watching with a mix of laughter and horror as I make my way to the landing. Before I get my feet flat on the floor, he scoops me into his arms and stalks toward the bedroom.
“Eager little beaver, aren’t you?” I snort because I’m a drunken idiot.
“You got the eager beaver, baby.” He laughs. “Greedy thing too.”
“It’s that damn piercing,” I say and try to reach down and grab his dick.
He shakes his head, probably wondering what the hell got into me, but I’m sure it’s pretty obvious. Any type of shyness or worry I had about sleeping with Lucio again has vanished. Thanks to the Long Islands, I don’t care about anything other than feeling his cock buried so deep inside me I can’t even breathe.
“You like it that deep?” he asks as he sets me down on the bed and slips the spaghetti straps of the dress down my arms.
“Did I say that out loud?” I’m momentarily horrified, but I forget everything as soon as his lips close around my nipple.
He pushes me backward and hovers over me, holding himself up with his thick, muscular arms. I tangle my fingers in his hair and hold him against my skin. God, his tongue is like magic, sliding across my breast and bringing me one step closer to heaven.
I hum my approval, hoping this feeling never ends. When he starts to move down my body, I pull him back up by his hair and look him straight in the eye. It’s like I’m possessed by a sassy version of myself. “Don’t,” I tell him, and his eyebrows draw downward. “I don’t want your mouth. I want your cock.”
He gives me a smug smile and climbs back up my body. “You like the piercing, don’t you?”
“I like your dick, Lucio. Pierced or not, it’s all I want.” I don’t know where the words are coming from, but he seems to enjoy this side of me because his smile grows.
He pushes himself up and stands at the foot of the bed. All I can do is watch as he shoves down his shorts, revealing that perfectly straight cock with the shiny tip. If I hadn’t drunk so damn much, I’d crawl down there and use my tongue to tease him, but I’m not sure I could pull it off without falling off the bed.
“Fuck me,” I say instead, hoping it’s enough.
“You don’t gotta ask me twice.” He leans over and grabs his wallet as his cock bobs like it’s doing a dance of pure joy.
“How deep you want it, baby?” he asks as he tears open the condom and slides it down his shaft.
“Deep.” I barely get the words out because the throbbing between my legs is so intense I’m not sure I won’t orgasm as soon as his body slides against mine.
He crawls between my legs, placing the tip of his glorious cock against my pussy, and hovers above me again. He slips his hand between my legs and touches my clit, causing my ass to rise off the bed and shock waves to shoot across my body.
“So wet,” he says, telling me something I already know.
“Fuck me, Lucio. Fuck me hard.”
I don’t have to ask again. He thrusts deep in one push, stealing every ounce of breath in my lungs. He grinds his hips, hitting every inch of my insides before pulling out. “Like that?” he asks, toying with me.
“Harder,” I tell him, wanting more. Needing more.
He leans forward and closes his lips around my nipple as he slams into me, pushing me up the bed a little. I scream out with nothing but joy and pleasure coursing through my veins.
His deep green eyes bore into me. “You’re mine, Delilah.”
“Yes!” I cry out. His words wash over me, sending tiny sparks throughout my body.
“Only mine,” he tells me, driving the point home as he pumps into me.
No one’s ever kissed me like him. No one’s ever fucked me like him. And Lord help me, I never want another man again.
16
Lucio
When everyone’s left the room, Angelo finally decides to speak to me. “Did you lock it in?”
I look at Angelo funny. “What?”
“Delilah, dumbass. Did you lock her down?”
“You can put your dick back in your pants. She’s mine, bro,” I tell him, pointing my finger right at his face.
“Good,” he says with a big smile. “Maybe you’re not as foolish as I thought you were.”
I lean back, throwing my arm on top of the chairback next to me. “I’m never foolish when it comes to women.”
“Wait.” He pauses and narrows his eyes. “Did you have an actual conversation with her about your relationship, or did you just fuck her?”
“I told her.”
“Smooth.” He shakes his head and glances up at the ceiling.
“Well, we’re not in high school anymore. What was I supposed to say to her? ‘Delilah, would you wear my class ring?’” I wave him and his silliness off. “Get out of here with that bullshit.”
“Make sure there’s no doubt in her mind.”
“Did I miss the memo that we’re back in the fifties?”
“Listen.” He leans forward, resting his hands flat on the table and looking at me with one of the most serious faces I’ve ever seen on him. “I’m telling you this because I love you. I know what it’s like to love a woman—and to lose one too.”
It’s hard for me not to listen after he makes a statement like that. I loved his wife from the day I met her. She was the best woman I’d ever known and the perfect match for my brother. We were all devasted by her death, but no one more than him. I watched my brother’s easy, carefree attitude turn serious and sometimes sour. It’s hard to stay happy when the one person who brought you the most joy disappears.
“I’m listening,” I tell him, being respectful because he’s been through more in the last few years than I have in my entire lifetime.
“You can’t just tell a woman she’s yours. I’m sure that’s the dumb-ass shit you did. You need her to know you’re hers too. She needs to understand there won’t be another Carmen or Colleen.”
“You heard about that?”
“Daphne has some balls on her.” He scrubs his hand down his face and shakes his head. “I’ve already had the talk with her.”
“How’d that go?”
He laughs and shrugs. “How do you think?”
“Well, I don’t see any claw marks.”
“What are we talking about?” Vinnie asks, walking in the room before plopping down in the chair next to Angelo.
“Women,” I say.
He suddenly perks up and sets his phone down. “About Delilah?”
“Yeah.” I nod.
“Did you lock it down?” Vinnie asks, sounding just like Angelo.
“What i
s this? Now you two are talking the same.”
Vinnie looks at Angelo, and they both shrug.
“You lock it down with any of those girls you’re always messaging?” I ask, putting some of the pressure on him instead of focusing only on me.
“I have them all on lockdown, Luc.”
My eyes widen, and so do Angelo’s. “All of them?” he asks, turning toward our youngest brother, staring at him like he has three heads.
“I don’t want them with any other guys.”
“Dude—” Angelo smacks him in the chest “—that isn’t cool.”
“Hey, don’t hate the player.”
We both roll our eyes at the little egotistical asshole who takes pride in stringing girls along. “How does that work?” I rub my forehead, trying to figure out the logistics of the entire situation he’s put himself in. “I mean, you have to get caught eventually. Then what?”
Vinnie smiles proudly. “I never say I’m committing to them. I just let them know they’re mine and no one else’s.”
Angelo points at Vinnie, but he’s looking at me. “This is what I’m talking about.”
“I get it. I get it,” I tell him and realize the error I’ve made. “I’ll lock her down.”
“Speaking of lockdown,” my mother says, startling the shit out of all of us as she walks in, “your father called yesterday.” She sits down at the head of the table but doesn’t say anything else.
“And?” Angelo rolls his hand in the air.
“He’s been granted early release. He’ll be home in a few months.”
“That’s amazing, Ma,” Vinnie says, but Angelo and I aren’t as overjoyed as my little brother.
“I’ve missed him,” she says, looking back and forth between Angelo and me. “I know you two have issues with your father, but I want you to bury that in the past.”
I’ve never had issues with the man as a father, but as a partner, he treated my mother like garbage for too long for me to turn a blind eye to it. Angelo feels the same way, but Vinnie is too young to remember our father’s shenanigans.
“We’ll make it work,” Angelo says quickly, knowing it’ll make my mother happy, and always trying to keep the peace.
“There’s another thing.” She plays with the clean spoon still left on the table in front of her but doesn’t look at any of us.
“We’re listening,” Vinnie says, a little too enthusiastically.
Angelo and I are staring at each other, knowing whatever she’s about to say none of us is going to like. I ball my hand into a tight fist, hoping it’ll be enough for me to keep my mouth shut. The last person in the world I want to piss off is my mother.
“As part of his parole, he’ll need a job.”
Angelo kicks me under the table, opting for using me as a punching bag instead of his own hand like I’d planned to do. I flinch and bite down on my tongue to stop myself from swearing after his size-twelve shoe smacks against my shin.
Ma looks at me, waiting for me to say anything, but I don’t dare open my mouth. “I’d like you to hire him on at the bar to keep him in compliance. He received special permission from the parole board to live above and work in the bar.”
“No problem, Ma,” Vinnie tells her like he’s the only one making the decision. He owns twenty-five percent of the business, and he’s barely there, so his vote doesn’t even count in anyone’s book but his own.
“We’ll talk to Daphne about it,” Angelo tells her because he knows my answer will be no. “We can’t say yes until we’re able to talk it through.”
“Talk with everyone, but I don’t ask for much and I’m asking for this favor,” she states, letting us know that we better say yes, or there’ll be hell to pay.
Either way, we’re totally screwed.
I take Delilah by the hand after she puts Lulu in her crib. “Sit down, baby.”
She moves slowly, touching the couch with one hand as she lowers herself onto the cushion. Her eyes never leave mine, and I can see the fear in them plain as day.
“It’s nothing bad. I swear. We just gotta talk,” I tell her as I touch her face to calm her nerves.
She smiles nervously, watching me with those beautiful blue eyes as I sit on the coffee table in front of her. “Is everything okay?” She fiddles with her long brown hair, wrapping the strands around the tip of her finger. “You’re making my stomach hurt, Lucio.”
“There was a lot going on last night, and you were drunk.”
She covers her mouth and gasps. “Oh God. What did I do? Did I say something stupid?” She pulls at her bottom lip, and her eyes roam around the room. “I remember we had sex, but not much else.”
I mentally slap myself because I realize my brother is right. I hadn’t even thought about the fact that she was totally shit-faced when I told her she was mine. I thought by the time I told her, she’d sobered up enough she’d remember, but that was my mistake.
“Yeah, baby. We had a lot of sex. It was hot too.” I smile.
She blushes. “Well, that’s good to know, at least. If you’re going to tell me you don’t ever want to do it again.”
I place my finger over her lips, stopping her from finishing that sentence. “I love you,” I blurt out, laying my cards on the table.
“Say that again,” she says against my finger before chewing on her bottom lip.
“I love you, Delilah Miles. I want to be yours and for you to be mine.”
Her eyes fill with tears again. “Yeah?”
I reach out, cradling her face in my palms, and stare into her eyes so there’s no question where my loyalty and love lies. “Yes. There’s no one else for me. I only want you. I want Lulu. I want us.”
“You’re sure?” she asks, tears streaming down her face and her lip trembling.
“I know it’s quick and crazy, but I’ve never been happier in my entire life. I want you here, by my side, in my bed, with me—forever.” I scoot forward, leaving very little space between us until I can feel her warm breath skid across my face. “I want that little girl as my own. I want to shower her with love and be the father she needs. I don’t want to be alone anymore, and I don’t want you to ever be afraid of anything for the rest of your life.”
Delilah throws herself into my arms, grabbing my face with her small hands and kisses me so hard I’m sure I’ll have a bruise. “God, I love you,” she murmurs against my lips. “So, so much.” The words come out garbled because she’s too busy kissing me to let me speak.
I pull her closer, wrapping my arms around her back, and tangle my hand in her hair. “You love the piercing,” I tell her when she finally lets me up for a little air.
“It’s a bonus.” She says those words with a straight face. “But that’s not the only reason. Kiss me again. Mark me,” she says, and that’s all I need to hear.
I grab her by the waist, flipping her over the edge of the couch and lifting her skirt to expose her beautiful ass. “I’m going to bury my cock so deep, you’ll never forget I’ve been here,” I say as I cup her bare pussy in my hands.
She peers over her shoulder with a wicked grin. “Who do I belong to?” she asks quietly.
“You’re mine, sweetheart. Now and forever. I own this pretty little pussy as much as you own my cock.”
“Forever,” she repeats my words, and nothing has ever felt so right.
17
Delilah
“Hey lady,” a woman says from table three, snapping her fingers in the air and looking me up and down like I’m a piece of trash.
I walk up to the table and smile, somehow keeping my composure even though I want to dump a glass of water over her head. “Can I get you something?” My voice is so sugary sweet and about an octave higher than normal.
She’s chewing gum and popping it between her teeth in the least classy way I’ve ever witnessed. “We’d like another round.” She runs her fingers through her black hair, catching her fingers a few inches away from her head in the tons of hairspray keeping the ne
st in place. She recovers well, pretending she meant to do it when she fluffs the bottom of the strands with her palms. “Can you handle that?” she asks when I don’t reply right away.
“I can handle it,” I tell her before repeating their earlier drink order back to them to make sure I remember. “Sound about right?”
“It’s right,” another woman at the table answers before the Aqua Net queen practically shoos me away.
I grumble under my breath, knowing these bimbos are going to leave me a shit tip. If Angelo or Lucio were serving them, I’m sure they’d get more than a few bucks, but I can tell these women are going to be cheap because I don’t flip their switch.
“What’s wrong?” Lucio asks as I walk up to the bar, mumbling under my breath.
“Nothing.” I give him a fake smile, pretending that my night is going amazingly well.
For the most part, it is. I’ve only spilled one drink. Thankfully, I was still at the bar when it happened and managed to keep the orders straight. I’d call it a victorious night in my book, except for some of the customers.
The men who have walked through the front door have been nice. Some were overly flirtatious, but I was able to shut them down pretty quickly. No one got handsy either, but the night is still young and the customers haven’t consumed enough alcohol to get too aggressive. Besides the table of bitchy girls with their teased hair and long, fake nails, I’ve enjoyed mingling with the crowd at Hook & Hustle.
“I know that look,” he says, studying my face closely. “You’re upset about something.”
“No. I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” I tell him.
“What’s their order?” he asks, pointing his head toward the table of women currently gawking at him.
“Two Whiskey Sours, a Long Island Iced Tea, and a Screwdriver.”
He grabs the empty glasses and starts to make their drinks, but he keeps looking at me, waiting for me to spill my guts. “They giving you shit?”