This Thing of Ours (The Gamblers Spin-off Novel)

by Sarah Curtis

  The view didn’t last long as he placed a knee to the bed, kissing up the length of her stomach, between her breasts, and to her neck as his hips settled between her legs, the hard thickness of him against her inner thigh. His hands on either side of her supported most of his weight, push-up style.

  “Last chance, cara mia. I slide home, and you’re mine forever.”

  She looked into his eyes and knew he wasn’t feeding her a line. He truly meant that. “Forever sounds perfect.”

  He didn’t give her any time to dwell before she felt him nudging her entrance, but he did slide in slowly, giving her a chance to adjust.

  She felt a prick of pain, and he stilled, lowering his face, his lips brushing hers when he said, “I’m sorry, baby,” as he thrust forward, his mouth covering hers to capture her cry.

  He didn’t move, and she was thankful for that. All she felt was fullness and stinging pain.

  Getting to his elbows so his hands could cradle her face, he asked, “You okay?”

  She tipped her head in a small nod.

  “I’m gonna need the words, cara mia.”

  Her hands found his back, running along the warm skin. She smiled. “I’m okay.”

  He pulled out slowly and then back in. “I’ll take it nice and slow.”

  His forehead fell to hers, and he moaned as if the words he just spoke pained him.

  “I promise, Marco, it doesn’t hurt. It feels full, but it’s not unpleasant.”

  He pulled out then slid back in. “You’re so fucking tight. Squeezing my dick. Fuck, it feels good.”

  Out. In. A little faster that time. A little harder.

  She felt a small spark ignite. Each thrust in, he hit something. She moved her hips, chasing the feeling.

  Out. In. Faster. Harder.

  She planted her feet. Her fingers clutched his back. Something was building. Stronger than the last time.

  Her breathing picked up speed. Little pants in Marco’s ear while his face was buried in her neck.

  Out. In. Faster. So much faster.

  Gasping, she held on to him and bucked into his movements. All finesse was lost for them both. Marco’s back was slick with sweat, making it hard for her to hang on, so she wrapped her arms around his neck. His teeth were on her neck, biting down as he surged into her.

  Their bodies rocking, she wrapped her legs around his thighs, encouraging the beat of his pelvis against her clit. He was enticing her by panting dirty words into her ear. Telling her how hot her pussy was. How tight. How fucking good it felt. How his cock wanted to stay inside her and never leave.

  His words. His gravelly whispers. She didn’t stand a chance, and soon she was coming—soaring and falling at once—until she crashed back down to earth, high on an endorphin rush.

  Then Marco stilled above her.

  Head thrown back, neck bared, he groaned her name.

  It was an image she’d never forget.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Marco listened to Gabriella sleep—her gentle inhales and exhales. Felt them, too. The warm puffs of air softly hitting his chest. She was cradled in his arms, her head resting in the crook of his shoulder, one of her legs thrown over his thighs, one arm hugging his stomach.

  He listened to her sleep because he couldn’t. He was too busy savoring the moment. How many times had he envisioned her so? Too many to count. He’d just never thought it would become a reality.

  He stroked a hand over her shoulder, down her upper arm and back up again. Her skin was so soft, like rose petals and smelled just as sweet.

  She was finally his, belonged to him fully, his to keep safe, and he took that responsibility seriously. No one would ever take her, harm her, or mark her again.

  He closed his eyes and relived the moment he slid into her, blocking the image of her being abused. Trying to block the anger from the pain and humiliation she must have felt. And trying to block his hunger to find and destroy the fuckers responsible.

  So, instead, he thought of her pussy and how it encased him like a warm, wet glove. He’d never felt anything like it. Fucking ecstasy wrapped in bliss. Marco hated that he’d hurt her. Next time she would share in the ecstasy with him. That was a promise, and he never broke a promise. Ever.

  He hadn’t used protection. Honest to God, hadn’t thought about it until after. A bad move on his part, but in his defense, his mind hadn’t been on practicalities. It’d been solely focused on Gabriella and how fucking badly he’d wanted to make love with her. He was clean, he wasn’t worried about that, but he didn’t know whether she was on birth control, and she’d fallen asleep before he could ask. Something they’d need to talk about. Not that he opposed starting a family, he just thought it would be best if they were married first.

  And he would marry her, soon. Though, he supposed he should take her on their third date before he asked. He wondered if he could get through it without fucking it up. He grinned at the ceiling.

  Probably not.

  “I still don’t see why we couldn’t stop on the way here,” Gabriella complained from her position in the corner of the hospital elevator.

  “And like I said when you asked me to stop, I won’t be a party to Vincenzo’s slow death.”

  “But he loves donuts, and I promised him an apple fritter when I talked to him on the phone this morning.”

  Marco looked side-eyed at Gabriella from his stance leaned back against the elevator wall next to her. “Several of us have been trying to break him of his morning donut habit for years. Hopefully, this hospital stay will do the trick.”

  She huffed—which he couldn’t help notice was very cute—stating, “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

  “Really? If you think that’s cruel and unusual, you obviously have no idea what I do for a living.” Marco looked over at the only other occupant of the elevator. An elderly woman, complete with a walker, and hopefully hard of hearing.

  Gabriella rolled her eyes.

  The elevator doors opened before he could kiss the pout from her lips. He took her hand instead, leading her out, nodding to the elderly woman as they passed. He received a dirty look in return. Guess she had her hearing aids in.

  “The least you could’ve done was let me get him some coffee.” Gabriella harped, not letting it go, as they traversed the hall.

  “The coffee is just as bad by the time he adds all that shit to it.”

  “You’re a sadist.”

  He looked over at her and raised a brow. “And what do you know about sadism?”

  “Internet.” She gave him a sly smirk and this time he didn’t hesitate to kiss it off her face.

  Pulling her down a side hall, he opened a door to small waiting room and tugged her inside. A fast look around showed him it was vacant. The door didn’t have a lock, so he positioned her against it, stepping in close so their bodies brushed.

  He didn’t give her a chance to protest before his mouth was on hers. He sucked on her lips. Soft and full, they were sweet from her lip gloss and minty from her toothpaste. He couldn’t get enough.

  He was becoming addicted to the taste of her.

  His hands dived under her sweater, coasting up the hot skin of her stomach, over the ridges of her ribcage, to her lace covered tits. Their fullness overfilled his palms, and he squeezed them gently, enjoying their weight.

  He was becoming addicted to touching her.

  She moaned, the sound throaty and sultry—cock hardening. He trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck, and she panted in his ear, little breaths that had him almost coming.

  He was becoming addicted to the noises she made.

  He was becoming addicted to her.

  Her hands reached under his jacket and grasped his hip, and he pushed himself into her, unable to hold back a little groan of his own.

  “I would ask if that’s a pistol in your pocket, but I have a feeling it might be.”

  He chuckled in her ear. “Actually, that’s at the small of my back. My dick’s
just happy to see you.”

  “Um… good to know.”

  He licked the shell of her ear before sucking on the lobe. “It can’t get enough of you. In fact, it wants you right now.”

  “Well, as much as I’d like to accommodate it, my vagina isn’t exactly on board.”

  He took a small step back to look at her. “You sore?” Shit. Why the fuck hadn’t he thought of that? He was an idiot.

  She gave him a small shrug. “A little.”

  He was going to take her on another date tonight, but maybe they should stay home so he could pamper her. He knew she wasn’t into bubble baths, but there had to be other things women liked. He should ask Nico. He’d been with Olivia long enough to know about shit like that. Fuck! No, scratch that. The last thing he wanted was to talk with Nico about soothing shit. Nico wasn’t stupid, he’d know why he was asking and having a heart-to-heart where the subject was about Marco defiling his sister was something he hoped to never have. Guess he would need to take a page out of Gabriella’s playbook and use the internet for some research.

  He gave her one last light kiss on the lips. “Come on, let’s go see your dad and go home. You can put on comfortable clothes and we can vege out on the couch for the rest of the day.”

  “We can order Chinese and watch the movie I fell asleep during last night.”

  He bopped her on the nose with the tip of his finger. “Perfect.”

  Alone time with her always was.

  “Dad!” Gabriella shouted as she entered the hospital room, gaining her mom and dad’s eyes. Dona looked tired but happy. Vincenzo looked cranky, yet—Marco was glad to note—healthy.

  Vincenzo frowned, eyeing Gabriella’s empty hands. “Where are my donuts?”

  Gabriella pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “Marco wouldn’t stop.”

  Annnd that’s what it felt like to get thrown under a bus. He nodded to his don. “Sir.”

  He didn’t get the dirty look he was expecting. Instead, Vincenzo turned to his wife and daughter and said, “Can you give Marco and I a minute.” It wasn’t a question.

  Ever obedient, Dona stood, taking her daughter’s arm. They exited the room without complaint, but Marco did receive a concerned look from Gabriella as she passed.

  Marco kept his expression blank, he had a feeling Vincenzo wanted to talk to him about a who not a what—more specifically the who, who had just left the room—so was surprised when he said, “I wanted to thank you.”

  “Sir?” he questioned.

  “For saving my life.”

  Marco’s back stiffened, and he started to protest, but Vincenzo raised a hand for silence.

  “Never in a million years did I think I’d get trapped by my own fucking desk. The whole room was on fire. If you hadn’t come when you did—”

  “Then someone else would have saved you. Firemen were only a few minutes behind me,” Marco countered, uncomfortable with the praise. It was he who owed Vincenzo, not the other way around. Nico might have rescued him from his old life, but his don had made him family.

  “And those few minutes might have been too late. I didn’t get where I am today by not being grateful to those who give their loyalty.”

  Marco bowed his head staring at but not seeing the floor between his feet. Instead, he remembered a room full of flames. The heat blistering to the skin and the smoke so thick it hurt to take a deep breath. A pained yell, catching his attention, buried beneath a pile of rubble made of hundred-year-old heavy oak that had his muscles straining to dislodge it from its source. The sense of urgency as he struggled while feeling deadly, molten fingers taunting him from every direction.

  “Son?”

  Marco raised his head, knowing he had to say something. “I would do it again, in a heartbeat and without hesitation.”

  “Well, knock on…” Vincenzo’s eyes scanned his surroundings. “No wood in this fucking sterile shithole.” He sighed. “Well, let’s just pray it never comes to that.”

  “Yes, sir.” Marco was in full agreement with that statement.

  Sitting up straighter and giving him a deadly glare, Vincenzo said, “Now we have a couple more matters to discuss. What’s this I hear about you and my daughter? But first and most importantly, where the fuck are my donuts?”

  Marco took Gabriella home, stopping along the way at a drugstore to get a heating pad and some chocolate—he’d Googled that shit at the hospital, and while he could only find what would help during a woman’s period, he figured that was close enough. He got her situated on the couch—heating pad plugged in, chocolate within reach, pillows fluffed, and TV remote at the ready—then ordered Chinese. After eating, she snuggled into him during the second half of the movie. He enjoyed holding her and listening to her laugh more than the show. All-in-all he thought their day had gone really well, and he was doubly proud of himself for not punching the delivery guy when he eyed his girl.

  Baby steps.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  After his first two failed attempts, Marco had left it up to Gabby to pick the destination for their third date. And after pondering long and hard, trying to think of someplace that would be fun but with a low risk of a violent confrontation—AKA low male population—she’d finally figured out the perfect place. Although the process had been more difficult than she’d thought it would be.

  Her first idea had been a male strip club, thinking the mostly female clientele would give Marco a better edge of success. But then she had second thoughts, remembering his reaction to her teeny-tiny obsession with skintight superhero suits and figured he’d flip his lid if she accidentally drooled while watching mostly naked men prancing on stage.

  Her first idea had then led her to her second—a female strip club. With the reasoning that although the clientele would be ninety-nine percent men, they would be so preoccupied with the show—not to mention the skimpily clad waitstaff—they wouldn’t pay Gabby a second—or even a first—look. But then nixed that idea when she thought about her flipping her lid if Marco accidentally drooled a little while watching naked women strut their stuff.

  So a destination where people got naked was definitely off the table. But that had her thinking. Why not go to the complete opposite end of the spectrum to somewhere mostly children hung out. And that’s when she remembered the perfect place. A place she’d taken a few of her younger cousins to the previous summer and surprisingly had a really good time.

  But sadly, in all her careful planning, she’d forgotten one thing.

  Kids have dads.

  Gabby held out her hand. “Give me the keys.”

  Marco halted in the process of opening the driver’s side door. “I like to drive.”

  “But I know where we’re going, and you don’t.”

  “Then tell me where we’re going.”

  Gabby huffed. Why did men need to make things so difficult? “If I tell you where we’re going, it won’t be a surprise.”

  Marco shrugged. “Then just direct me as we go.”

  Gah! That would work, but it was more the principle of the thing by that point. “Or… you can just let me drive.”

  He stepped away from the car and over to her. Cupping her neck, his thumbs rubbed against her jaw as he said, “Streghetta, I like to drive. I need to be in control.”

  Gabby lost sight of Marco as she rolled her eyes. “Fine, I’ll just tell you where to go.”

  “Thank you, cara mia.”

  He kissed her forehead before releasing her, and she put a little extra stomp in her step as she made her way around the car to the passenger side. She also might have slammed her door harder than necessary.

  She glanced over at Marco who was clipping his seat belt and saw his lips twitch. “If you laugh, I swear to God, I’ll ditch the place we’re going and take you where I originally planned to go.”

  One of his brows lifted. “Why does that sound like a threat? Where did you plan to take me?”

  Gabby crossed her arms over her chest. “A male stri
p club.”

  His other brow met up with the first. “You were going to take me to a male strip club?”

  She shrugged. “Figured the place would be full of mostly women, lowering the odds of our night ending on its usual note. Then I thought about all the half-naked men and decided it wasn’t such a good idea after all.”

  Marco turned over the ignition, and the engine roared to life. “Smart.”

  He backed out of the garage, and while the door rolled closed, Gabby said, “Get on the freeway and get off on Sahara.”

  She gave him directions as he drove, the radio playing softly in the background until they reached their destination.

  Marco barked out a laugh. “Putt-Putt Golf?”

  She gave his suit a smirk. “Yep. And why I told you to dress casually. You’re going to stand out.” Not that he wouldn’t have anyway. Just his hunkiness alone set him apart from the crowd. “Wait, do you even own any casual clothes?” If he did, she’d yet to see him in them.

  He shrugged, “I own a few pairs of sweats and some t-shirts.”

  “What about jeans? You have to own a pair of jeans.”

  He shook his head, and her mouth fell open. He placed a finger under her chin and closed it. “Careful, you’ll catch flies.”

  “I… I… Who doesn’t own a pair of jeans?” They were a staple, like milk, bread, butter, jeans.

  “By the look on your face, apparently no one but me.” He opened his car door. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

  Gabby got out and slammed her door. “It’s an attitude like that, that will have me kicking your butt at Putt-Putt.”

  His eyes drifted to the entrance. “Fuck me.”

  Gabby followed his gaze, noting the colorful banners waving on the breeze and all the kids milling around, and laughed. She scooped up his hand, and they started walking.

  Or to be more precise, she started walking, and Marco reluctantly followed.