Last Man Standing

by Wendy Rosnau

  For an answer she unzipped her pants and pulled them down past her knees and stepped out of them. Straightening, she said, “I’d toss them to you, but I don’t think they’ll fit. Your turn.”

  His shirt hung to her knees, unbuttoning it allowed him a narrow strip of her lovely body to drool over. She wore black panties that rode a couple of inches below her navel. Her gold navel ring winked at him like a one-eyed tease.

  He licked his lips, his craving for her triple what his thirst for Scotch had ever been. He pulled off his boots, then his socks. Standing in his jeans and nothing else, he said, “Give me something.”

  She shifted, slid her hands inside his shirt, turned her back and shimmied. When she came back around, she was holding her sheer blue bra. A second later she tossed it to him.

  It was a flimsy thing, still warm and carrying her scent. He brought it to his nose, inhaled deeply. “I like how you smell,” he admitted, then shoved away from the wall. “Game over. I win.”

  “You win? How do you figure that?”

  He came forward, his body growing as anxious as his fingers. “I win because I’m bigger than you. You have a problem with that?”

  Her eyes traveled the length of his body. “Sometimes big is good. Yes?”

  “Sì, sometimes. You ready for me?”

  “I thought your job was to get me ready.”

  “An educated virgin.” Lucky smiled, leaned forward and kissed her. “And what is your job?”

  She looked him straight in the eye and said, “My job is to hang on tight and try not to pass out. I’ve read that the first time can produce a rush of blood to your head and make you dizzy. Euphoria, I believe, is the word they used.”

  Her wit kept him on his toes, and he liked that. He parted his shirt to expose that part of her that had been hidden from his eyes. The sight of her lush bare breasts caused him to groan.

  He kissed his way down her neck and over her chest, then took one breast at a time into his mouth, sucking and stroking. Licking and tasting.

  “Lucky…”

  “Mm…”

  “Do you have a condom with you?”

  “Mm…”

  “Is that a yes?”

  “Sì,” he muttered as his mouth moved lower to her belly.

  He bent his knees, tongued her navel, tugged gently on the gold ring. When his thumbs hooked the elastic of her black panties, he heard her suck in her breath. He hesitated, looked up at her. “You need a minute?”

  “No. I’m…fine.”

  “Fine?” He slid his thumbs free and stood. “Too fast,” he said, then pulled her into his arms. For the next several minutes he concentrated on her mouth and how good it felt to finally hold her. He kept it up until she began to squirm and rub herself against him, seeking more.

  That’s it, he thought. He wanted her hot and needy. Hungry. Not fine.

  It was as he was considering just how hard a man could get without splitting in two, that he felt her hands slide between them and unzip his jeans. The anticipation of her hands touching him constricted his breathing. But that was nothing compared to the euphoria that spun his head the moment her fingers slipped inside his jeans and grazed the tip of him.

  “Ahhh…”

  “Am I hurting you?”

  “In a good way,” Lucky murmured. “In a very good way.”

  Stone-hard and aching, he pulled her along with him in the direction of the bed and laid her down, and as he joined her, he was conscious of the fact that the hours of therapy he’d spent on Elena’s table allowed him to move with more ease.

  He leaned over her, his hands parting his shirt so he could look at her beautiful breasts and flat stomach. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand touched her. He lowered his head and kissed each breast, rubbed his face over her. Inhaled her sweet scent.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. He kissed her with slow hot kisses. Bent forward and trailed kisses down her neck. Then back up over her chin. Her cheeks. Nose. Eyes.

  His hand slid down her stomach, grazed her navel. He asked, “Why the ring?”

  “I don’t know.”

  He nipped her chin. “Sure you do.”

  “Okay, I do. I always thought it was sexy-looking.”

  “You don’t need a ring in your navel, Elena, to look sexy.”

  “You think I’m sexy?”

  “I know so.”

  His hand moved to the edge of her panties. “Do you have more rings anywhere else?”

  She stared up at him. Smiled. “And if I say yes?”

  He arched a brow. “You’re joking, right?” When she didn’t answer, he said, “I guess there’s only one way to find out.” His hand slid into her panties.

  “Lucky—”

  “Shhh. Let me touch you, Elena.”

  He kissed her lips, and she went still as his hand slid into her black curls. Lower, between her legs.

  She was so damn soft and he was so bone-hard. He exhaled slowly, slid his hand lower, at the same time he pushed his knee between her legs to spread them.

  “Breathe, sweet Elena. I don’t want you to pass out,” he teased. “Not yet, anyway.”

  “I want this to be good for you.” She sighed, her hands moving up his chest. “I want—”

  “Shhh. It’s already good. Relax, and give me your body. That’s what you tell me in your therapy room. Well, this is my therapy room.”

  She smiled. “And are you an expert on the subject of making love, Lucky Masado?”

  He avoided her question, not wanting any other memory to intrude on their time together. He kissed her, moved his fingers over her slit, waited to hear her suck in her breath. To hear her sweet sigh.

  He stroked her, watched her face. It was all new for her—Lucky could see it in her eyes—and the reality of that slowed his movements without his being aware of it. And for the first time in his life, he wanted time to stand still. He wanted to savor the newness and the feel of her flesh. He wanted to prolong the building of heat.

  He wanted to savor her gift to him.

  Her fingers caressed his chest, moved over his ribs. He loved how she touched him. How inquisitive her fingers were. How hungry her mouth was every time his lips got close.

  He deepened his kiss at the same time he moved two fingers into her heat. She was so hot and wet that he moaned.

  In answer she said, “Noises are good.”

  “Sì, very good.”

  When his fingers met her barrier, he stopped and slowly withdrew.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, searching his face.

  “No, don’t be sorry for anything.”

  He didn’t like the fact that she felt she had to apologize for being a virgin, but then, he had himself to blame. He’d called it her little problem days ago, and he regretted that now. Regretted ever making her feel inadequate.

  He covered her mouth and kissed her long and deep, then whispered, “I like you brand-new. You’re right. It’s a gift. A gift I don’t deserve.”

  Suddenly he rolled off the bed and stood.

  “Lucky?”

  He turned away, walked toward the dresser.

  “Lucky?”

  The panic in her voice had him turning around. She was no longer lying on the bed, but on her knees. His shirt was wrapped around her. Her eyes were wide, her black hair a wild mass around her shoulders. “Are you walking out on me?”

  “No. It’s too late for that, Elena.” He slid open the top drawer of the dresser and found the box of condoms stored in the corner. Slipping one out, he turned around, the sealed square visible in his hand. “Too late for me to walk away, even though I know it would be the best thing for you.”

  He saw her relax. She came off the bed, slipping out of his shirt. “The best thing for me is you,” she said, letting his shirt fall to the floor. Then she slowly pulled her panties down her hips and revealed herself to him.

  The sight of her naked sent his heart to his throat. He studied her breasts, then let his eyes travel to the bl
ack curls between her legs.

  “So is that all you’re going to do is look?”

  Her question brought him back to the bed in two strides. He set the condom on the night table, then dropped his jeans to the floor.

  She drew back the blanket and sheet, then climbed beneath them. He followed her and pulled her close.

  “Before you put the condom on,” she whispered, “I want to touch you.”

  Her words turned his gut inside out, made his pulses throb hard and fast. He rolled to his back and waited for her finger to glide over his stomach to his rigid shaft. She touched without hesitation, and when she drew his sac into her hand and lowered her head, he thought he was going to die. Her mouth touched him. Kissed him.

  He closed his eyes, tried to breathe slowly and deeply. When her lips threatened to send him over the edge, he reached for her and rolled her beneath him. He spread her thighs and moved into position between her legs. When she undulated her hips, he gave her his weight and let her feel him along her inner thighs.

  He rocked his body against her, welcomed the way her hands moved over his backside and hips. She was pulling him closer, rubbing and stroking him. Wanting him.

  He braced his arms on either side of her and slid his body upward. Parting her slightly with his bone-stiff shaft, he watched her face, knew the minute she felt the tip of him enter her.

  “Relax your hips and open for me. I want to feel you suck me inside. Without the condom first. Trust me.”

  She relaxed her knees and arched her hips. Lucky sank into her another inch, felt her stiffen even as she tried to stay relaxed. He moved farther, her body convulsing to accommodate him, stretching as he moved deeper.

  The strangled gasp she made in the back of her throat told him he’d torn through her barrier. He went still, kissing her to defuse the sting as she curled her legs around him. She kissed back, bit his lower lip and lifted her hips at the same time.

  “That’s it,” he whispered. “Move on me, Elena. Check me out. Do you like me?”

  “Oh, yes, I like you,” she breathed, then slid her hand over his backside and pushed him deeper. “No, I love you,” she amended. “I love the feel of you inside me.”

  Lucky began to move. “The condom,” he groaned, afraid if he didn’t reach for it soon, he never would. He slid out of her, grabbed the package and ripped it open. When he slid the latex on, she watched. He rolled back, kissed her again. She made a little welcoming noise when he entered her and began to move again. Slowly at first, then faster.

  When she curled her legs around him again and urged him deeper, he began thrusting. The pleasure she gave him was overwhelming—she was sucking him dry and at the same time, filling him up.

  She was right, it was euphoric.

  Do you like me?

  I like you. No, I love you.

  Her words spun through his brain as he continued to thrust into her. She surged upward, gasped, then began to undulate and milk him. He moaned, moved faster, felt his climax building.

  Her sudden cries of ecstasy kept him watching her face, wanting to see her slip over the edge. Wanting to remember every sigh and movement she made.

  “That’s it, Elena. Noises are good,” he encouraged.

  When she came apart, her soft satiated cry undid him. Her release was so powerful it pitched him into his own climax so quickly that he surrendered with a guttural growl. He bucked his hips, moved more rapidly. Harder. Deeper.

  The aftermath was a spiraling effect, satiated bodies in slow motion, accompanied by heavy breathing.

  He welcomed her lips moving over his face and silently telling him she was all right. He knew he should move off her. His weight had to be a burden. She had to be exhausted. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her, not when all he wanted to do was start over again and end up in the same place.

  “Lucky?”

  Still buried inside her, he levered himself up on his elbows. When he focused on her face, he noted that her lips were swollen from his kisses and her eyes were glazed with spent passion. The physical evidence of their lovemaking was no surprise to him, but her smile was.

  “What are you, a masochist? I think I ripped you in two.”

  “It’s a wonderful feeling.”

  “Impossible.”

  “Euphoric. The book was right.”

  He didn’t read too many books, but this book she was referring to intrigued him. He was determined to get himself a copy.

  He slowly slid out of her and rolled onto his back.

  “I’ll be right back,” she told him.

  He reached for her, not wanting her to leave him. “Where are you going?”

  “To the bathroom.”

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  Yes, he did. He let her go. “Hurry back.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him, then she did something he didn’t expect. She reached for a tissue on the night table, wrapped it around his still-hard shaft and slid the condom off him. “Don’t move,” she told him. “I’ll come back with a washcloth.”

  In the privacy of the bathroom, Elena saw to her physical needs, splashed water on her face, then located a washcloth and towel. Her body was still pulsing with the aftermath of Lucky’s invasion, but she hadn’t been lying when she said she felt wonderful.

  She returned to the bedroom moments later to find him stretched out on his stomach, his arms curled around a pillow. She hadn’t been gone all that long for him to have fallen asleep; still, she said nothing and laid the washcloth on the towel, then placed the towel on the nightstand.

  Quietly she slipped her black panties on, then climbed back into bed. Without hesitation, she ran her hand along the fibrous scar she’d gotten to know so well the past few days. She’d been able to ease his pain, and she felt good about that. Confident that with regular sessions of massage therapy, he wouldn’t need surgery.

  “It doesn’t repulse you?” he muttered. “It’s a bad scar.”

  The worst she’d ever seen, Elena silently conceded. “No,” she rejected. “It doesn’t repulse me. It’s still you, and as you know, I like you very much. All of you.”

  He let go of a heavy sigh. “Rub it, Elena. It feels good when you touch it.”

  She knew how hard it was for him to ask for help. She raised herself on her knees. “Flatten out,” she instructed, and when he did, she straddled his hips.

  Leaning forward, she pressed her breasts to his back, then began to kiss her way down the scar. “I’m going to give you a pleasure massage,” she whispered. “How does that sound?”

  “It sounds like you could end up on your back again,” he murmured into the pillow.

  She slid her pelvis over his beautiful backside and heard him release another sigh. As she moved her body, she moved her hands, stroking him with both.

  Several minutes later, his voice low, her name thick on his tongue, he said, “Elena, we really need to go.”

  “Not yet. Just a little while longer. Please. I love touching you.”

  Ten minutes later, on a tortured groan, he reached around and lifted her off him in one easy motion and pulled her beneath him. “And I love touching you.” He brushed her lips with his. “My turn. My turn to touch and look. And taste.”

  A noise downstairs brought Lucky fully awake in an instant. He eased away from Elena, who slept soundly. His jeans back on, he grabbed the .22 off the dresser.

  In the hallway he listened to pinpoint where the noise was coming from. The house was old and the rooms were closed off. He crept down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, rewarded when he heard footsteps behind the door.

  He braced himself, counted to three, then shouldered the door open and aimed the .22. “Dammit.” Lucky lowered the gun quickly. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  Joey finished pouring a cup of coffee, then looked over his shoulder at his brother, his eyes taking in Lucky’s half-zipped jeans, then his bare feet and chest. “I told myself you wouldn’t be t
hat stupid. Not my brother. Not the smartest man I know. I guess I was wrong. How long have you been sleeping with her?”

  The muscle in Lucky’s jaw tightened. “It’s not what it looks like, Joey.”

  His brother gave a harsh laugh. Shook his head. “How long, little brother?”

  “Today is the first time I…that we…” He stopped himself from going on. “How did you know where to look for us?”

  “Process of elimination. I got some news I need to share with you. When I called the house, Palone said you weren’t there. That you and Elena had a morning meeting with Vito’s lawyer. He said you hadn’t come back and that you weren’t answering your cell phone. I called Henry Kendler and he didn’t pick up. I got worried. One of the men thought they saw your car in the neighborhood. I came looking.”

  Lucky had left his cell phone in the pocket of his jacket. At the moment his jacket was in the living room, where he’d left it when he’d followed Elena upstairs.

  “This isn’t your style, fratello. You don’t make messes. So what’s going on?”

  What was going on was that he suddenly needed a drink. Lucky opened the cupboard, pulled out a bottle of Scotch and took it with him to the kitchen table. Once his brother was seated across from him, he said, “I don’t need a lecture, Joey. It’s not like I planned this.”

  “I’m in no position to lecture you, Lucky. But I thought the plan was to send her home. At Vito’s memorial, you said she was going back at the end of the week.”

  Lucky stared at the bottle. Unscrewed the cap. Licked his lips. “She’s still going back. Tomorrow night.”

  “Tomorrow? Today you sleep with her and tomorrow you send her home. That doesn’t look too good.”

  “Dammit, Joey, I told you I didn’t plan this.” Lucky rubbed his jaw. “I know what this looks like, but you know I didn’t bring her here just to get her clothes off and have a little going-away party.” He leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. “I don’t want to talk about it. She’s back with Grace and Frank as of tomorrow night, and that’ll be the end of it.”

  “I had this conversation with Jacky a month ago. Out of sight, out of mind doesn’t work, Lucky. Just ask me. There wasn’t a day that went by that I didn’t think about Rhea after she was gone. When you love someone—”