Licentious

by Jen Cousineau

  Pulling into the drive, I walk around to help Jo out of the car. Taking her hand in mine, I lead her around back to where all the ruckus is coming from.

  The yard and pool lights illuminate the space, laughter and the sounds of water splashing fill the air. I wave to Ma, Dad, and Uncle Jack, who are sitting at the bar. Ma, I’m sure, is happily playing bartender tonight. She smiles at us, and Joey begins to walk in her direction. I tug gently on her hand to keep her going in the direction of the pool house.

  “This way, babe.” I chuckle. “We need our suits on first,” I remind her.

  “Oh, right.” She laughs.

  I’m hoping after she discovers her red one-piece is no longer existent that her beautiful smile that lights up her face will remain intact. Doubtful. I close the door behind us and follow her into my bedroom to change. Opening my dresser drawer, I grab my swim trunks and quickly change. I need to be ready for battle.

  I had just pulled my trunks on when I hear Joey shriek behind me.

  “Aléssandro Dé Luca!” I turn to face her. She’s standing in front of the open closet door, fully dressed, holding up the white string bikini. “Whose are these?” she growls through a clenched jaw, her hands shaking.

  Is she serious right now?

  “Whose?” she yells. Not giving me a chance to respond, she throws them at me. “You cheating bastard! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Hot angry tears fill her eyes as hate shines directly at me.

  Oh, shit. This is one scenario I didn’t consider. I pick the suit off the ground and walk toward her.

  “Babe,” I say calmly, “you’ve got it all wrong.”

  “Oh! I have it wrong? I have it wrong?” Her eyes flash, heated in rage. “Let me guess, Alé. The bikini is yours?” she asks sarcastically, arms flailing wildly.

  “No,” I shake my head, but keep my voice even. “The bikini is yours,” I tell her as I slowly reach out and rest my hands on her shoulders. “I bought this bikini for you.”

  “I–I–, Alé,” she pulls back and her expression transforms as if I had just slapped her. “I have a perfectly fine swimsuit,” she retorts.

  “About that,” I whisper, “I threw it out.” I tell her quickly. I figure it’s just like ripping off a bandage. The faster, the better. Get it over with, right?

  “I-I’m sorry?” she asks surprised, holding her palms up, stepping back. “You what?” she shrieks.

  “Jo, I want you to see and feel how beautiful you really are. If you keep covering up, you’ll never get there,” I tell her gently.

  “Alé,” she snaps. “I’m fine the way I am.”

  “You’re perfect the way you are. That’s what I’m trying to get you to see. Will you please just try it on?” I sigh. “For me?” I pout. She never has resisted my pouting face.

  She narrows her eyes at me, glaring, and rips the suit from my hands. “Fine,” she mutters. “For you only,” she grumbles as she stomps her way to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind her.

  “You couldn’t dress out here?” I yell through the door. “It’s not like I haven’t seen you naked or anything,” I mutter as I lean against the wall across from the bathroom door in the hallway.

  “No! You don’t deserve to see me naked right now,” I hear her snap on the other side of the door.

  I hear the handle of the door turn and the creaking sound it makes as she slowly opens it just wide enough to peek through. Her large doe eyes look nervous, her forehead creasing. My fingers itch to rub the lines smooth.

  “I look ridiculous,” she mutters.

  I push myself off the wall, taking a step forward until my hands are flat against the door. “Let me see, Jo,” I command softly. She shakes her head no. “Jo,” I warn. She looks up at me, her lip tucked between her teeth so hard it’s turning white. “Kitten,” I whisper. She closes her eyes and steps back, allowing me to open the door wider.

  When my eyes fall on her, all breath escapes my lungs. All blood rushes to my dick, bringing it to life. I don’t even bother suppressing the groan that escapes me. She looks up at me from under her eye lashes, her arms moving to cross over her stomach.

  “Uh, uh,” I say as I step up until our chests are nearly touching. My hands latch around both of her wrists pulling them away from her body. “Damn, kitten, I think this is my favorite thing I’ve ever seen you in,” I whisper.

  “Alé, I can’t wear this,” she shakes her head, her eyes averting to my chest.

  “Jo,” I say as I turn her to face the large mirror that hangs above the sink on the wall. Stepping behind her, I ask, “What do you see?”

  “Scars,” she whispers painfully.

  I shake my head. “No, Jo, keep looking,” I order.

  “My dad’s eyes, a near spitting image of my mother. I see Eve,” she whispers to me as my fingertips lightly graze over her skin from her wrists up her arms, over the crook of her elbow, up and over her shoulders. I rest them for a moment before they continue their journey down the front of her chest.

  “Do you know what I see?” I ask her.

  “No,” she shakes her head, her eyes glued to the reflection of her scars, tears shining bright in her eyes.

  “I see perfection. I see scars that decorate a perfect body and a perfect, sexy woman. A woman who is tough and beautiful. I see strength,” I whisper into her ear. “I see tits so luscious that my mouth waters to taste them. An ass so perfect my cock hardens at the idea of how it would feel to be inside of you. Legs for days that I fantasize about wrapping them around my waist and slamming home into you.”

  “That’s you, Alé,” she whispers as she rolls her eyes.

  “What did I tell you about rolling your eyes at me?” I warn. Her eyes grow wide, but she doesn’t say a word. “Why do you care what other people think, Jo? It should only matter what you think. What I think,” I tell her softly as my hands roughly pull the cups of her bikini top down, under her breasts so I can feel her skin beneath my palms, my fingers tweaking her hardened nipples.

  “Watch, Jo,” I order as soon as I see her eyes close. Her eyes snap open as she follows the movement of my hands. Keeping one hand teasing her chest, my other hand descends to snake under the bottom of her suit. I can feel her heart rate beating through her back against my chest. My fingers are greeted by her hot, wet arousal. As I sink my fingers deep inside her, I watch her eyes roll to the back of her head, her mouth falling open.

  “Watch, Jo,” I command sharply. “Watch how beautiful you are,” I tell her as my fingers expertly move in and out of her, curving to hit her sensitive spots. Jo moans, and I can feel her body begin to shake against me. I press my lips to her neck as my hands continue their assault. I pull my hand out of her causing her to groan out in frustration. “Do you want it, Jo?” I growl into her ear.

  “Yes. Yes, Alé. Please,” she nearly begs breathlessly.

  I spread her juices over her clit before I sink my fingers deep inside of her again. My thumb assaults her button at a relentless pace. Her breathing begins to quicken as she rests her head against my shoulder, forcing herself to keep eye contact. I can feel her pussy muscles begin to tighten, sucking my fingers further into her.

  “Do you want to come, kitten?” I growl.

  “Yes,” she moans. “Oh, God. Yes, Alé, please,” she groans.

  “Are you going to wear this suit and see how beautiful you are? Wear this suit and be proud of how perfect you are?” I taunt her. Her hand roams up my chest and around my neck, her fingers sliding through my hair and taking hold.

  “Please, Alé,” she breathes.

  “Are you?” I ask as I lighten the pressure of my thumb from her hot spot.

  “Alé!” she groans in frustration.

  “You’ll come, kitten, when I tell you to come,” I growl. “I’m waiting for an answer.”

  “Yes! I’ll wear it. I’ll wear anything you want me to wear. Please, Alé, please just make me come,” she whines.

  My left hand begins to roll her n
ipple hard between my forefinger and thumb while my right applies more pressure in quick circles on her clit, my fingers slamming in and out of her, slightly curved. My dick presses hard against her ass as I watch her come apart. “Come, Jo,” I order. “Watch yourself fall apart.”

  On command, her pussy clenches tight, her juices dripping, coating my hand. My left arm wraps around her stomach keeping her upright as her body shakes, her mouth open, screaming her release. As soon as her body calms, I slowly slip my fingers from her core, Jo’s eyes watching my every move in a state of euphoria. Keeping my eyes on hers, I bring my fingers to my lips and suck off her essence. I can’t contain the groan of need that escapes my throat.

  “Damn, baby. You taste so good,” I tell her as I kiss her neck.

  “That wasn’t fair, Alé,” she narrows her eyes at me.

  “I know.” I wink before walking out of the bathroom.

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Aléssandro

  “I found the same discrepancies that you did, Dad,” I tell him as I close the last of Tricks’ books, tossing my pen on the desk. “I went through Luca’s books, as well. They’re off,” I tell him.

  His head shoots up, scowl taking over his face. “How much?”

  “About 250K.” I sigh as I rub my temples to try to relieve the headache that’s starting to form.

  “Who besides Walt works at both places?” he hisses.

  “No one,” I tell him firmly.

  He nods sharply once. “I’ll meet with Jack about it. You,” he points at me with narrowed eyes, “you finish the other business,” he orders.

  “Yes, sir,” I comply as I head down to the garage. I get into the black Escalade we have in the garage for purposes like this.

  A few days ago, I had some of the soldiers pick Cameryn up and hold him in one of our warehouses in the middle of nowhere. I haven’t spoken with him yet. But my soldiers had strict instructions to slowly torture him, get him to talk, but they were not allowed to end him. That’s for me. I need this.

  I had one of the soldier’s text Joey from Cameryn’s phone that he had a personal matter come up that required his attention immediately, but that he would be back to work as soon as he could. She mentioned it to me in passing, and it took everything I had to not allow my anxiety and tension to show on the matter.

  I know Cameryn was important to her, but since he put his hands on my woman against her will, leaving evidence behind, he deserves everything he has coming to him. I know if Jo finds out, she’s going to be pissed. She may even be hurt, but this is something that I have to do. For me. For my family. For the family. Jo was able to kill one of the men who attacked her and her sister. This is my chance to settle the score for Frank. I asked my Dad if I could be the one to close this business. It took me months to finally have him and Uncle Jack agree with me, but finally, finally, the time has come.

  I pull onto the gravel and park next to the warehouse. Walking through the rusty metal door, I can hear Cameryn crying like a little bitch.

  “Capo,” one of the newer soldiers greets me as he stands guard just inside the door. I nod my head and continue through to the center of the space.

  A light shines down, bright and hot on Cameryn, who’s bound to a chair with barb wire. His eyes are covered with duct tape, and the blood that he’s lost thus far stains his skin, clothes, and the floor around him.

  I walk up to Al, a soldier who’s been a member of the family for a few years now and hold my palm out. He places a throwaway .22 in my hand. Normally, Dad ‘the Boss,’ Uncle Jack ‘the Under Boss,’ nor I would participate in events like these. This is the job of a soldier. But, when you take out someone toward the top of the chain, someone who never should’ve died, you bet your ass at least one of us will do the job instead.

  I turn the safety of the .22 off, and then walk to the center of the room until I’m in kicking distance to Cameryn.

  “Long time no see, old friend,” I sneer. At the sound of my voice, Cameryn’s head whips up, showcasing the beautiful handiwork of my men.

  Sweat pours down his face and neck. His nose is obviously broken, along with a few of his limbs, and his shoulder looks to be out of place. Blood is dried to his nose and mouth, and looking at the work done per my request, I see they successfully removed all of his fingers. His skin is ashen and pale.

  “Do you remember me, Cameryn?” I ask, my voice coming out deep and rough.

  “Who’s there?” he cries. Cries!

  “Are you not a man, Cameryn? Do you not consider yourself to be one?” I ask as I reach forward and run the barrel of the gun down his face. When the cool metal touches his skin, he jumps and begins to cry harder. “I would ask if you knew why you were here, but I know for a fact that my men have been asking you questions about one very important matter, and you’ve yet to comply,” I inform him as I follow it with a ‘tsk, tsk,’ sound.

  When I remove the blindfold, his eyes grow wide, and then he begins to beg me.

  “Aléssandro, please. Please, y-you have t-to help me,” he cries.

  “Why the tears, my friend? Do you think you are undeserving of this treatment?” I ask, my voice calm, friendly.

  “There’s b-been s-some mistake! I-I didn’t do anything!” he pleads.

  “Well, I think you’ll be happy to know that being,” I pause and smile at him vindictively, “the thug that I am, I did my homework. Do you remember your high school girlfriend, what was her name? Oh, right. Briana,” I breathe into his face, “we had a little chat, and she confessed. Everything.”

  His eyes grow wide and tears begin to drain down his face. “P-please! I-I didn’t mean for that t-to happen. I-I was young! A-And dumb!” he yells. “I-I would t-take it all back… if I-I could,” he drops his chin to his chest and sobs.

  “Do you want to know a secret, Cam,” I smile and I perch my hands on my knees, bending over until our eyes are level. “Normally, one of my men would’ve just put a bullet through your head,” I smile wide, “but,” I hold a finger in the air, “you killed a Capo. And you touched my woman. A woman who clearly did not want you. You left bruises on her arms. We don’t take lightly to the disrespect of a woman, especially a woman of the Cosa Nostra,” I say bitterly.

  “I-I didn’t mean…” he begins to sob to the point that I can’t understand a word falling from his mouth. He wants to cry? I’ll give him something to cry about. I stand, aim, and pull the trigger. A scream rips from his chest as the .22 round flies through his right knee cap.

  “I also don’t like liars.” I narrow my eyes at him. “You dug your own grave my friend.”

  “P-please, what about J-Joey?” he screeches. “T-think about her.”

  “I have. This is also for her,” I growl as I place the barrel against his forehead. He cries, screaming at me not to do it. My eyes connect with his, a wicked smile forming on my face, and then I pull the trigger.

  Without thinking twice about what I had just done, I turn to Al and hold my hand out for the fabric to clean the gun. I wipe the gun down and then place the gun on the old metal desk as I put the fabric in my pocket. I’ll be the one to dispose of that.

  “Everything else taken care of?” I ask him.

  “Yes, Capo,” he nods firmly.

  “Good. Burn him. Clean this up,” I order as I turn and walk out.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Joey

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Addison tells me as she sits down at the chair across from me. “What’d you order?” she asks as she sniffs the cup.

  “Skinny Carmel Macchiato and a cheese Danish,” I smile at her.

  “Good.” She nods. “Thank you.”

  “No prob. Okay—I’m on a serious time crunch, and I think I’m going to lose my mind,” I begin to freak.

  “Take a breath. You’re going to be fine,” she says softly. “Now, tell me what’s going on?”

  “Okay,” I nod and take a breath. “Remember me telling you that I got a text from Cam about a
week ago?” Addison nods, taking a sip of her coffee. “Okay, so he said he was coming back as soon as he took care of a personal matter.”

  “So what’s the problem? He’s been gone too long for your liking or something? I thought things were sketchy between the two of you at best, anyway?” she frowns.

  “Yeah, I know they are. Things between us suck, but I can’t do this without him. We have too many clients between the two of us!” I whine. “I’m either going to have to find someone to fill his spot or change the personal sessions to classes at the studio only, and then offer only a few clients personal sessions. They’re going to be so pissed!” I ramble to her breathlessly as I slump down in my chair. I can feel my bottom lip jut out in a pout, my finger tracing the mouth piece of my to-go cup.

  “Wait,” she shakes her head, “what am I missing here?”

  “Oh, yeah,” I nod with tears in my eyes. “I received papers at the studio today. Cam’s signed his portion over to me. Gifted. Wants nothing in return, and he’s not planning to return. I tried to call his phone and it’s disconnected,” I tell her as my first tear falls.

  “Okay, but maybe this is a good thing!” She smiles. I can’t help but roll my eyes at her.

  “How is this a good thing?” I ask.

  “Well, Cam and Alé don’t get along. Cam’s in love with you and has been for a while. Talk about awkward!” She fake shutters. “But, Jo, this was probably really hard for him to see someone else be the one who opened you up and saved you from yourself,” she shoots me a sympathetic look.