Reno's Gift (Mob Boss Series)

by Monroe, Mallory

  “You’re hitting my spot,” she said as he fucked her, and Tommy stopped sucking her reddening breasts long enough to look into her eyes.

  “You’re hitting mine too,” he replied. Then his eyes dilated. “Oh, you’re hitting mine!” he said with emphasis. Because he was at that sweet spot. In the honey pot. Ready to pour into her but not yet pouring. He loved this moment of their lovemaking. He kissed her on the mouth as the water and his strokes and the feel of her soft cunt made him at that heightened state for minutes on end.

  And they stayed at that state for a good long time as he stroked and put it on her, and she groaned and felt his hardness whip in and almost out of her in repetitive punctures. Tommy moved back to her breasts, sucking them hard, as his strokes began to intensify. And that combination, of his almost manic sucking and his elevated fucking, caused her to cum.

  She leaned her head back and held her hands tight around his neck as her body betrayed her. Her thighs began to buck against him as if she was riding a horse and her vagina began to tighten around him as if she was restricting his access. It was unbearable and she had to restrict his access.

  But that only made it worse. Because the more she restricted his access, the harder he banged her to gain more access. Until even his legendary control couldn’t turn back the tide. He came. He poured into his precious Grace and came in a long and grunting cum. He drenched her with his cum. He lifted his body and thrashed into her with whip-fast thrashings to fully release the valve. The water around them was splashing from his thrashing and he was panting and holding her body tighter as he lifted even higher, shoving his dick in even deeper, until there was no more room, no more time, and no more cum. Then he kept his dick jammed against her and grunted in a way so heartfelt it sounded guttural, as the last drop of his release poured out.

  Reno placed Trina on their bed, removed every stitch of her clothing, and then stared at her beautiful, brown, naked body. He was exhausted, and was seated on the edge of the bed, but he couldn’t stop staring at her. From her beautiful face, to her large breasts, to her toned stomach and thighs, he knew every inch of this woman’s body. And he began to throb. He wanted it again. There was no way he was going to go to bed without hitting that first. No way.

  He slung his shirt over his head, stepped out of his shoes, and unbuckled and unzipped his pants. His penis was so aroused that it sprung forward like a soldier at attention. He began to stroke it as he watched Trina. And then he got in bed with her. Only he moved his body down, to between her legs, and wedged his head between her thighs.

  Trina began to feel his tongue almost immediately. She was still in the fog of sleep, but she slowly began to awake to his long, loving licks that started at the bottom of her folds, slid upward, and then sliced in. She began to moan as his mouth entered her folds and moved from one pocket to the other one. He ate her cunt. He slurped with tease bites and licks that felt so intense that Trina opened her legs wider to experience the full effect.

  He was giving her head in such a special way that it took away all fog and she was now fully awake. She looked down at his head as he mouth-fucked her to a kind of consciousness that made her hyper-aware of every fiber of his tongue. His expertise made every bone in her body relax to a tingling sensation that was so calming, and so sensual to the touch that it made her want to fall back asleep.

  But Reno knew that wasn’t going to happen. Because he had her vagina juices flowing for his taste, and she saturated his tongue. There was so much saturation that the taste, the texture, the idea of it made him want to lose control and fuck her harder than she’d ever been fucked. But when he looked up at her, and saw that sleepy-eyed look of hers that became the personification of sweetness to him, he knew he wasn’t about to hurt her. He moved his body up the length of hers, and began sucking her succulent breasts.

  “Put it in,” he ordered her between sucks. “Put that motherfucker in.”

  And she did. She took her hand and placed it around his fully aroused dick, and ploughed it into her vagina.

  Reno trembled when penis met pussy and it felt to wonderful to linger. He had to start stroking right away. He laid on top of her, wrapping her tightly in his arms, and fucked her and fucked her. For over an hour they fucked.

  For Reno, it was more than sex. It was the fact that he was being pleasured by the love of his life. She didn’t have to put on any special shows or do any acrobats. All she had to do was open her legs and let him in. Because it was Trina. His Trina. And the idea of having his dick deep inside of her, stroking her, gyrating her, making her feel the sensations to the roots of her hair, still excited him. And he couldn’t help but show that excitement with every glide across her folds.

  For Trina, it wasn’t just about sex either. It was all about the man. Reno Gabrini. Her man. She never dreamed she’d meet somebody like Reno. She had such bad luck in the past. Every man she thought was worth something, turned out to not even be worth a damn. They cheated on her, abused her, did everything to her but love her right.

  Then Reno came along. She was a waitress in Boyzie’s when he came along. And he showed her care and concern and the kind of endearing love that no words could ever express. He wasn’t the kind of man who talked the talk. He was the kind of man who walked the walked. He proved what he meant.

  Like now, as he fucked her so hard. He held her in his arms and pounded her with the kind of steady, rod-steel thrusts that pulsated her pussy to an almost unbearable degree. Her past boyfriends used to be two-minute men. They would get theirs and tough if she didn’t get hers.

  But not Reno. On their worst day it lasted longer than a few minutes. And on their good days, like today, they could last for hours.

  They didn’t last for multiple hours, but they lasted for a wonderfully long time. For the longest time Reno held his wife with an affection that bordered on pure possessiveness. He held her, and fucked her, and kissed her and dominated every inch of her body. He stroked and stroked and she arched and allowed him to ram his big-ass dick deeper and deeper inside of her until their relentless pounding had the bedsprings creaking from the punishment, and had both of their bodies saturated inside with their sex juices, and outside with their hard-earned sweat.

  “I love you, Tree!” Reno howled in a wail of elation when his penis became too full, and her pussy felt too sweet for him to bear it a moment longer. He came. He kept stroking through his cum, which assured her that hers was just a matter of time.

  And he was right. She came too. Her entire body clenched down on that one spot in her vagina that throbbed around Reno’s massive manhood. And he lodged it so deep down that it curled under to maneuver her tightest spot, and then curled back out straight and hard as steel. She cried so loud that Reno had to cover her mouth, when his dick made its final thrust.

  And then they lay there, breathing so hard they wondered if the other was okay, and eventually Trina whispered in her husband’s ear.

  “I love you too,” she managed to say. “You’d better know it.”

  Gemma headed for the kitchen to get the drinks while Sal looked out of the window of her tenth-floor apartment. It wasn’t much of a view, nothing like it was on the Strip, but at least it was in a safe area and was secured. As a former cop, he paid attention to such things and would not have expected less from Gemma. She was a sensible girl, in his estimation. She was the kind of woman who could be . . .

  Who could be what, he wondered. His booty call? She was too classy for that. His friend? Yeah, possibly, although he didn’t have any female friends. They were either his fuck partners or he didn’t bother with them.

  Or she could be his woman.

  Now there was a novel idea. Gemma Jones as his woman. A smart, classy, drop-dead gorgeous beauty of a lady like that. An attorney no less. He almost smiled at the thought of it. But he was nobody’s fool. A girl like that didn’t want a man like him. She probably wanted a highly educated man, some heartthrob of a black guy probably, who spoke every word correc
tly and abhorred any use of slang and who walked around as if he had a stick up his ass. Sal, on the other hand, viewed himself as a common man. He was wealthy and highly successful, but he wasn’t what people would call cultured. Not by a mile.

  In fact he was so uncultured, or so closed up in his own culture, that he’d never even dated a black woman. He’d fucked a few before. As a cop he used to get his wham bam on quite a few of them. But he never dated one. With Gemma, he knew whams and bams weren’t going to cut it. If he wanted her, he would have to work for it. But he had his brother Tommy, who favored black girls to such a degree that he wouldn’t know what to do with a white one. He was sure Tommy could teach him the ropes.

  Then Sal had to catch himself again. Why would dating a black girl be any different from dating a white girl? What would be the difference, he wondered. All of them were probably pains in the asses for the most part. Which made him slow it down again. He loved women, but he had yet to meet one who proved to be worth his time. And Gemma probably wasn’t an exception. He wanted her sexually, there was no doubt about that, but she was firebrand. Firebrands were fine in the short run. He wasn’t sure at all if he’d want a woman like that for the long haul. Caution, he felt, was the rule of the day.

  But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to hit it and hit it repeatedly tonight.

  “I have beer and I have wine,” she yelled from the kitchen. “It’s your call, Sal!”

  “Beer!” Sal yelled back, an easy call for him, and then headed for the kitchen.

  When he arrived, he leaned against the doorjamb. Gemma had taken off her heels, which only proved to Sal just how sensible she was, and she was buried in the frig pulling out two bottles of beer. Her ass was so tight Sal was getting a hard on just watching it. He knew he was going to fuck it. Before the day was out he knew he was going to tap that ass hard, and he was getting excited by just the prospect of it.

  He, in fact, decided to be bold. He didn’t know any other way to be. She might be a prude in the long run who talked a good game but in the end didn’t cover her bets. But he doubted it. He was a reasonable judge of character and if he had to place Gemma Jones anywhere on that freak spectrum, she’d be right up there with him.

  Off the charts, in other words.

  He walked up behind her and placed his hands on either side of her trim but shapely hips. She was popping open the bottle tops on the refrigerator’s bottle opener and hadn’t turned around.

  “You have a nice view,” he said to her as he placed his hands on her.

  “I think so,” she replied.

  When she didn’t object to his first move, he made another one. He leaned in closer, pressing his hard-on against her ass, making it clear to her how turned on he was. And then he kissed her on the back of her neck.

  But as soon as Gemma felt his tongue on her, she turned around quickly.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked him, her face serious and uncompromising.

  Sal, however, never backed down from a challenge. “Whatta you thinking I’m doing? I was kissing you.”

  “Kissing me?”

  “Yeah, and grinding you a little.”

  Gemma almost laughed. Was he serious? Who would admit that? Men would do it, but very few of them would admit doing it. But Sal freely admitted it, she thought. “Kissing me and grinding on me?” she asked.

  “Yeah, what of it?”

  “Do I look like a gotdamn sex toy to you? Do I look like somebody who wants to be grinded and kissed?”

  Sal started to say yes, but thought it best not to.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” he asked instead. Was he this far off about her, he began to wonder.

  “My problem is you.”

  “What about me?”

  She didn’t respond. She just stared at him.

  “I see. You don’t want me is that it? Is that your problem?”

  “That’s not the problem.”

  “Then what’s the problem? You want me?”

  “Yes,” Gemma said.

  Sal was lost. “Then what’s the fucking problem?” he wanted to know. “I want you, you want me, we’re two consenting adults. What’s the problem?”

  But Gemma just stood there, kind of lost herself. “I don’t know,” she admitted.

  And that admittance, and that look of vulnerability in her eyes, stopped him cold. He liked his women freaky, not vulnerable. He would have bet the ranch that she was the former and not the latter. What the fuck was this?

  Gemma could ask the same thing, too. She liked her men spunky just like Sal. And men like that were always good in bed. But she was getting a tingling sensation just because he called her darling, or looked at her a certain way. None of those other men from her past ever made her feel like that.

  And she knew the deal. She knew, once she allowed Sal to put his dick on it, that would be the end of their relationship. He might want to hit her again, whenever he was in town, but that would be the size of it. Booty calls for both of them. She’d be just another female in yet another town, and then he’d be gone.

  Nope, she decided. She wasn’t giving it up that easily.

  “I really have an early day tomorrow,” she said. “Why don’t we drink these beers and then call it a night? Or if you don’t have to waste your time, since my naked body isn’t going to be in your immediate future, you can leave now. I won’t be mad at you. I know what time it is.”

  Sal stared at her. She was right. He wanted to fuck her and that was about the size of it for him. For most women he met, hell all of them really, that was enough for them. He was good looking, rich, obvious stacked to the max. Considered great in bed. That was good enough for them.

  But not Gemma Jones. Not this black beauty with the sleek, panther-like body. She probably could afford to be picky. She probably had them lined up, all of those big, black studs with their big, black equipment. What did she need with him?

  But she wasn’t getting rid of him that fast.

  “Where do you want to sit?” he asked her.

  TEN

  Reno sat at the head of the table with Dominic on his lap. Tommy and Grace flanked his right, while Sal and Jimmy flanked his left, and they were all laughing and talking and enjoying a full course meal at the breakfast table. When Trina entered the room, fully dressed in her business skirt suit and briefcase, she hurried toward Reno.

  “Good morning all,” she said as she hurried.

  “Good morning to you,” Grace replied. “Don’t you look pretty today.”

  “Oh, thank-you, Grace. You’re a dear. You look spiffy yourself. Love that green.”

  Jimmy looked at the outfit Grace wore. And he agreed with his mother. She wore a plain white pair of pants that fit her to perfection, he thought, and that green, sleeveless blouse that hugged her flat stomach and small arms and was a glowing compliment to her skin tone.

  He always knew his Uncle Tommy had good taste, but the few women he’d ever seen him with weren’t quite like Grace. She was pretty like the others were, and had that air of sophistication too, but there was something far more down-to-earth about her. To Jimmy she seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t mind spending all day relaxing at the spa, but who also wouldn’t mind handing you the tools if you had to bleed the car brakes. All of Tommy’s previous ladies seemed kind of stuck-up and super girly-girl to Jimmy. But in Grace there seemed to be a less-complicated elegance about her. A woman who went against type. A woman who was strong enough to not think of herself as weak and insufficient if a man took care of her. Jimmy could now see why Tommy would have chosen her to be his wife, and maybe one day the mother of his children, above the others.

  “You look like you’re in quite the hurry,” Grace said to Tree.

  “I know. I am,” Trina replied. “I want to go over our backlog before we get too many customers. Liz can only work half a day today and Gemma has court this morning. So I’m the one who’ll have to get it done.” She grabbed a toast off of the t
ray in the middle of the table, and kissed Dommi on the forehead. She kissed Reno on the mouth.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked her.

  “I told you I want to get to the boutique early. Fran’s going to come and pick up Dommi for the day. I’ll get with you guys later.”

  “I’m talking about breakfast,” Reno pointed out. “Sit down and eat.”

  “But, Reno, I need to---”

  “I didn’t ask you what you need to do,” Reno said firmly. “Sit down and eat a full breakfast. You barely touched dinner last night as it is. Enough is enough, Tree. You’re running yourself raggedy. Sit down.”

  Trina rolled her eyes at the intrusion into her progression, but she was nobody’s fool. She did as Reno told her to do.

  “Damn, Tree,” Sal said as she sat down. “Who’s your daddy? I thought your daddy lived in Florida.”

  “Nope,” Trina said as she shook her head and buttered her toast. “That’s where you’re wrong, Salvatore. My father actually moved to Vegas, miraculously became younger and whiter, and has decided to take over my entire life.”

  Everybody laughed. Except Reno.

  “Very funny,” he said to Trina as he chomped down on more hot cakes. “Don’t forget the last time you thought you were funny,” he added.

  “What happened the last time?” Sal asked.

  Jimmy grinned. “He ran me and Ma around the house with his belt. We were just playing a joke on him, that’s all, but he took it to a whole other level.”

  “But that’s your old man,” Sal volunteered. “He takes everything so seriously. When we were kids he was like that. Never cracked a smile. He was so serious one of the nuns had to tap him on the shoulder and tell him to lighten up.” Laughter again.