by Sassie Lewis
Holding her head in place I kissed her hard, giving her some of the need I was feeling. My hips began to move quicker, a sharper edge to each forward trust. Her back arched and her eyes began to flutter shut. I wasn’t having that.
“Look at me. Keep those fucking eyes on me!”
Her mouth opened but she didn’t say anything as her hands came up to mirror mine. Staring into each other’s eyes, I couldn’t hold back. As my balls pulled tight, her pussy tightened around me. A jet-stream of my cum flooded her pulsing canal.
“Gia,” was the only thing I could get past my lips as everything I didn’t know I had in me flowed into her. Holding her close, I used the last of my energy to roll us over so once again I was the one lying on the cold tiles. My cock was still nestled inside her and her head rested over my thumping heart.
My mind was a mess of thought. Thinking about things I wanted with the woman in my arms. I was envisioning a house full of little Georgias, maybe even a few more Tysons. I wanted to call an estate agent and start looking for a bigger house. Was that shit even something a man thought about?
“Birdie calls me that.”
Her sleepy voice stopped my head from spinning.
“What’s that, darlin’?”
“Gia. You called me Gia…Well, Birdie calls me that. It was the first sign her dementia was accelerating. She couldn’t say my name anymore, or more like she’d forgotten it. She must have known it started with a G because she started calling me Gia.”
Her fingers were tracing my tats, following the lines of each one as she spoke. The dragon on my side seemed to fascinate her.
“I like it. Well, I like Georgia, but Gia’s pretty.”
“Yep, it’s better than Georgy, which a lot of people shorten my name to…Why so many tattoos?”
“Don’t know really. Like them, I guess.”
“I love this one.” Her fingers were still flowing over the dragon. “With all the times I’ve seen you naked, you’d think I’d know but you have so many I’m still finding new ones. Where’s his tail?”
“It sweeps around my back. Come on, let’s get to bed and you can explore all my tats. I have a few lower on my stomach you might want to check out.”
She giggled at my wiggling eyebrows.
Chapter 7
I spent the night holding Georgia in my arms. When we’d made it to bed, she’d continued her journey of discovery, fanning her fingers over every one of my tattoos. When it’d gotten too much, I took control and made love to her. I didn’t know when I switched from calling it fucking or sex, but with Georgia, it felt different. We connected.
At around ten am, she said it was time for her to visit Birdie, and I didn’t hesitate in going with her. It would be something else of hers I could take into me.
Birdie was an alert and witty woman. Walking through the door of her room, she looked straight at me. Her emerald green eyes bored into me, and they were full of intelligence and knowing. Before Georgia had even said hello, Birdie had spoken.
“You will look after my Gia!”
It was a statement, but I answered her as if she was asking me.
“Yes, Ms. Caine, I will.” And I meant it. Something inside me had claimed ‘her Gia’, and I would do everything I could to protect her.
On the way home, I had Georgia show me her sculptures. Stopping by the factory, I knew we could give her the space she’d need for her work. Georgia was currently sharing a space with eight other artists, and only had a space of about four-by-eight feet. The space at Throttle was more than twice the size. I was going to put another spray booth in but had never gotten around to it. It would be perfect for her and would appease something in me to have her close.
God, she was talented. There was a piece which was so life-like, it was scary. The owl stood about a three-foot tall, and I didn’t know how she’d done it but the eyes followed you as you moved around it.
There was something under a tarp, but when I’d gone to move it aside wanting to have a look, she’d stayed my hand.
“I’ll show you that one when I’m finished. It’s only starting to take form.”
* * * *
We fell into a pattern. She stayed at my house each night, making breakfast most mornings. The only night we didn’t have dinner together was Wednesday when she’d gone to the Y. I wanted to go with her, but she’d said I wouldn’t be able to, something about clearance. When I’d stopped being shitty about that, I tried to call Tyson.
With everything happening between Georgia and me, I hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. I knew there was something bothering him and we needed to talk. For one, I needed to tell him about my relationship with Georgia.
He answered the phone just as I was about to hang up, his breath panting and his voice strained.
“Hey, Ty, you all right?”
“Who’s this?”
“Tyson, what the fuck is going on?” I was pretty sure my voice hadn’t changed since the last time we’d spoken, and he always knew it was me.
“Oh, sorry, Dad. I couldn’t hear you.”
“Cool, so I know you wanted to talk. Are you free? There’s something I need to talk to you about anyway. I’ll come over?”
“Sorry, Dad, but I’m kinda in the middle of something. I’ll call you later.”
The phone went dead before I’d gotten to say anything else. That wasn’t like Tyson. What the fuck was going on with him? Before I could grab the keys to my bike, the phone rang. Thinking it was Ty I snatched it up, ready to demand he tell me what was going on.
An hour spent talking to Mom had me forgetting about Tyson’s issues. The conversation with my mother had me jumping online to look at houses for sale. We were going to need something bigger than the three bedda’ I already had.
* * * *
“Dad, you remember Georgia?”
“Of course,”
Taking Georgia’s hand, he raised it to his lips, placing a small kiss against the top of her knuckles.
“Tale bellezza. Benvenuto a casa mia.”
A ruby blush swept across her beautiful face as my father spoke in his native tongue. She stumbled when I responded in the same language.
“Sî. lei é molto bella.” I wasn’t as fluent as Dad, but I had grown up listening to both him and my Nonna speaking Italian. Mom could understand and say a few things, but apart from that, it was something she’d never picked up. Even Tyson, who’d grown up around Dad and me, could only speak a few phrases.
“I didn’t know you spoke Italian. What did your father say?”
“Dad was born there. And I grew up around him and my Nonna speaking it,” I couldn’t resist running my fingers down her flushed face. “He said you are very beautiful, and welcomes you to his home.”
I didn’t understand the look she was giving me until Dad turned to lead us into the dining room. Pulling me down, she whispered in my ear. “Do you have any idea how hot that was? Listening to you speak such sweet-sounding words in that rough voice of yours”
The little minx bit my earlobe, brushed her erect nipples over my arm then trotted after my father.
Dinner was a painful affair—well, for me it had been. Sitting across from my parents with my cock pulsing behind my jeans was not something I’d found pleasurable.
Being part Italian and part Southern sucked; the meal had been huge. I would’ve been happy with just eating the salad and saying our goodbyes then getting her to any flat surface I could find which was semi-private and fucking her senseless.
After three hours of hurting, we finally left. The moment I hit a fairly secluded street, I’d pulled over. Dragging her across the seat behind me, I slammed the door of the truck closed and pushed her against it.
She’d worn one of her grandma skirts, but at that moment, I thought it was the best thing since sliced bread. Within seconds, my dick was buried insider her dripping warmth. Wanting to make her as crazy as possible, I used some of the dirtier phrases I knew in Italian. The moment I’d finish
ed the first sentence, I could feel the effect it had on her.
I was glad she didn’t understand the language. As cum shot from my balls, up my cock and into her, Ti amo slipped from my lips. I’d never used that phrase before, not even toward my own family, and I had no fucking idea why I’d said it then. I knew I wanted her to be mine, but love?
I had no idea how to love a woman.
Chapter 8
“What are you going to do tonight?” The towel she was using to dry her hair muffled her voice.
We’d spent the morning at her place; she’d wanted to air it out and collect her mail. Seeing the lawn had grown some over the course of the week, I pulled the old lawnmower from the garage. I needed to find out if the house was hers or Birdie’s. I had a feeling it was the older woman’s, but had she given it to Georgia? Or was she just staying there? I’d found a five-bedroom house on the Internet I wanted to show her.
She popped her head from under the towel and looked at me.
“Oh. I’m going to see what Max and Suz are doing. I’ll drop you off then head over there.”
“You don’t have to drop me off. My car’s here now; I can drive myself.”
I’d given in to picking her car up from the shop. She needed it to get around and after she’d complained about parking the F-truck on Wednesday, only to burst into tears as she told me she’d hit a bin, I figured my truck would be safer if she wasn’t driving it. I’d already looked at getting her a little SUV.
“And I told you, you didn’t need to work.”
I’d also brought up the idea of her just concentrating on her art and giving up her other jobs. She’d just shaken her head and walked away from me. For some reason, I’d thought that meant she’d think about it, which would turn into ‘whatever you suggest, Sin’—well, Cynfor, because that was what she had taken to calling me.
So imagine my surprise when she’d started getting ready for work. Yeah, I’d had a bit of a tantrum.
“Cynfor, I’m not getting into this with you. We have known each other for two weeks. I’m not giving up work. It’s the only stable income I have. No, stop. I know what you’re going to say, but I’m not quitting just because you want me to.”
I would let her think that for a little while longer.
Earlier, when I’d tried to use the fact she might be pregnant as a reason she should stop working, she had gotten fuming mad at me, mumbling under her breath about me being a Neanderthal and why couldn’t I wear a condom? It was like I was trying to scent-mark her or something.
The Neanderthal in me had thought hell yeah, pushed her against the bathroom wall, and made sure she was covered in his smell.
“Fine. Are you ready to go?”
“Not yet; just give me a few more minutes.”
Taking the truck, I dropped Georgia off at work, waiting for her to walk through the door before heading over to Max’s.
“Hey, man, what are you doing here?” His fist bumped against mine.
“Dropped Georgia off at work and thought I’d see what you were up to.”
“Nothing, actually. Suz has gone out with the girls and the kids are all at friends. I was just going to chill in front of the box and have a few beers.”
Walking through the house, it was odd not hearing the kids. I was used to coming through the door and being bombarded by the four Hell-raisers. “Christ, it’s quiet without the kids. I don’t think I’ve ever been here when there wasn’t at least one around.”
“Tell me about it. Ten years ago, I never thought I would miss the sound of kids screaming. After Suz left tonight, I kinda didn’t know what to do, so I’m glad you showed up.”
Pulling two beers from the fridge, he handed me one then leaned back on the counter as I took a seat at the breakfast bar.
“So, you and this chick Georgia? I’ve never seen you like this. How’s that going?”
“I don’t know. I want her, and there’s this thing inside me saying he’s keeping her. That she’s mine. It’s weird, man.”
“I know how you feel. The same thing happened when I meet Suz; although, with the fucked-up situation at the club house, I fought it as much as I could.”
I knew some of Max’s story. I’d met him when we’d spent the night in the slammer together.
I was just eighteen and he was twenty-four. He thought he was the shit because he was a biker. I thought I was better because, hell, that was just me. We probably would’ve ended up killing each other if the cops hadn’t brought a drugged-up racist into the cage.
I hadn’t even realized Max was Italian until the little punk had started ranting. We’d done what men of our standing did: we taught the little prick some manners and bonded over blood then talk of bikes.
“Yeah, well, I’m not holding back. But Gia—”
“Who? I thought her name was Georgia?”
“It is, and that’s what you’ll keep calling her if you want your wife to keep playing with the family jewels.” The bastard just laughed at me.
“Anyway, Gia keeps pulling away. I want her to give up work. She’ll have to anyway for the baby—”
“Holy fuck! She’s pregnant?”
Why the hell am I saying this shit? Why am I acting like a chick and sharing my relationship issues with Max? Who was still waiting for me to answer…
“Umm, not sure, but the condom broke. Yeah… and since then, I haven’t used one.”
I bit my tongue before I started telling him about talking her out of taking the morning-after pill and asking if he wanted to paint my fucking nails.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Sin, man, you do know what you’re doing? Right?”
“Yep.” Everything in my power to make her stay with me.
“Okay.”
Suz walked in around eleven, and after a few minutes, I figured it was time to leave. I could either go home or head to the club, but the idea of hanging out at the club had only one appeal: Georgia. I’d sit at the bar and wait for her to finish her shift.
The parking lot was full, so I had to park the truck down a side street and walk the few minutes back to the club. Charlie was sitting at his stool, slowly letting people in. The line was long, but I wasn’t going to stand in it and wait for my turn, so walking up to the large man, I waited until he was finished checking the ID of a girl who looked barely fourteen.
“Hey, Sin. What are you doing here, handsome?”
I stopped myself from asking him to quit with the handsome remarks. I knew he was the kinda person who, if I said anything, would do it even more. Anyone else and I’d probably put them down, but the dude was huge; he might talk feminine but he also looked like he knew how to use every one of the muscles bulging from his arms and chest.
“Great, umm, Charlie, right?”
“Sure is, handsome.”
That time when he took my hand, I was prepared and held his a little firmer as he went to raise it to his mouth. The cocky bastard smiled broadly at me and shook my offered hand with a solid grip of his own. Thank Christ, because I didn’t know how I would’ve reacted if he’d actually kissed me.
“I thought I’d come and wait for Georgia to finish work.”
“Not a problem, sweetie. You go right in.”
“Ah, thanks.”
The hand on my arm stopped me before I got through the door. It took me a second to realize it was Charlie’s voice speaking. Gone was the girly sound it normally held; what I assumed was his normal voice was deep and masculine.
“Bullshit aside, you know the type of club this is. You’re a big guy but if you get sick of being hit on, tell ’em you’re with me. No one fucks with what I have a claim on.”
I’d asked Georgia more about the club during the week. I knew it was for those into the BDSM scene who preferred the same sex. I’d also found out that Charlie owned the club with his life partner. From the way he’d spoken before, I’d assumed he was the bottom to Tops and Bottoms, but his little speech told me otherwise.
“It’s cool, man; I don’t think I’ll have problems.”
I didn’t think thanking him for the offer was a good thing; it might’ve given him the wrong idea, so I just continued through the door.
Georgia looked gorgeous. She’d pulled her thick mane of blonde hair on top of her head, and a few long strands had come loose since the last time I’d seen her. A light sheen of sweat covered her skin; I wanted to jump over the bar and taste the saltiness of it on my tongue. Lifting her head from the customer she’d been talking to, she spotted me standing there watching her. As I moved closer to the bar, a radiant smile graced her face.
She shocked me by pushing herself half over the bar and pulling my face closer to hers. The kiss was all heat and passion, her tongue sliding a sensuous glide over every surface of the inside of my mouth. If she kept it up, I was going to pull her across the glossy bar top and fuck her in front of everyone.
When my hands latched onto her arms to do just that, she pulled away.
“Hey, you.” Her voice was a breathy sigh over my lips. Even over the thumping music, I heard her.
“Hey, yourself. Feel free to say hello like that anytime you like.”
“Okay.” She placed another small kiss on my lips before lowering herself back over to her side of the bar. “I gotta go, but I have a break in about fifteen minutes. Stay here.”
“Not going anywhere, darlin’.” And I meant it. I wasn’t going anywhere. She was mine, but I was just as much hers; her kiss had shown me that.
Taking a seat, I watched as Georgia worked, her graceful movement keeping not only me enthralled but a fair few of the other customers, as well. It appeared that some of the club’s patrons swung both ways.
“You are one lucky bastard.”
Turning to my left, I was greeted by a pair of stunning green eyes and painted red lips. The lady sure was a looker, but had nothing on my Georgia.
“Yeah, I am.”