by Cora Reilly
Savio blinked and then his head fell forward, his nose burying in my throat. “Oh Gem. You’re killing me.” And he laughed.
He laughed at me.
Mortification washed away the hazy after-orgasm glow and I jerked away from him, trying to get out of bed. Savio wouldn’t have it.
His arm snuck around my waist, pulling me against him once more and holding on tight. I didn’t look at his face, instead I focused on the way the muscles in his shoulders flexed. Our naked skin touched in several places—his strong thigh against mine, his erection against my waist, his muscled arm against my belly—and it was impossibly wonderful. Even in my mortification, that fact didn’t go unnoticed.
His finger nudged my head up so I’d look at him. I glared.
“I keep forgetting how little you know.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better? It didn’t. Toni had talked me through most of the important things, but obviously she’d left out equally important information.
“Stop making fun of me. You know how I grew up.”
Angry tears burned the back of my eyeballs. One day I’d get a grip on my emotionality, but that day wasn’t today.
“Yeah,” he murmured, low and dark, as his eyes traced my face. His fingers brushed across my cheek and I caught the whiff of myself still imprinted on his skin. “Do you know when it really hit me that I needed to have you?”
I couldn’t see why it mattered now. I shook my head.
“When I saw you in your choir uniform after church two years ago.”
I huffed. “I think you mean when you saw me in the Arena in those tight pants.”
A slow smile, still with that dominant edge, curled one corner of his mouth upward. “That’s when I really took notice of you, but later in that pleated skirt and that modest blouse and Amish updo, I knew I needed to own you.” He paused. “I needed to corrupt my good innocent choir girl in every way I could.”
I blinked and swallowed. Savio ran his nose along my jawline then kissed the corner of my mouth before his possessive gaze hit me like a tsunami and pushed the air straight out of my lungs.
“I didn’t know you had a schoolgirl fetish,” I said, surprised I got a single word out of my tight throat.
Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I don’t. Not until you. But, damn it, Kitty, you make me leak like a fucking schoolboy.” He emphasized the words by nudging his tip against my waist once more, spreading more of that wetness, and reminding me of the reason for our strange conversation.
“And no, I didn’t come,” he rasped against my ear. “Yet. But be my guest if you want to change that. My cock’s all yours to do with as you please.”
I swallowed, my eyes gliding down his body once more. Savio was gorgeous with clothes and without them. There was no denying it. Half of Vegas’ female population could attest to it. It took hard work and sweat to get definition, even more sweat and discipline to work up to the hint of a six-pack. Savio had an eight-pack that wasn’t just hinted at. It rippled down his stomach, earned by hours in the gym and just as many in the cage, led down to that V millions of women dreamed about but never got to see firsthand.
My eyes finally came to rest on that infamous bull tattoo. I still remembered the initial shock and embarrassment I’d felt seeing it. Now, I had to admit I kind of liked it. My gaze dipped even lower, and my mouth ran dry. Toni had briefly talked about freaking out when she saw Diego naked for the first time until I freaked out because she told me something like that. Now I got it.
“Breathe, Gem. He’s not going to bite.”
I tried to laugh, but it sounded a bit like a very embarrassing gurgle.
Savio didn’t push me, calmly rolling onto his back. I began tracing his abs, a safe place, enjoying the hard planes, then slowly moved lower. I followed the outline of the bull’s horns, to its narrowed eyes and provocatively twisted mouth. I curled my hand around his length. He felt good, hard but smooth and impossibly warm.
Savio’s abs flexed, but he didn’t make a sound.
Fight training had taught me to ask for advice if I didn’t know what to, so I did. “Can you show me how to touch you the way you like?”
I covered Gemma’s hand with mine and showed her how to stroke me. Her cheeks were pink but an expression of intense focus lay on her face. Trust Gemma to want to be the best even in this.
My balls were already throbbing. Fuck, they had been throbbing from the second I’d seen Gemma naked and when I’d finally touched her pussy, I’d been sure I’d shoot my load. I didn’t even remember my last premature orgasm.
Watching her beautiful body, seeing her fingers on my cock, I soon began pumping my hips to meet her hands. A goddamn hand job made me unravel, a fucking disgrace, but Gemma drove me completely crazy, without much effort, without much thought.
Her eyes widened when my cock became even harder and I came with a groan, causing a mess on my thighs and stomach because she kept pumping a bit too enthusiastically. Chuckling, I let my head fall back.
I reached for tissues I’d stashed beside the bed to be safe and handed a few to Gemma before I began cleaning my jizz off. Gemma was biting her lip, lost in thought. I’d never bothered wondering what girls were thinking. It had seemed like a waste of time and energy, but with Gemma, I would have given anything to get a glimpse into that pretty head.
Wrapping my arm around her waist, I pulled her against my side. She looked insecure, almost guilty. That traditional bullshit was probably messing with her head again. How could pleasure ever be sin? I ran my fingertip along her temple. “Dollar for your thoughts.”
Gemma pressed into me, depriving me of the chance to see her expression.
“Gem, come on. Say something. This silent treatment makes me feel like I forced you to do something you didn’t want.” I didn’t often feel guilty, and mostly in relation to Gemma, and my sleepless nights definitely weren’t the result of my conscience, but the idea of having pushed Gemma bothered me more than I thought possible. I wanted her to want it, want me.
“You didn’t force me to do anything. I wanted it.”
Thank fuck.
“Then what? Do I have to get sex isn’t sin tattoo across my butt to drive the message home?”
Gemma choked out a laugh, slapping my chest before she began to idly trace my eight-pack once more. “Don’t disfigure your behind.”
“My behind…” I shook my head with a smile before I peered down. “Does that mean you enjoy the sight of it?”
She met my gaze. “Are you really fishing for compliments? You are the only person I could ever imagine getting a tattoo with their own name.”
I grinned. “Don’t change the topic.”
She gave a shrug. “It is nice to look at.”
“I like your ass too, Gem.”
She pursed that kissable mouth. I stroked my fingers along her waist and hip, enjoying how her eyes fluttered shut under the sensation. “I always imagined things to be different…”
“Different how?”
“Being intimate with a man. Mom never talked to me about it but my aunt saw me in my jeans and T-shirt once, and told me that I was asking for men to touch if I dressed like that, and that men are driven by their urges and wouldn’t be able to hold themselves back if I didn’t cover myself.”
I scoffed. “What a load of bullshit,” I growled. I tipped Gem’s face up. “No matter how you dress, only an asshole would think you’re asking for it. And that men can’t hold back after a certain point is complete and utter bullshit, Gemma. There’s no point of no return. That’s an urban myth that sick fucks use to justify rape. Even if you were lying naked under me, my dick already pressed up to your pretty pussy, I’d be able to stop if you told me so.”
Gemma smiled.
“I mean, I’d cry fat tears and my balls would explode, but I’d stop without hesitation. You can trust me at any point.”
Gemma wrapped an arm around me, her body softening against mine. “Thank you.”
I
wasn’t exactly sure what for, but I enjoyed the feel of her relaxation.
“Tell me one personal thing about you that no one else knows.”
I tensed. My first reaction was to resort to sarcasm. I hadn’t bargained for so much talking, especially about emotions, but I wanted things between Gemma and me to work. I really wanted that, and not because I wanted to pop her cherry, not only because of that.
I didn’t want to dive into the black hole that was my early childhood and it wouldn’t really have been something no one knew about.
I thought back to the early days of my life in Las Vegas after we’d claimed back power. Suddenly after years of fighting and running, I’d had a home and the chance to live a life that came as close to normal as being a Falcone allowed, which was still a far cry from everyone else’s normal. “When I first became friends with Diego, it was because I loved spending time at your house. It was the first time I witnessed a normal family, one that wasn’t fueled by hate, pain, and fear. Don’t get me wrong, Remo and Nino did their best to raise Adamo and me. They did everything in their power to protect us, to care for us, but… you know Remo and Nino.”
Remo had taken care of my brothers and me since he was fourteen and our father had sent us to boarding school in England to get us out of the way. Dealing with our crazy mother, his sadistic hobbies and us, had simply been too much. “For a while, I really wanted a family like that, a life like that…”
“And now you don’t?”
I hesitated. “I like my family’s brand of crazy and things have changed since Kiara and Serafina are here. At first, I was pissed because I couldn’t act like I was used to, but now I really enjoy it, even the little monsters. I guess I like our version of a normal family.”
“Do you want kids?”
I brushed her ear with my lips. “Don’t you think we should master the first step of having sex before we use it the way God intended?”
“I don’t mean now. I mean someday.”
That was probably a topic we should have broached before we married. “I do, but not in the next ten years. I want Remo’s and Nino’s kids out of the crazy age.”
Gemma laughed. “Does the crazy age ever end?”
“With Nevio probably not,” I muttered. “What about you?”
“I want kids, but like you, I’m not in a hurry, even if it’ll break Mom’s heart. She’s already dreaming about getting her first grandkid next year.”
Relief flooded me. With Gemma’s traditional upbringing, it would have made sense for her to pop out a baby soon. “Then Toni and Diego better get it going because we sure as fuck won’t produce little Gemmas anytime soon.”
She raised her head. “What about little Savios?”
“Too much work.”
Gemma grinned and kissed me.
The day after our first shared intimacy and our talk, I was almost delirious with happiness.
Savio had really allowed us to get closer, and not only on a physical level. It was difficult for him to allow honest emotions; I could see that now. Everything was tinged with humor, sarcasm, or arrogance. It was his armor, his way to cope with a cruel past and a brutal present.
While he and his brothers brought Adamo to the airport so he could return to the hub of the racing scene, I tried my hand at some baking. So far I’d stayed clear of the kitchen because I didn’t want to intrude on Kiara’s territory, but she’d encouraged me to see it as my own. Maybe she wanted help cooking for so many people. No one else seemed to be able to prepare a decent meal except for her. It was one of the things Nonna had taught me when I was a little girl. I cherished the memories of our baking and cooking adventures.
Wistfulness overcame me as I prepared her famous pistachio cannoli. They took time, but they were worth it in the end. When the dough was in the oven and the pistachio cream in the fridge, I grabbed my phone.
When Mom picked up, she sounded hoarse.
“What’s wrong?”
“The flu, nothing to worry about.”
Easily said, but she didn’t have Nonna as support anymore. She coughed. “Should I come over and help you? Maybe bring you some soup?”
“Your aunt is coming over in the afternoon with chicken broth, but if you could take Carlotta, that would be wonderful. Your sister misses you anyway.”
“I’ll pick her up.”
I waited for the cannoli to be done before I went in search of Kiara and Serafina. The dough needed to cool off anyway before I could fill it with the cream.
Kiara sat on the sofa with her two boys, looking at a picture book.
“Do you know when Savio and his brothers will be back?”
Kiara shook her head. “I think they wanted to head to a casino to speak to the manager after dropping Adamo off, so it could be a while. Why?”
“I promised my mother to pick up Carlotta, and I hoped Savio could drive me there.”
“I’m not a very good driver, or I’d offer to drive you. It gives me anxiety.”
“I have a license, but I don’t have much experience driving.” Not to mention that said license wasn’t exactly legal and my experience consisted of trying to drive twice while Diego screamed at me not to crash his car.
“Serafina is at ballet with Greta. You could take one of the cars and drive yourself.”
“Which of the cars are Savio’s?”
“The Bugatti and the Ferrari, and that one Audi.”
All of them were sports cars of course. I took the keys to the Bugatti because I found them first in the heap of car keys belonging to the Falcone car park.
Once inside the car, my stomach plummeted. I’d completely forgotten that most European cars were stick shift. After some cursing and fumbling, the Bugatti roared to life, making me jump. It took a few more tries before I figured out to get it to drive without killing the engine. The next problem arose in front of the gate. I’d parked too close so it couldn’t open. That was the moment I gave up on the whole thing. If I couldn’t even get the car off the premises, driving through Vegas sounded like an extraordinarily bad idea. Fumbling with the stick once more, I pressed down on the gas. A second too late, I realized the car wasn’t in reverse. I shoved my foot down on the brakes. Too late. With a leap, I crashed into the gates.
Heart beating wildly, I got out of the car wide-eyed to inspect the damage. The hood of the car was compressed, smoke rose up and some kind of liquid dripped down, probably cooling liquid. The gates weren’t in much better shape than the car. Savio was obsessed with his car. And Remo probably wouldn’t be too happy about me destroying his gates either. What a wonderful way to start off with my new family.
Kiara came running down the driveway, looking alarmed. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, but the car isn’t.”
“Who cares about a car?” She looked into my eyes. “How are your neck and head?”
They hurt a bit. It wasn’t anything serious, though. I’d fought long enough to know it was like a hit to the face. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can keep this from Savio?” We’d just made progress, I really didn’t want to ruin it.
Kiara smiled understandingly. “The moment you touched the gates, an alarm was raised that pops up on their phones. They’re already on the way. Nino called me.”
My stomach tightening, I checked my phone which was on silent mode. Two missed calls from Savio. Crap.
Ten minutes later, a car pulled up. Savio, Remo and Nino got out.
Savio came to the gate, inspecting his car with drawn brows before he looked at me. I waited for the inevitable outburst. Men and their cars were a relationship that I’d never understand.
“With the car in that position, we can’t open the gates,” Nino said coming up behind Savio. “I’ll have to disable the electricity so we don’t get zapped when we climb over.”
“I thought now that Adamo can’t steal our cars to crash them, my Bugatti was safe. But you, Kitty, keep me on my toes.” Savio reached for the fence and began to climb over be
fore he landed with a low thud on the other side. Shaking his head, he touched my neck. “Are you okay?”
I nodded. “I’m sorry. I wanted to pick up Carlotta and no one was home to drive me, so I thought…”
“You thought it was a good day to crash a three-hundred thousand-dollar car.”
My heart thudded. “That expensive?”
Savio chuckled. “Don’t worry. I wanted a new car anyway.”
“Didn’t you only buy the damn thing six months ago?” Remo asked as he inspected the fence.
“You’re not mad?” I asked.
“No. But we’ll have to do something about your driving skills. I think I need to teach you more than I thought.”
My cheeks heated.
Remo gave him a dark look. “Since we know where your priorities lie, it would be good if your next car was an automatic.”
It took sixty minutes to drag the car away from the gates and open them despite their compressed state. After that, Savio drove me to my mother in Nino’s Tesla, because that one already had child seats in the back.
“I baked cannoli for you,” I said, feeling guilty for my mess up.
“Trying to make up for what you’ve done? Which makes me think you might have planned the whole thing.”
“I didn’t!” I gasped. “And you’re really not angry?”
“Life’s too short to get pissed off about every little thing.”
Crashing his Bugatti was a small thing? I touched his wrist with the speared watch. When I brushed the scars there, he tensed but didn’t pull back. “Thanks. Do you think Remo shares your mantra?”
“Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t care about material things or money. He’ll have the thing repaired and won’t mention it again unless he wants to rile you up… so probably at dinner tonight.”
We grabbed flowers on the way, which was Savio’s idea, and made me really want to kiss him.
Mom looked pale, with a red nose and hollow cheeks. Dad’s death had left its marks, and Carlotta’s care took a lot of energy as well, but she shared my stubborn streak and rarely accepted help from us.