Speak honestly, I remind myself.
“There’s something I need to know,” I start.
Sal gives me the side-eye. He’s intrigued, but a little hesitant. “Okay.”
“I need to know that last night won’t be the last,” I say on a breath. “When you said you chose me, that you wanted me, I need to know if that’s true. And now that you’ve had me, do you still want me?”
I brace myself for a sarcastic, sexual innuendo. But Sal’s silent for several moments. The muscles in his arms flex as he squeezes his hands into fists. He’s fighting something internally. This is the part where I should cover my naked body, turn away from him, and accept my rejection with dignity. But not this time. I need to let him know I’m on his side, that whatever he’s fighting, I’ll fight with him.
I place my palm against his heart. It’s beating rapidly. Without speaking, he plants his warm hands on my shoulders, pressing his forehead against mine.
“Molly,” he breathes, lustfully, and kisses my forehead. He repeats my name again as he kisses the side of my neck. His arms settle on the small of my waist. The energy radiating off of him answers all of my questions, even if he can’t say the words. “You don’t even have to ask.”
I’d like to talk more about this, to understand what’s behind his occasional distance, but I know it’s best not to push him. Besides, Sal has shut down any possibility of conversation by throwing me back on the bed and taking me for the second time.
By the time we sit up, hair ruffled and satisfied, the chill between us has disappeared. Over pancakes and eggs, Sal acts like his normal self. He ogles my body under the black cotton robe I wear, and pinches my ass every time I get up from the table. When I get up to get us more coffee, he pulls me into his lap, burying his face in my neck.
“Let’s stay inside all day,” he says, forcefully. “I’ll trap you under the covers.”
Heat rushes between my thighs. I’m very tempted to take him up on his offer. His hands roam all over my body. Who could say no to a day of nonstop pleasure?
But it would only be a distraction. Sal wants to stay in because he wants to fuck me repeatedly, yes, but he also wants to hide from his emotions.
“I have a better idea.” I untangle from his arms, and stand up, facing him. “Let’s take a quick trip down to the center.”
“Molly,” Sal scolds. “Work? On a Sunday? Don’t be so boring.”
“Just a quick trip. There’s just a few staff members there. No clients. I want to show you the good Franco’s money is doing.” I take his hand and lick the tip of his thumb before biting it. “We’ll come right back. Promise.”
Sal groans, his eyes darkening with lust. He grabs the robe’s rope against my waist, pulling me in towards him. “I’ll go with you, Molly, because I enjoy pleasing you. But here are my terms; I’m going to fuck you in thirty minutes time, no matter where we are.”
Lust snaps in my lower belly. I glance at the clock on the stove. “Then we better get going.”
*
Salvatore
Molly and I walk down the street to the center. She slips her arm through my elbow, smiling up at the sunny sky as a breeze blows through her hair.
“Such a lovely day,” she remarks.
And she means it. She studies the trees, the birds, and smiles every time the breeze picks up. She finds pleasure in something as simple as mild weather. That’s a strange concept to me. Over the years, as I’ve chased greater and greater heights, I’ve nearly desensitized myself to everything.
Which is why last night was such a surprise. I’d been possessed by lust while devouring Molly’s body with my mouth, hands, and cock. Whenever I think about last night, I want to fuck her again. What’s that about? It was vanilla sex. No handcuffs, whips, or experimental power dynamics. Just her.
I feel like a newly born vampire who’s just tasted human blood for the first time. Molly has ignited a thirst in me, and even if she’d taken me up on my offer to fuck her all day, I don’t think it would be quenched.
It’s a distraction. I meant to leave first thing this morning, but here I am. Am I really that stupid, that weak? If things get too serious with Molly, it could ruin my plan to destroy the Mariano’s. But every time I try to leave her, that insatiable thirst rises up in my throat, and I have to taste her again.
“After you,” I say, opening the door to the center and letting her walk inside.
I look over the open floor plan, scrutinizing the people that work here. There’s only about a dozen of them scattered among the desks. They’re at work on a weekend, and they don’t look the least bit miserable. Who are these people?
A young woman with blue tinted hair looks up from her desk. “Hi, Molly. What are you doing in?” Her eyes flit over me briefly.
“Cora, this is Sal Mariano,” Molly says. “His uncle owns the MTB Giving Fund. I brought him here to show him what we’re doing with the donation.”
“Nice to meet you,” Cora says, extending her hand. “Thank you so much for the donation. All of the counselors here really appreciate it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, but I’m not the one who cut the check,” I explain.
Cora smiles, then flashes a coy look at Molly. Of course, it makes Molly blush. She tugs on my arm, leading me down the hallway.
“This carpet is getting replaced next week, thank God,” Molly says. We pass by a window where an ancient air conditioning unit teeters on the sill. Molly smacks the metal. “This thing is going home to the dump.” She swings open a door, which leads to a break room. “Check out the espresso machine Greg got.”
She shows off an espresso machine like this is the Price is Right. I check to make sure no one’s around. While she’s explaining how to make a cappuccino, I approach her from behind, and whisper in her ear.
“Time’s almost up,” I say.
Molly whirls around, her face red. “Already?” she says, her eyes blinking.
I tap my watch. “You have five minutes.”
She steps closer to me, her lips inches from mine. “Then we better get going.”
She starts towards the door. I grab her wrist, stopping her, then back her up against the countertop. There’s no way I can wait until we get back to the apartment. I need her now.
“What’s the rush?” I growl against her ear.
“Sal,” she whispers nervously, but a naughty smile tugs at her lips. “Not here.”
“We’ll never make it back in time.” I step closer to her. The bulge growing in my pants finds warmth pressed against her flesh. “And that would be a breach of contract.” I sweep her hair away from her shoulder, lean in, and kiss her neck.
“Sal,” she breathes against my ear. I can hear her smile. She hooks her arms around my neck with a sigh. “Lock the door.”
My chubby immediately turns into a full-on erection. I smile against her lips, then untangle from her. As I’m closing the door, we hear a commotion out front. There’s a loud, male voice booming down the hallway, and the panicked voices of the counselors. I hope, futilely, that we can ignore this little interruption and fulfill the terms of our contract, but Molly’s already walking out of the door and taking determined steps down the hallway.
“Fuck,” I whisper, pushing my hard cock down as best I can, then follow Molly.
Out in the office, all of the counselors are on their feet. Their attention is directed at a dirty, toothless man dressed in drab, ratty clothes. You don’t have to be a mentalist to work out exactly who he is. He’s one of the many droves of street rats who earn money for their booze and drugs by digging through other people’s trash. Right now, he’s a fucking cock block.
He’s babbling like a madman, most of it incoherent. But from what I can make out, he’s threatening to commit suicide. He says he’s going to jump off a building.
Do it. Who cares? I think.
But Molly cares. While the other counselors panic, Molly’s regarding him calmly. Her attention is laser focused. I can al
most see her mind working behind her beautiful eyes.
“Do you want me to get rid of him?” I ask her.
Without losing her focus, she shakes her head, then steps calmly towards the man.
“Welcome,” Molly says, kindly. “You’ve come to the right place. We can help you.”
The man directs his deranged eyes to her. “You’re one of them.” He points at her threateningly. “Stay away from me.”
I’m prepared to take this asshole down if I need to. Molly isn’t fazed. She keeps stepping towards him, speaking slowly and kindly. The lunatic insists she’s one of ‘them’ that feeds off of fear and wants to suck his brains out through his ears or some such bullshit.
I groan inwardly. How long is this going to take? I was so close to fucking Molly. At this point, I’m ready to throw her over my shoulder and march out of here caveman style.
Molly raises her palms in the air. “I assure you, I’m not one of them. There are no straws made for sucking brains out of ears at this facility.”
“What do you want from me?” says the gutter rat, like it wasn’t him who started this commotion in the first place.
Molly places a hand on her hip, and shrugs. “How about I get you a cappuccino?”
The man’s shoulders relax. He finally stops babbling. “I don’t have any money.”
Molly snaps her fingers towards Cora. The blue haired counselor rushes to the break room.
“You don’t need money here,” Molly says. She reaches out slowly, and takes his dirty hand in hers. The man is visibly calmer.
I watch, in a mixture of confusion and awe, as the man blinks, his twisted mind unraveling in a moment of clarity. Molly’s cradling his hand, smiling at him with a compassion so warm even I can feel it. Cora returns with a steaming cappuccino, and hands it to the man. He thanks her when he takes it.
“Let’s find a comfortable place for you to enjoy that,” Molly says in a gentle voice.
She leads him down the hallway, with Cora following behind. They enter an office and shut the door. The counselors around me breathe a sigh of relief. They sit back at their desks, chattering about Molly. They’re as impressed as I am.
Suddenly, the air in the room is stifling and hot. I can’t breathe. Maybe all the goodness in here is exercising the demons out of me. With calm, cool steps, I walk outside to get some fresh air.
I lean against the wall, light a cigarette and take a deep drag. It calms me instantly. That’s better. While I smoke, I ponder what I just witnessed. If it were up to me, I would’ve sent that dirty creature back to the gutter from whence he came, without a second thought. But not Molly. She saw him as worth saving, as redeemable, even under the layers of dirt and grime.
Does she see the same in me? If she does, she’s wrong. I’m beyond saving. After the things I’ve seen, the things I’ve done, and the twisted, dark thoughts that inhabit my mind, I’ve given up on myself a long time ago.
I watch through the front window as Molly leads the man by the elbow to the information desk. She hands him a few brochures, then leaves him with Cora before joining me on the sidewalk.
“Looks like we have a new client,” she says with a giddy smile.
I put the cigarette out under my shoe. “That was brilliant in there. The counselors couldn’t stop talking about you, their fearless captain.”
She blushes, pushing an errant curl behind her ear. “All in a day’s work,” she says humbly. She slips her arm through mine, and sidles against me. I feel her warm, soft curves, and my existential thoughts are pushed out by desire. I need to fuck her. Now. I need escape.
I slide my hand up her back, clutching her hair. “You’re a half hour late,” I say. “You’re going to have to make that up to me.”
Molly squares her body towards me. She’s blushing, but she wears a confident smile. Standing on her tiptoes, she whispers in my ear, “We better get back. That might take all day.”
Hot, cleansing flames of lust lick through my veins. I want to own this woman, to make her my unholy bride. The devil and his angel.
Chapter Eighteen
Salvatore
At the concrete shop Monday morning, I’m surrounded by enemies, by men that conspired to, and killed my father, but my hatred for them lies dormant. Molly is on my mind. I can still smell her, and taste her around my lips, a remnant from our final fuck this morning. After returning from the center, we stayed in her apartment for the rest of the day. Our clothes came off as soon as we walked into the door, and we never put them back on again. I fucked her until we were both drained and collapsed into bed to sleep. I woke her up this morning with my face between her legs.
At some point, I’ll have to square this powerful attraction to Molly with my quest to take down the Mariano’s, a quest that she’s an integral part of. But for now, I want to revel in my newfound lust for her.
It’s a quiet morning so far at HQ. Bruno and Anthony sit at the table next to me playing cards. The beast keeps looking my way. I can tell he wants to say something to me. When Anthony gets up to go to the bathroom, Bruno leans towards me, and speaks quietly.
“When you get a chance,” he says, his eyes on the bathroom the door. “We should talk.”
I’m slightly annoyed that he’s distracted me from picturing Molly naked. “About what?”
“I got some ideas about how things are run around here,” Bruno says. “I think you might like them.”
Now I’m intrigued. Bruno’s acting so cagey, he must be considering mutiny. Anthony comes out of the bathroom, and Bruno straightens up.
“Let’s grab a beer sometime,” I say.
“Sure, man,” Bruno says, turning back to his hand.
Anthony looks between the both of us suspiciously before taking his seat.
Things are so quiet around here, I’m tempted to cut out, pry Molly away from work and take her home. While I’m considering this, Snake emerges from his office putting on his suit jacket.
“I got a bookie in West Hollywood who’s late on his payment,” Snake says. “I need backup.”
Bruno puts his cards down and starts to stand.
“At ease, Beast,” Snake says. He snaps his head towards me. “Sal. You’re with me today.”
“Am I?” I say, condescendingly, until I remember I’m supposed to play nice. I stand up, straightening my jacket. “You and me. Just like old times.”
*
We ride out to West Hollywood with Snake driving. I’m in the passenger seat beside him, fantasizing about pulling my gun out and shooting him right in the temple. He’d never see it coming. That’s what I really want, isn’t it, to kill Snake? Why don’t I just do it? I can hear my father’s voice in my head, telling me to blast this motherfucker. But there’s another voice, too, calm and rational. It sounds like Molly. She’s asking if killing him would really make anything better.
It wouldn’t. Because I want Franco dead too. If I jump the gun on Snake, that goes out the window. Franco would send an army to gun me down. I have to be patient.
We go confront the bookie, a tattooed punk with greasy hair and a face full of piercings, in his office down a dark alleyway. It’s by the book for the most part. Snake does the talking. I do the intimidating. When I’ve got the punk’s head pinned under my arm against the brick wall, my gun pressed into the small of his back, and Snake explains that I’ll paralyze right now if we don’t get our money, it feels like old times. The bookie finally hands over the cash, and I forget, just for a moment, that Snake will eventually die by my hand.
When we get back in the car, it’s obvious Snake is feeling nostalgic too.
“I’ve missed working with someone who knows what they’re doing,” Snake says, starting the engine. “These new guys don’t have a fucking clue.”
The smile on Snake’s face is so fucking goofy, it reminds me of him when he was a teenaged orphan who looked at me like I was some kind of god.
“Like riding a bike,” I say, staring stoically out the window.
Snake drives in silence for a few minutes. His eyebrows are drawn together. I hope he isn’t about to get sentimental on me. I hear him take a breath, then he speaks. His voice is low and solemn.
“As much as you hate me, I promise, I hate myself more. For what I did to you.” He looks at me with sincerity. This weak fuck means every word. But I doubt anyone could hate him as much as I do. I recall my elaborate fantasies of slowly torturing him to death while Jess watches. And like most of my fantasies, I have every intention of turning it into reality.
“Like I said, water under the bridge,” I reply.
Snake presses his lips together. “Don’t think you’re fooling me. I know you. You have something up your sleeve. I don’t expect you to forgive me. But things are going well for you, man. You’re back with the family. You have Molly, who don’t forget, is tied up with the business now. If you cross the Mariano’s, you’ll lose everything.”
I should knock him out for even saying her name. I’m playing with fire here, I know that. I don’t need his advice. But once Snake and Franco are in their graves, Molly won’t be in danger. Involving her charity in mob business won’t even matter at that point.
I don’t respond. Snake sighs.
“We’ve always had each other’s back,” Snake says. “That hasn’t changed, not for me. What I’m saying is, don’t put me in a position where Franco orders me to hit you.”
Anger curls through my veins. All this talk of having each other’s back, and Snake wouldn’t think twice about killing me just because Franco told him too. Loyalty my ass.
“It won’t come to that,” I say, nonchalantly, and think, because I’m going to kill you first.
Chapter Nineteen
Molly
When I get home from work Monday evening, I’m still exhausted from my sex marathon with Sal over the weekend, and a little sore. The memories still burn in my mind. I can’t look at the kitchen table, the living room floor, or the bed without thinking of the white hot adventures Sal and I had in those locations.
Beware the Devil (Mafia Soldiers Book 3) Page 11
