by Bethany-Kris
Her hair was damp.
His shoulders were chilled, and wet.
He still didn’t care.
Lucia reached for him, and he lost himself in the taste of her mouth again. He supposed she got a nice taste of her own come on his mouth, and her soft moan was enough to make him pull her to a bench next to the wall. It was the only place safe from the rain, really. He shuffled down his jeans, but not before grabbing a foil packet he always kept in his back pocket just in case.
Renzo fell on the bench first, but Lucia quickly followed. Her hands were already slipping beneath his boxer briefs as she straddled him. A hiss fell from his lips when her soft palms found his length, and tightened in just the right way as she stroked him from base to tip. Her tight body shifted on his before she snatched that condom out of his hand, opened it up, and rolled it down his cock.
He wasn’t about to stop her.
He sure as fuck wasn’t going to slow her down.
She could take what he wanted, and he was more than happy to go along for the ride. That’s exactly what she did, too. Not even bothering to slip her soaked panties off, she simply shoved them aside before readjusting on his lap, and sinking down on his length.
“Fuck,” Renzo grunted.
How long had it been since he’d had sex?
A while.
He didn’t remember it being this good, though. Not like silk under his hands when he held onto her hips, or like insanity in his mind when she started riding him wild. Her fingertips drifted over his lax features, and all he could do was grab tight to her hips, and let her fuck him the way she wanted.
She’d go from riding him hard, to soft circles when she had him buried as deep as she could get him inside her tight, warm sex. All her noises swallowed him up, and made him drunk.
So fucking high.
Still, he heard himself say, “You like that cock, huh?”
“God, yeah.”
She kept up that pace until she was shaking and shivering again. Until his name was falling from her lips again. Until he could feel her coming undone around him again.
Then, he pulled her down, so her back was on the bench, and he could really pound into her. That’s what he needed to come.
That, and her sweet pleas in his ear.
“Please, please.”
She never sounded better.
He had never come harder.
NINE
Lucia’s eyes peeled open as something shifted under her. Something warm, firm, and hard. And when that something groaned? Memories of the night before flooded back into Lucia’s sleep-filled mind like a rushing wave coming up on the shore of a beach. Uncontrollable, fast, and ready to drag her back out into the ocean to drown her.
That felt apt, really.
Renzo was sort of like the ocean. Expansive, and deep. Crystal clear, and yet still murky enough to make her cautious. Beautiful to look at, sure, but beautiful things were sometimes made that way just so you didn’t see the dangerous parts.
It only took the feeling of him moving under her to make Lucia hot and breathless all over again. She wasn’t exactly experienced when it came to sex, and men. But she wasn’t a virgin, either. Not entirely innocent. And yet, Renzo could make her feel like none of that mattered at all. She had no need to be shy, or anything like that. She just had to want something, and use her mouth to tell him exactly what it was she wanted.
And he would give it to her.
Hadn’t that been what he said last night?
As quickly as those thoughts came, they were gone. Like the wind had ripped through the car somehow—though the windows were rolled up—to blow it all away, and leave Lucia feeling chilled.
“Shit,” she heard Renzo mutter. “I gotta get up, move.”
Lucia blinked at his sharp tone, but did what he told her anyway. Shifting off him in the back seat of her Lexus so that he could move without her on top of him, she realized just how cramped the two of them had been sleeping in the back seat together. Not that she had minded when they climbed in the back of the car after getting down from the restaurant’s roof, really. She hadn’t really cared what they did as long as they were doing it together. He hadn’t been complaining, either.
Sitting at the other end of the backseat, Lucia rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and tried to figure out what had just happened. Renzo paid her no mind as he grabbed the shirt he’d discarded the night before, and yanked it on. Leaning over the front seat, he found the leather jacket he’d used to keep her warm as they came down from the roof, and shrugged it on, too. He said nothing as he fished a cheap burner phone from his pocket, and checked the screen.
“Fuck,” he muttered. Then, he shot her a look, asking simply, “You good, or …?”
“Uh …”
Renzo stared blankly at her. “I don’t have time for this right now. I have to go. Are you good to drive home, or what?”
Wow.
Something cold washed over Lucia as she peered out the back windows. Right then, it was easier to stare at literally anything else but him. Last night, he was all too willing to do whatever the fuck he wanted with her, but right then, he seemed like he didn’t want anything to do with her at all.
Lucia shrugged, and finally nodded. “Yeah, I’m good to drive home.”
Why wouldn’t she be?
Renzo gave her another look, but it wasn’t lost on Lucia how he didn’t stare at her the same way he did the night before. There was no want … no curiosity. Nothing that made her feel those raging butterflies, or a heat that made her feel like she was about to burn up right where she sat. Wasn’t that just a damn shame, too? She thought so—she much preferred the Renzo from the night before to the one sitting across from her now.
This Renzo was the same one who seemed to make a game out of seeing just how much of an asshole he could be to her before she said enough was enough. Lucia had no interest in going back to that.
None at all.
“All right,” Renzo grunted, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Seemingly oblivious to her confusion and hurt, he made quick work of lacing up his boots. He was already pushing the front seat forward and reaching for the handle on the door when he spoke to her again, saying only, “See you around, Lucia.”
She blinked, not sure how to respond or if she even wanted to, and then he was gone before she could decide what to say. Out of the car, and slamming the door behind him without a look back at her. She caught sight of his back as he headed down the street, but just as quickly, he darted into an alleyway, and that was that.
Lucia wasn’t entirely sure how long she sat like that—cold, and staring blankly at the quiet street where the morning light was just beginning to color it with the day. Too long, probably. Her mind ran a million miles a minute as it tried to desperately catch up to what had just happened.
Not just the morning.
The night before.
That man.
Lucia was not the type to make stupid choices. She didn’t do reckless things just because she could, and she would probably get away with it. She had a plan when it came to her life, and she really couldn’t afford for things to get in the way of that, so she tried to always make smart decisions. She was not something to be used, and then discarded whenever someone felt the need to do just that.
And yet, that was exactly how she felt as she sat there alone, tender between her thighs, in an empty backseat while she stared out the window at the street.
Used.
Discarded.
Entirely cold.
It was only the buzzing of her phone somewhere on the floor of the Lexus that reminded Lucia she too had other shit to deal with. She’d been gone all night, and hadn’t even thought once to call her family or let them know she was fine.
That’s not like you at all, her mind taunted.
She found the phone under the passenger seat, and it only took one look at the locked home screen to tell her that she was right. She’d muted the phone the night before, bu
t after her usual alarm went off—silently—the phone automatically unmuted itself.
Fifteen phone calls.
A whole list of texts.
All from her mother and father.
Great.
Lucia took one more minute to gather her thoughts—or try—and then she climbed into the front seat. Better to just move the hell on than to waste more time trying to figure Renzo out. She was convinced that man didn’t want to be figured out, anyway.
At least, not by her.
• • •
Lucia certainly expected a conversation with her parents when she finally arrived home, but she hadn’t thought her father would already be waiting on the front porch when she pulled into the driveway. What was more surprising was the fact Lucian rarely dressed down, and when he did, it was typically dark wash jeans and a silk dress shirt rolled up to his elbows. She didn’t think she had ever seen her father in anything less than his best, except for right then.
Lucian folded his arms over his chest as Lucia parked the Lexus, and exited the vehicle. In a plain white tee, and dark sweatpants, her father looked ready to hit the gym rather than chew her out for the night before.
“Dinner, remember?” he asked.
Lucia’s brow dipped. “What?”
“Yesterday was your birthday.”
“I know, Daddy.”
Lucian nodded. “Yes, and we were all going to have a late dinner with you for your birthday. That’s what we had planned, Lucia. Or did you forget?”
Mentally, she cursed herself because yes, she had done exactly that and forgotten about her plans with her parents. Clearly, she had gotten distracted by something else entirely.
Renzo, that was.
She still wasn’t sure if it had been worth it. Especially not with the way her heart was feeling entirely too heavy, a little painful. It was strange to her that she even felt this way in the first place. She’d never had to be good enough for someone before. She’d never had to prove her worth to anyone or anything.
That man made her feel like she had to do exactly that for him every single time she was put in his presence. Lucia wasn’t sure if she wanted to keep playing that game. She didn’t like being made to feel worthless.
“What happened?” Lucian demanded.
Lucia shrugged her bag over her shoulder, and headed for the porch steps. She figured this conversation would be better held in the house—even if she didn’t plan on telling her father where she had been, what she had done, or who she had been doing it with—instead of out here where the neighbors could see them.
Instead, her father didn’t budge from his spot at the top of the stairs. He blocked her path entirely, keeping her two steps lower than him, and staring up at his hard expression. As much as he tried to appear only angry, she would see he was worried, too. That was as clear as day.
“I’m sorry I forgot to call,” Lucia said, “it won’t happen again.”
“That’s not what I asked,” her father returned.
If she was a smarter girl, Lucia would have just made up some lie and been done with it. It wasn’t like her father ever stepped in on his children’s choices or made them go one way or another when it came to relationships. If anything, he made every effort to stay out of all that. Lucia appreciated it, and she knew her older siblings did, too.
It wasn’t at all common in their culture, or within the suffocating life of mafioso for parents to do that in the first place. It was almost expected that men like her father would decide who their child could or could not date, and who was or was not appropriate for their lifestyle.
Lucian had never done that—ever.
But Lucia was apparently not a smart girl lately. Wasn’t her recent actions proof enough of that? She didn’t want to tell her father anything at all; partly because she didn’t know what in the hell she was thinking, and partly because she didn’t think it was any of Lucian’s goddamn business.
Here she was.
Safe and sound.
That should be good enough.
“I’m eighteen,” Lucia said, moving up the stairs and pushing past her father to enter the house. “I don’t have to answer you when you ask where I go, or what I do. I’m an adult, Daddy.”
Her father made a noise under his breath, but Lucia didn’t care. She reached for the door knob to twist it open, but her father was there first. Once again, he blocked her path. She was forced to stare up at him, and tried her best not to glare, but probably failed.
Lucian looked entirely unbothered by her attitude. She’d never gone a round with her parents before. She was not the rule breaker of their family. She knew what was expected of her, and followed the rules to a T.
She had the distinct feeling this was not going to be the same at all. Her father looked like he knew it too, if his stiff posture was any indication.
“I want to go inside, shower, and have a nap,” Lucia said dryly, “so excuse me.”
Lucian shook his head, and folded his arms over his chest again. His telltale sign that he wasn’t going to be moved at all. She’d seen him use that same stance over and over again throughout the years with her stubborn brother, John. Lucian was a brick wall, and no-fucking-body was getting through him.
Simple as that.
Lucia just wasn’t in the mood today.
“Daddy, move,” she said.
He didn’t.
“Do you know,” he murmured, “that despite how much freedom I have given to all of my children over the years—including you, Lucia—that it is only an illusion for you bunch. Sure, I let you make your own choices, mistakes, and paths. I step back, and watch from afar as you fall, get back up again, and succeed the next time you try. I don’t hold your hand as you figure out life, or whatever else you need to learn. I’ve let you all do whatever you need to do to be happy, and to thrive.”
Lucia swallowed hard. “I know.”
“But the freedom you all think you have is an illusion,” Lucian continued, colder than ever. She didn’t think she had ever heard her father so cold, really. “Because no matter how you see me at the end of the day, whether it be just a man, or your father, or your mother’s husband … I will always be who I am, Lucia. And do you know who that is?”
“No.”
“A made man. A man who will forever have a target on his back because of the life I chose, and because of that, so will you and anyone else I have brought into this life. So, yes, I give you the illusion of freedom, but at the same time, when you think I am only watching from the sidelines, I am also keeping you safe in the best way I can.”
“I don’t under—”
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” her father interjected sharply. “Because what good would the illusion be if you’re able to see right through it?”
Lucian let out a dark laugh, and softened his posture a bit. He scrubbed a hand down his unshaven jaw, and glanced back at the front door like he expected it to open up any second. Lucia wondered where her mother was in those moments.
“You have people who keep an eye on you,” her father said quietly, not looking at her as he spoke. “People who you don’t see, but that keep me informed when needed. You lost them last night—no, sorry, not you. You weren’t driving, were you?”
Lucia blinked, silenced.
Her father met her gaze, then. Seeing right through her shit, even if he wasn’t about to call her out on it.
“It’s not the first time they noticed the young man around, or that you had sought him out,” her father continued, unbothered. “Renzo Zulla, his name is. He’s got some ties to your brother, it seems. I figured I would let you work it out, you’d learn quickly enough that he wasn’t where your attention was best spent. You’re a smart girl—you know to stay away from people who might cause you unneeded trouble. And that, Lucia, is all Renzo is. Trouble.”
She stiffened as a hot shot of disbelief and anger rocketed through her spine.
“Why?” she asked.
Lucian’s gaze
narrowed. “Why?”
“That’s what I asked, Daddy. Why is he trouble?”
“You’ve spent more than a few minutes with the young man to know who he’s hanging around, and some of the things he’s doing. You know exactly why he’s trouble, Lucia.”
Was that so?
“Like you, then?” she pressed.
Lucian straightened like someone had shoved a rod into his spine. “I beg your par—”
“Like John, too?”
“Lucia—”
“Uncle Dante, or Uncle Gio? Granddaddy, too? Andino, maybe? Like all of you, too? He’s like you, too, right? If you’re going to throw stones, make sure your house is not made of glass, Daddy. I hear that doesn’t work out very well.”
It took her father a second, and then two before he finally found his words to respond.
“That is not the same thing.”
“I think it is.”
“Lucia—”
“I think it’s exactly the same,” Lucia interrupted, unwilling to budge on her point. “And you can phrase it however you want. You can paint our family with whatever golden brush you would like to—God knows we can afford to paint ourselves however we want society to see us, right? But he can’t. He’s who he is, so you see him as he is. He’s not covering up the things he doesn’t want the rest of the world to see like you do—like the rest of our family does. It’s exactly the same; I don’t care what you say.”
She had no reason to defend Renzo. After the way he left her that morning, she could have just thrown him to the wolves and said fuck it while she did so. That might have been the better way to handle it, really.
Still, she couldn’t.
If she put this morning out of her mind, and thought about all the other things she knew about Renzo, then the truth was far clearer to her. He struggled. He was barely keeping his head above water. He had the responsibility of taking care of his siblings, and keeping himself alive. He was doing the best he could with what he had been given, even if it wasn’t very damn much.
