Touch (The Pagano Family Book 2)

by Susan Fanetti

  She sucked and licked his balls until they were snug against his body, being careful not to drag her stud too harshly over the tightly wrinkled flesh. Then she licked from the base of his cock to the tip, and he moaned again, this time flexing his hips upward.

  There was absolutely no way she could get his whole length in her mouth, but she wanted to give him thorough head. That was normally something she was good at, she thought. Guys seemed to like it. So she wrapped her hands around him and sucked as much of him down as she could, mindful of her teeth—more of a concern than usual, because of his girth.

  He made a sound that was a lot like pain, and the sofa creaked oddly. Manny pulled back and looked up to see him sitting with his head dropped back, his arms so tense his muscles had corded, the veins standing out.

  That was good. She knew that was good. So she sucked him back down again and got busy with her tongue.

  “Fuck, sugar.” His voice seemed to rumble from his belly. “That’s it, suck me. God, suck me down with that sweet little mouth. Come on, come on.”

  Dirty talk was hard for Manny. She didn’t want to have to be thinking about what words meant while sex was going on. But she ignored the words and listened to his voice instead. It was deep and growly, and something about the tension in it was sexy to her.

  When his balls were almost hard against his body, and he was thrusting emphatically with her rhythm, Manny flicked her stud over the underside of his head until he yelled, and then she finished him off with her hands, going hard at him until he really yelled and went board-stiff, his back and ass off the sofa. Semen left him in an arc and landed on his belly.

  After he was done, he just sat there, sprawled and seeming only half-conscious, and Manny got up and grabbed a hand towel from the bathroom. When she came back, he was grinning at her, looking like a dork.

  “That was epic.”

  She laughed and sat next to him. Feeling more grounded than she yet had with him, she wiped his belly clean, then wadded the towel and dropped it to the floor. While he lolled on her sofa as if boneless, she indulged her need to touch him and ran her hands all over his marvelous chest and belly, around his shoulders, down his arms, then up and back over the same territory, again and again, until he squirmed and began to harden again.

  She watched her hands move over his body, but every time she looked up, she saw him watching her face.

  When he was fully hard again, he murmured, “Damn, little bit. You’re setting me on fire.”

  She didn’t want to talk, so she only smiled and straddled him, her legs still covered in her pink, polka-dotted thigh-high tights. When she kissed him, his body went taut. It felt like he was trying to close around her, fold her into himself. But he kept hold of the sofa and let her touch him. His tongue and lips moved energetically, hungrily with hers, though, and when she pulled away, he lifted his head as far as it would go, prolonging the contact of their mouths.

  She kissed him all the places she’d touched him with her hands. All over his face, through his beard, down and around his neck, over his huge shoulders, down his chest. She could feel his cock bumping against her pussy as she scooted down on his legs to bite and suck his nipples, then flick her tongue over each one until they were little, stiff points.

  “Manny, fucking Christ. You’re killing me over here. I want to eat you out.”

  “Nope. Not this time. This time I just want to fuck.” She grabbed the condom, tore open the packet, and rolled it on him, squeezing as hard as she dared as she moved down his length. Then, with barely any hesitation at all, she sank down on him, her eyes rolling up and her head dropping back as he filled and stretched her again—even more this time, in this position, facing him. It felt like he got even deeper, filled her even more.

  It was the best damn feeling ever. Period. Again, she was perfectly still, reveling in the sensation of total fullness, of completeness, she felt with him inside her.

  “Your tits are fucking beautiful. God, I want to get my hands on them.”

  Scared, she went tight and brought her head forward so quickly her neck cracked. “No!”

  “Easy, bit. It’s okay. I wasn’t gonna touch you.” He grinned. “My mouth ran away.” Then his look changed. “You do it.”

  “What?”

  “Touch yourself. Do you do that? Play with your tits?”

  Her tits were supersensitive—hence the moment of panic—but that was a good thing, too. When she touched herself, it was definitely good. The piercings were wicked cool. “Yeah. I like that.”

  His cock pulsed inside her. “Fuck. That’s what I’m talking about. Let me watch you do it. Play with your tits while you ride me.”

  That sounded like a fantastic idea, so as she rocked on him, she took her tits in her hands. At first, she just held them, massaged them, with her nipples between her fingers, and he groaned and muttered “fuck me” under his breath.

  In this position, her range of motion was less, which kept him deeper all the time. Riding him reverse she’d been able to slide up and down almost at will, but they were more folded up together face to face, and rocking seemed to work best.

  Which was awesome—it kept him in near constant contact with the spot deep inside, where no man had gone before, and she thought she could live like this, feeling just like this for every moment of the rest of her life. She quickly found the beat that kept her at the top of pleasure but didn’t push her over to frenzied coming, and she stayed there, eyes closed, rocking, tweaking her nipples lightly, in bliss. She had no idea how long she balanced on that perfect precipice.

  Luca made an agonized kind of long groan, and she opened her eyes to see him sweating, his face pinched and dark.

  “You look like it hurts.”

  He exhaled into a laugh of sorts. “Almost does, sugar. I’m working hard here. You close at all?”

  “I like it right here. I could stay like this forever.”

  “Jesus. I can’t,” he gasped. “Even with that epic head you gave me, I’m gonna blow pretty soon. Or stroke out, one or the other. You are hot as fuck, little bit.”

  She smiled at that. “Okay.” She changed her grip on her tits, taking the rings between her forefingers and thumbs and pulling until her nipples stretched. That was like the express train for her, and she arched and changed her rhythm.

  “Holy fucking Christ,” Luca growled.

  And just like that, she was coming. She let go of her tits and grabbed his shoulders, loving the feel of the massive meat under her hands, and jerked as hard as she could on him until every nerve ending deep in her core and everywhere else all the way to her scalp caught fire.

  Through gritted teeth, his neck bulging and red, Luca roared. And roared. And roared, one long, loud, bestial note. And then they were both finished, and she was still and limp, resting her forehead on his chest, trying to catch her breath.

  Manny listened to her Kit-Cat Clock ticking but didn’t bother to keep time. She felt good. Full and happy. With another person. Stop the goddamn presses.

  Luca sighed, his chest lifting her head, and then dropped his arms heavily from the back of the sofa, and Manny, remembering how he’d wanted to hold her after the last time, reached out again, as she had before, and picked up his hands.

  With what she hoped was a subtle breath to ready herself for the spiders, she put his hands on her hips. He immediately grabbed hold.

  The spiders were there, but she kept her hands on his, and that gave her some control of the touch. After a minute, her body settled somewhat. Enough that she could stay like this for a while, give him this little thing.

  He kissed her head. She hadn’t expected it, and she wasn’t ready for it, but it didn’t make her jump.

  Did she have a boyfriend now? She thought maybe she did.

  9

  “Goddammit, kid. You gotta keep your hands up. You take one to the button, you’re going the fuck down, no mistake. Pretty little birdies flapping around your head. Then you’re grounded and pound
ed and carried off on a fucking stretcher. So KEEP YOUR FUCKING HANDS UP.” Luca punctuated his instruction with a jab to Anthony’s midsection. The kid took a step back but didn’t fold or drop his hands. That was something.

  “Sorry, Luc,” Anthony gasped.

  “Don’t apologize to me, asswipe. I’m not the one gonna be blowing into a straw to move your fancy wheelchair around the rest of your pathetic little life.” He swung, telegraphing it intentionally, and Anthony dodged it, stepping back. “Look there. Now I got you on the fence. What ya gonna do?”

  Anthony bounced a little, undecided, and Luca swung a left hook. When the kid ducked that, Luca swept his legs out from under him and brought him down, then caught him in a submission hold. Anthony groaned, in immediate pain.

  “Don’t tap,” Luca growled low, in Anthony’s ear. “Focus and don’t tap. Block out the pain. Imagine the blood and air is running freely through your body and don’t tap. Focus.”

  This was only the fourth day of their training—every afternoon since Monday, four to seven o’clock for Luca, four to eight for Anthony. Luca already had a sense that Anthony had some talent for this undertaking. Good reflexes, grace, a couple of good swings. But he had no technique, his focus sucked, and he always had an excuse lined up. So Luca had decided that tough love was the way to play this new training gig. Or just tough, hold the love.

  Frankly, he was enjoying himself. He was tired, but he was having a good time. And now, so early in the endeavor, he could pretend the other part, the part where he was supposed to expose fight fixing and manage to do it without getting himself killed, didn’t exist.

  The kid tapped Luca’s arm, and Luca, disappointed, released him and stood.

  “I don’t know kicks and holds yet. I wasn’t ready.”

  Luca chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Ready for anything, any time, anywhere, Beav. Only way to be.” He tossed the kid a towel. “Arms, then three miles on the hamster wheel. Chris is your spotter.” With a flex of his fingers he summoned a short, stocky boy from across the room. Chris was one of the teens who hung around the club, doing errands and slave labor in exchange for maybe learning something or getting to know the next Chuck Liddell or Floyd Mayweather.

  Anthony groaned. “Luca, come on.”

  “Do or do not, Beav. But don’t waste my time.”

  Luca had answered without looking back at Anthony. He was watching Manny come into the club. She’d obviously changed after work and was wearing one of her punk pixie getups—green plaid mini-skirt, like a tiny kilt, and a dark blue velvet corset thing with a black sheer top under it. Fishnets and tall, lace-up Docs. He thought maybe she had a different pair of Docs for every day of the week. Or maybe the month.

  Some grubby asshole he didn’t know said something to her, and Luca immediately jumped out of the ring without another word to Anthony. But he stopped when she said something back and then, with a slow flourish, raised her middle finger at the guy. The guy laughed and bowed slightly, a gesture of defeat.

  She’d been so young and vulnerable with him lately that he’d already forgotten how she presented herself to the world. The tough little shit with the sharp tongue she’d been at Carlo and Sabina’s wedding. He liked that little shit. He liked her softer, sweeter side, too, but he didn’t want to lose the tiny broad with the big mouth.

  As they walked toward each other, Manny took in the whole of the Corner, her brilliant eyes wide.

  “Hey, bit.” It was strange to be so glad to see her but not touch her at all—no hug, no kiss, no brush of his hand up her arm. All of which he wanted to do. Damn, he fucking dreamt about touching her.

  “Hey. There’s no chicks in here at all.”

  “Well, there’s one. You.”

  “Yeah, but weird. Women don’t come here?”

  “Not really, no.” Wives and girlfriends didn’t even spend much time here. And there were only two female members, both professional fighters.

  “And it smells like a guy’s asshole.”

  “You smell a lot of guys’ assholes?” He grinned. “Do I want to know the answer to that?”

  “Fuck you, dork. You know what I meant.” She was grinning back, though, so she’d gotten that he was teasing. She didn’t always get the distinction, but she usually did. He was learning to think harder about how he said things. They’d only really met each other the week before, but she was already changing the way he saw things, thought about things.

  “You’re early, and I gotta shower before I’m presentable. I don’t much like the thought of you hanging out in here unattended, though. Go on down the block and have a coffee or something.” Her eyes flashed hot at him, and he added the word that would chill them out. “Please.”

  “Okay.” She nodded, and then she put her hands on his arm and lifted up on her tiptoes. Gooseflesh rose on his skin, under the pads of her fingers. He bent down, and she kissed his cheek.

  “You look hot wearing nothing but shorts and those gloves.” She turned and flounced out, her little skirt swaying over slender, shapely legs he’d kill to get his hands around.

  “That your girl?” Anthony was at his side.

  Still getting his own head around his answer to that question, he hadn’t introduced her to anyone yet. He had not yet begun to consider how his family would react to a girl like Manny. There’d be trouble over it, he knew. His family would see Jenny, Carlo’s crazy ex-wife, in Manny as soon as they found out she was anything other than completely normal. Which was why he was ducking the thought.

  But Saturday was the Fourth of July. So the time of ducking the thought was just about over. He was bringing her to the beach. In an ironic twist, considering how her folks were already in the know, she was meeting his family before he met hers.

  “Yeah. That’s my girl.” That sounded strange—and it marked the first time he had ever in his life uttered the words ‘that’s my girl.’

  Anthony whistled. “She’s hot. Tight little ass.”

  Luca turned and slapped Anthony hard on his ear. As the kid yelled and grabbed his head, Luca snarled, “Learn some respect, asswipe.” And he stalked off to the locker room.

  He had a date with his girl.

  oOo

  He opened the passenger door. “You ready?” Manny just sat there. “Come on, bit. It’s gonna be okay. If you need some quiet, you just say the word, and I’ll find you quiet.”

  Her head turned like it was on a rusty pivot. Her eyes were huge and scared. Maybe she had trouble reading people, but she herself was an open book. “What word?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What word should I say?”

  “It’s just an expression. Just let me know.”

  “I want a word.”

  “What—like a safe word?”

  “Yeah. A drop-everything-and-save-me word.”

  “Okay. Pick one.”

  She was quiet for a second, her brow taut with concentration. “Turbulence.”

  He chuckled. “Good word. Okay—you say ‘turbulence,’ and I will drop everything and save you. So, you ready?”

  She climbed out of his H3—literally climbed. The truck sat up high, and she was little, so she turned and climbed down as if she were on a ladder. He’d have loved to be able to pick her up and help her out, but instead, he just waited, and closed the door once she hopped to the ground. Then he leaned down close. “Lay one on me.”

  She kissed him, and he made the most of it. When she pulled back, she muttered, “They’re gonna hate me.”

  “No, they won’t. They’re gonna be surprised, because I never brought a girl to meet my family before, but they’re not gonna hate you. They’re good people, Manny. Promise.”

  She shoved her hands into the pockets of her little blue shorts. She looked cute and young today, in shorts, t-shirt, and sneakers, her hair back in a simple ponytail, and none of the heavy eye makeup she often wore. “Okay. It’s your dad, three brothers, two sisters, a sister-in-law, and a kid. Right? That’s everybody? Seven
handshakes. But no hugs.”

  “I told you, you don’t have to let anybody hug you. Trey’ll want to shake your hand, too. And my brother John has a new girlfriend. I don’t know if she’ll be here or not. Oh—and Pop’s lady friend, Mrs. D. She’s old school, and she’ll want to hug you, but I’ll head her off. So be ready for ten handshakes. Okay?”

  “Fuck, Luca. Fuck.”

  “I know. But you’re a tough little shit. It’s gonna be okay.” He was worried, actually. She looked paler even than normal and absolutely terrified. He was pushing her far—he had pushed her far—to get her to agree to join him on the beach for the Fourth of July.