by S. M. West
There’s no reason to wait for that future date that might never come, that you might never make it to. It goes against everything I said to Carys, but I know better now.
I realize with Sweetness, while I didn’t want to be selfish and make her mine before she had a chance to explore and live, find out what she wanted, I was stupid. I wasted time we could have been together. I was wrong, and I’ll readily admit it.
§
Carys ~ 19 years old
HUSTLING UP THE STREET in high heels is a near-death experience for me. The prospect of falling ass over teakettle and breaking my neck is real. Heels, while a must for many women, are new to me. This is my lame attempt at being a woman, owning my sexuality—or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.
I should have worn my boots—it’s winter, for goodness’ sake!—but no, I do things the hard way. Going to school and working in a bar don’t exactly require professional attire, but if I want to be taken seriously, I need to look the part.
I’m a smart, confident woman and while dressing casually is extremely comfortable, it also means suppliers and other business partners I’m trying to attract don’t take me seriously. They see me as a kid.
Yes, I’m in college, but I’m also an aspiring businesswoman. Ma is encouraging me to take the reins, bit by bit, and I’ve been proving I can do this to both Ma and Ry, my biggest supporters.
I’ve got great ideas to bring in new business to The Waters, and I have what it takes to make them happen. So if dressing like a sophisticated woman gets me heard, so be it.
Blinking, it takes a few seconds to adjust from the glaring sun to the interior light of the bar. Animated voices and boisterous laughter greet me with Ry facing my direction. He’s got a huge smile on his face. Quickly scanning the group at the bar, I account for Tripp, Griff, and Ma before I land on him. My breath catches and my heart stops, sputtering before stalling in my chest. Evan.
His body’s larger, more striking than ever before. Sculpted arms fold over his defined chest. Long, lean legs flex, showcasing his muscles. His dark hair is short, almost fully shaved, and he’s divine. His lack of hair makes his whiskey eyes shine even more, like gems in the sunlight. He catches my eye, and we’re two magnets intensely drawn to each other. Our gaze holds and looking away is unthinkable. Rising to his full height, his virile presence owns the room, and before he even strides to me, I’m his to do with as he pleases.
His amber orbs and measured predatory moves nail me to the spot. My heart is racing, knees weak, and a hot prickle spreads along my chest, tingles multiplying across my flesh in anticipation. Evan crowds my space as his panty-melting dimples greet me. His unique scent wafts over me and my belly whooshes.
“Sweetness.” His low, raspy voice is like a finger teasingly caressing my most private parts as strong hands clasp my waist, lifting me into his arms.
Goosebumps erupt across my skin and it’s not enough. I need to be nearer to him. My arms curl around his neck, holding tight as my eyes mist with joy and disbelief. He nuzzles my neck, squeezing me as his warm breath tickles me.
“God, I missed you,” he murmurs against my skin before his lips skate to the hollow space between my neck and shoulder, kissing me once, twice, and on the third, the tip of his tongue tastes me. Sinking my teeth into my bottom lip, I whimper, trying to stifle my desire. When he adds more kisses to the same spot, a moan escapes my lips, as I lose the battle.
“Fuck, so sweet. I dreamed about your taste,” he whispers in my ear.
With all eyes on us, our audience brings me back to reality and I push on his shoulders for him to put me down. Lowering me to my feet, his hands remain firmly planted on my hips and my hands stay pressed to his hard abs.
Sweet baby Jesus, he’s rock solid. Maybe I should distance myself from him before I have an orgasm right here and now, with my clothes on. It’s been way too long. Of course, Evan’s having none of it, as he wipes at the dampness on my cheeks before dragging me into his side.
“You’re here.” I sound like a dimwitted girl. Duh. His presence has my mind muddled and my insides on fire.
“Sweetness,” he murmurs with devotion.
We silently gaze into each other’s eyes. There’s so much to say, but truthfully, I want to be alone with him. I fear this is one wild dream and I need to savor every second before reality barrels through the door.
“Well, why don’t you two go upstairs,” Ma suggests, herding us through the bar.
Like star-struck lovers, oblivious to anyone else around us, we do as she says, still attached. I should be embarrassed or uncomfortable that my mother encouraged us to be alone, but I’m not. We’ve been apart for too long. I’ve had endless hours of missing him.
“How long are you here for?” I finally find my voice as he closes my bedroom door.
“Three days.”
With his long athletic strides, he’s at my side in seconds, arms folding around me as he lifts me, dragging me against his solid body, my nipples hardening at the jolt of friction.
The spark in his eyes and slight twitch of his mouth indicate that he knows what he’s doing to me. He may only be here for a short time, but I intend to make every second count.
His palm slides up my back to the nape of my neck, leaving tingles in its wake, and his lips roam over mine, firm, loving, and possessive. God, I’ve missed him. Butterflies wake deep in my stomach as he slides his wet tongue into my mouth with an urgent demand.
My hands tighten on his shoulders and his arms pull me in tighter as an electrifying heat sprawls throughout my body. Then his fingers trail down my spine and slip between my blouse and skirt. He brushes my bare skin, his caress slightly abrasive, setting me on fire.
Breaking our kiss, I take a breath and fasten my eyes on him. His are dark with desire.
“Make love to me, Evan. I won’t take no for an answer,” I demand in a throaty voice.
“I intend to.”
His mouth slams onto mine in affirmation. It’s a forceful kiss, crushing his lips hard to mine, crazed and hungry. Needing to touch him, skin on skin, I push to unbutton his crisp white dress shirt.
Glancing down at my own clothes, I remember my blouse is also button-down. We separate slightly and make quick work of undressing, each stealing glances as we try to focus on the task at hand. Our movements are quick and erratic, our excitement and desire threatening to consume us.
Eyes wide, my breath stalls and my heart skips a beat. Evan stands before me in only his boxers. His body has always been beautiful, but now, he’s beyond buff. My eyes trail over his hard chest to his tattoos and then to his flexed abdomen and defined six-pack, tapering down to his slim waist.
My gaze flits back to his ink. When he left, his skin was bare; now, tribal tattoos etched in bold black mark his right pec, shoulder, and down his bicep to his elbow. It’s sexy as hell and mesmerizing. An intense craving to run my tongue along every inch of his ink swells within me.
“Your tattoos…” My outstretched hand itches to trace the designs.
“Fuck, Sweetness, you’re gorgeous.” His words are reverent.
Heat rises to my cheeks as I drop my hands to my sides, feeling slightly self-conscious in my bra and panties, despite his mutual semi-nakedness. His wandering eyes tip up, meeting mine, and my knees almost buckle at the desire in his eyes. Fueled by his fiercely rapt regard for me, I shed the little I still have on.
Before I can fully discard my underwear, he’s on me. His large hands hold my breasts, thumbs tweaking my nipples as they stiffen under his attention. His mouth glides down my neck, burning against my skin.
Anxious and heady with need, I latch onto the waistband of his boxers and peel them off. His hard cock bounces free, jutting out with a pearly bead of pre-cum on its crown. He yanks me against him and low moans slip from our mouths.
My heart slams against my breastbone at the realization that our time has finally come. I will have him inside of me. We’re going to have sex, the first
time for both of us. A procession of nerves exploding like firecrackers erupts and converges into a tight bundle of energy and vibration in my sex. I’m not afraid of this, of him. Without a doubt, he’ll take care of me, ensure this is good for me.
Positioning me on my twin bed, with him in between my legs, he dominates the space more than ever. The weight of his hard body holds me to the bed and not only moors me to him but also sends me soaring.
His tongue is in my mouth and he’s kissing me fiercely, taking control, although I’m not sure if he has any control left—I know I don’t. This has been a long time coming. His lips are hard and demanding, and his kisses make it seem like he can never get enough of me, deep and hot with increasing abandon.
His hand skates down between my legs, his thumb on my clit, rubbing circles over the small bead while his parted lips and hooded eyes take me in. No surprise, it doesn’t take long for the building pressure to explode with a ripple of pleasure shooting along my nerve endings.
He gently inserts a finger, moving in and out of me as he murmurs how wet, hot, and perfect I am.
“Sweetness, are you sure?” he asks, as if we’d be able to stop if I had a doubt.
He would, I know that, but there’s not a chance in hell I’m going to let that happen. I’m beyond ready for him.
“Yes, I want you inside me.” I whimper as another orgasm furiously combusts within me and I clench around his finger.
“Fuck,” he groans.
Widening my legs, he fists his cock, his crown swollen, purple, and teeming with pearly beads of pre-cum. His hand pumps his cock a few times, each stroke stoking the flames within me, and then he lines himself up with my entrance. He’s huge and hard, and for a fleeting moment, the thought of pain creeps into my mind.
Deliberately, he rubs his cock along my pussy, his arousal mixing with mine, as the sensation primes me further. I moan. Sliding into me, he takes his time, stopping to make sure I’m okay. There’s a fullness I never imagined and an intensity I can’t describe. Yes, there’s slight pain; it pinches, intensely, then it slowly subsides. I encourage him further, seeing that he’s barely hanging on to his composure.
“Fuck, Sweetness, you’re so hot and tight. Fucking perfect.” His teeth are gritted and his voice is pained, yet husky, further stirring my need for him.
His hooded eyes stare at me as he rocks back and forth within me.
“Fuck, Sweetness.”
Any discomfort fades, replaced by a fierce tingling sensation racing up my spine as he picks up speed. My chest heaves and hands tremble as everything begins to spin.
“Perfect.” His worshipping tone pushes me further from pain to pleasure.
Clinging to him, I revel in the feel of him against me, his large size on top of me. My hands roam the flexing muscles of his back, down his smooth spine, sinking into his hard ass. Our bodies are slick and I flick my tongue along his damp skin, tasting him. He’s salty, sexy, and pure man.
“I’m not gonna last,” he murmurs, breathless.
“It’s…oo…kay,” I pant.
“No, not before you come again,” he says through gritted teeth, and I worry he’s in pain until the scorching desire in his eyes blasts me.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, and I stutter, thinking I heard him wrong.
He wants me to touch myself? While we’re having sex? He reads my indecision in my eyes and grins.
“Yes, Sweetness, touch yourself. For me. I want to see it.”
At first uncertain, my fingers graze my sex, and like getting a shock, I jerk. Evan’s watchful, intense gaze spurs me on as I circle my clit and realize why he told me to do it. It’s fucking amazing, more intense than any other time I’ve masturbated. I wish it were his fingers on me, but having his eyes on me is just as good.
“Come for me,” he orders hoarsely.
As if his command triggers a chain reaction, my breathing becomes erratic, my heart pounds way too fast, and my skin prickles with heat. I’m on fire.
“Sweetness,” he roars as he climaxes with me, both of us tensing, then he collapses on top of me.
I accept his heat, his dominance, his love, drinking it in like my life depends on it. Closing my eyes and wrapping my arms around him, I melt into him. Tears prick my eyes, and while I’m beyond ecstatic to have him here, to have made love, it’s borrowed time. Three days. I’m already fortifying my heart for his departure.
Now
Evan
IMPATIENTLY TAPPING THE SCREEN of my phone, I wait for Coop to arrive. He’s five minutes late, and I don’t tolerate tardiness. That, among other things, was ingrained in me during my time in the Army. Punctuality was a given, no excuses.
It’s been nearly a month since I put him on Paola Mari and my sister, Anna. Yes, she’s my sister. Everything Paola said in her letter has been verified.
While undercover, Tommie and I used the dark net and learned about my father being involved with a woman connected to the mafia. From what we gathered, it didn’t end well. When we tried to find out the details, we only got so far.
In most cases, people would clam up when we asked too many questions, and that’s saying something, given everyone in there is scum with no scruples and even less fear.
While I couldn’t get all the details, at that point I knew all I needed to about my father. I just wanted out so I could get back to my life. I figured the added time and danger to dig deeper wasn’t worth it. I could guess what happened, and the thought had me hating him even more, if that was even possible.
My imagination didn’t come close to the truth. This time, having more of the details, thanks to Paola, Tommie was able to confirm everything Paola said.
My blood still boils whenever I mull over Tommie’s briefing weeks ago. My father couldn’t possibly be more of a disappointment.
“Van, you want the whole story or just main ideas?” Tommie doesn’t ask that unless she knows I won’t like what she’s found out.
“Give it to me, and Tommie, don’t leave anything out.”
Sitting cross-legged on the couch in my office, she sighs as she wraps up her long hair. It’s her tell. When she gets nervous or uncomfortable, she usually plays with her hair, twisting the long locks into a bun on the top of her head.
My guess is, before we’re done, she’ll have put it up and unraveled it at least half a dozen times. Her posture and her bouncing knee tell me all I need to know.
Tommie knows everything. She’s the only one who was with me every step of the way. I needed her, otherwise I would have done it on my own. I couldn’t have created the Monk and infiltrated the mob like I did, unseen, without her. She was a lifesaver, and I owe her big time, although she’ll say we’re even because of what I did for her.
She also did other things that she hated, but she did them for me, like setting up my eyes and ears on Carys while I was gone. She fought me tooth and nail on it and even threatened to quit, although she never would. We’re more than boss and employee, and she knows it. The one thing she refused to do was put any devices in Carys’s bedroom.
At first it pissed me off, but once Greg was on the scene, I was thankful Tommie hadn’t listened to me. There were several times I destroyed my equipment in a fit of rage when they would go at it in other areas of the apartment, but fortunately, those were few and far between.
The sharp pain is still burrowed in my chest from seeing Carys and Greg together. It’s seared in my brain, and as much as I wish I could, I can’t unsee that shit.
With a deep inhale, she starts, “Okay, Renata Mari was the only child of Franco and Paola Mari. She was young and beautiful and promised to Angelo Gatti. At the time, he was an up and coming soldier, and rumor had it, soon to be a made man. Today, he’s king shit. The Gatti crew is one of the most respected, and he’s one of the highest earners for the Cavallo family.”
“What happened to Renata? How’d she die?”
Swallowing hard, she continues, “This is where it gets tricky and murky be
cause there was some talk, but no one knows for sure. She vanished once they discovered she was pregnant. From what I can tell, your father didn’t know about it, but his involvement with her put him on Gatti’s hit list. That’s why he was murdered. Sure, with his ongoing debt and missing payments, he was headed in that direction, but tainting Renata and ruining Gatti’s nuptials was the real reason.
“We didn’t get this far while you were the Monk because this is one of those things that most people know but no one talks about. Franco has made it known that if you talk about his daughter, so much as say her name, you’ll be lucky if you only lose your tongue. This whole thing is a huge disgrace and also ruined Franco’s plan for building allegiances with other family members.”
“How’d she die?” It’s likely not going to be pretty, but I need to hear it.
“She was alone when she went into labor. Her father banished her to a convent. There were complications and no one was there to help her. She bled out and the baby almost died, too. One of the nuns found her when she came to bring her dinner. It was too late for Renata, but they saved the baby. Then, like Paola said in her letter, the baby ended up with Tina Scorvino, Paola’s sister.”
Scorvino. I know the name—her husband was an enforcer for the Cavallos and was killed in a shootout. That would explain her being able to take the baby.
“Was her husband Ignacio?”
“Yeah. She raised Anna with no interference from Franco and Paola, although he does visit, and from what Paola says, he may see Anna as a means to building a bridge with another family.”
Cutting through my thoughts, Coop slides into the chair across from me. He asked to meet at a coffee shop close to Union Square.
“Hey, Van, sorry.” He’s out of breath. “Don’t look right now, but the woman coming in, that’s Gianna.”
Unable to heed his advice, my head swivels to the door, where a petite woman, so young and small that I want to say girl, but she’s twenty-four, walks into the coffee shop we are in. Her head is down, like she’s fixated on her phone, but she’s stealing furtive glances around her. She’s not daring to look anyone straight on.
