by Mary Calmes
“Not this time,” I had confessed and then noticed she was crying. “What’s with you?”
“You.” She had smiled through her tears. “I was so worried that you were never going to find anyone to love as hard as you could. I didn’t want you to miss feeling how I do when I look at Ben.”
I sighed deeply.
“I’m so happy to be wrong.”
I was too.
And now as I lay there, looking at Dreo, I wondered what my life would soon be like. When the door opened, I looked up and was surprised to find Duncan Stiel.
“Hey,” I said softly, because I didn’t want Dreo to wake up.
He moved slowly across the floor to the end of the bed. “I just wanted to come and check on you and talk for a minute.”
I nodded, noticing the cast on his right wrist. “I’m sorry you guys fought.”
“I should have been more careful. I’m used to fighting guys who don’t know what they’re doing, thugs on the street, but him”—he tipped his chin at Dreo—“he knows what he’s doing.”
“You guys shouldn’t have even gone at each other. You were both just worried about me.”
He gave me a slight smile before taking a breath. “I’m taking your advice and going on vacation.”
“I said to move.” I grinned.
“Well, I’m not ready to do that yet, but a buddy of mine lives in Colt outside of Eureka, California. Small town. Will be nice to just do nothing for a bit.”
“Good. I hope you enjoy it.”
He sighed deeply. “I hope I never hurt you.”
“No more than I hurt you,” I said, reaching for him.
We held hands for just a moment.
“I keep saying good-bye.”
“Then stop. Say I’ll see ya.”
“Okay. I’ll see ya.”
I nodded, and the man walked out the door.
“So.” Dreo cleared his throat.
Rolling my head to right so I could see, I smiled. “You’re awake.”
“I’m a light sleeper.”
“Something you want to ask, Mr. Fiore?” I smiled to encourage him.
“Yeah. It’s me, right? Not him?”
“It’s you.”
He closed his eyes. “I thought so. I’m hotter.”
And he was, but I would not give the man the satisfaction of a response. Because really, what made him hotter was not so much the outside as what lay underneath. He was ready to tell the world that I was his. Was prepared to walk down the street with me and hold my hand. Had no qualms about being my date to anything, anywhere.
“God, I really love you.”
“I know.” He yawned and reached out a hand to me.
I took it and held on tight. “Talking to your folks was good.”
He grunted.
“I had no idea you had three other sisters. Are you the youngest?”
“Yes,” he whimpered. “Please, caro, go to sleep. We can talk about the coven later.”
“Coven?” I smiled.
“Wait.” He exhaled, getting comfortable in the chair. “You’ll see.”
I was really looking forward to it.
Chapter 14
BEST intentions aside, I was ready to kill him. Sitting in on one of Sanderson’s lectures was giving me a migraine. Ashton, beside me, was scowling as he typed up notes on his laptop of things to improve. He was now at two pages of bullet points.
“Well?” Sanderson asked me when he was done and the classroom had emptied of undergraduates.
“Are you kidding?” Ashton looked surprised.
“What?”
“Do you mean to speak to your students like they’re idiots, or is that just what comes out?”
“I don’t do that,” he snapped defensively.
“Yes, you do,” I assured him. “Let’s have lunch.”
“You know, Nate, just because I saved your—”
“Don’t push it,” I warned him. “Or we won’t be writing that paper together on ‘The Squire’s Tale’ for the Chaucer symposium in March.”
He shut up.
“Just let me and Ash help.”
And for once, he nodded instead of being combative, and when we got to the bottom of the stairs and a student opened the door for us, he thanked them and put a hand on my shoulder when we got outside.
“How are you feeling?” he asked me.
“Okay, thank you.”
“I’ll treat you guys to lunch,” he told me and Ashton.
I nodded, and Ashton gave him a begrudging thank you. It was small, but it was a start. That his hand went to my back to lead me into the burger place was also nice.
He was trying, and so was I.
For once.
IT WAS scary how organized Dreo was. Already we had a joint bank account that he and I both put money into for the mortgage payment and household expenses. Bills were in both of our names. He changed the address on his driver’s license and put in a change of address card with the post office and Michael’s school. If he said he would do something, he did it, no reminder needed. Jared and Gillian’s place was all ready to go, and even though they had been delayed another week and would miss Thanksgiving, they would be there the week after, and we would all be together for Christmas. It was what Gillian wanted. Being disowned was hard on her. She wanted to sit in my living room with me and Melissa and Ben and was insanely excited to meet Dreo and Michael and Danielle. I had told her all about Michael’s now “official girlfriend,” much to his begrudging glee. I was looking forward to her and Jared meeting them too. Crazy to think that I suddenly had everything I always wanted.
“Why do you think that is?” Melissa had asked me as we had strolled arm in arm down the Miracle Mile earlier that week.
“’Cause I’m living right,” I told her.
“Just you living is good,” she assured me, squeezing my arm, sighing deeply.
When I got home a little after seven on that Friday night, I was surprised to find the TV on and Dreo sprawled out on the couch watching soccer. There were five open containers of Chinese food on the coffee table, two paper plates, and two beers.
“Hey,” I greeted him.
He grunted. Obviously whatever was happening on screen was more interesting than me.
“Where’s Michael?”
Nothing.
“Dreo?”
Another grunt.
“Where is Michael?”
“Spending the night at….”
“Dreo!” I snapped, then laughed.
“Parker’s house,” he finished, unimpressed with my volume. He didn’t even turn around.
I remembered that now. Michael was staying with his friend Parker Barnes until after their track meet the following day. We were to meet him at the park, watch the competition along with Danielle, and then bring her home with us to let Michael shower and change before we all convened at the Fiore house for dinner. Dreo’s parents were enjoying the new closeness that Dreo having a partner had given them. They had been disappointed that Jared and Gillian would not be there for Thanksgiving, but were looking forward to seeing Ben and Melissa and their kids. I was too.
The first Sunday night dinner I had spent with the Fiores I had been amazed at the volume and my welcome. Dreo’s sisters, Loretta, Felice, and Alisa, their husbands, and their children were all happy to meet me. The coven, as my boyfriend called the women he had grown up with, told him that I was handsome and kind and attentive. I was a hit. In the kitchen drying dishes, Dreo had leaned close and whispered something.
“What did you say?”
“That your eyes are beautiful.”
I smiled.
“Until I got close I didn’t know they changed color when you were happy.”
“Do they?”
He nodded. “Those beautiful hazel eyes of yours become dark green.”
“You like that?”
“Sì,” he murmured, leaning close to kiss me.
I felt a roll of heat run thro
ugh me just thinking about it until he yelled at the TV. This was definitely not about to become a romantic moment.
“Pull your head out of your ass!”
I snorted out a laugh. “So is that beer for me, and some of the takeout?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you have a good day?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you discover the meaning of life today?”
“Yeah.”
I chuckled and went to change.
Looking around my bedroom, I had to smile. Just seeing the man’s watch, wallet, and change on the nightstand on his side of the bed was nice. He slept closest to the door, and under the bed, easily accessible, where he could grab it if he heard a weird noise in the night, was a baseball bat. His gun, the SIG Sauer P250 that he had retrieved from the police station, was in a combination-locked box in the closet on the top shelf. We were having conversations about it. I wanted it gone, but he wanted to keep it. The fact that no one but him could get in there and that no one but the two of us even knew where it was, was a start. I was worried about the baby. He wanted to know how the baby could reach the box or get it open. I knew why he had held onto it. He was still worried about his former life intruding on his present. But as each day passed, he shed another layer of wariness, and I enjoyed seeing him do it. He was confident and content.
After walking back out to the living room in an old pair of faded jeans, a long-sleeved T-shirt, and socks, I took a seat beside him. The beer was still icy cold, so it had not been out long, and the food was hot.
“You just get home?” Another monosyllabic grunt, and I laughed softly. “Who’s playing, baby?”
“Milan,” he managed to answer before he yelled, “Passala!”
It was more fun watching him get mad than keeping an eye on the game.
“Cazzo, tirala in porta!”
I ate, drank one beer, then got up to get another and realized that something about just hanging out with him, even though I knew he was focused on the game and not me, was fun. We were together, and this was Friday night. I really liked it.
I was starting on my third beer, bringing him back his second, sprawled out beside him, when his hand went to my thigh. It was sad, but just that much contact made me hard. Ever since I got home from the hospital, he had been careful with me. I got sucked off and jerked off and there was some amazing frottage, but anal had been off the table. Every time I brought up the fact that I was okay, that what I really needed was for him to pound me into the mattress, he gave me a patronizing smile and told me to go to sleep. I was ready to attack him, but he was really good about using Michael as a buffer and our schedules to his advantage.
So the strong hand that was now gripping my thigh was making my dick twitch and weep against the zipper.
“Dreo,” I whimpered.
With his left hand, he worked open the top button of my jeans, pulled the zipper down, and slid his hand under my briefs. His fingers wrapped around my steadily leaking cock as I bucked up into his fist.
“Oh God,” I moaned, pushing in and out of his firm grip, loving the calluses, the way his skin felt smoothing over my heated flesh, and the possessiveness. I was his, so he could touch me whenever he wanted. It was so hot.
He slid off the couch then, dropped to his knees between my spread legs, and as he yanked my jeans over my ass, bent and swallowed my shaft.
“Dreo!”
He sucked hard, his cheeks hollowed out as he laved and licked, the suction so good, so perfect, saliva rolling down into my crease. I wanted to fuck his mouth, but more, I wanted him.
“I’m fine!” I yelled.
He lifted his mouth from my cock, and I saw it then, in his right hand: lube.
“Where was that?”
“Under the couch,” he told me, pulling a piece of paper out of the pocket of his jeans and passing it to me before he popped open the cap.
I unfolded it and saw that I was looking at negative test results. My man was disease-free.
“So you—”
“Yes,” he growled, and two lube-slicked fingers were wedged inside of me.
I gasped because the burn was jarring and exquisite at the same time. He was rough with me, and the fact that he was normally infinitely gentle—but couldn’t be at that moment—spoke to the depth of his need.
“No more condoms,” he told me.
I nodded as he added a third finger, scissoring, stretching, and making me ready even though it was unnecessary. I groaned his name.
He hooked my legs up over his shoulders, lifting, shunting me to the edge of the couch as his hands gripped my ass tight and spread my cheeks.
I arched up toward him as he pressed his swollen head to my entrance.
“What do you want?”
The words were hard to form. Only babbling came out.
He pushed forward a fraction. “Nate?”
“You, Dreo! I want you!”
The plunge inside was hard and fast, and I yelled his name as the long, thick length of him dragged over my prostate. My hand went to my own cock as he thrust deeper with every stroke, his hands locked on my hips, adding to his domination of me.
“Oh fuck,” he moaned, and I opened my eyes to see him watching as his cock filled my ass, pounding into me. He was lost now as his head fell back in submission to the sensations roaring through him. “I am so close, Nate, you—ti amo, tu sei tutta la mia vita!”
It sounded good, but I hardly cared.
“I love you, Nate. You’re my whole world.”
God.
His shaft, hammering into me, pounding me down into the couch, driving in and out, was all there was. The crest that was suddenly upon me, the orgasm torn from me, rushing through me, turned my vision white for long seconds.
My body clenched around Dreo’s cock, my muscles bearing down on him, rippling and spasming as he pumped cum deep inside my body. I felt the heat, the wet, coating me, running out of me, leaking down the inside of my thighs.
“Sei così bello….”
I shivered with my aftershocks, reaching up, pulling him close even though the front of his T-shirt was covered, splattered with my semen.
His mouth covered mine, and I opened for him, tasting and sucking on his tongue, the kiss hot and wet and claiming. Never had a lover made me so crazy, so needy, taken every artifice I had and stripped it away, leaving just me, vulnerable and wanting.
Pulling back, I saw the hooded and dark liquid eyes, clouded with passion, full of heat and seduction. “Jesus, Dreo, I’ll be dripping with you for hours.”
“Yes,” he almost snarled, mouth on my throat, licking, nibbling, sucking as he remained buried and pulsing inside of me. “You belong to me. So beautiful, and you’re mine.”
“Oh yes,” I agreed, loving every word of his promise, trembling with my body’s reaction to our lovemaking, the absolute joy of it.
“You know, I’m gonna have you so many times tonight: I want you on your knees, on the bed, in the shower…. I just fuckin’ want you.”
“Why?”
“Because I love you… amore mio… my love….”
“Me too.” I smiled up into those gorgeous eyes. “You’re my love.”
The grin I got was so full of complete and utter happiness that all I could do was kiss him and kiss him and kiss him.
There didn’t need to be any more words.
About the Author
MARY CALMES currently lives in Honolulu, Hawaii, with her husband and two children and hopes to eventually move off the rock to a place where her children can experience fall and even winter. She graduated from the University of the Pacific (ironic) in Stockton, California, with a bachelor’s degree in English literature. Due to the fact that it is English lit and not English grammar, do not ask her to point out a clause for you, as it will so not happen. She loves writing, becoming immersed in the process, and falling into the work. She can even tell you what her characters smell like. She also buys way too many books on Amazon.
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