by Amarie Avant
My tonsils rumble ever so softly against the head of his cock as I whimper, wanting and needing his semen.
“I should come all over your face, Reese,” he says, pulling and tugging harder at my head. I suck vigorously, again moaning my agreement.
Evan pulls my head further back, and I’m no longer tasting him. His white cock is shining and blanketed in my saliva. I glance up, pleading and questioning.
“Get in bed, Reese.”
My eyes narrow ever so slightly, head tilted just slightly. “I wanted to taste—”
“Get into the bed,” each word is ushered out as a command, not forceful but those golden eyes of his glimmer. As I arise, Evan says, “Cooperate beautiful, so I can subtract a bit of that thrashing you’ve been begging for.”
I hide a smile as I turn away from him and climb into the bed.
“Now,” he says, climbing in with me, “on your knees, hands on the headboard.”
After doing as told, Evan rubs my lower back, applying a tad bit of pressure. My hips arch, the walls of my pussy are brushed by the air as I tip my hips a bit.
“We don’t have much time,” he says.
I glance over my left shoulder, “We don’t have to go to dinner…”
SMACK. The pain radiating through my body intensifies every nerve ending. I’m prepared for another hit, but Evan’s heavy hand lands softly on my buttock. He rubs away the pain.
“Now, because you are one of the most important parts of my life, Reese, I attempt to make it a habit of remembering what you like, what you don’t like, etcetera.”
I lick my lips; my curvaceous ass is ready for more. Yet his hand rests on my cheek, his thumb finding its way to the entrance of my asshole. Not entering but rooted and ready.
“You once said not to skimp on time while I’m fucking you, right?”
Fuck, I realize my punishment is caused by my big-ass mouth. I’d told him we could give each of our parents twenty minutes’ tops when we were preparing to deal with them. And, oh, just our luck. “Yes, but—”
“But I aim to please. Tony said your mom cooked, and they’re expecting us at six p.m. sharp. So I’m heading to the shower. There is ample room, and you are always free to join me. Just keep in mind, I am going to fuck you until your throat is raw tonight once we return and not a moment sooner.”
“I’d like that… right at this very moment…” I smile over at him, a man of his word.
He backs away, giving a cocky two-finger salute. His chiseled, smug face contorts into a full-blown grin as he turns around and leaves me posted at the headboard.
Falling into a seated position, I argue, “I fucking hate you, Evan.”
“And I love you too, Reese.”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to remind him that he owes me a pinky finger—his favorite pinky finger, but he won that back during one of our nightly strolls at an art gallery. We’d made a bet on who was closer in gaging exactly what some monstrosity of a canvas was.
I hightail it out of the bed, deciding that even if he doesn’t fuck me in the shower, I’ll be satisfied either way. The unsettling feeling which reminds me that my life is far from perfect begins to creep in. My railroad of a so-called-life hasn’t been derailed in a while… Lolita had left an ominous voicemail about tonight, and I’m unable to help but wonder.
Dear God, don’t let anymore tragedy strike anytime soon.
Chapter 27
Evan
“I hope I made enough bombolonases,” Reese says from the passenger seat, tapping a hand against the Tupperware container, which is filled of the Italian dessert donuts.
“Babe, I’m sure you made more than enough, and they’ll be great,” I try to appease her. Yet, she’s sitting on pins and needles at the thought of having dinner with our parents tonight. We took a steaming hot shower, and I damn near had to kick myself in the mouth for pulling that whack-ass alpha move. Yeah, Reese talks shit, but I quickly would have shut her up just as good as not giving her the dick.
Reese didn’t have a stressed bone in her body until we hopped on the freeway over an hour ago.
“Oh shit,” she sighs deeply.
I glance over, “What? What’s wrong?”
“I bought the perfect blend of coffee. We should turn around, Evan.”
“Nah, not gonna happen. We just weathered rush hour, Reese. I’m pretty sure my dads got good enough coffee to pair with the bombolonases.”
Seconds later, she speaks again, “Does my mom know about us?”
Finally, the reason for her fidgeting and discomfort. We haven’t visited them since the quote-unquote wedding. They’d come to see Reese and Jamie a few times, but Captain Raynor was on everyone’s asses about the abandoned paperwork, at that time.
I reach over to take her hand. “Wouldn’t be too bad if Lolita did.”
“Don’t be an asshole, Evan.” She tries to move her hand from mine, but my fingers have a firm grip.
“That was not my intentions. Reese, we’re not two hot and horny-ass kids sneaking into each other’s bedrooms.” I glance toward her, grin devilish, “Though, I might be willing to…”
“I’m not spending the night at your dad’s place,” she argues.
Home… Just listening to Reese utter those words brings us even closer. Since the death of Riker, my stepsister has blossomed before my eyes. The hesitance weighing her shoulders seems to have evaporated.
“You don’t want to finish what we started at my pops? Great, I’ll pull over,” I shift the wheel a bit.
Reese slaps at my arm, and we both laugh. “I’ll screw you when we get back home, thank you very much.”
Again silence ensues. Up until this moment, it has been peaceful, just being in each other’s presence, but her thoughts are crashing into each other over there, so I ask, “How’s Jamie?”
She gives a snarky chuckle. “Very well. After the International found out he stayed at the county hospital overnight, he came to town indefinitely and has a personal fleet of servants catering to Jamie’s every need.”
“The International?” I mouth.
“Oh, his real name is Chu.” Her cheeks flush a golden-apricot color. “We have this nasty, hard to break habit…”
“Of lumping men into descriptive categories. Like Suit and International and…” I pause since Reese hides her shame beneath her hand. I reach over and pull her hand down. Then continue with, “You used to refer to me as Suit and The Italian.”
“Not The Italian. Just The Suit, sheesh, Evan, great way to put me on the friggen spot. I’m sorry.”
I smile. “You’re not sorry, you’re mine.”
When we arrive, I unlock the door. A maid is descending the steps with fresh folded towels in her hand. “Hello, Evan, Miss Dunham. Your parents are in the living room.”
As we walk through the sitting area, Reese seems to deflate. Her mother indicated that she had something of the utmost importance to tell us. Reese doesn’t want me to touch her, I respect that as we enter the room.
She nods to her mom and my dad, behavior suggesting she pursues lots of space.
“Oh, my son, he’s famous these days.” Tony pats my back, and it’s all big, hard hugs for us.
“You are quite the hero,” Lolita says, her bright, twinkling eyes roaming over me and then Reese and back again. Reading people comes easy, yet I am unable to determine if Reese’s mom has perceived our connection. “The two of you, please sit. Sit. We have to talk.”
Tony is the strong pillar as he drapes an arm around her shoulder. There’s an exchange of words from him to her, the very action I desire to do with Reese, but she won’t consent. She is the war that I can’t win…
I step toward the windows, and look out over the rolling, vibrant-green golf course. Hands stuffed in my slacks because I can’t watch Tony comfort his wife, and not love Reese outwardly.
A quick glance over my shoulder and the entire scene is engrained in my mind. The loving couple intertwine arms on an antique settee
, hands entwined. Reese is across from them. Instead of the matching settee, she’s chosen a chair, which leaves no room for me to comfort her. As she watches the love radiate off of our parents as the quietly speak, her eyes close for a fraction of a second, she desires it too. But she has denied us.
“I think I’ll start with why things went wrong with you and Grayson,” Lolita’s feminine voice is soothing, but she doesn’t get a compliant reaction from Reese.
“Why?” her daughter simply says.
I turn around for a second, just to seem engaged. And shit, I really fucking am. Yeah, I need to know why the two never worked out. Reese had told their story one night. She was wrapped in my arms, while offering a romantic scene in a movie that had been her life.
She’d said before there was me, there was Grayson. She hadn’t verbalized the words ‘love,’ but it rung out in her voice as she spoke. My jaw clenches, the green grass fuzzes before my eyes in anger as I reminisce on her words. Reese had said, there were no interests in the male species before Grayson. She’d been focused on becoming a baker. And there was only Grayson because his assistant was sick one day, forcing him to buy his own breakfast. The douchebag called it serendipity. Then he proceeded to purchase every baked good in Flour just to escort her to lunch. Then at the fancy, well-to-do lunch, he made fun of himself in front of his peers while loudly requesting her hand for dinner. People applauded them, believing the amusement was her engagement. Over my fucking dead body.
As I glance back again, Lolita smiles at me. “Reese and Grayson used to finish each other’s sentences,” she gives this tidbit in order for me to imagine their love too.
“Oh,” I respond, since she’s so kind as to pull me into the conversation.
“Well, we went from bouncing off ideas to each other,” Reese chimes in, “to him writing a few sentences devoid of emotion in email format. Mom, that’s ancient history.”
Those chocolate-brown orbs choose not to cast my direction. And Lolita says, “I scared the crap out of him,” so all eyes are on her now anyway. “I had to see if he honestly loved you. Reese, you’re my baby girl, you’re all I have.”
“Oh sheesh, Mom,” Reese shifts in her seat. Her body language is geared toward the door, further away from me.
At Tony’s nudge, Lolita continues, “I told him just who Milo was. And no, I don’t mean crooked cop. I do believe that mentioning your father was one of Giovanni Giugliano’s children weighed more than love.”
Tony rubs a hand over her shoulder, I sink down onto the brocade chair positioned perfectly for reading while sitting near the window. Milo Gianni Benincassa… Giovanni motherfucking Giugliano. Milo Gianni Giugliano.
A fistful of air evaporates from my lungs, seated wide-legged I take a deep breath. There were rumors. Of course the LAPD had Milo’s body for a short time, but no DNA for Giugliano. And the subsequent days following Milo’s demise, there were more deaths. Deaths of natural causes, deaths pointing the fingers to ‘wives’ who had to be angry, deaths of the four officers who orchestrated the entire event. While that occurred, Milo’s corpse disappeared from the county coroner. Dead bodies have walked away before, but the ‘miracle’ probability is slim.
“So my fiancé ran for his life.” Reese chuckles, “Only to bid farewell via an email probably written in haste while in his corporate office with a skyscraper view of downtown. This is bullshit, Ma.”
Giovanni Giugliano. The name has made grown men piss their pants. The incredulous look on Reese’s face reads that she knows exactly who the man is. She doesn’t keep up on current events, and tells me that she has always hated watching the news and how it has ruined her name. The Giugliano family is the head of a syndicate that governed the entire East Coast territory. Giovanni Giugliano doesn’t get past those who rather not watch the news or those who are too naive to want to know of such atrocities. The nightmares people gossip about don’t even do him justice. But the Giuglianos are legendary.
“It’s true, honey.” Lolita continues, sniffling back tears. “Your father had once been a very bright young man. Loyal to a fault and that's saying much about the version we knew who ping-ponged the police department’s operation to his own father.”
I bite my bottom lip, rubbing the stubble on my chin. Again, Lolita includes me into the conversation, with the nod of her head.
“He'd graduated top of his class. Moved up into the LAPD and was just about to shift over to the FBI, per Giovanni’s orders. Somewhere during that time, Milo went batshit crazy. A power trip took ahold of him so bad, he just had to be king. Those honey eyes which captivated me to no end went cold with greed.”
She spares no expense to Reese’s feelings. Lolita tells Reese how during funeral proceedings she found out that Milo had a family. Another wife and set of kids. Full-blooded Italians who he lived with when they missed him the most.
Then Lolita adds, “Giovanni will be back once you bare your first son.”
Reese cuts in, “Wow, this sounds like a B-list movie, Ma. You’re saying, my child will be blood, and Giovanni will demand to know him. I suppose if I birth all daughters I’m scot-free?”
Reese rises abruptly and starts out of the room.
I take a stand. Lolita does too.
“I’ll talk to her.” I order, crossing the room.
No fucking way. My jaw is set. She’ll have sons. My sons and daughters.
Chapter 28
Reese
November
I sit up against the pillows and look at Evan. His entire body dominates my queen-sized bed. We haven’t slept here in so long. The winter solstice is coming up shortly, and I’m preparing for Nook’s grand opening. I had initially chosen the spot around the corner from Evan’s home to resurrect Flour. At the moment, the front of Flour is closed, and I continue with the dessert catering business in the kitchen. Besides, the location for Nook is on a bustling artsy street, so breakfast food and drinks will be all the rave.
For now, I set aside the frenzy of starting over to watch him.
Every gold-plated muscle and tendon which becomes my safe anchor is at peace. And every crazy thing my mom has told me, Evan has been by my side. The day I stormed out of Tony’s place after Lolita declared that I was a decedent of the Giugliano family, Evan’s response was rich with confidence. Seasons have passed away, and I can still hear Evan’s declaration that I have no need to worry. He'll always be there.
Do not be apprehensive about my own family, my own blood… I tell myself. Evan and I haven’t divulged the seriousness of our relationship to our parents at my request, yet he is my reassurance. We’ve all had a serious discussion about Evan keeping an eye on me since we live near each other.
Leaning against a flurry of pillows, I watch him sleep, I pray Evan is never put into a situation because of me. Unlike Grayson, he didn’t run after hearing of Giovanni. Upon seeing the love, doubt, and guilt in my ex-fiancé’s eye, I know that Lolita warned him.
I smile down at Evan, with a flurry of emotions running through me. Happiness that he hasn’t run after learning about the Giugliano family. Angst at the thought of him one day deciding I am not worth the fight. And I suppose the greatest sentiment I have is ‘selfishness.’ Can I honestly love Evan the way he loves me if I’m too selfish to let him go? I’m afraid to say that three letter phrase: ‘I love you.’ But I’m too damn selfish to want better for Evan than being tied to me.
He’s become my place of refuge. He handled all of the murders at my apartment. After initial questioning, the cops never gave me a second thought. On the first day of winter, Nook will open. Jamie and I have strategized on having a winter solstice type of event to garner new customers and perk the ears of our weary, loyal ones. And I can officially get rid of my ‘Amityville’ apartment. There are boxes all around my bedroom, and we usually sleep at Evan’s, but this morning…
Evan’s big, buff bicep locks around my thighs. And he pulls me closer to him, leveraging his head in my lap. His tone is a mixture o
f a wet, groggy dream, “Stop staring at me. And why'd you wake up so early?”
“Sorry.” I give a wry smile. “Cannoli. I’m up to make cannoli. That’s why we had to sleep here, at the little shoppe of horrors. One of my longest running customers flies to LA every month for business. Since he’s virtually the only one who hasn’t abandoned me, I’ve felt obliged to continue on with our routine month after month, and have a fresh box ready for him at dawn.”
“Mmmm...” Evan becomes king of the jungle, his tone vibrating into my lap so raw, so animalistic my entire body aches for him. If it weren’t for being loyal to my customers, there’s no way I’d get out of bed.
“Okay, big boy, I've gotta get downstairs to the kitchen.” I feather his perfect, wavy hair.
“No ya don't.” Evan grips my ass and in a flash, I'm beneath his girth.
“Oh, hell no, morning breath. C’mon, stepbrother, this is getting scary.”
“You've got morning breath too.” He chuckles. Then his warm mouth comes down onto mine. It's tingly, cool, minty.
“What!” I pull away. “No fair.”
“I woke up around four this morning. Brushed my chompers and I've been waiting for you,” his minty mouth glides across my cheek.
I hold a hand over my mouth, “Sneaky snake!” I gasp the words.
Evan pulls my hand away from my mouth with ease to my protest. He says, “We’re in love, doll. You're mine.”
Then his mouth clamps onto mine. My sweet Evan knows I’m still too chickenshit to utter my adulation for him. I struggle to save my sanity but his teeth sink into the flesh of my lip. I sense his dick rising before it even pokes into my thigh. Evan’s callused hand touches along the same spot of my neck, then around to my cheek. Then his thick lips go to that soft spot right behind my ear. The kiss lingers and makes my breath catch and my heart skip a few beats.
“I’m still mad,” I barely can get the words out for smiling.
