The Tempted Series: Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  I watch with lustful eyes as he pushes my knees apart, waiting for him to slide between them but he doesn’t. Instead, he stands there for a moment drinking me in.

  The last first time he stared at his wife, naked and waiting for him.

  He unbuttons his jeans with one hand as he cocks his head to the side. I watch his Adam’s apple as he swallows hard and lifts his eyes to mine.

  “You’ll always be the leading lady of my dreams,” he vows hoarsely.

  I park my lips to tell him he was the dream, the only one worth having, the only one that ever came true but he presses his finger to my lips silencing me.

  Not another word was spoken between us as he finishes undressing and finds his place between my legs. His lips trail down my neck, sucking, grazing and licking all the sweet spots his mouth owned. I squirm against the comforter as his mouth travels lower, finding one breast, squeezing the other, taking my pert nipple between his teeth and tugging on it before his tongue soothes the sting his teeth leaves behind.

  His mouth moves across the valley of skin between my breasts, his tongue tickling the flesh until he sucks my other nipple into his mouth. Mikey’s hands grab a hold of my hips and force my back to arch as he presses my pelvis against his, teasing us both by grinding his cock against my pussy, letting me know how badly he wants me. I wrap my legs around his waist and press myself against him, my nails digging into his shoulders as I urge him to give us what we both needed.

  He shakes his head, releasing my nipple and unraveling my legs from his waist before placing a trail of wet kisses down my belly. My whole body quivers in anticipation as he hovers over my pussy, pushing my legs as wide as they can go. With a feral gaze he stares at me, sighing in appreciation as his fingers ran down the seam of my pussy.

  Mikey came back into my life unexpectedly, broke down the walls I had built without me even noticing and then he rebuilt the walls, adding windows to let me shine through the panes. He showed me what true love is without realizing true love existed in his touch.

  His gentle caress against my skin ignites a fire inside of me and I fist the sheets as I press myself against his hand, riding the two fingers he slides inside of me. Mikey keeps his eyes on mine as he expertly works me, soaking his fingers and priming me for him. His thumb finds the tight bundle of nerves and strokes it slowly, both pleasuring and torturing me equally.

  “Mikey,” I gasp, swirling my hips and moving to the rhythm he creates. He quickens his pace, curls his fingers inside me and presses down on my clit.

  My vision slips away from me, my voice dead, and my hearing faded leaving me vulnerable to the orgasm that takes over my body and forces me to feel.

  The last first time I orgasmed as his wife.

  My body dips into the mattress as I came down from the natural high his fingers grant me, and before I can catch my breath, Mikey withdraws his hand from between my legs and guides the head of his cock to my entrance. His hand wraps tightly around his dick as he runs the tip up and down my pussy, lubricating himself with all of me.

  The last first time he pushed himself into me without protection.

  The last first time I felt him deep inside of me with nothing between us.

  The last first time my husband made love to me.

  We had a lifetime of firsts still to come and each one of them would be the last first we ever had.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  It was the early eighties; Maryann and I were barely legal but that didn’t stop us from painting the town red. I had a part-time job at Rosalie’s bakery, making just enough money to spend my paycheck—that’s a lie. I never received a paycheck, those days we were paid in cash, sixty dollars stuffed in a white envelope that Rosalie scribbled my name on. It was enough cash for me to buy a brand-new outfit every Friday. I would take my envelope, cross three avenues and make my way to Something Else boutique on 86th Street.

  I teased my hair six inches to the sky, applied enough blue eyeshadow to my eyelids, you had no choice but to notice my almond shaped eyes. Lastly, I ripped the tags and put on my silk turquoise jumpsuit. Maryann stole her father’s car out of the garage and picked me up at exactly ten o’clock. Studio 54 was packed, the line to get inside the club wrapped around the block but Maryann grabbed my hand and walked us straight to the front of the line.

  “I’m a friend of Val’s,” she told the bouncer guarding the door.

  At the time, I only knew Val as one of the neighborhood guys. He, like most of the guys our age living in Bensonhurst, hung around with the old-timers, the made-men, goodfellas—you know the type of men I’m talking about. Gangsters.

  I didn’t know if Val was in fact a made man or part of a family, I just knew one day he would be and I understood why Maryann had taken a liking toward him. Who didn’t find that type of man sexy? There was nothing more attractive than the unattainable bad boy who exuded charisma.

  The bouncer lifted the red velvet rope and escorted us into the pulsating night club. I remember the song playing as I stepped foot onto the colorful dance floor that lit up as the patrons danced the night away, ‘How Deep Is Your Love’ by the Bee Gees. It was one of my favorites and I wanted to dance so badly but Maryann had other plans, taking my hand as she dragged me across the dance floor to the bar where Val stood. He was surrounded by a bunch of guys, some I knew and others were a mystery. A delicious mystery.

  “Order us a couple of Long Island Iced Teas and I’ll be right back,” she shouted over the music.

  I sat down at the bar and ordered the drinks, glancing across the bar as she worked her way into the circle and straight to Val. The bartender placed the two drinks in front of me and I waited five minutes before I pulled the little paper umbrella from the glass and lifted the straw to my lips.

  I averted my eyes back to the other end of the bar and noticed Maryann and Val had disappeared from the crowd.

  “Those things are lethal,” a voice said from behind me, forcing me to spin around on the bar stool and stare at the most handsome man I ever laid eyes on.

  The first thing I noticed was his clothes. He wasn’t dressed like the other men. His charcoal gray suit looked as if it was tailor made for him. He opted to wear a black turtleneck under the suit, no button down, collar popping shirt for the handsome stranger before me. He did however engage in the fad of gold chains. My eyes zeroed in on the crucifix dangling from the thick, gold rope chain hanging around his neck. I lifted my eyes to his face and was greeted by a smile I’d never forget.

  His eyes drifted toward the two drinks that sat in front of me to the empty stool beside me.

  “May I?”

  “Sure,” I said, twirling back around to face the bar as he slipped onto the stool and signaled for the bartender.

  He ordered a Martini, dry with extra olives as I toyed with the paper umbrella and brought my drink to my lips for another sip. The song changed, Tavares filtered the nightclub with their hit, ‘More Than a Woman’.

  “What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, casually draping an arm over the back of my stool.

  “Grace,” I said, mesmerized by the way he stared so intently at me.

  “Grace,” he repeated, testing the name on his tongue, grinning once he decided he liked the way it sounded.

  “And who are you?” I stammered, taking another sip, hoping to calm my nerves. This man had the power to undo me with a simple glance.

  “Me? I’m the man who’s going to marry you one day,” he said pointedly.

  I nearly spat my drink out.

  “That’s pretty presumptuous don’t you think?” Or cocky depending on who you ask, I added silently.

  He grinned at me as he lifted his hand and ran his index finger down my cheek.

  “Watch and see, Gracie,” he promised, dropping his hand but keeping his gaze locked on me. “The name is Victor, Victor Pastore.”

  It is so easy to forget those first blissful moments when you meet the person you’re meant to spend the rest of your life wi
th. Instead, we harbor the resentment life has brought upon us and lose touch of the magic that brought two unsuspecting strangers together.

  Sitting across from the man I love for the final time I wonder how I ever let myself become so jaded by the trials and tribulations we stumbled upon in our years together. Why did I let the heartache trump the happiness? Why couldn’t I hang on to all the times he made me smile, all the times I looked into his eyes and knew I was his one and only. Why wasn’t the love we created enough to outweigh the torment of the mob?

  I foolishly thought we had years to figure it out, to mend the broken parts of our love. I never expected thirty years to go by in a flash. I never expected a judge to slam down the gavel and sentence him to life in prison. I never expected for him to become fatally ill. I never expected to be sitting here wishing for more time.

  I glance down at his hands and my heart breaks at the comparison. His hands are twice the size of mine just as they were thirty years ago but instead of his olive skin matching mine, there is a stark contrast. His skin pales compared to mine.

  “I dreamt of you last night,” he breathes. I peel my eyes away from our hands and lift them to his. “I always dream of you but last night was one of my favorites,” he struggles, breathing heavily. “Give me a moment,” he requests.

  “You don’t have to speak,” I tell him.

  “But I do,” he argues. “It’s now or never, Gracie.”

  I nod sadly, glancing down at our hands again, watching as his thumb draws circles over my palm.

  “It was the grand opening of my first night club,” he starts, smiling nostalgically.

  “Eternity,” I recall. I teased him mercilessly over the name he chose for his first venture as a night club owner. Victor knew the scene, appreciated it and at the time figured it was a great way to hide the illegal money coming in.

  “You remember,” he says.

  I laugh slightly.

  “How could I forget? I was eight months pregnant with Adrianna,” I reply. We argued that night, I didn’t want to go, figuring I looked ridiculous sitting in a night club with a glass of seltzer and a big belly, but Victor insisted I be there.

  There is no one I want by my side but you. This is our night, Gracie.

  “You were the most beautiful woman in the whole place,” he whispers. “I made Jimmy stand by the bar with you all night in case you went into labor.”

  “I remember you kept checking in on me,” I whisper, a small smile playing on my lips as the memories vividly take over my mind, transfixing me back to a time when we were the happiest in our lives. “You were so worried my water would break,” I chuckle. “I think you were afraid I would ruin the fancy floors you had spent a fortune on.”

  “Probably,” he agrees, pausing for a moment. “I wish you would’ve gone into labor that night, at least I would’ve been there for you when you gave birth.”

  He frowns but keeps his eyes firmly planted on mine.

  I prayed so hard that he would make it in time to see our daughter being born but God didn’t hear me that night and Victor showed up an hour after Adrianna took her first breath.

  “That was the first time I disappointed you,” he continues. “The first of many.”

  “Victor…” I cut him off, but he shakes his head as he releases my hand and lifts his finger to my lip.

  “If I could turn back time, if I could have one more chance, I’d be there. I’d never leave your side, Gracie. I’d change all the things I did wrong,” he says. “I’d always show up, I’d always put you first, and we’d have no regrets, not a single one. As God as my witness I’d give it all up—the mob, the power, the money—maybe I’d be a bus driver. We would still live in the first house we bought after we got married. I’d trade everything I am, everything I ever was if it meant one more chance to make all your dreams come true. I’d be a different man.”

  Again, I part my lips to speak, but he shakes his head and smiles faintly back at me.

  “Let it be,” he whispers.

  Tears fall from the corner of my eyes as we sit quietly cataloging every detail of one another’s aging face to memory. The resentment of the mob fades away and in that moment, we are just Grace and Victor, two unsuspecting strangers in a night club—meeting their eternal love for the first time.

  He smiles at me, the lines in the corner of his eyes pinched with the years of our story embedded in his skin, and it all became so clear. Victor was my one and only. The only man I was ever meant to love, the man put on this earth specifically for me. Our life may not have been what we expected, but it was beautiful and it was real. When the end approaches everyone has regrets, maybe they wish they would’ve done things differently, but now as the end of our story nears, I know all the answers to the questions I’ve been asking myself lately. I wouldn’t change a single thing. If I knew everything I knew now back then, I still would’ve put that white dress on and made that trip down the church aisle to the man waiting to marry me.

  I let go of Victor’s hands, pushed back my chair and gripped the edge of the table, I rose to my full height. His eyes narrow in confusion as I hold his gaze and round the table. He leans back in the chair and tilts his head as I lean down and take his face in my hands.

  “I can’t let it be,” I murmured, as he pushes back his chair and grabs my hips, pulling me down onto his lap. I drop my hands from his face and wind my arms around his neck.

  “I wouldn’t change a damn thing about you, Victor Pastore.” I smile, leaning my forehead against his. “Everything you are is everything I fell in love with. If given the chance, I’d do it all again and I wouldn’t change any part of our story except one thing…”

  He closes his eyes as he splays his palms against the small of my back. I wait for him to look into my eyes before I continue.

  “I’d change the ending,” I cry, tracing my thumb along his lower lip. “There’d be no ending.” I pause, wiping away the lone tear that travels down his cheek. “This won’t end, Victor, this love I have for you, it’ll never die,” I promise.

  “Close your eyes, honey, let me paint you one last picture,” I cry.

  He did as I asked, closing his eyes tightly. I swallow down the lump lodged in my throat, trying desperately to pull myself together as every chamber of my heart cracks and splits wide open.

  How do you say goodbye to the love of your life?

  You don’t.

  You give him something to hang on to as he waits for you to join him.

  “I’m wearing a turquoise silk jumpsuit, the very same one I wore when you first laid eyes on me. I look the same as I did that night, the lines from my face are gone, my hair is brown, but there is a lost look in my eyes as I wander around. I don’t know what I’m searching for but I know the moment I see you with your hand extended toward me, it’s you, you’re exactly what I’ve been searching for.”

  He keeps his eyes closed as tears spill from the corners and I do my best to wipe them away, eventually I resign, allowing them to fall, for they are the tears of the love we will one day find again and I welcome them, adding my own to them.

  We will meet again.

  “You’re wearing that same charcoal suit, with the black turtleneck and gold chain. Your lines have faded, your hair just as dark as it was that first night, and when you smile at me, it’s a smile full of promise. You ask me my name and I tell you, waiting for you to repeat it back because this is a familiar dance we’re taking,” I continue, stopping a moment to clear my throat.

  “I ask you who you are and butterflies take flight inside me as I await your answer. You grin at me and I learn you’re cocky, you're confident, and more than that you believe wholeheartedly the words you’re about to utter.” My voice trails off as I watch his lips part.

  “Me? I’m the man you’re going to spend all of eternity with,” he whispers as his eyes flutter open, applying the final touches to the picture I was painting, reminding me this was our picture. Our life. Our love.

/>   “That’s right,” I reply, holding his face as I lean closer to him. “Forever and always, my love.”

  “I love you, Gracie,” he rasps. His hands travel up my sides, slowly, knowing it’s the last journey they’ll ever take over me. Finally, he takes my face and I close my eyes as his lips brush across mine.

  Soft and endearing.

  Painfully heartbreaking.

  Lovingly, Victor kisses me one last time. Thirty years of love, three decades of memories and all the lessons we’ve learned melt into that one kiss affirming the one thing that may have once been lost to us—the beautiful love we created will never die.

  We’ve found eternal love in a sea full of illicit temptations.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I whisper against his lips, pulling back a fraction to stare into his handsome face one last time.

  “Goodbye my love, until we meet again,” he says softly.

  And we would meet again.

  He’ll be the man in the charcoal suit.

  I’ll be the woman in a turquoise jumpsuit.

  He’ll grin at me and I’ll take his hand and together we’ll be.

  Always together.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  It takes a special breed to kill. For me, there has always been a ritual I take part in before I commit the act. In the early days, Val and I would get pissed drunk on a bottle of Dewar’s before we took our guns to the streets. When I became the boss my hands rarely ever got dirty, but I had trust issues, never willing to leave room for error, I always took care of the bodies. I’d drive seven hours to the middle of nowhere, blasting Sinatra’s ‘My Way’ with a shovel beside me and a corpse in the trunk of my Cadillac.