Finally Mine: A Small Town Love Story

by Lucy Score

  Something like tears and fear clawed at the back of his throat.

  “You’re beautiful,” she whispered.

  “Gloria.” All he had was her name, her touch anchoring him to this place. And that was everything.

  “So beautiful,” she murmured. With one hand still gently stroking his mangled leg, she reached into his boxer briefs and brought her mouth to his cock.

  His heart shattered into a thousand tiny slivers that carved his chest open. Light and heat rushed in like a door flying open on a summer day.

  She was touching him with love, with lust. Everything he worried he wasn’t worthy of.

  “Is this okay?” she asked again, her breath hot on the crown of his dick. He ached for more. More softness, more words, more of her beautiful mouth.

  Aldo nodded. He slipped his hands into her hair, gently rubbing her scalp as those magical lips closed around the tip of his erection again.

  Fuck. The pleasure from her mouth taking him in one inch at a time was going to break him. This wasn’t sex. This was a spiritual experience. Two souls opening to one another, the most vulnerable they could be. Together.

  She was an angel. Absolving him of his pain. She welcomed him to a place where there was only room for pleasure and awe as two bodies worshipped each other.

  Gloria moaned as his hands stroked her neck, her shoulders. He needed to honor her, to touch her, to give her pleasure with every touch. There were dark fingerprints on her that she was trusting him to erase. He wouldn’t take that responsibility lightly.

  Keeping one hand on his knee, Gloria used her free hand to grip him at the root of his thick cock, pumping.

  A fire lit in his balls as they tensed and pulled up against him. If he didn’t stop it now, it would turn into a raging wildfire. Aldo was so far from being done with her. He had a decade’s worth of fantasies stored up. So much pleasure to give.

  Her head bobbed between his legs, and Aldo’s eyes rolled back in his head. Tongue and teeth and lips were being used against him as weapons of destruction. “Gloria,” he growled. When she didn’t listen, when she continued her measured torture, he slid his hands under her arms and pulled her up.

  His hard-on popped free of her mouth and immediately began to ache for more of Gloria’s touch.

  “I want you in bed,” he confessed.

  “Okay.”

  “I can’t walk there,” he told her, eyes sliding to his prosthesis.

  “Lean on me.” She stood, offering him her hand. When he stood, when she slid her shoulder under his arm and he placed his weight on her, he knew humility.

  The walk to the bed was short, and once they arrived, Gloria seemed to not know what to do next. He kissed her, long and deep, tasting her, teasing her. “Lay on the bed, beautiful.”

  She did as she was told, reclining dead center on the mattress. He watched her as he undressed. Pulling his shirt off over his head. He balanced on his good leg and slid his boxer briefs down.

  Her gasp. Her earthy, lusty, glazed-eye delight kindled a desire in him so powerful that he didn’t care if he didn’t survive it. He would do whatever was in his power to please her. To heal her the way she was healing him.

  “Oh my God. You’re perfection,” she murmured.

  He shook his head. “You look at me like…like I’m something incredible,” he said, sliding onto the mattress. He lifted her feet in his hands, kissed her ankles. “You look at me like I’m a hero.”

  “You are, Aldo. You’re my hero.”

  He slid the straps of her sexy as fuck shoes off and gently removed them, brushing kisses over the arches of her feet. She moaned, and it was a symphony to his ears.

  Aldo started on her pants next. He unhooked the clasp, slid the zipper down, and gently tugged them from her body one leg at a time. Dear God. The peekaboo black lace under her shirt matched what was under her pants. Scraps barely obscuring the skin beneath. He’d hardly touched her, and already he was certain she’d taken him to heaven.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful, Gloria. So fucking everything to me.”

  He let his fingers, big, blunt instruments, stroke over the flat of her stomach, the gentle curves of her hips, enjoying the tease of lace that acted as speedbumps. Warning him to slow down and savor what was beneath.

  Her breath was shallow. “I can’t catch my breath, Aldo.”

  He paused, thumbs resting under her belly button while his palms splayed out over her stomach and waist. His cock hung heavily, dipping toward that black lace between her spread legs.

  She had scars, too. Tiny ones, silvered with age. Symbols of trauma survived. Adversity conquered. And a tattoo that marked her victory. She was his hero.

  “Don’t you dare stop,” Gloria gasped. “I don’t care if I have oxygen. I just want you. All of you. Every piece, every scar, every millimeter of flawed perfection. You’re mine, Aldo. Please make me yours.”

  He went a little blind and a little deaf. His hands shook as they moved up her torso to the last three buttons that kept her hidden from him. One. Two. Three. He worked them open, and the sound that rose from his throat when she was bared to him was like a desperate man’s plea.

  He was desperate. He’d told himself he could wait. Could find a way to make it perfect. But perfect wasn’t what Gloria wanted. She wanted him, flaws and all.

  Lowering down slowly, his cock brushing the inside of one silky thigh, Aldo pressed his lips to her heart.

  “Oh my God.” She was chanting now, and there were tears in her eyes. Or maybe those were his tears in his eyes.

  He lifted up and filled his hands with her breasts, thumbs stroking the tender points beneath the lace. She bucked against him, and his cock twitched in anticipation. “Get me out of this thing,” she breathed, tugging at the straps of her bra.

  With pleasure.

  One-handed, he found the clasp at the back and released it.

  “Show off,” she teased.

  But he couldn’t joke. He couldn’t smile. His body was consumed by what was happening under him. Her breasts spilled free, and he looked his fill, brushing his fingers lightly over the round flesh. Her nipples were dark and hard, and there was no way in hell he could do anything but lower his mouth to those tender points and taste.

  One brush of tongue, the fastening of his lips around her peak, and Gloria’s hips bridged off the mattress, pinning his cock between their bodies.

  “Fuck. Oh my God. Oh my. I’m going to die and I don’t care—” She lost her breath and her words when he started to suck, pulling the point into his mouth.

  She rocked against his erection, begging with her body. He wanted to be buried inside her, wanted to feel her walls quicken around him as he rode her to an orgasm so explosive they’d be melded together for eternity. He needed to join their bodies. Just the thought of being buried in her had precum leaking from his tip like a faucet turned on, soaking the front of her lace panties.

  He switched to her neglected breast and feasted there, while she moaned and writhed beneath him, Gloria tried to wriggle her way out of her underwear, and it drove him mad. He’d never been wanted like this. Desired. Craved.

  He nuzzled at her breast and slid his fingers into the front of her underwear. God. She was wet and beyond ready. The heat between her legs called to him, a siren’s song he heard in his blood.

  “Glo, I don’t have a condom.”

  “I’m clean. I’m tested.” She whispered the words between peppering kisses and bites across his chest.

  “What about birth control?”

  “I’m on it. And there is nothing that I want to feel more than your bare cock inside me.”

  Everything went black for a second or two, and then he was yanking her underwear down her legs. It got tangled up on an ankle, but it didn’t matter. The promised land was before him.

  He couldn’t help himself. Aldo gripped his cock and guided it through her slit, letting their arousals mingle. Flesh to flesh. Nothing had ever felt this decadent, th
is good, this right before.

  Gloria hitched her knees up higher.

  “Aldo, if you wait one second longer, I’m going to die right here, unfulfilled.”

  “I’d do anything for you, Gloria. Anything.” And with that vow, Aldo drove himself into her.

  61

  Gloria wasn’t clear on the physics of it all. However, she had been operating on the assumption that there was no way that Aldo Moretta’s magnificent cock should have fit inside her. But fit it did. And even stretched right up to and maybe just a bit beyond her limits, she was hurtling toward the second orgasm of her life, and he hadn’t even moved a damn muscle yet.

  “Oh, sweet Jesus,” Aldo gasped into her neck and shoulder.

  He was sheathed in her. Bound to her. Just that joining, that scrape of his chest hair over her sensitive nipples, his expletive-laden gasp of joy, made her come.

  She felt it rise up in her like a prayer lifting to the heavens and then break around them in a dazzling array of fireworks. She felt it in her fingertips, her toes, the roots of her hair. She was coming so hard Gloria couldn’t tell if her eyes were open or closed because there was nothing but fireworks.

  Aldo grunted dark, dirty words of praise as she clamped around his cock like a vice. Then he moved. She didn’t know enough about orgasms to know if this was the same one or Round Two. But either way, if she could have told Aldo “I told you so,” she would have.

  As it was, she’d lost the power of speech.

  His breath was hot on her cheek, his soft grunts as he withdrew only to sink back into her welcoming flesh were sinfully erotic. For a woman who had only experienced mediocre sex with a lousy lover, Aldo Moretta was a Sex God. He used those long, slow thrusts to drive her insane. Gloria writhed beneath him, joyfully accepting his weight on her. She hitched her hips up higher, begging for more speed.

  He was making love to her. Honoring her with his body.

  “There’s so much I want to show you, give you,” he said, pressing kisses to her neck, her jaw, as he moved inside her. “This isn’t enough.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “We have all night.”

  “Still not enough.” He caught her lower lip between his teeth. “I want to show you all the ways you can come. I want to taste you, every single inch of you. I want to belong to you.”

  “Oh, God, Aldo.” Her teeth chattered. Those delicate inner walls were already tremoring again at his words. “Don’t stop!” she hissed.

  Oh, God. She was yelling orders at her lover while he was inside her. Two orgasms, and she’d turned into some needy dominatrix.

  He cracked a half grin. “Say it again, and I’ll move,” he promised.

  Aldo gave her a teasing half-thrust. And it worked. “Gah! Aldo!”

  Master of Self Control Aldo lazily increased his speed, taking his time so Gloria could feel every ridge and vein of his shaft as he pumped her toward her next orgasm. She wanted to memorize this moment. The feel of his chest pressing against hers, flattening her breasts to him. The sweat that slicked both their bodies was evidence of their desperate need for each other. He glided into her, stretching her tight around him.

  Gloria felt every nerve ending in her body wake up and start firing. Her body had one purpose: to climax or die trying. That miraculous quickening tickled her core as he drove into her once more. He was so careful with her. So gentle. And it was beautiful. Their bodies were a work of art, a constellation of scars and strength and grit. Together they made something beautiful.

  “Aldo.” She couldn’t close her eyes on his gaze. Not when it enhanced the connection of their bodies.

  “I feel you, Gloria,” he gritted out. “I feel you getting tighter, sweetheart.” He swore, sweat dotting his forehead as he carried them both toward the finish line.

  “Can you…with me?” She tried to pry the words out around a tortured moan of pleasure.

  His breathing tripped up, and she felt the change in him, letting a tiny bit of control go. He stared into her as his cock flexed inside her.

  They groaned together. Gloria dug her heels into Aldo’s very firm ass cheeks. She wanted to bite them, wondered if that was weird, and decided she didn’t care.

  His dark words whispered against her throat told her he liked it. And when he sank into her again, he lifted her hips with those strong, callused hands.

  Something caught fire inside her, ignited. She clenched around him, fingers stabbing into those broad shoulders. Her entire body went rigid as the first wave of the orgasm paralyzed her.

  “Aldo!” She screamed his name, and he was right there with her.

  She felt the first jet of his release explode deep inside her, and her world went bright. Yes. Perfection.

  His breath stopped, heart stopped, body frozen for one heartbeat, and then they were coming together. His release, the mingling of their bodies’ arousals was a baptism of sorts for Gloria. This was what sex should be. This bonding, this joining. This wall of pleasure and beauty that they built together only to be buried under.

  This was love.

  “I think we should get married.” Aldo gasped out.

  Gloria laughed, unwittingly clamping down on the penis still buried inside her. He groaned and shifted his hips against her.

  “Are you okay?” Aldo asked, pressing his lips to her hair. He sounded…beautifully wrecked.

  “What’s better than okay?” she asked, nuzzling into his chest. With one finger, she traced the outline of her birds that he’d put on his skin.

  “Good? Great? Perfect?” he teased.

  “Amazed,” she decided. “Amazed and humbled and happy and glowing.”

  “That’s a lot better than okay,” he teased, tracing a finger over her lower lip. “There’s so much more I want to show you.”

  “There’s more? I might need some food and some oxygen and maybe some celebratory wine first. But I’m yours tonight.”

  “And tomorrow?” he asked. He was still half hard inside her. Still wholly dangerous.

  “Tomorrow, too,” she said magnanimously. As far as she was concerned, the man could have her body for the rest of both their lives.

  “Oh, hey. Asking for a friend,” she said lightly. “Are guys freaked out when a girl cries after sex?”

  “Depends on why she’s crying,” he said gruffly, his own voice tight with emotion.

  “Because you made her feel like a goddess.”

  Aldo let out a shaky breath. “You’re my fucking miracle, Gloria.”

  “And you’re mine.” She grinned up at him, started to pull him down for a kiss. But he paused, his eyes dancing with mischief.

  “I am pretty incredible, aren’t I?”

  Old Aldo was back.

  62

  “Why do you have my laundry basket?” Gloria asked when Aldo whistled his way out of her bedroom with a week’s worth of laundry.

  Ivan launched himself off the back of Gloria’s couch to pounce on something on the rug only visible to insane kittens.

  She was still getting used to having Aldo around her place. Sometimes she glanced up and found him half-naked, reading reports on his laptop, and she would inwardly swoon. He made everything normal seem sexy and fascinating.

  That one-night seduction had driven their relationship directly into the fast lane. They spent every night together whether it was here at her place or in Aldo’s house. Where the walls were now that perfect hunter green she’d once fantasized about.

  His broad shoulders heaved up, then dropped. “I’m doing laundry today. Figured I’d save you a trip to the laundromat.”

  Gloria stopped fiddling with the coffeemaker and stared at him. It was as simple and as devastating as that. She was in love with the man.

  The realization nearly took her out at the knees. It was a menial, domestic task. One that she’d been doing herself since junior high. Glenn didn’t know where the laundromat was, let alone how to operate a washing machine. In all their years together, he had never once thanked her for
all the clean shirts and pants she’d neatly stowed for him.

  “Why do you look like you’re going to cry?” Aldo asked, suddenly concerned.

  Ivan raced over and attacked her bare foot. She shook him off and threw one of the cat’s four million stuffed mice across the floor. He darted after it, a dangerous, fluffy hunter on the loose.

  “You’re really going to do my laundry?” she asked. He’d even stripped the sheets that they’d nearly shredded last night from the bed.

  “I have a washer and dryer at my place. It’s stupid for you to lose a whole afternoon going across town to the laundromat.”

  Little pink hearts had to be exploding out of her eyes.

  “Aldo, I think I—”

  Her spontaneous confession of affection was cut off by a staccato knock at the door.

  “I got it,” Aldo said, dropping the basket and beating her to the door. Ever the protector. “Gloria, there’s a goofy cop asking for donuts.”

  He stepped back to let the uniformed Ty into the apartment.

  “Moretta, don’t you ever wear clothes?” Ty asked.

  Aldo flexed for him and winked at Gloria. Yep. The Old Aldo was back. And Gloria realized that for the first time in a long time, she hadn’t compared her life to Other Gloria. The Gloria Who Left Glenn the First Time might have been sweating her way through a Pilates class before brunch, but she hadn’t spent all night making love to Aldo. It was a win for the record books.

  “I was just making some coffee,” Gloria said. “Do you want a cup?”

  “If it’s no trouble. I have some news for you about Diller.”

  Gloria turned her back on the men and stepped into the kitchen. There was one fucking person who could ruin everything for her. For them.

  She sent up a silent prayer as she poured two mugs. Please don’t let him touch this life.

  Ty thanked her for the coffee, and Aldo tucked her under his arm. “Spit it out, Adler. What’s the latest.”

  “He pled guilty.”

  Gloria felt her eyebrows climb her forehead. “He did?”