by Stone, M. T.
“Oh, fuck!” She grasps my shoulders as she begins to shudder, her breathing stops, and her legs are completely tense. Knowing that I’ve sent her into a total state of bliss, I continue my pace, wanting to give her an over-the-top experience. “Please stop . . . please . . . don’t stop,” she gasps, confirming what I already knew. She was someone who lived for going to the edge, then going beyond that edge in order to find out what lies beyond oblivion.
Without saying a word, I tightened my grip on her ass and thrust as strongly and deeply as possible. Everything that I had been feeling the past several days was suddenly surfacing in the form of uncontrolled lust. I want to fuck this woman like I have never fucked anyone in my entire life. Like she has never been fucked before. I want this to be a night she will never forget, and I want to claim her body in a way that will leave all other men completely inept. Her cries fill the room as I use every ounce of my strength to express the intensity of the feelings inside me. They all pour out in a wave of passion that finally comes to a stunning climax. I pull my hands from beneath her and cradle her head as I feel the inevitable approaching. With one final stroke, I bury myself deep within her and kiss her passionately as we both cascade over the final edge and into the abyss. “That was amazing,” I finally say, pulling back from her lips.
She doesn’t reply but simply nods her head in affirmation as tears stream from the corners of her eyes. I squeeze her tightly, not wanting to let go as I feel her body trembling beneath me. I’m not sure if she is crying because she’s overwhelmed or because of all the hurt that she has been harboring inside for so many years. It’s probably a combination of the two. I have no words to offer her, so I simply continue to hold her tightly.
Chapter 12
Victoria
I awaken in the early morning hours, still feeling a warmth that has eluded me my entire life. I have always thought there was something wrong with me, that it caused me to be truly unable to feel normal emotions. Growing up with an emotionally distant father and a deeply depressed mother, I assumed that maybe my bonding mechanism hadn’t been properly formed. Long ago, I accepted the fact that I was incapable of developing deep interpersonal connections. Yesterday was the first time I have cried since shortly after my mother died. I don’t remember exactly when I stopped crying, but it was well before my fifteenth birthday. At the time, my nanny seemed relieved by my lack of emotion, so it soon became the norm. I’m not exactly sure what happened yesterday, but it was definitely a major emotional turning point of some kind.
“Are you feeling better?” Devon asks with a look of concern, pushing the hair away from my face with his finger.
“I honestly feel better than I have in a long time.” I smile, snuggling into him. “I’m sorry if all that crying freaked you out. You really weren’t that bad.” I smile against his chest, trying to get this day started right with a little humor.
“I thought maybe I had broken you or something.” He smiles, giving me a look that reflects the emotions that I’m feeling inside. “I couldn’t tell if they were tears of sadness or joy, so you had me a little confused.”
“It was a lot of both,” I whisper. “I tend to keep things bottled up. That was about thirteen years’ worth of tears. Once they started, they wouldn’t stop.”
“I’m not a crier either,” he replies with a slight quiver of his lip. “Real men don’t cry. I think the last time I cried was when my high school girlfriend cheated on me. It was with my best friend, so that one really hurt.”
“Ouch, that would suck,” I reply, imagining how painful it would be to lose someone you love and your best friend all at the same time. “I’ve been lucky in that regard. I’ve never loved anyone enough to be hurt by them. Except my mom.”
“Oh, I think Victor hurt you pretty badly yesterday,” he says perceptively. “But, you said yourself that he makes unemotional business decisions. So you really can’t take it personally. For some reason, he thinks that Eduardo will be better for business.”
“He said something about Ed making inroads with the Irish.” I feel the light bulb lighting up overhead as the words leave my mouth. “Maybe he has been working with the Irishman, promising to cut them in on the territory down here. Dad seems to think he can create a solidarity between them and the Sicilians, something that has eluded my father as well as all generations before him.”
“That’ll be the fucking day,” Devon scoffs. “Even the Italians have had a hell of a time getting along with the Sicilians over the years. In fact, my grandfather came to power as a result of a bloody power struggle between the two factions.”
“I know. I read your file. Papa Joe was a legend.” I pause for a moment, not sure if I should say it. “My father was a fan of his, even though he wasn’t Sicilian.”
“Wow, Papa would be impressed. So why does he hate me so much?”
“Because you left Detroit and claimed one of his most profitable territories as your own,” I reply, giving him a nudge in the ribs. “What time is it?” I ask, noticing the first rays of the early morning sun. I want more than five minutes to get ready this time.
“It’s almost five,” he replies, looking at his phone. “I suppose we should get moving. I usually have to go through a couple of extra procedures to make it past the TSA.” He grins and shakes his head.
“Full cavity search?” I snicker.
“Hopefully not.” He slips out from under the covers and stretches. I relax for a moment, content to watch him stretching out his rippling muscles. “Are you going to join me?” He reaches out his hand.
“No. I’m just enjoying the show. You’re kind of making me horny again,” I tease. Not that I’m really teasing. “If we had more time, I would push for a repeat of last night, but I want to actually wear makeup today. I have to figure out what to take with us too. It’s going to be hotter than hell down there.”
“Just grab a couple of string bikinis and your flip flops,” he replies with a smirk.
“Yeah, I’m sure Grandpa and Grandma would be impressed if I showed up in that.” No grandparents want to see their twenty-eight-year-old granddaughter in a string bikini. “I think I’ll stick to khaki shorts and tank tops.”
“Whatever.” He shrugs, holding out my robe for me.
“A gangster and a gentleman. I like it.” I slip from beneath the sheets and into the luxurious white robe.
“I’ll show you gangster,” he hisses, pretending to bite my neck. “Are you sure you need an hour to get ready?”
“Yes, I definitely need a shower and a little time to organize myself.” I give him a kiss before pulling back to make my exit before I give in to my desires. “How long do you think we’ll be gone?”
“I don’t know. I’m planning on one night, but I can always push back our flight if we need to stay longer,” he replies, making perfect sense. “When you’re done getting ready, just give me a call. I’ll come up and get your luggage. There’s no use wasting money on a hotel room. You can just leave everything here that you don’t need.”
“Just so you know, I’m not the kind of girl who moves in after a couple of good lays,” I inform him, narrowing my eyes for effect.
“How many does it take?” he asks, trying to act serious.
“At least a dozen.” I snicker. “As long as they all include full-fledged orgasms.”
“Have the orgasms been up to your rigid standards thus far?” he asks, throwing in a pretty decent British accent.
“They have been spectacular! Simply divine,” I counter, matching his accent. “By the way, how did a strapping Italian like you end up with a British first name?” I ask out of sheer curiosity.
“My mother has a speck of English blood,” he replies, keeping up the accent. “So she thought she would name me in honor of her British heritage.” He laughs and appears to be recalling a good memory. “My dad always teases her about how little English blood she actually has in her. He says that only her big toe is British.”
“At least
you got a cool name out of the deal.” I give him another quick kiss before heading for the door. “I’ve always found British accents to be sexy.”
“Alrighty then . . . cheerio!” He gives me a little wave as I close the door behind me. He’s sexy as hell even when he’s acting like a dork. I’m glad he likes being naked. I could get used to that view. I swallow hard as I enter the elevator, knowing that it took every ounce of my willpower to get out of there without jumping his bones again. I’ve only really known him for a week, but he has already taken me to heights I never could’ve imagined. I look up at the sky through the glass elevator and send a silent wish that we get some good news in Colombia. Then it hits me—I should probably wear more than just a robe if I’m going to use the glass elevator. At least I only have to ride it to the sixteenth floor.
Devon
Tiny is completely annoyed after I send him a text to let him know that Victoria and I are going to Colombia without him. My phone rings within seconds of my sending the message. He’s always been a little over-protective, and the fact that we are going to visit Victoria’s grandparents doesn’t seem to put his mind at ease. The fact that it was totally a last-minute decision doesn’t appease him either. “What good are bodyguards if you don’t take us along when you go to one of the most dangerous countries in the world?” he asks, making a valid point.
“There were only two open seats for this morning’s flight,” I explain. “We won’t even be sitting together unless we can get someone to switch with us.”
“Do you have to go today?” he asks, sounding more like a scolding parent than a bodyguard.
“Yes. Victoria’s father informed her yesterday that he has chosen her half-brother to replace him at The Syndicate. On top of that, I found out this morning that this kid has been befriending the Irish,” I add, knowing that it will get him steamed. “We have to talk with her grandfather directly to see how much control they have over the coke supply. If we can’t cut a deal with them, we’ll probably be cut out of everything around here.”
“But we’ll still have the racket, right?” he asks, looking for some good news.
I relay what Victoria told me. “Victor thinks that we have been cutting into his sales by making the businesses pay for the extra protection. A lot of them are his distributors.”
“Fuck!” he shouts, expressing the same thoughts that I’ve been having the past two days. “Then what? Go back to Detroit and compete for scraps? Or maybe go legit?” He laughs as if it’s a completely crazy notion. Tiny was a brute by the time he was in eighth grade, so he’s been offering protection services for as long I’ve known him. He’s never held down a real job and he wasn’t exactly the studious type.
“There’s always demand for the services you and Felix offer,” I assure him. “I’ll make sure you guys are taken care of if everything goes south. Besides, I’m not one who gives up very easily. I think Victoria and I will come back with a deal, and if we have to gear up to defend our territory, that’s exactly what we’ll do.”
“Do you want me to start making some calls?” he asks, knowing that it would take a crazy amount of manpower to take on the Irish, much less The Syndicate. Having any success whatsoever against those two would also take a fucking miracle.
“I want you to check on Felix and after that, give the Sandman a call. He’s a pretty good shit, and you guys need to get to know each other.” I pause, wondering how much I should share with everyone. “Make him understand that we might be facing some adversity when it comes to taking over the pipeline, but we are still committed to sharing with them if things work out.”
“So you want me to plant a seed?” he asks, immediately picking up on what I’m implying.
“Yeah. We couldn’t get enough outside help quickly enough. I’ve kind of lost touch with a lot of the old gang.” I stop, wondering whether the gangbangers would actually be reliable enough to count on.
“I’ll plant a seed, but I’m still going to make a few calls on the side,” he replies, sensing my apprehension. “We can’t put all our eggs in one basket. We gotta spread it around a bit.”
“You’re a smart man, Tiny. I don’t care what Felix says about you,” I tease, knowing the competitive nature of their relationship.
“Fuck . . . I look like fucking Albert Frankenstein compared to that guy.” He snorts.
“Albert Einstein?” I laugh out loud.
“That’s what I said,” he retorts. “Albert fucking Einstein. You fucking smartass.”
“You’re right. I’ll keep in touch and let you know when we’re on the ground,” I tell him, knowing I’d better hit the shower and get ready before Victoria calls.
“I’ll keep things under control around here,” he says with a sigh. “I really hate that you’re going without me though.”
“I know. Thanks, bud. It won’t happen again.” I hang up, knowing that Tiny will be with me right to the end. The man would truly put his life on the line for me, and that’s not something you find every day. Felix is a great bodyguard too, but he doesn’t have the fierce loyalty of Tiny. As I step into the shower, I’m feeling so many mixed emotions. I want things to work out for us not only for myself, but for Victoria and the guys. With what I’ve learned about her past, I’m feeling that she deserves a break just as much as we do. Feeling the hot, steamy water cascading down upon me, I steel my resolve to make it happen. We are going to own this town.
Chapter 13
Victoria
My heart flutters at the sound of tires screeching below us as we touch down on the runway in Cali. I was a senior in college the last time I was here for summer vacation, before starting law school. My father hasn’t stepped foot in the country since my mother died, so it was always a solo trip for me. I make a mental note to bring flowers to her grave if I get a chance before we leave. It’s the least I can do for her.
“Are you okay?” Devon asks, placing his hand on mine.
“Yeah, but I think my tear dam is still broken from yesterday, and there are still more in there,” I reply, wiping tears from my face for the fourth time in less than twenty-four hours.
“It’s okay. I hear that having emotions is a good thing.” He pats my hand and looks at me with a solemn look of understanding.
“So far, I don’t like it one bit.” I pull out a tissue and wipe the remaining tears away while trying to avoid messing up my mascara. “I don’t want to look like a fucking raccoon when I meet my grandparents.” I force a laugh, trying to ease the tension within me, but I know that seeing them for the first time in five years is going to be emotional for both of us. They were obviously shocked this morning when I called them out of the blue. They were even more surprised to hear that I would be landing within a few hours. They immediately offered to pick us up at the airport, however, which is good. I remember having to take a long, winding road through the forest to the plantation south of the city. I would have no clue how to find it.
Stepping out of the plane, I immediately remember why I quit coming here in the summer. I can feel the sweat trickling from my pores by the time I reach the bottom of the stairs and step onto the scorching tarmac. “That must be them,” I tell Devon as an ominous-looking black Suburban heads toward us. “Here, let me carry one of the bags,” I add after noticing that he resembles a pack mule.
“Did you leave anything at my place?” He laughs, setting down all of the bags.
“Hey, it’s hard to know what to pack,” I reply, giving him the evil eye.
“It’s ninety degrees and ninety percent humidity. You don’t actually need any clothes, just an air conditioner.” He wipes the sweat from his brow and waits for the SUV to come to a stop. “These guys look badass.”
Yes, they do. Immediately upon coming to a rest, three guys resembling secret service agents spring from the vehicle wielding what look to be AK-47s. “Welcome to Colombia,” I joke, wiggling my eyebrows. My grandfather is one of the most powerful men in the country, and it seems that he’s gro
wn a little more protective with age. Only after one of the men yells back to him that everything is secure does he exit the vehicle, accompanied by my grandmother. She looks incredibly frail compared to the last time I saw her. He takes her by the hand and I meet them halfway. “Grandma,” I greet her, holding out my arms. As we hug, I can feel that she is nothing but skin and bones. She can’t weigh more than a hundred pounds.
“You have grown into a beautiful young woman,” she says upon pulling back, looking me over from head to toe.
“Just like your mother,” Grandpa adds, moving in to give me a hug as well. “You look good.”
“Thanks. You guys look great too,” I reply, still a bit stunned by how sickly my grandmother looks. “This is Devon DeLuca.” I turn back toward him to make the introduction. “Devon, these are my grandparents, Antonio and Valeria.”
“Ah, another Italian.” Grandfather sighs. “You really are just like your mother.”
“His family came from Italy, not Sicily,” I inform him, not wanting them to judge him based on the experiences they have had with my father. “His grandfather was famous back in Detroit.”
“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” Grandpa says graciously, reaching out to shake his hand. “We’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another, but let’s get off the tarmac. Open spaces like this always make me nervous.”
“A couple of overzealous DEA agents opened fire on him right over there,” Grandma says dryly, pointing to the next gate. “Of course, things have settled down quite a bit in the last twenty-five years.” She gives him a crossways glance as if it’s an old, tired story.
