Below the Belt

by Sidney Halston

  “What do you mean? I already told you, I didn’t know you’d be coming over.”

  “I don’t mean to bombard you with questions, but I’m just trying to reconcile the woman I’ve known for months and this one. I mean, you seem more like yourself right now than you do in those snooty clothes. Why’s that?”

  She groaned. “You know where I grew up. I was one of the guys, and I don’t mean it in a cutesy kind of way. I mean, I made guys cry. I’d enter a competition, and all the guy knew was that he was fighting somebody named Frankie, then I’d show up and they never saw it coming. So a few times I made some of the guys cry. Guys stayed away from me—romantically. They didn’t seem to mind when I was around the gym, but no one ever saw me as more than Frankie who could kick ass. Then I started noticing the guys and I wanted them to notice me. But they didn’t—except for Rodrigo. He was always able to look beyond the gym shorts, sneakers, and T-shirts. Until he started sleeping with all the pretty ring girls and the groupies. Then we divorced and I wanted to be as different from Frankie as possible. Someone men would want—not trampy like the groupies, just someone who was…feminine. So I started dressing up, wearing makeup. I found that I liked it. I liked how it made me look, how it made me feel, how it made men take notice. How I got respect. I never want to be that person again, the frumpy tomboy with no friends. So I left her behind.”

  “Oh, cariño.” He cupped her face. “This is going to be hard to say, but I’m going to say it anyway. Francesca, obviously you’re not the frumpy tomboy anymore. But what friends do you have?” She winced. “Let me finish. You’ve been slowly developing friendships, but you’ve been here for months and it’s taken you forever to open up just enough to allow a few people in. I’ve had to claw my way in. Your clothes aren’t the problem. You need to be yourself, not some persona you’ve created who’s a standoffish version of the beautiful woman I’ve come to care about.”

  Her lips quivered and she looked away, but he gently turned her face back toward his. “My beautiful girl.” He kissed the corner of her lips. “You’re going to be okay, you know? But you need to start finding some happy medium between Frances and Frankie, because otherwise no one will ever get to know the real you, and cariño, the real you is someone people should know. The real you is an incredibly strong woman with a big soft heart.”

  “Thanks, Tony.” She turned to face him.

  “And the eight-year sex hiatus?”

  “I did date. I kissed a few guys. I wasn’t a nun or anything. I did go out, but never more than a few dates before breaking it off. Usually they broke it off since I didn’t put out. I was afraid of getting too emotionally attached and getting hurt again, and I don’t trust men not to hurt me, so it just became easier not to date. What’s the point of sleeping with someone and putting my feelings on the line just to get heartbroken again?”

  “Isn’t it better to try than to close yourself off completely?”

  “I’m scared of letting my guard down and letting you in,” Francesca admitted.

  “I promise I won’t hurt you.”

  “I know, honey.” She caressed his back. “It seems that whether I like it or not, I’ve already let you in. Or should I say, you’ve kind of snuck up and let yourself in.”

  He laughed. “Can I kiss you?”

  She nodded, and he reached down and gave her a tender kiss on the lips, then kissed her eyes, nose, and forehead. “I’m kind of scared too,” he said before taking her hand and leading her to her room. Slowly he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled them down. Francesca stood awkwardly beside him and watched him take his shirt off and push his boxers down, leaving him standing naked. When he was finished he sauntered over to her and pulled her shirt off her in an equally leisurely manner. Then he hooked his fingers under the elastic of her simple white panties and pulled them down her legs. He walked her over to the bed, where she lay down and he climbed on top of her. His forearms were on either side of her face, and he was stroking her cheeks with his thumb. He brought his head down and began kissing her. Whenever the kiss became frantic, he’d slow it down. He reached one hand between them and began to touch her. She tried to writhe under him, but the weight of his body on hers didn’t allow for it. He put his hands back by her face and slowly slid inside her and began to move gently, his eyes never leaving hers.

  “Tony,” she whispered, her voice strangled with emotions.

  “I know.” He shifted down and kissed her lips tenderly. “I know.”

  Her arms went around his neck, bringing him closer. Their bodies fused together as their hearts followed. He could see the emotion in her eyes. He felt it too.

  —

  Francesca’s ankles locked together around his hip, bringing him even closer—which seemed almost impossible. His hand began to trail down her body, stopping at her nipples. The pressure was building and she wanted—no, needed—a release, but he wasn’t speeding it up. As he continued to move inside her, his hand began to caress and pull her nipple, making her writhe in pleasure.

  “I know you feel you always have to have the upper hand. But just let go—let me take care of you. This is going to be good for you. And it’s going to be damned good for me. It already is, because you’re here.” His lips trailed under her ear, and his sensuous words were making her crazy. But she knew she probably wouldn’t come because he was going too slowly; she also knew he wouldn’t come until she did. She remembered how Rodrigo hated when she took too long. Even though sex with Rodrigo hadn’t necessarily been bad, it had been lackluster. It was something that they just did. She experienced orgasms, but it was normally always the same: insert tab A into slot B and repeat. She’d always wondered if her lack of experience and zest had been the reason he’d strayed.

  She didn’t want Tony to be turned off by their sex life. Even though she probably wouldn’t come, she wanted him to believe she could, because for the first time in a long time she wanted things to work out with a man. She wanted to please him, and a man like Tony wouldn’t be pleased if he couldn’t please his woman. She began to moan and clench her muscles. She needed him to believe whatever it was he needed to believe in order for him to come back for more. She squirmed and whimpered some more. “Oh, Tony,” she whispered breathily.

  He stopped suddenly. Her eyes shot open in confusion. “Tony!” She hit his back. “Keep moving! I was about to come.”

  “Bullshit.” He pulled out of her, reached behind him, unwrapped her legs, and sat up. “Listen up.” His voice was stern. It was the opposite of a bedroom voice, and it caught her off guard. “You’re not going to fake it.” He reached under and pulled her ass forward and parted her thighs further apart. He pushed back inside her, but in this position she felt very exposed and very vulnerable. “There’s no rush. I can do this all night, so don’t fuck with me by trying to fake it.” He thrust a little harder and ran his free hand along the length of her body, feeling all her curves. His callused hands sent a jolt through her body. “You are going to come for me, Francesca. But not yet. Right now you’re just going to close your eyes and feel.” He continued to caress her body as he worked himself in and out of her. “My hands on your neck, on your nipples…your stomach…” His hands went lower and lower, and so did his voice. It was barely a whisper. “Your pussy…” With that he began to rub her clit as he pumped in and out of her. “You’re so wet. I don’t know why you tried to fake it. I bet if I told you to come right now, you would.” She closed her eyes, and he continued to speak as he rubbed. “But I won’t. Just feel.”

  The tension was building to insurmountable levels and she was beyond the point of return. The man had some serious skills. There would not be any faking it. She was squirming for real now. She could feel a sheen of sweat begin to form behind her neck.

  “Open your eyes,” he commanded. She did, watching him lick his fingers, the same fingers that just seconds ago had been rubbing her. “Fuck. You taste so good.” He placed his hand back down there, opening her thighs wider for him.
And when he licked his own lips she was a goner.

  It was an out-of-body, universe-altering, mind-blowing, cataclysmic experience.

  He groaned as he too met his release. Then he let go of her thighs and collapsed on her. She’d never again even think about comparing this man to Rodrigo.

  —

  “What’s with the beard? You look like a bear.” It was five days later, and Francesca was sitting on her bed putting on her shoes.

  He playfully rubbed his cheek on her neck and face, causing her to giggle. “I don’t know. You don’t like it?”

  “It’s…different.” She ran her fingers through it. “It’s kind of growing on me.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been sleeping here for days now. Shaving hasn’t exactly been a priority. You’ve kept me pretty occupied. For someone who’s supposedly inexperienced, you’re wearing me out, woman.”

  She grabbed the nearest pillow and threw it at him. “Shut up.”

  He sat down next to her. “What do you have planned for today?”

  “I’m going to the Grid Iron to check up on things.”

  “I don’t like it when you go there. I hate the way the guys look at you.”

  “What guys? You’re being crazy.”

  “Not our guys so much, but the other guys. The ones from the Grid Iron.”

  “Honey, this jealousy thing you got goin’ on, it was cute for like five seconds, but now it’s annoying. Stop it.”

  “I know, I know.” He let out a breath. “It’s just, you know…” He pointed to her outfit. “I guess I can’t convince you to change into something more…?”

  “A bag over my head?”

  “Something like that.”

  She wrapped her hands around his waist. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Yes.” He placed a kiss on her head.

  “What are we doing?”

  He looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “You. Me. What is this? We’re not in a relationship—and believe me, I don’t want to be in one—yet you get all jealous? I don’t get it. The night of Chrissy and Jack’s wedding, you said you didn’t do relationships. But I’m pretty sure you’d flip out if I went out with someone else.”

  He stepped away from her. “I’m going to speak slowly so that I don’t lose my temper and so you don’t mock my accent.” He paced around the room a little before speaking again. “First off, were you planning on going out with someone else? Is there someone else? Did you want to go out with someone else?”

  “That seems like a first, second, and third off,” she said, laughing. “No. That’s not what I meant and you know it. There hasn’t been anyone for a long time, so no to all those questions.”

  He relaxed his shoulders. “Okay, good. Second question: How would you feel if I dated someone else?”

  “You better not be dating anyone else!” she hissed.

  He chuckled. “It seems we have to break things down with you when it comes to relationships. I don’t want to hear anything more about that night at the wedding. I told you already, I want to forget it happened. I was obviously stupid.”

  “I don’t want a relationship, I told you.”

  “Cariño, I’m gonna tell you a secret.” He brought his mouth close to her ear. “We’re already in a relationship.”

  She pushed back. “No. I—I don’t want that. You are not my boyfriend. And you don’t want to be my boyfriend.”

  “I’m thirty-four years old; I don’t like the word boyfriend either. How ’bout lover?” he said with a smile.

  “Shut up, Tony. I’m serious.” She walked away, but he grabbed her and drew her to him.

  “I’m serious too. I like you. I like you a lot. For the first time in a long time, I’m okay with this whole relationship thing. I want to see where it goes. I’m not getting any younger, and I don’t want to fuck around anymore. This last week with you has been great. Don’t you think?”

  “I guess.”

  “You can’t keep doing this to yourself, Francesca. I like spending time with you and it doesn’t scare me. It feels—well, it feels right, actually. You don’t want to label it, that’s fine, but I know that I don’t want to be with anyone else and I certainly don’t want you to be with anyone else. You can’t stand there and tell me you don’t agree with me.”

  She groaned. “I don’t like it when you make sense.”

  He laughed. “I know you don’t. You like me riled up, talking fast, mispronouncing words.”

  She ran her fingers through his hair and pulled him down. “That accent is sexy.” And then she kissed her boyfriend.

  “I’m going to go for a jog and then I’m going to get some clothes from the hotel.” He kissed her head again. “Then I’ll meet you at Grid Iron. You can wait for me to train, and we can have dinner after. Then come back here. Or maybe you won’t want to wait, since you’ll have been there already for a few hours. Maybe I should just meet you here and—”

  “Whoa! Slow down.”

  “I don’t want to go back to that cold hotel. Don’t make me,” he pouted, and she laughed. “Come on,” he whined. “Your bed is so much better than the hotel’s. And I’ll cook for you in your barely used kitchen. I like being here with you, and I need you to unlock the front door for me, so I’m trying to figure out some logistics.”

  “So it’s not me, it’s my comfy warm bed and quick access to my kitchen that you like.”

  “Exactly.” He grabbed her butt. “And I like the quick access to all your warm womanly parts more than the quick access to your kitchen. Although the food is a bonus.”

  She chuckled and walked to a drawer in her kitchen and pulled out a key. “Here.” She handed it to him. “Since I barely understand you half the time, giving you a key is just easier than trying to understand your logistical logic.”

  He closed his hand around the key as if it was the greatest treasure he’d ever been given. “You’re so sexy when you try to pretend you don’t want me around all the time.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I don’t. It’s just easier this way. You can come in and go out whenever you want.”

  He chuckled again. “Yeah, right.”

  Francesca reached for Tony’s wrist and snapped the rubber band on it, causing him to flinch. “Ouch! I find these things all over the house. I meant to give it to you.” He handed it to her.

  She put up her hair in a ponytail. “I know. I leave them everywhere.” She kissed him on the cheek sweetly.

  Before walking out, he yelled over his shoulder, “You’re totally falling for me, Francesca Silva, and I can’t wait to see your reaction when you figure it out.”

  Chapter 9

  A few days later, Tony and Francesca walked into the conference room of a ritzy hotel a few miles outside of Tarpon Springs for a press conference announcing the fight between Rodrigo and Tony. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Rodrigo; he’d called and texted her a few times, but she’d ignored the messages. She didn’t want to rehash the past. Having him around all of a sudden didn’t fit in with her plan to try to move forward.

  But of course, Rodrigo’s eyes found her almost as soon as she walked in. “Frankie,” he said, moving toward her with a smile. It was the same smile that used to leave her a blubbering mess. His dimples were out in full force, and if she’d been a lesser woman, she would have swooned.

  “Frances. It’s Frances now.”

  “I’ve been calling you, but you don’t answer. You look great. I mean, like really great.” Luckily, Tony was speaking with his agent on the other side of the large room; if there was one thing Francesca knew for certain, Tony was one seriously jealous man, and this conversation would have been stopped right there. “You never dressed this way for me.”

  “Thanks, I guess.” She looked around the room hoping she was needed somewhere, because talking to the guy who had broken her heart was not something she wanted to do. What was odd was that she’d been trying to avoid him mostly because
she didn’t want to revisit her feelings, but along the way something had changed. Maybe it was Tony; maybe it was just time. But now, seeing Rodrigo, having him in front of her, she just didn’t feel much of anything. Maybe she didn’t hold a grudge anymore. Maybe she was finally over it. Over Rodrigo. She had never thought she’d see the day, and she wasn’t prepared for the feeling of apathy. But still, she didn’t owe him anything. Including a conversation.

  “Maybe we can grab some coffee or dinner?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, it’s been a long time. I’d love to catch up.”

  “No. I don’t think I’d like to catch up.” She turned to walk away, but he grabbed her hand.

  “Why not?” he asked. “It’s been eight years.”

  She shook her head and turned away again, but he wouldn’t let go; instead he got closer. “You look amazing, Frankie.” She felt him stroke her hair. “We should catch up. I thought about you a lot through the years.”

  She turned her head around to look at the man who had ripped her heart out. Her look must have said a lot, because he flinched and his brow furrowed.

  She walked forward and poked his chest. “So now that I got tits and a short skirt—”

  “You’re wearing pants,” he interrupted.

  She looked down at her clothes, then back at him. “Whatever. The point is, now that I’m not Frankie anymore, you want me?”

  He grabbed the finger that was poking him, and his expression became serious. “What are you talking about? I wanted you when you were Frankie, and to me you’re still Frankie. Where is all this anger coming from? You never used to get upset.”

  “What are you talking about? Of course I did.”

  “I’m at a loss here. Seriously, help me out, ’cause you’re acting like a completely different person from the one I knew.”

  Francesca looked at him, and he seemed genuinely unaware of the effect he’d had on her all these years ago.

  “I saw you.” She was leaning in, talking low. She didn’t want anyone hearing her business. “I saw you leaving a restaurant with some woman. It was the night of our second wedding anniversary, and you said you couldn’t make it because you had to train. But I saw you. You were holding hands and laughing.” She leaned in some more and whispered in his ear, “You were my first love. I loved you wholeheartedly, and you broke my heart into a million little pieces.” Then she moved a little away so that she was looking him in the face again. “And now that I look like this, now what? Now you want me? Can I ask you something? Had I dressed this way all those years ago, would it have made a difference? Would you have been faithful?”