by Arianna Hart
“Some of them are pretty darn sexy, I’ll have you know,” Marley asserted.
“I’m sure they are, but they are filled with hearts and flowers where the women never get dirty, and the men never come too soon. Real sex touches all the senses, it’s dirty, and smelly, and sweaty.”
“And you love every minute of it,” Marley said, her pupils dilating, telling him she was becoming aroused by the frank discussion.
“You bet your sweet ass I do. I love the feel of your skin when you slide against me, I like the sounds you make when you are so aroused you can’t speak, I like the smell of you, the taste of you, I love everything about being in you, around you, over you.” Hunter stalked her, moving closer and closer as he spoke, pinning her against the wall by the time he finished.
“Oh, my. I don’t think we’re going to make it to the shower,” Marley breathed, grabbing his erection and pulling it into her warm, wet, channel.
“Mar, I don’t have any—“
“I’ve been on the pill for years.”
“Why didn’t you say something before?” Hunter asked with a groan as he sank into her. The feel of her surrounding him with no barrier was too good to be denied.
“I couldn’t remember my name, how was I supposed to remember to tell you I have irregular cycles?” she said wrapping her legs around his waist and pulling him even closer to her.
“God, that stair machine is effective.” Her body felt so good around him he was glad she took their protection in her own hands.
“After last time, I think I prefer the weight bench,” Marley breathed into his ear.
The memory of her with her hands trapped behind her back sent another rush of heat through his body.
There was only so much a man could take, and he was reaching his limit too quickly. To even the odds, he snaked his hands between their bodies and caressed her nub of pleasure. Her gasp of enjoyment was music to his ears. He could feel the tremors building inside her, so he grabbed her hips and slammed her up and down on his length. As soon as she started to buck and thrash he let go of his slippery control and erupted inside of her.
“Now we really need a shower,” Marley said when he let her legs slide down his body.
“Can’t you get enough, woman?” Hunter teased.
“What’s wrong, tough guy, can’t handle it?”
“Honey, I’ll give you everything you can handle and more,” Hunter couldn’t help but smile as he made promises his body wasn’t about to keep.
“Promises, promises,” Marley taunted, running into the bathroom.
Chapter Fifteen
Marley lay in the safety of Hunter’s arms, listening to the faint murmurs coming from the bar downstairs. It was a quiet night, but she could still hear the sounds of Paddy Reilly on the stereo, and the occasional cheer when a team scored. She knew the TV would be tuned to some game; there was always a game on somewhere. It was comforting to know that things could run smoothly without her, even if she didn’t plan on letting that happen very often.
“Boy, am I glad I took tonight off,” she said, stretching like a cat under his stroking hands.
“Me too, but I was surprised when Tiger told me you had called him. I figured you were avoiding me.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. I wasn’t exactly looking forward to facing the regulars after Vivian’s little display yesterday, so I took the day off to regroup. I know it shouldn’t bother me—it has been going on so long—but it really does.”
“Hey, I don’t blame you, that was a rough scene for you to deal with alone.”
“Don’t start,” Marley said trying to pull away.
Hunter held her closer.
“I’m not, I just want you to know you don’t have to handle it alone.”
“I’m not my mother, I don’t need a man to solve my problems for me,” Marley stopped struggling against him, but she hadn’t relaxed yet. This was not a conversation she wanted to be having lying naked on her bed.
“I don’t think you are anything like your mother. In fact, I was wondering how she managed to give birth to someone like you.”
“What do you mean?”
“She is obviously the type of person who blames everyone else for her misfortunes. From what you told me, she doesn’t want to take responsibility for her own actions, she thinks everyone is out to get her. People like that think the world owes them something, and when they don’t get it, they’re unhappy.”
“You just described my mother to a tee. She has always felt because she didn’t have an abortion when she got pregnant with me the world should bow down and kiss her feet. Every time she’d get fired for not going into work on time, or at all for that matter, she would throw out that she was a single parent. At least half the time they’d give her another chance, too.”
“You could have turned out the same way, you know. I can’t tell you the number of people I’ve met who blame every problem they have on their upbringing.”
“Me, too, especially here at the bar. I don’t know why I didn’t turn out like her; I just know I hated listening to her whine about her lot in life. If she didn’t give every guy within a ten-mile radius a free bed and a good time, maybe she could meet a nice respectable guy for a change. Whenever I would say something like that to her though, she would tell me I sounded like her mother. I never met my grandparents. I gather they were strict and a little conservative, and she ran away on the back of a bike as soon as she turned sixteen.”
“Did you ever try to look them up?”
“No, I don’t even know what their last name is. Vivian told me my father’s name was Sullivan, but it isn’t on my birth certificate. Her story changes with her hair color, so I don’t even know what her real name is. I know it sounds stupid, but when I was a kid, I tried to be the most perfect little girl I could be. I was good in school. I said my prayers. I did everything I thought good little girls would do so that when my grandparents came to visit they would see how great I was and take me away to live with them. Stupid huh?”
“I don’t think it’s stupid, all little kids dream. You had more reason to than most. I think you must have been a pretty smart kid to realize that your mom’s behaviors weren’t normal and to try to act differently.”
“It’s pretty hard not to notice the difference when she came to school in leopard print capris and a bouffant hairdo when all the other mothers wore slacks or skirts. I would hide all my field trip permission slips so she wouldn’t volunteer to chaperone. I learned how to forge her signature in the second grade. Now that is bad.”
“That’s survival, stop beating yourself up.” Hunter shifted up on his elbow and stroked his fingers lightly between her breasts. “So, what should we do to celebrate your three point eight?”
“You mean you haven’t gotten enough celebrating tonight?” Marley teased him with a little wiggle.
“I can never get enough of you, but that wasn’t my point. We should go out to dinner, see a movie, do something that doesn’t include pouring drinks or cleaning tables. This is the city that never sleeps, I’m sure we can find something that interests you out there in the Big Apple.”
“I wouldn’t mind going out to dinner,” she said hesitantly. Marley wasn’t used to anyone besides Seamus making a fuss over her achievements.
“What are you in the mood for? Italian? Chinese? Greek? Tai?”
“Italian sounds good, and I know just the place. Don’t dress too nicely, though,” she warned.
“We can go wherever your little heart desires, but let’s go soon. I need to replenish some of the energy you sucked out of me tonight.”
“Then get your ever-so-cute butt moving across the hall and get dressed. I’ll race you,” she challenged.
“On your mark, get set, go!” Hunter tore off butt naked across the hall while Marley ran for the closet.
It was too hot to wear jeans, so she slipped on another pair of shorts. The outfit would look better with her sandals, but her feet would never forgive h
er. Instead she put on her socks and sneakers, and a red shirt to hide the tomato sauce stains.
She had just pulled her hair up into a messy bun on top of her head and slapped on some lip-gloss when Hunter knocked on the door.
“What took you so long?” she asked archly when she opened it.
“Ha,ha. Let’s go, smart-alec, lead the way.”
Marley could smell his aftershave and took a deep breath of his manly scent. He had combed his golden hair and put on a light blue shirt that made his eyes gleam. She felt a flip in her heart and a pull in her groin. How could she have ever thought that she could see him, touch him, for six months and not fall in love with him?
“What is going on in that head of yours? You have a very funny look on your face,” Hunter asked her, cupping her cheek in his hand. Her heart did another slow roll.
“I was just thinking pride goes before the fall.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hunter asked, the puzzlement obvious on his face.
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
—
The restaurant Marley took him too was nestled between a pawnshop and an adult bookstore on Broadway. Hunter had no idea how Marley even knew it was there. He never would have thought a restaurant would be located in such a rough neighborhood. When he said as much, she just laughed.
“When I was a kid one of the apartments we lived in was right over the restaurant. We moved after a year, but for that one year I never went hungry. Mama Louise makes the best lasagna in the world. She’d make me homemade pastries when I came home from school. I think she felt sorry for me because my mother was never around. I try to get back when I can, just to let her know I turned out alright.”
The restaurant didn’t even have a sign to indicate what it was, just a wine bottle with a candle melted over it in the window. Hunter looked around; this was not the best area of the city to raise a child.
Hunter was glad someone had looked after Marley when she lived here. Her mother hadn’t.
The aromas of garlic and oregano enveloped him as soon as he walked through the door. The place only had three wobbly tables, two of which were already filled. None of the chairs matched, the walls were covered in peeling wallpaper and one window in the restaurant had bars over it. This wasn’t exactly The Rainbow Room.
Hunter noticed that even though it was shabby, everything was scrupulously clean. That reassured him some, not much, but some.
“Marley! My bambina! How are you doing? Who is this handsome man you bring with you? Come, sit, sit. I will bring you some wine and you can tell me what is happening in your busy life. Geno!” the rotund woman took off, spouting a string of rapid fire Italian.
“That was Mama Louise. I rarely get a chance to answer her questions because I can’t get a word in edgewise.”
“I can see that.”
Hunter sat gingerly at the table, he wasn’t sure the rickety old chair was going to hold his weight.
“This place hasn’t changed since I was a kid,” Marley said with a smile. Hunter couldn’t believe how happy she looked sitting in this dinky little restaurant.
“I hope the menu has steak,” he said, taking her hand across the tiny table. He watched as the flickering light of the candle made her eyes shine and felt a draw for her that was all encompassing. He wanted to know everything about her.
“Nope, because there is no menu. You get whatever Mama serves you, and you’ll love every bite. In the year I lived here I never had a bad meal. Just be careful of the wine, Mama has a free hand with it.”
“Don’t tell this boy stories, Bambina,” Mama said coming back to the table with huge glasses of red wine and a basket of steaming, garlicky bread.
Hunter’s mouth watered at the smell of the bread.
He looked up at the woman while she held Marley’s face in her hands and inspected her. Mama Louise looked like she belonged in a commercial for spaghetti sauce. She was short, even shorter than Marley, and had salt and pepper hair pulled back into a severe bun at the nape of her neck. She had pudgy arms and hands, and her round little body was covered by a sauce-splattered apron.
“So, you are the one, eh?” It was Hunter’s turn to get inspected.
“Ah, that depends. I’m the one what?” Hunter asked, looking into her gentle brown eyes. She smelled of garlic and oregano as well, her own personal perfume.
“You are the one who put the shine into my bambina’s face. This has not happened before,” she said seriously.
“Mama—” Marley was grinning self-consciously, a blush tingeing her cheeks “So what is your name? What do you do? Where are you from?”
“Mama! Don’t interrogate him. Hunter and I are here to celebrate, not go under the Spanish Inquisition.”
“This is no Inquisition, I just want to know who this man is you bring to my restaurant. Why he put that light in your eyes. I’m just being friendly.”
“Friendly like a police officer,” Marley muttered.
“Are you going to feed us, Mama? I’ve been telling Hunter all about your cooking.”
“Humph, you think you can sweet talk Mama?”
Her hands were on her hips and her mouth set in a stern line, but Hunter noticed a telltale twinkle in her eye. She couldn’t hold her expression for long without laughing.
“Okay, my little Marley, no more questions. I get you your food and you drink some wine and tell me how come it’s been so long since you see Mama.” She bustled off to the kitchen with another stream of Italian trailing in her wake.
“Wow,” Hunter said with amazement. “Does she ever slow down?”
“Rarely. She’s been running this place by herself for years. She always told me the day she stops is the day she dies of boredom. I try to come in for a visit every month or so. Since Seamus got sick I haven’t been by as often as I used too.”
Hunter watched her face as Mama brought two plates of stuffed pasta, dripping with cheese and tomato sauce. While they waited for the entrées to cool Marley told Mama about her grades, the bar, and her fall schedule of classes. When Marley mentioned Seamus’ passing Mama pulled Marley’s head to her ample bosom and promised to have a mass said for him. At the mention of her grade point average for the semester, Mama clapped her hands and kissed Marley on both cheeks, telling her what a smart girl she was.
“This one, always studying, always had her nose in the books. Now, you have something to show for it. Geno! More wine!” Mama rushed off once again.
“I’ve been thinking about something Mar,” Hunter said bringing a dripping forkful of steaming hot pasta, sauce, meat, and cheese to his mouth.
“Hunter, after today I think we should agree to stop thinking. Let’s just enjoy dinner instead, okay?”
Marley suggested, blowing on her own forkful.
“It’s nothing bad,” he said after swallowing a gulp of wine to cool his burning mouth, “I’ve noticed that even though you haven’t had a normal family, you seem to draw people to you to fill those roles.”
“I don’t think I understand you.”
“You didn’t have a normal mother, so you adopted Mama Louise as your mother. You never had a father, so you adopted Seamus as your father. Tiger and Ricardo are like brothers to you, even Johnny is like a little brother. I guess Oscar could be considered an Uncle of sorts. Even old Tom is like a grandfather. You have your family; they just have different names and nationalities is all. This is really good.” Hunter turned his attention back to his plate. He’d never tasted anything this flavorful before.
“You may have a point, Hunter. You surprise me. I was really comfortable thinking you were a superficial playboy. If you keep coming out with these insightful observations you’re going to blow all my theories out of the water.”
“You still think I’m a playboy?” Hunter asked with interest. Most of the rumors about his love life were highly exaggerated.
“No, but I like to tease you about it.”
Chapter Sixteen
Mar
ley and Hunter walked home slowly, hands entwined. They were both comfortably full and content. Marley thought about what Hunter had said. He was right, she did create her own family to replace the one she never had. She did a pretty good job, if she did say so herself.
As they climbed the stairs in silence, Marley’s thoughts drifted back to the events of the day. She was amazed at the highs and lows that one day could contain.
“Do you want to come in for a night cap?” Hunter asked when they got to the head of the stairs.
“Sure, although I don’t know if I can fit much more in my stomach. I still can’t believe how much you ate.”
“Hey, I’ve never had anything that good before. I don’t know how she’s managed to keep her place such a secret with cooking like that.”
“Probably because she doesn’t advertise, she doesn’t even have a listing in the phone book. All her business comes from word of mouth. A lot of her customers grew up in the neighborhoods nearby.”
“Why doesn’t she get a better location and advertise a little, with cooking like that she could make a killing.”
“She doesn’t want to make a killing, she just likes to cook.” Marley took a look around the apartment.
Hunter had made quite a few changes from the first time she saw it.
“You’ve been busy,” she commented wryly. Gone were the sleeping bag and radio on the bare wood floor, instead the living room had been filled with a couch, a rocking chair that looked like an antique to Marley’s untrained eye, some mismatched end tables, a scarred coffee table, and a state of the art entertainment center. The floor sported a braided earth-tone rag rug making the room look warm and cozy.
“Yeah, most of the stuff was from my father’s place. The rocker was my mother’s, I think her father made it for her mother. I found the rug under the bed at the house, too. The couch I picked up from an advertisement I found at the market. The only new thing I picked up was the entertainment center. I figured if I was going to be here for a while I’d need some good tunes.” Hunter crossed to the stereo and turned on some classic blues. “Want to dance? I wanted to take you out dancing, but I didn’t think your feet could handle it.”
