by Noelle Mack
“Yeah, when he’s happy. Thanks for rescuing me. I mean, that guy wasn’t really bothering me, but I was kinda nervous.”
Nick drove, keeping his eyes on the street. “They don’t call him Ig the Pig for nothing.” He didn’t say anything more for a minute, just went left and then right, moving into the center lane.
“Oh, so you, like, know him?”
“He’s on our list, put it that way. Why was he talking to you? I could tell you didn’t want him to.”
“The fabulous Del Bianco, psychic. How’d you pick that up?”
The fabulous Nick looked at her and gave her a half smile. “Just observant.”
“He thought I was someone else. Someone named Gina, who was supposed to go to a thing in Brooklyn with la famiglia.”
“Got it. Gina Bertelli. She works the motels near LaGuardia now. You do kinda resemble her, at least in shades and that outfit.” He gave her an appreciative glance. “But you’re a class act all the way and she—uh, she isn’t. Believe me, you don’t want to spend a sun-filled, fun-filled weekend with that famiglia.” Nick slowed down and a gypsy cab behind him honked. He waved the guy around. “Hard to find a spot near De Lillo’s.”
She looked ahead on the bustling street, thinking fondly that the neighborhood had hadn’t changed much. Her mother’s falling-apart photo album from her 1950s childhood showed the same brick apartment buildings with Art Deco details, butted up against much older tenements. And the people hadn’t changed much, either.
The local women still shopped almost every day, buying everything fresh, going in and out of the stores: Borgatti’s for pasta, Calandra’s for cheese, Biancardi’s for meat, Tino’s Salumeria for cold cuts, and Randazzo’s Sons for fish. They sniffed and sampled everything, gossiped, prepared to stock up shelves and refrigerators that were already crowded with good things to eat. Ruth pointed. “Up ahead.”
Nick pulled over into an empty spot by a fire hydrant. “Okay. You and Tuff enjoy yourselves. I’d stay for a cannoli, but I gotta get back to the precinct. See you around, Ruth.”
She pulled down her sunglasses and looked at him with mingled disappointment and amusement. “You knew it was me all along.”
“Yeah, I remember you tagging around after your cousin Sofia. But you were always so shy. Pretty, though.”
Ruth gaped at him. Had Nicky Del Bianco really thought of her as pretty? The thought was mind-boggling.
“But you had me fooled for a little while. I really didn’t recognize you at first. So are you in disguise or what?”
“Kinda. I lost a bet on the Mets.”
Nicky gave her a pitying look. “They never win any more.”
“Sofia made me pay up by dressing me like this.”
He gave her a long onceover. “Yeah? She did you a favor. You’re a knockout in that. Can I have your number?”
Ruth swallowed hard. She wanted to scream it to the heavens—Nick Del Bianco wants to hook up with me!—or at least into Sofia’s ear on a cell phone. “Uh, yeah. Sure. But I don’t have a pen. Can’t you look it up on your superduper cop computer or something? I thought you guys could get anybody’s number.”
“Yeah, we can. I just wanted to know if you wanted me to have it. And now I know.”
“Then, uh, call me.” What in holy hell had gotten into her, Ruth wondered. Were the hooker clothes making her bold? Or was it because, Nick, the sex god, was only six inches away? Looking her up and down…from her tousled hair to her red velvet shoes.
She liked the way his look made her feel. Warm all over. Hot all over. Um, she needed to think about that. Ruth reached out to unlatch her door and swing it open. She slid halfway out of the seat, holding Tuff, who suddenly wanted to get down in a big way because he saw another mutt in front of De Lillo’s.
The dog’s front paws scrabbled at the air and his back paws caught in her micromini, hiking it up so high her black panties showed. Brand new—a present from Sofia that she’d added to this ridiculous outfit. Teeny-tiny. Sheer front and back. Decorated with a crystal drop that hung from a thin, black satin ribbon to right about where she was desperately pressing her thighs together.
She could drop her dog or yank down her skirt, but not both. Tuff was going nuts barking, trying to escape, so that answered that. Ruth got a better grip on him and felt her face slowly turn beet red.
Nicky looked. And looked. “Nice panties, Ruth,” he said at last.
“Thanks,” she gasped out.
“I like the little thing on a ribbon. What is that?”
“Ah, a decoration. A crystal.”
Kept in place by the pantyhose, it did catch the eye. Then Tuff launched himself out of her arms, and she grabbed the hem of her skirt, yanking it down. Okay. She was halfway decent. Good enough. At least no one at De Lillo’s had seen. “Bye-Nickyseeyathanksfortheride,” she said all in one breath and went after her dog.
She bent over to grab Tuff, missed and grabbed him again. She stepped back, stumbling in the high heels and her butt slammed into a man’s crotch. Ohmigod, is he hung, whoever he is, she thought, and turned a beetier red as she whirled around to face…Nick.
“Sorry. Just thought I’d help you.” His low, amused voice sent a scorching heat through her. And there was a sexy edge to it that was probably making the tiny crystal decoration on her panties chime in cosmic harmony. “Tell you what. Put the pooch in the car and I’ll buy you a cannoli.”
A few hours later, they had eaten an entire dinner but backwards: two cannolis and three espressos at De Lillo’s, followed by two bowls of the famous puttanesca at Dominick’s, salad, chewy bread, and most of a bottle of good wine. By the time the check came, Nick was sitting close enough to touch her thigh. And he did, sliding a hand up her pantyhosed flesh. Ruth was on fire with lust.
“Want to come over to my place?” he asked at last, not innocently.
“Yes,” replied a person that Ruth had a feeling was her.
Nick called Sofia on his cell phone, holding it far away from his ear when she shrieked at the sound of his name, then demanded to speak to Ruth, getting the explanation out of her in record time and squealing with glee.
“Ruthie, all I wanted to do was get you out of your stinkin’ apartment! And you manage to run into Nicky Del Bianco? Do you know how lucky you are? I mean, he is a womanizer, but who cares, right?” Five more minutes of yapping and Sofia agreed to babysit Tuff for the night. Bambino would just have to tuck his little blue head into his speckled breast and chill until Ruth got back.
They dropped the dog off. Sofia, who’d hurriedly changed into something low-cut and tight, cooed over Tuff and cuddled him in her arms like she’d never said the dog was ugly, all for Nick’s benefit. But Ruth didn’t mind. She could hear Joe snoring in the den from where they stood. Sofia was too nice to invite them in, casting an appreciative glance at the arm Nick draped over Ruth’s shoulders. “Have fun, you two,” was all she said as she closed the door.
It was getting late and it was suddenly a lot colder. Ruth shivered as they walked back to his car. Nick let go of her, clicked open the locks with his key, and reached into the back seat to hand her his leather jacket. An old, beat-up one that he’d probably had forever—she put it around her shoulders like it was the nicest thing she’d ever worn.
Nick drove through the quiet streets of the neighborhood, not saying much, while Ruth digested…everything. Was he a womanizer? Well, she wanted to be womanized. Every part of her wanted to be, especially the lonesome flesh now moistening up a storm in her sheer black panties. How long had it been? She hated to think. And who had it been with? She didn’t want to remember.
Nick’s big hand, resting idly on the gearshift knob as he drove, would soon be sliding between her legs. He turned to smile at her. Those sensual lips would soon be kissing hers. Ruth closed her eyes and trembled. Being on fire with lust was totally fucking scary—and a lot of fun.
He turned into a driveway and parked in the garage of a new condo building. “H
ere we are. Ready?”
“S-sure,” she said.
Next thing she knew, she was in his living room, drinking something sweet and boozy and straddling his lap. With the exception of his jacket and hers, which he’d hung up, she was fully clothed. Him too.
Nick took her glass and nuzzled her neck. “So what’s your fantasy?” he whispered.
“You,” she whispered back.
He stroked her back and her ass, and kissed her luxuriously. Ruth got her fingers into his dark golden hair and kissed him back, pressing herself down on his hard-on. The tight miniskirt got in the way, and she grabbed it by the hem, rolling it up so she could spread her thighs.
“Oh, man. Make yourself comfortable,” he murmured. “What a body. How come I never saw you around the neighborhood after you graduated high school?”
“Because I went to NYU and lived in a dorm in downtown Manhattan.”
“Why’d you come back to the Bronx?”
“Long story. Anyway, maybe you did see me around. I don’t usually dress like this.”
He ran his hands over her pantyhose-clad ass and thighs. “Mmm. I love it all. The skirt. The tight top and all those tiny buttons, which I’m going to undo, one by fucking one. The red velvet high heels. When I get your clothes off, those shoes are going to stay on.”
“Oh, these clothes”—she tried to sound blasé—“they’re not me.”
He nibbled her ear. “Who cares? Pretend you’re working undercover.”
“Okay,” she laughed. “Ruth Pirelli, undercover poet. I like the sound of that.”
Nick slapped her on the butt in a friendly way. “The NYPD is looking for a few good poets.”
“Oh, yeah? Sign me up.”
He pulled her close into his chest and hugged her. “I was kidding. Undercover work is dangerous. And I don’t want to talk shop. We were talking about…what were we talking about?”
“My fantasy,” she said softly.
“Does it involve cops? Jesus, I hope so.”
She sat up a little and began to unbutton his shirt, stroking his nipples under the fine ribbed cotton of the tank-style undershirt he wore. They were nice and dark and tight. Nick smiled sensually.
“Yeah. One cop. Who’s been watching me.”
He arched a brow and gave her a lazy but intrigued look. “You like to be watched, huh?” He began to undo her buttons and caressed her breasts inside the bra. “Is that a nipple ring I feel?”
“Yeah.”
He groaned with pleasure. “You’re full of surprises. Shy women are the wildest. So why is this cop watching you? What’d you do?”
“I didn’t do anything. He lives in the building across from mine.”
Nick’s eyes narrowed. “For real? I’ll have to kill him.”
“No-oo. I’m making this up.”
He pulled both breasts gently out of her bra, propping them on the soft edge of the cups and playing with her nipples. “Mm. That ring is unbelievably sexy. Any other identifying marks? Tattoos?”
“I thought you didn’t want to talk shop.”
“Sorry. Get back to your fantasy. I’ll play with your tits and you talk.”
Ruth rubbed her overflowing breasts against his face. Nick latched onto the one with the delicate nipple ring first, putting the tip of his tongue through it and tugging gently, then licking the hard tip.
“So I just got home from a club. You know, I went dancing with a few guys but no one I wanted to go home with, so I called it a night—”
“A few guys? I’ll have to kill them too.” He cupped both of her breasts in his big, warm hands and looked up at her blissfully.
“Nice to know I can turn you into a homicidal lunatic.”
“I’m a man,” Nick said. “I guard what’s mine.”
Make that a red-blooded Italian-American man, Ruth thought, looking down at him with admiration she couldn’t hide. A native son of the beautiful Bronx and from around, just like her.
Knowing where he came from made her a whole hell of a lot more confident than usual. She pushed the other nipple into his mouth. “Shut up. So I’m feeling restless. Then I peek out the window and whaddya know—my cop is watching. I can’t see him clearly but I saw the curtain at his window move a little and I get a glimpse of the outline of his body.”
“Mmf.” Nick got busy with her tits again.
“I want to masturbate while he watches.”
He leaned his head back and tried to sit up straighter. “This could be good.”
Ruth raised herself up off his lap and kneeled on the sofa next to him, resting her arms on the back and her head on her arms. He turned to his side, taking in the new view.
She peeked at him, almost not believing that she could be so wanton. But it wasn’t like she didn’t know him. She had, for almost all her life, and that made all the difference.
And she wasn’t lying about her fantasy. She wanted Nick to watch what she was about to do, wanted to see how hot she could get him before he begged to penetrate her. He got up with alacrity, ripping off his shirt and tossing it aside.
“Keep your pants on. This is about watching.”
“Right.” He kneeled in back of her.
She hooked her thumbs in the elastic waistband of her pantyhose and pulled them down about halfway down her thighs, leaving her sheer underwear where they were, still cupping her soft, round ass cheeks.
Ruth set her knees wide apart so the pantyhose were stretched tight. Nick caressed the sides of her hips, pausing to press kisses on the black chiffon of her panties, licking right through the sheer material to her swollen cunt, tasting her briefly and then going back to ass worship.
He stopped only when she reached behind with both hands and began to pull her panties down about halfway, pausing to let him fondle and stroke her ass and take a few gentle nips. Then she pulled her panties down more, really slowly, until her behind was completely bare. She could feel his breath on her naked flesh, knew he was waiting for what she would do next.
“My panties are so wet,” she said softly, bringing her hands back in front of her and touching the soaked black chiffon from inside. She cupped her pussy with the same hand, then stimulated her labia with eager fingers, thrusting one in to get her juices flowing.
Nick sure as hell wasn’t shy. She felt him bury his face between her thighs, thrusting his tongue in where her fingers were, working on her sensitive flesh at just her rhythm and speed.His hands were around her ankles, and he stroked her red velvet shoes, toying with the straps like they were bondage gear, obviously enjoying giving oral pleasure to a woman who was still almost completely clothed.
Ruth knew what she looked like. She’d used mirrors to masturbate this way, looking into a little one that reflected a tall mirror in back of her, aroused by the sight of herself with a skirt pulled up, her panties stretched tautly between her thighs and her bare ass in full view, plump pussy in between. It was like watching another woman and being that woman at the same time.
Nick was licking her harder now, spreading her cheeks with strong hands. She pulled her fingers out of her pussy and stretched it open, very wide, so he could see the glistening pink.
He took his cue and shoved his tongue in deep, using it like a cock until Ruth began to moan with pleasure. He thrust his tongue again and again, giving her the hot loving she craved there, eager to be of service to her. And he stayed away from her throbbing clit, knowing instinctively that she wanted the experience to last.
After a very thorough tongue-fucking that a dyke would have been proud of—Ruth was almost in tears from the intensely pleasurable sensation of not being able to come—he pulled away, wiping his wet mouth on her warm, bare ass.
Nick got to his feet, standing over her to reach underneath and feel her breasts, overflowing the bra cups. He tugged on her nipples, handling the ringed one with particular gentleness; then kneeled on the sofa with his long, jeans-clad legs on either side of her half-bared thighs. She could feel his erect cock strainin
g against his taut fly, pressing against the lowest part of her spine, almost between her ass cheeks, as he caressed her tits.
He reached around her waist and flipped her over like she weighed nothing, settling her on her back and grabbing her by the straps of the red velvet shoes. He lifted her legs and pulled her pantyhose and the black chiffon panties to her ankles, bunching them up so the little crystal on the ribbon was folded inside.
“I should make you stand up now,” he said, his voice raw. “The way you walk in those high heels just looks so sweet—like you don’t know what you’re doing. Not sophisticated at all, but so sexy.”
“Then let me strip. And I’ll walk for you. Naked. Nothing on but the shoes,” she whispered. Nick’s green eyes shone with deep desire and his cock looked ready to rip through his jeans. Ruth thought with pleasure that he still hadn’t been teased and pleased enough. As much as he’d seen, her peekaboo session wasn’t over.
She folded her legs, knees by her shoulders, so she could unbutton the shoe straps and treat him to a good look at the juicy, bare pussy squeezed between her thighs at the same time. He toyed with the delicate curls that rimmed her inner flesh, watching her take off the shoes. He bent to lick her there with passionate tenderness, as Ruth slowly rolled the pantyhose off her feet, then the black panties, wiggling her toes.
Nick came up for air, wiping his mouth and grabbed her ankles again. He rubbed her toes sensually, easing the slight cramp from their confinement with firm pressure that shot straight to her pussy and made her writhe.
“Hold still, Ruthie.” He put one of her legs over his shoulder, then bent the other one a little, licking and sucking her toes. He rested that foot on his thigh when he was done, and repeated his oral attentions on the other foot. Ruth wriggled with pleasure. Then he set that foot down too so that her thighs were widely spread and she was completely open to him. He stroked the sensitive, silky flesh on the inside of her thighs for a minute before he spoke again.
“Go ahead and masturbate,” Nick said. “I want to watch. I want to learn exactly what you like.” He gazed dreamily into her eyes until Ruth slid her hands down her body, undoing the last of the tiny buttons on her top and pulling it open but keeping it on. Her skirt was rucked up around her waist—below it, everything was bared to him.
