She was so convinced, in fact, that she decided to call his bluff. It was a gamble, she knew it was a monumental gamble, but she lived in Vegas. Gambling was in her blood.
“I take it you have some idea about what will work for us,” she said to him.
“I think so,” he said. “I want us to have a relationship, Gemma, I definitely want that. But I think, for right now, it shouldn’t be exclusive.” He said this and looked at her, as if her reaction, rather than her words, was what he was more interested in.
Gemma returned his gaze. She was disappointed, and slightly saddened, but she fought not to show it. She, instead, nodded her head, ready to test the gamble. “Okay,” she said.
Sal stared at her. “Okay?” he asked. “Whatta you mean okay?”
“Okay we can have an open relationship. That’s what you’re asking, right? That you can have any woman you want, and I can have any man. Right?”
Although Sal’s heart grew faint at just the thought of Gemma having any man, or, even more specifically, any man having her, he didn’t show it. “Right,” he said. Then looked at her again. “If it’s all right with you.”
“It’s okay,” she said with a smile. “I already said so.”
Sal nodded. But then he frowned. “What are you so happy about?”
“Happy?”
“Yeah, happy. Like I just gave you Christmas early. Like it’s your fucking birthday or something. What, you got men lined up or something?”
Gemma rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said and got out of bed.
Sal watched her naked black body as she made her way to the adjacent bathroom. She looked so gorgeous, so fit and beautiful, that his penis began to react just watching her walk away. And the idea that another penis, with another man attached to it, would be watching that fine body walk away from him, after fucking her senseless, was more than Sal could endure. He realized it immediately.
For some reason he expected Gemma to object. He expected her to give him some kind of ultimatum. Either he agree to be with her and her alone, or he could hit the road. But she didn’t do any such thing. She went right along with it, as if she was just as bent on having her cake and eating it too as he was. And that thought not only upset him, it angered him. Did she already have some guy in mind? But how could she, he wondered. What man out there could sex her better than he could? What man out there could treat her better than he would? Who was this man, he thought, as he angrily got out of bed, that she was thinking about?
He removed his torn condom, tossing it in the wastebasket, and made his way to the bathroom. Gemma had just turned on the shower stall, and was about to get in, when Sal grabbed her and put her back against the wall. And without saying a word he lifted her legs around his waist, and then entered her raw.
His first inclination, given his anger, was to pound her hard. But as soon as he slid into her, and felt her skin against his skin in full, he immediately slowed his roll. No way was he rushing this. His eyes became heavy-lidded as he stroked her. Her eyes closed completely as he stroked her. Because they both felt it. Because they both felt the pulsation of her pussy as if it was trapping them both in its snares.
And as Sal put his arms completely around her, and she put her arms completely around him, and allowed him to fuck her raw, a sadness came over both of them.
For Gemma, it was the fact that he brought up having an open relationship at all. As if he knew already that she wasn’t going to be enough for him. He’d want more women whenever he wanted them, and he wanted to make that perfectly clear to her before she even thought about getting her hopes up.
For Sal, it was the fact that she didn’t object to an open relationship. Not that he would have allowed her objection to stand. He wouldn’t have. He would have told her it was going to be an open relationship or none at all. And somehow he just assumed that she would argue and complain, but eventually accept what he wanted because she wanted him. And he didn’t think she wanted him because she was desperate for him, or anybody else given the kind of special lady she was. But because the body didn’t lie. No woman could respond to him in bed the way Gemma responded to him without wanting him in a grand fucking way. That was how Sal saw it. She wanted him almost as much as he wanted her.
So he expected resistance. He expected a major fight. He expected her to lay down that ultimatum. But she did none of those things. She just said okay. Okay, he thought as he fucked her. And just the thought of it, just the thought of her even entertaining the idea of another man having her the way he was having her, angered him again. And his anger trumped the beauty of raw sex with her, and he began to lose it.
He wanted her, and he wanted her to want him and nobody else. He continued to stroke her with wonderfully steady strokes, but he moved his penis deeper and deeper inside of her until he was fucking her from the deep end only. He wasn’t trying to pull it back up for air, or to give her any either. He brought them to the summit of their intensity, and kept them there.
Gemma held on, as he fucked her hard and deep. She didn’t think she could hang at this level of intenseness this long, but she did. She was able to endure the sheer joy of it, the brutal force of it, and the sensations that ripped through her entire body.
But when Sal started sucking her breasts as he fucked her, and stayed deep down inside of her, she knew she couldn’t endure that. Not a second longer. And she didn’t. Her body betrayed her and came with a scream of passion. And as she convulsed with sensations, Sal would not let up. He continued to suck and fuck her until her breasts were as raw as her pussy. And then he came too, and poured into her again with an eruption of his own. As if he wasn’t just fucking her, but branding her.
They stood there afterwards, breathing so hard they sounded as if they were gasping for their last breaths of air. And Sal almost felt like crying. Because he knew what he had in his arms. And he also knew how tough it was going to be to keep her. They had agreed to an open relationship tonight. He had, in essence, agreed to share her with some other man of her own choosing. And that wasn’t going to work. For the first time in his entire life he saw the shoe on the other foot. It was no longer about him getting his, but Gemma getting hers.
And just the thought of it, just the sheer thought of this woman in his arms, caused his penis to begin to come alive again. And to his own surprise, and her amazement, he began to fuck her yet again. Because their physical connection was stronger than strong and just that undeniable. But what was tearing Sal apart was the emotional connection. The idea of another man having her didn’t just anger him, but it scared him too.
Yet not enough, it seemed, for him to rescind his invitation.
That next day, as Gemma taught her seminars, she felt as if she had gambled and won. No, Sal didn’t rescind his open relationship request, but she saw how he behaved last night. He didn’t come in that bathroom after she accepted his terms for his health. He came to make a point. He came to stake his claim. And with every stroke of his penis deep inside of her, his claim was searing her.
But she wasn’t exactly elated either. Because the next day she didn’t hear from him. When he left last night he made no plans for the next day. Which surprised her too. They had showered together after that second and third round of sex, and ended up falling asleep in bed. It was after midnight when Sal left. And now, the next day, not a word from him.
After her seminars and after she had showered and changed, she found herself walking into the lobby and then outside of the hotel to see if he had showed up at his usual three p.m. time. But there was no Sal. She even called his cell phone, she’d admit that too, but it rang and rang and then went to voice mail. She knew he had said he wanted an open relationship, but dang. For some reason she never expected him to want it right now!
But who was she kidding, she thought as she headed in the lounge to get herself an afternoon drink. She had thought, after last night, that Sal really didn’t want what he had asked for. That was why she had gambled
and so readily agreed. That was why she thought she had gambled and won. But now, sitting alone in a lounge, she realized just how wrong she was.
She sipped her drink, turned down offers to join her by two different suitors, and then pulled her cell phone out of her purse to check her messages. Nothing from Sal. Plenty of emails from various men she knew and occasionally dated. But she wasn’t serious about any of them. They were just eye candy, as far as she was concerned, and somebody with which she could spend a lonely night in, or a good time out. They were not even in the same class with Sal Gabrini.
Which was the shame, she thought, as she sipped more wine and read more emails. Maybe she should be grateful. Maybe keeping it light was a good way to go. He didn’t want her exclusively, why should she want him that way?
But she did. For some crazy reason she wanted Sal Luca all to herself. But the more she sipped from her wine, the more she convinced herself that it didn’t matter. She convinced herself that it was better that she found out now, before she fell in love with the joker. She convinced herself that she’d be a million times better off without a thoughtless, selfish man like that. Until that thoughtless, selfish man walked into the lounge, and started heading her way.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Gemma’s heart squeezed with joy and anguish as Sal walked toward her. He looked gorgeous, with his thick brown hair pulled back in a full, Bradley Cooper hairstyle; with his strong, square face topped off with the bluest eyes; with his muscular body that oozed masculinity and virility in ways Gemma knew all too well. She was joyful to see him, maybe even overjoyed, but she was disconcerted too.
They lived in two different states, was one reason, and over a thousand miles apart. If she agreed that he would be to her just as her other male friends with benefits were to her, then he’d be free to see whomever whenever he wanted. There would be no pressure whatsoever, and no commitment. He would be, after all, a thousand miles away. But perhaps what was tearing her apart most as he came nearer and nearer, and as she noticed so many other females giving him those interested looks, was the fact that all of that freedom could only lead to one thing: more freedom. For both of them. Until their relationship would never grow and would never become dynamic, but would remain static. Until their relationship would be reduced to nothing more than what it was now: the occasional roll in the hay. But when Gemma first met Sal in Vegas, she had already grown weary of one night stands and friends with benefits. And when they met up again here in Seattle, and had sex for the first time, she had actually hoped for something different.
“What’s with you?” he asked as he approached her, with his hands out as if he was demanding an explanation, with his East Coast Italian accent in full force. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”
And just like that Gemma couldn’t help it. She tried to look stoic and uninterested, but she couldn’t pull it off. She was thrilled to see him, and showed him that she was. She got up and threw herself into his arms.
Sal’s heart soared when she reacted that way, and he smiled and gladly pulled her in. He could see faces looking, white, disagreeable faces, but he didn’t give a fuck. In fact, they could kiss his ass as far as he was concerned. He was holding his woman.
“Do you know how many hotel staffers I had to dodge to get into this place?” he whispered in her ear as he held her.
She smiled, and pulled back. “How many?” she asked, unable to stop smiling.
“Plenty, I’ll tell you that. Which means one of two things: either I’m an idiot, and only an idiot would think that, or you’re worth it.” Gemma’s heart melted. “Which,” Sal continued, “it didn’t take a genius to figure that out.”
Gemma didn’t know what to say to that. So she didn’t respond. She just stared at him with pure affection in her big, brown eyes. Sal was different. She believed it with all her heart.
“But anyway,” he said when she didn’t respond. He could feel the warmth she had towards him by just looking in her eyes. “This is what we’re gonna do,” he said. “You’re going to carry your sweet self up those stairs, get you a change of clothes, and then meet me out front at the car. Tommy’s invited us to dinner at his place, and we’re going to that, but then afterwards, since this is your last night in town, we’re going to spend some quality time together. Just you and me, kid. Alone. And I don’t want any leaving in the middle of the night shit.” Then he leaned in closer to her ear. “I want to hold you all night,” he said to her.
And this time, she couldn’t agree more. She wanted to be with him too, and she wasn’t ashamed to show it.
She kissed him on the lips. “I’ll meet you out front,” she said, grabbed her purse and her phone, took another sip of her wine, and headed for the exit. Sal took the final sip of her wine, and then tossed a fifty on the table. He left too.
The Ferrari pulled into the circular driveway of Tommy’s massive home, and Gemma was impressed. Sal might own a mansion of an apartment building, but Tommy owned a mansion of a house. And, according to Sal, he lived in this mansion all alone. It was about to change, he was set to be married in a matter of months, but this Buckingham Palace of a place would still be about ninety-five percent too much for even two people, as far as Gemma was concerned. But it was still beautiful to behold. Those Gabrinis knew how to do it, she thought as Sal got out of the car, and opened the door for her.
Henry, Tommy’s butler, opened the front door for them, and Sal smiled. “Hennessy, what’s up?” he said jovially.
“Good evening, sir, ma’am,” Henry said with a polite, but dour look.
“Where’s Tommy?” Sal asked as they entered.
“He’s upstairs, sir. This way, please.”
Henry escorted them into the living area. Whereas Sal’s taste was more opulent, Tommy’s was more refined, with understated furnishings rather than the more dramatic, Herculean ones in Sal’s home. Although both styles were beautifully appointed, Tommy’s style, it seemed to Gemma, was a cut above because of, rather than in spite of, its lack of drama.
After Gemma and Sal sat down, and Henry asked for and received their drink orders and left the room to retrieve them, Gemma looked at her date.
“That man’s name is not Hennessy, is it?”
Sal laughed. “That’s right. It’s Henry.”
“Why do you call that man out of his name?”
“When he stops hitting the sauce, I’ll correct the record.”
“He drinks?”
“Like a gotdamn fish! Tommy’s got him going to AA meetings, and he’s supposed to be clean and sober now, but I’m not buying it. He’s still packing it in. Maybe not on duty, but he’s still packing it in.” Sal grinned. “He hates my guts for knowing his little secret.”
Gemma considered Sal. “You don’t care about the hate, do you?”
“Of course I don’t care. Why should I care?”
“Most people do. For PC if nothing else.”
“Fuck PC!” Sal said with some agitation, and Gemma laughed. “I’m not politically correct and I’ll never be,” he went on. “I hate political correctness! I loathe it. I call it like I see it and if people are offended by that, then tough. He’s a lush, so what? If I was a boozer and somebody called me out on it, what I’m getting all hot with them for? They told the truth! Like the N-word,” he said in that heavy Jersey-Italian accent of his, and Gemma’s heart began to pound.
“What about the N-word?” she cautiously asked him.
“I see these stank-ass rappers around here using it like it was a term of endearment, they use it all the time, but as soon as a white guy uses it then he’s a racist.”
“It’s different, Sal.”
“What’s different about it? Why can’t we white guys use it as a term of endearment too?”
“Because nine times out of ten that’s not why white guys would use it. The history of that word is too deep and painful for it to ever be a term of endearment by anyone as far as I’m concerned. And I agree with you, those rappers s
hould stop using it, I agree with that. But that doesn’t mean you should pick up the mantel and start using it just because they do.” Then Gemma smiled. “Unless you’re already using it.”
But Sal shook his head. “I’m not like that, I told you already. I despise people equally,” he said to laughter from Gemma. “My hate don’t discriminate against anybody.”
Gemma shoved Sal’s muscular arm, which barely moved his bulk. “You’re terrible, you know that?” she said with a grin.
Sal smiled too. “I know. But you know what? I like this.”
Gemma looked at him. “You like what?”
“I like that we can talk honestly like this. I like that we don’t tip-toe around subjects or treat each other like we don’t live in America where there’s a lot of tension between everybody: black white, white brown, gay straight, young old, everybody.” As Henry returned with their drinks on a serving tray, Sal looked at Gemma. “I like that about you.”
Henry placed the drinks on the coffee table in front of them.
“Thank-you, Henry,” Gemma said, and for the first time Henry smiled.
“You’re welcome, ma’am. Is there anything else I can get for you?”
“No, we’re fine.”
“Very good, ma’am.” As Henry and his tray turned to leave, Sal, however, thought of something.
“How’s Tommy?” he asked him. He didn’t care for Henry, he felt that Tommy let him get away with too many liberties. But he also knew how much Henry loved Tommy.
“He’s . . . okay, sir.” Henry said this and looked Sal squarely in the eyes.
Sal knew what that look meant. “Thanks,” Sal said, and Henry left.
“See,” Gemma said as she picked up her drink, “that man actually smiled. Kindness, I’m telling you, can take you a long way in this world.”
“Whatta you talking?” Sal asked. “I’m kind.”
“Kind of mean, yeah,” Gemma said with a smile.
This time Sal shoved her arm gently, but even a gentle shove by Sal cause small Gemma to nearly tip over.
ROMANCING SAL GABRINI Page 10
