by Kara Hart
“Let me help you with that.” I ran to the bathroom and got some hydrogen peroxide and gauze. I began cleaning his wounds lightly, taping down some gauze where it was needed.
“Thanks, babe.” He sighed.
“Do you really think it's cute?” I suddenly found myself turning around and checking myself out in the living room mirror. It wasn't exactly small.
“Cute isn't the right word. I'd call it a godsend. I want to kneel before it in extreme worship.” He said, getting into the prayer position and sticking his tongue straight out. “I'm thirsty for a little worship.”
I bent over, slightly joking, but also I just really wanted him to grip my flesh like he did the other night. “What else do you want to do?” I felt my panties soak to the edges. “I want you to tell me.”
He looked around and said “Are you sure? What about…” He glanced down the hall.
“She's fine. She won't come out here. She's heavily invested in SpongeBob right now.” I closed my eyes and pressed my lips together. “I've had a rough fucking week, so you better do this for me. Tell me. Tell me everything you're going to do to me,” I said, opening my eyes to find him hovering over my ass like it was a porcelain relic.
“I want you to lower that ass until your cute, wet panties fall onto my face. I want to breathe you in, to swallow you whole, and make you come over and over again.” He sighed. His pants grew tight around his cock.
As soon as I heard those words, I felt myself almost fall over the edge. I was hanging on by a thread, my pussy shaking and giving me that tap, tap, tap feeling, like it was saying fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I was so close to losing myself in front of him.
“More,” I moaned.
He reached out and grabbed a piece of my ass, feeling it in his palm and between his giant fingers. “After I make you come and lick you completely, I want to turn you around and make you swallow my cock.”
“What if I can't fit it all inside my mouth?” I moaned quietly, arching my back. His hand fell to my wet panties and he pressed on it with three fingers, moving in a slow and circular fashion.
“Don't you worry about that. I'll train you. I'll make a woman out of you yet,” he said. I turned around and he had his belt hanging open and his zipper down. “It's all yours, baby.”
“Don’t you stop talking. Tell me what you want,” I said, crawling over to his lap. I reached out and felt the elastic band of his underwear and the denim over top of it. I pulled down both as he took off his shirt, revealing his incredible body.
“Take off your panties. I want them to hang around your ankles,” he said, extending his hand out to cup my breasts. Under my shirt, his fingers circled around my nipples, pulling lightly on the taut skin. “Strip for me, while I stroke my cock.”
I looked down at the throbbing rod and was instantly sent over the edge. My panties inched slowly down my trembling thighs and he just stared at me with his heavy, dark eyes. He spit down on his cock and stroked slow and methodical. I grabbed his other free hand and placed it on my clit. I fell forward in agonizing ecstasy. “I’m coming…” I moaned, feeling every ounce of pleasure squeeze out of me.
“That’s right, baby. Be a good girl for the boss…” He groaned back.
Leaning against the wall, he grabbed my hair and pulled back lightly. “I want you to sit on my face, while you choke on my hard dick.” He smiled, playing along with my little game. Today he had saved me in more than one way.
I turned around and hovered my ass over his face. My dripping pussy pulsated above him. He grabbed both cheeks and squeezed, spreading me open like a fruit. “I’m hungrier than ever,” he grunted, stuffing his face into me. I held my breath and wrapped my tongue around his throbbing flesh, bobbing up and down while he pulled on my silky hair.
“Well it’s obvious you like sucking my cock,” he said as his tongue swirled inside and out. “I could live like this forever.”
He was fucking solid. I had never felt a cock as hard as his. After today’s events, he was more than ready to bury himself inside of me, to disappear in the folds of my tender flesh. “Fuck me,” I purred. It was crazy, but I already felt close to that feeling of no return again.
He sat me down on his lap, teasing me and kissing my neck. His hands wrapped around my waist and he squeezed tightly, like I was all his. With one deep push, he was inside of me, and our breathy moans intertwined alongside our bodies.
“Ride me, cowgirl,” he smiled. He stared at me straight in the eyes, never breaking contact, never faltering. Our rhythmic motions kept us connected; him thrusting and me opening up for him. Up and down, up and down. Deeper now, deeper.
I grabbed his sturdy hand and held it in mine, rowing against the current. I placed his fingers around my throat and held them in place, still staring into his dark eyes. “Fuck me. Harder,” I cried. “Deeper.”
He placed his other hand around my mouth and whispered. “Shh.” Our breaths were quiet and controlled, our bodies pressed against each other. I was coming again, with his hands placed like that, and I felt the blood rush to my head. I grew dizzy with an immense pleasure and I fell backwards onto the carpet. He let go and placed himself over me. His body was like one of those tributes to a great God. The kind you see in the history books, like the sculpture of David, only he was even more perfect and chiseled.
“You want me to cum inside of you, don’t you?” His cock thrust into me, over and over. His ass, as incredible as it was, moved back and forth like a steam engine.
“Yes!” I whispered.
“I want to put a baby inside of you,” he whispered lightly against my ear. He bit my lobe and circled his tongue around the cartilage. Goose bumps formed across the tender spots of my body. All those dark and untouched places, he made sure to conquer. All of my body was his. All of his was mine. We dove into each other until we could dive no more.
His cock grew bigger and heavier, pumping full as my wetness enveloped him. He was going to come. I could sense it. His expression was strained and his thrusting more powerful. He was giving it all, giving me every last ridge. “I love you,” he said, kissing me one last time before shooting off inside me.
And then it happened. In one split second, his cock expanded, and spilled his seed into me. He pushed himself deeper, holding my waist in place. He fell out of me slowly and full of feeling.
“Fuck!” he hissed, closing his eyes sharply and grinding his teeth down. “You are… You’re fucking perfect.”
That was the day I knew I loved him.
17
LUCAS
I couldn’t believe I said those words. Those ill-fated fucking words: I love you.
Disgusting.
Who I was kidding? I did fucking love her. I loved everything about her. I loved the way she smelled, the way she kept her hair unkempt and a little bit messy, and the way she looked at me with fiery passion and mild indignation. I loved the way she cared for her kid, her strength, and I especially loved the way she moved across the room, rocking those hips back and forth in that hypnotizing rhythm.
She turned around, naked and perfect, and I had to follow her to the bedroom. I wanted this to be forever. I wanted her to make me take an oath, that the only job I would ever take would be to give her head, every Goddamn morning.
“You know,” she stared into her mirror as I lay in the bed staring back at her, “I still don't know anything about you.”
“Sure you do. You know I'm Mafia. You know that my family is crazy, that my life isn’t really ideal, or that—” She cut me off.
“I don’t mean that. I mean, I don’t know anything real about you. Who are you really? What do you love? What do you live for?” She turned around and faced me. Her hourglass body was a godsend to this world. Her pubic hair should be placed on a fucking mantle. God, I just loved everything about her. That’s what I lived for. Her.
I placed my hands behind my head, staring at the fan above me. I really thought about the question. I didn’t want to give some hal
f-assed answer like I normally did. If this thing was really happening, me and her, I wanted to be invested in it. “I’m a simple guy. I love old black and white movies, a good cup of coffee in the morning… I love seeing the birds fly over the clouds and listening to the wind blow against the trees. I love the ocean in all of its terrifying glory. But I only live for one thing now.”
“Oh yeah? And what is that?” she asked me, walking over to the bed.
“You.” I said. “Well, and Jen. Because she’s a part of you.” Man, I was getting sappy. And it actually felt… good.
“You know for a guy who’s lived a life in organized crime, you’re really sweet,” she said, smiling. She jumped onto the bed, falling across her 15 or so pillows.
In bed, her expression grew different. Her eyes were lowered and her gaze avoided mine. After some time of telling jokes and simply admiring each other, she asked “Will they kill him?”
“They could,” I simply said, knowing within seconds who she was asking me about. I knew this wasn’t the right answer to give. Still, it was the truth plain and simple.
“Because he's a soldier? Like you?” Her face pale with the heavy conscience of a woman who had ran out of options.
“I don't know anymore. I just know I'm tired of playing cops and robbers. I’m tired of having men’s lives in my hands.” She stared into my eyes like she was trying to dive into my thoughts. I wanted her to dive in. I wanted her to understand. The choices I had to make weren’t easy. When I had a gun pointed at someone, my men also had their guns pointed at me, metaphorically speaking of course. If I didn’t follow orders, that was a death sentence on my part.
“Don't kill him. Just don't,” she said. “For me.”
She wouldn't know it, but she was asking a lot from me. You can't just let a man go, especially not a man like Cade. He had aimed his gun at me, the Don’s son. That alone was reason enough to get a bullet in the head. I had to give her this though. It was killing me knowing I couldn't.
Honor, loyalty, and respect. The three virtues. This is what it got you: a bullet to the head.
“What will we do with him then?” I asked her honestly.
“I don't know. Leave him on an island somewhere. Drop him in the middle of the Sahara Desert. Do anything you want, but don't kill Cade. He's the most toxic person I've ever met or been with and he ruined my life. But that doesn't change the fact that he’s the father of my child,” she said, her eyes growing misty and cold.
“You've got to be kidding me!” I found myself almost yelling. “He could have killed both of you.”
“I didn't say I want him near us again. I just said he deserves to stay alive,” she said. “If you want to stay here, and I mean stay here, then you have to do this for me. You have to!”
She drove a hard bargain all right. What could I do but give in to her one wish? To me, Cade being alive was a complete and total danger to everyone in that house. But there were memories attached to the three of them, a different life even. They were memories that, in her mind, deserved to be kept alive, no matter how bad they were. She kept them in a drawer, locked away. Deep inside. She didn’t want to throw that key away, even if she wasn’t going to use it.
The thing was, I actually understood it. How many friends, family, and young gangsters, even complete strangers, did I see get gunned down with violent malice and spite? I saw my own family deteriorate into something most normal people would call evil. Even then, I didn't let those memories go. I didn't want them to disappear. They were a part of me. They led me to her, that beautiful woman lying in front of me.
So I agreed. “I'll make sure of it. He’ll stay alive, but he’ll be far away from this place. He’ll never even step foot in this country ever again,” I said. I didn't know if I could go through with it, but I had the will to find a way.
* * *
Back home, I had to make the case. I was a million miles away from where I wanted to be and all I could do was think of her scent to keep me grounded in my new convictions. “I don’t care what you do with him. Beat him, bloody him up, take all his money for all I care. Just don’t kill him. I’ve worked for this family all my life. I’ve given my blood for this empire.”
“And?” My father spat out. “What do you think that gets you? You think it makes you any more special than the rest of us?”
I stayed silent as he got up from his leather chair, carefully holding his lit cigar between two large fingers. He wandered over to a framed picture of his crew, back in 1949. “After Hitler’s demise,” he would always tell us, “we made America great. Detroit was a splendor to behold. Riches, everywhere. This city flourished.”
“And now it is nothing. It’s a fucking wasteland.” I interrupted him. My brother was cowering in the corner. No one stood up to the Don like this, not even his own kid. It was a death sentence. Everyone knew that.
Strange enough, he was nodding in agreement. “Maybe so. Maybe so. But that just adds to my point. We need to fight harder for this thing. We need to bring in as much money as we can. Those that fight against us will get the full extent of our anger and brutality,” he said, turning to me now. “I don’t understand all of this. You were always a good boy. You always listened to reason. Why are you fighting me on this now?”
“He’s found someone, Dad,” Ricky said, apparently gaining enough courage to speak out against me.
I ignored him. “Cade has given us the money back. He was repented. We’ve taken the life from his lackey. What more could we possibly want? Justice has been served.”
My father just laughed. “Justice? Is that what you’re after? Boy, if you thought this life was about justice, you might as well dig your own grave right now. There is no justice in this world. There’s only my rule of thumb. Regola del Pollice. We are the law around here. He knew that as everyone who makes business deals knows it.”
“You’re right. He signed up for this. But maybe we can find a better use for him,” I said.
“He’s slaving over that woman!” Ricky yelled. “He’ll do anything for her. He’s weak, father.”
My dad Antonio threw his cigar at Ricky. Sparks flew up as it hit his Armani suit. “Shut the fuck up, Ricky. You have no say in this matter.”
“But he’s clearly—”
“He deserves to be heard!” my father said, scowling at my brother. He slowly calmed himself down, holding his hand out in front of him. “I am an old man now, so maybe my words fail me. Maybe I’m coming on too strong. The world is different now. Gangs are different. There’s no honor these days. Men take my son to a building and leave him for dead. How could I just let them go, free to cause more chaos in the world? Then again, maybe I should be listening to you. You were, after all, the one to bear the beating. But what do you propose we do?”
“Give him an assignment. Make sure he comes through on it. Have him earn you extra money. Then send him somewhere, so he won’t be able to step foot here ever again.”
He stroked his chin, thinking to himself deeply. “Hm. We still have those connections in Caserta, right?” he asked, staring into the dark ceiling above.
“We do. I was thinking the same thing actually,” I said.
“We could send him there. Show him what life is really like in Southern Italy. Our men could put him to work and have him start earning within a day,” he said.
“Sure. As long as no one takes their eye off him. As long as he won’t be coming back here,” I said.
“We’ll make sure of it. We’ll give him incentive to stay. A little going away present if you will.” He smiled to himself.
“I don’t want to know what you’re insinuating. Just make it happen,” I said. My father nodded back in understanding. “Listen, there’s something else I want to talk to you about.”
Ricky groaned loudly. “That fucking woman…”
“Out. Now,” my father said to him. “I think it’s good you have a woman. A woman will keep you grounded. Women bring out the best in us.”
&nbs
p; It was embarrassing talking about this stuff. In our culture, you got your woman, got her pregnant, and resumed the life you lived previously. But I wanted something different. I wanted a new life altogether. It wasn’t going to be easy convincing my father I needed to leave the family business.
I had to give it to him straight. I said “I want out.”
He frowned and sat back down in his chair, pushing his back against the old leather. “Why did I have a feeling you’d say that?”
“For once in my life, I’ve found my passion, father.” I stood straight and tall, like a soldier leaving the fight might do.
“I always thought your passion was the business,” he muttered.
“I didn’t have any passions. I followed instructions. I was a good worker. I never disobeyed an order,” I said.
“Yes, you were. You were the best in the business. The jobs you pulled off. Marone, it was beautiful. But I guess that kind of life can get to a man. And you are my son…”
“I am your son. I want to make you proud of me,” I said.
He ran his hands along the arms of the chair, tapping lightly with his fingers. “You love this woman?” he asked me.
“I do. And her child.” I added the end for good measure.
He sighed loudly. It was the kind of sigh an old man gives when he’s worn out from fighting all his life. He raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. “I can’t say that I didn’t see this coming. You were always a smart boy. Much smarter than Ricky, anyway. If I could do it all over, I’d throw you in a good college. But that wasn’t an option for us back then. We needed all the help we could get and I trusted you more than I did my men.”
“I didn’t need school. My life was my life, and I don’t regret any part of it. I just want something different. A new beginning, if you will,” I said. He didn’t seem angry, which was a good sign.
“Col tempo la foglia di gelso diventa seta. Time and patience change the mulberry leaf to satin. I understand. I understand far too much. Is she a nice woman? Loving? Devoted? Is she a good cook?” He asked. A slight smile had creased over his mouth.
