Monk Paletti: Taming Ashley Sinatra

by Mallory Monroe

  “I know you’re clean, Monk. I can look at this house, this bedroom, and tell you’re super clean. You don’t need to shower on my account.”

  Monk knew she was saying that, too, because most men didn’t afford her that curtesy. “Yes, I do,” he said to her, his look so concerning that she didn’t know quite how to take it. “You deserve nothing less,” he added.

  But as he was about to walk away and head to the bathroom, Ashley grabbed for him and just caught the hem of his suitcoat. He turned to her.

  “Why?” she asked him.

  Monk didn’t understand what she meant. “Why what?”

  “Why do you respect me? Why do you think I deserve your respect?”

  Monk’s heart squeezed as he stared down at her sweet face. How on earth could anybody think she was a bad girl? Because of her behavior? Her behavior was what she did. But it wasn’t who she was!

  He knelt down to her, beside the bed. He wanted to make himself clear. He knew her self-esteem was about as low as his. “You deserve it,” he said to her, “because you’re a good person, and you have a good heart.”

  Ashley smiled. “How would you know that?”

  “Oh, I know. Take it from me now. I know these things. My kid brother, see, he’s a talker. He’s got whatta you call the gift of gab. But I ain’t got that gift,” he said, and Ashley smiled. “I’m no big talker. But what I do, Ash, is I watch. I’m a watcher. I watch and see people. I’m whatta you call an observer of human behavior. And this I know is true: all those big shots that go around thinking the world owe them something and the world should respect them just for showing up, are full of it, in my book. But somebody like you?” He nodded his head. “You deserve it, alright. You deserve it because you don’t believe you do. But I’ll let you in on a secret, Ash. The fact that you don’t think you deserve respect, is the very reason you deserve it the most. Don’t sell yourself short, you hear me? Everybody else is doing a good job of that already. Don’t help’em.”

  Ashley smiled. What a way with words he had, she thought.

  Monk liked that he made her smile, and he gave her a smile that wrinkled the sides of his big, beautiful eyes, and then he gave her a peck on her nose. And stood up. “I’ll be back,” he said, and made his way into his bathroom, closing the door behind him.

  Ashley turned onto her back still smiling. He was so old-fashioned, she thought!

  But then she realized she had tears in her eyes again. All her life she felt dirty and insignificant and never able to live up to her adopted family’s high standards. She was the black sheep. She was the one least likely to succeed. She was the outcast.

  Not that her adopted family treated her badly the way her biological parents had. Big Daddy and Jenay and the rest of the family treated her with nothing but love. They truly loved her, she believed that with all of her heart. But other than Donald, she couldn’t think of anybody else in the family, and especially outside of the family, who actually respected her. They did not respect her. And it was no mystery why. She was a screw-up from way back. She never seemed capable of getting anything right. But yet Monk respected her anyway.

  And that made it all so exciting for her. Her sad face even turned into a smile. “Damn, Ashley,” she said over the sound of the shower water running in the bathroom, “could it possibly be true? Could this incredible guy, who could have any woman he wanted she was certain, be for real? Could he really, truly, want her, and not just her body?

  She snuggled in that bed, a bed that smelled so like his cologne, and she couldn’t stop smiling and wiping tears from her eyes. Because, beyond just respecting her, Monk did something for her nobody else ever had: he made her happy. Every time she was around him, she felt better about herself.

  And that said more than a thousand words to Ashley.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Monk showered as quickly as he could, but he knew he had to wash away all of that craziness at that motel out of his mind too. And the craziness of his old man. Why would he snatch another don’s daughter over stolen weapons that were stolen over a year ago? Why would he take that risk? And it wasn’t like it was in a vacuum. Monk knew his old man sought the approval of Don Bonaducci and got it, or he wouldn’t have made that move. But they kept Monk in the dark because they knew he would have told them not to do it. To let him handle it his way. But they didn’t tell him shit. They just did it. And now they expected him to clean up the mess. As usual.

  He closed his eyes, and washed that mess off of him.

  Then he quickly got out, dried off, and made his way back into his bedroom.

  But when he made it back in that bedroom, Ashley, God love her, he thought, was fast asleep.

  At first, he was disappointed. He wanted her so badly he could taste her. But she was tired. He’d already seen that in her eyes. She was probably emotionally drained, as well, from wondering what his motives were with her heart. Motives even he weren’t that clear on himself.

  He walked around to the backside of the bed, got in, and then moved over and pulled her into his arms.

  Ashley woke up momentarily, and then she smiled at him, but she drifted off again. Which said a lot to Monk. She felt safe with him. That was huge to him.

  And that was why he let her sleep. And within minutes, as nothing could be heard in his big, quiet home but the soft hum of his air conditioning system, he was sleep too.

  But two hours later, after they both had awakened, Ashley was on top of him, his sleeved dick was deep inside of her, and his big hands were squeezing her ass so tight that it hurt, as he fucked her.

  Ashley couldn’t believe how good it felt. Mainly because he was going so sensually slow and easy, and was hitting her at just the right spot every time he moved inside of her. She wasn’t used to that ever. Every man she’d ever been with was wham-bam fast, doing his thing in two to five minutes, getting in and out before she realized he was even in. And they expected her to say how great it was. And she always smiled and said it was the best she ever had because she wanted him to want her. But inwardly, she felt ashamed.

  But Monk wasn’t ramming it through. He was taking his good time. He was making certain that she was getting satisfied too. And it made Ashley feel strange. She knew what fucking felt like. That was all she’d ever done. But was this what making love felt like? Was this how a man treated a woman when he truly cared about her?

  She laid her head on Monk’s broad shoulder and closed her eyes as he did her. And she wanted to cry again! She was crying so much it was ridiculous. But with Monk, they were always happy tears. Because she was beyond happy. She was satisfied. Monk’s dick was a comfort to her, and his big arms around her sealed the deal.

  They remained that way, making love slowly and sweetly, for half an hour. And for that entire time, both of them were moaning and groaning and on the edge of cum. Which made them both feel that kind of elation and excitement that only a sense of anticipation could bring. And Monk’s slow, careful, loving style with her made her feel better than all of those wild wham-bam bangs she’d experienced in her life. She held onto him as tight as she could as his dick kept moving deeper inside of her. He was taking them to the brink the way you took precious cargo to shore.

  It remained that way until they both felt something change. They were no longer on the brink. They felt something so profound that they knew it was about to happen. And it did.

  Because when they breached the brink, and both of them came, Ashley had never felt that way before in her entire life. The way he was still pumping her. The way he was still moving in and almost out of her, hitting that right spot, was as electrifying as it was euphoric. She leaned up from his chest as he kept pounding her, to look and see if he felt it too.

  He did. Monk felt it in every crevice of his body. He was still pounding her. He was still escalating his movements rather than easing up, as the feelings intensified to where he couldn’t get enough of her.

  “You just don’t know,” he said to Ash as
he pulled her back down and held her even tighter. As he pounded her and pounded her. It was Monk’s first rolling orgasm. It was the first time he’d cum, and then couldn’t stop cumming! That was what Ashley was doing to him. That was how she made him feel. He couldn’t get enough of her.

  It felt so good that he moved off of his back, still wedged inside of Ashley, and moved Ashley onto her back. He was now on top and they kept going, for another round of lovemaking.

  Ashley welcomed it, because it was her first time too. The longest a guy had ever done it to her, before Monk, was six minutes. And she thought that guy was some supernatural pro!

  She smiled as Monk easily surpassed six minutes again, their second time around. And it was just as electrifying their second time. And this time he sucked her breasts as he did her. He ravaged them as his dick stroked her with masterful strokes. So much so that she felt as if their lovemaking was even more extreme the second time around.

  Monk came first that second time. He tried to hold it back. He tried with all he had. But he made the mistake of looking at Ashley’s beautiful face and seeing the lust in her eyes. And that took him over. He cried out, leaned halfway up, and let it flow so hard that every vein in his body was totally exposed.

  And then Ashley came, too, and her orgasm was just as thunderous as his. For several minutes she came while he was still cumming. Until all that was left were the pulsations deep inside of both of them. And then, as Monk collapsed on top of Ashley, and as Ashley gladly bore his weight, the pulsations slowly, finally, ceased.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Several minutes later, after Monk had moved off of Ash and then pulled her against him, Ashley turned onto her side and looked at him. “Where did you do it?” she asked him.

  Monk looked at her. “Sorry?”

  “When you said you never had a woman in your bedroom, where did you have sex? Because I know you had a lot of it. You’re too good in bed to not have had plenty of it.”

  Monk smiled. He’d had precious few women in his lifetime, was the truth of it, and only when he was in critical need. Otherwise, he trained himself to keep all of that extra emotion at bay. “That’s none of your business,” he said in answer to her question, and Ashley laughed.

  But then she turned serious. “Thanks again, Monk, for that money. I spoke with my brother Donny today and he’s already putting it to good use. He’s restocking our shelves, which was our most crucial need.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Monk said.

  “I’m going to pay you back every dime.”

  “No, you aren’t,” said Monk.

  “Oh, I forgot! I’m going to pay you back every dollar.”

  But Monk was still shaking his head. “Not even that,” he said.

  Ashley was confused. “What do you mean?”

  Monk hesitated. He didn’t know how to say it, but he needed to say it. “We slept together,” he said.

  “Okay,” Ashley said, still not understanding.

  “I don’t know how they do it in Maine, but in my book that means something.”

  Ashley was pleased to hear that. “In my book too,” she said. Monk said in my book a lot, she realized, which seemed to suggest he made his own rules. And she liked that.

  “In my book,” he said again, “when you sleep with somebody, unless it’s just hooking up with a hooker, it’s supposed to mean something special. I don’t sleep around for sport like some I know.”

  Ashley thought he meant her. When he realized his error, he immediately placed his hand on her chin and turned her face up to his. “I’m not talking about you,” he made clear. “I’m talking about the guys I work with. Jersey boys. That’s who I’m talking about.”

  Ashley smiled. “Get it straight,” she said, and Monk smiled too.

  But Ashley still wasn’t understanding his point. “What are you saying about our sleeping together?” she asked him. “What does that have to do with me paying you back that money?”

  Here goes, Monk thought. “I view you differently,” he said.

  Ashley stared at him. She’d never met a man with such big, clear eyes. But her eyes were the ones still registering puzzlement. “You view me differently how?” she asked him.

  “I don’t see you as a lady I know anymore,” Monk said. “Now that we’ve been intimate, I see you as a lady I want to know more about.” He looked at her. “I don’t sleep around, Ashley. You being here, in my home, in my bed, puts you in a different category. A special category. That’s all I’m saying.”

  Ashley’s heart soared. But she needed to hear him say it. No man had ever said it to her before. “When you say a special category, what exactly does that mean, Monk?” she asked him.

  Monk had hoped he could keep it on the general tip, but he knew Ash deserved specifics. “What it means is that you’re whatta you call, not just a lady I know, but my lady. Okay? That’s what it means.”

  He said it and stared at Ashley. Would his confession scare her off? Was it too much too soon for her? Or could she handle a guy like him?

  She apparently could handle him, because she smiled. But she was smiling because he said it. He said it! He was the only man to ever claim her as exclusively his. She wasn’t just some lady anymore, he said. She was his lady. She was Monk’s lady. And she was thrilled.

  “In that case,” she said, “if I’m your lady, then I guess you’re my man.”

  Monk frowned. “You guess I’m your man? No, I’m your man,” he made clear. “Do you understand that, Ashley? There’s no guessing in this. You guess at it, then another man can say it’s up in the air. I don’t like things in the air. I like things on the ground. Grounded. I am your man,” he said.

  Ashley didn’t smile. Her look was serious. “I’m your lady,” she said, still elated, “and you’re my man. Got it.”

  “And because you’re my lady, you can forget that paying me back every dime bullshit,” Monk said.

  “But Monk!” said Ashley.

  “No, but Monk me! You’re my lady, and no lady of mine pays for anything. You got that? You don’t owe me a dime. A dollar either.” Then he snorted. “Your broke ass ain’t got it to pay back anyway,” he said.

  Ashley laughed. She laughed until her belly ached. “You’re wrong for that!” she said, hitting him playfully. And for some reason, it seemed right not to argue with him about it. Monk was all man. There was no boy in him, not like the guys she was used to. But she also knew she had to get accustomed to new things, like being with a real man. Like letting a man be a man. Like accepting gifts from her man. Not that that was ever a problem for Ashley. She would have loved accepting gifts from her man. She just never got any.

  That was why she didn’t insist on paying him back no matter what, or question why he chose her and was so kind to her. That was over. She was going to just go with the flow. She smiled and laid her head on his shoulder.

  Monk felt an awesome sense of relief, as if a burden had been lifted, when she didn’t dispute his characterization of their relationship, or that money he gave to her. He knew their coupling was still young. He knew they had a long row to hoe. But at least they understood each other. At least there shouldn’t be any misunderstanding about where they stood. She was his. And he was hers. Period.

  But as they laid there together, quietly, they both began to think about the practicality of their relationship. Monk lived in Jersey, but Ashley lived in Maine. By plane, it was an hour-and-a-half trip. By car, it was more like a five hour trip. But it was still long distance.

  And their personalities were so polar opposite! How in the world they were going to square that circle? Because something had to give. One of them, eventually, was going to have to be tamed.

  But just as Monk was enjoying the quietness, and still digesting the fact that he’d just made a commitment to a woman, something he’d never done before, Ashley became restless and sat straight up. And then she slid over and sat on top of Monk, straddling him. She was still wet, and he could
feel the wetness between her legs as she sat on his stomach. And then she smiled and melted all his worries away.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked and hit him on his chest with both of her open hands.

  “The plan?” Monk was confused. “What plan?”

  “The plan for our evening, Monk! Have you forgotten? It’s Saturday night. It’s a big Saturday night. What are we going to do?”

  Monk had no idea. If he wasn’t somewhere putting out fires for the organization, he never did anything on Saturday nights, and was glad not to have to do anything. He thought they’d just lounge around. “I thought we would just . . . I don’t know, maybe watch a program or something.”

  Ashley smiled at the way he put things. “A program? What kind of program, Monk?”

  “You know. A show. A television program.”

  “Do you have one in mind?”

  “Actually yeah. It’s this documentary, see, about this group of people, all Holocaust survivors, who go to the Catskills every year, to this place called Four Seasons Lodge, so that they could whatta you call get together. That’s why they call the documentary Four Seasons Lodge, on account of that’s the name of the place where they go every year. I saw it once before, and planned on seeing it again. It was really nice.”

  Ashley could hardly believe it. “You think a documentary about Holocaust survivors is nice?”

  “It’s not nice, that’s not the right word. But it’s whatta you call it? Entertaining.”

  “Surviving the Holocaust is entertaining?”

  “That’s the wrong word too! I’m getting my words mixed up, but you get the point. It’s compelling. That’s the word! Compelling.”

  But Ashley still didn’t get it. “What’s compelling about it?”

  “A lot of’em got together because their whole families were wiped out and they wanted to be with somebody familiar. One lady said, and I might be misquoting her, but one lady said that after they survived, they latched onto each other, and then they got stuck.”