Gio
I shouldn’t have let her run.
Or maybe it was the right thing to do. I don’t fucking know.
I feel like I need to see a shrink, like fucking Tony Soprano or something.
Why is it with Marissa Milano things just get muddier and muddier? That’s not true. They get crystal clear and then they fall apart.
There were moments when she was at my place, when I felt like a new man. When I found the me who’s been buried under the mold of the Family man. The person I really am. The man I was meant to be.
There were glimmers of purpose and hope. Of possibilities I never believed possible. More like a feeling or energy than a real concrete vision of a future.
But the resonance of it was incredible.
It’s still sustaining me, even though the darkness creeps back in more and more every day.
She needed space. I could tell by the way she scampered out of here, refusing to let me drive her home. Refusing to accept any more favors from me.
So I stayed away for the last week. I haven’t been into Michelangelo’s or Milano’s while she’s been working. I haven’t texted or called.
But tonight’s her night to come and cook for me, and I’m really fucking looking forward to it.
Still, there’s a point when you gotta stop chasing. I’ve said before, I’m not the kinda guy who has to pay women. I don’t need to force or coerce. So if this one doesn’t want me, I’m not gonna press the issue.
That’s what I decided.
It’s reinforced when the doorman calls up to say she’s downstairs. She didn’t call me for a ride.
If she shows up in a skirt and heels, eager to please, then I’ll know where I stand.
I get up to unlock and crack the door, but then I go back to my computer at the dining room table.
She taps on the door and pushes it open.
Jeans and a fucking t-shirt.
Okay. That’s a clear message.
So I’ll leave her the fuck alone.
I just call my greeting from where I’m sitting. Like she’s the help. And I’m the boss.
Which is actually the case and how I need to leave things.
She gets busy making the food while I look through Michelangelo’s financials. Except I don’t know what the fuck I’m looking for. I used a broker to buy the business. He established the value, and I doubled it to make my offer irresistible.
But I know jack about running a restaurant except how to eat in one. I forward the info off to Nico with the note:
Took your advice, brother. I’m now the proud owner of Michelangelo’s. Would you mind taking a look at the financials and letting me know what you think?
Marissa comes in with a plate of beautiful food. Pork chop with some kind of dried currant and berry sauce and steamed asparagus that is exactly the right tenderness and buttery goodness.
I resist the urge to make her sit with me. Resist the urge to touch her.
When she comes to clear my plate, though, she stops and swallows. “You mad at me?”
Oh, sugar. Now I can’t stop myself. My hand reaches for her waist, slides to the back of her jeans where I squeeze her ass. “You trying to make me mad?”
She sucks in a breath her pupils dilating. “No. I mean, I wasn’t, but…”
“You need me to turn this ass red again?” I squeeze another handful because it feels so. Damn. Good.
She leans into me.
Fuck.
So much for keeping my hands off her.
I tug her onto my lap and firmly cup between her legs with one hand. With the other, I grab a fistful of her hair and tug her head back. “Babygirl, here’s the score. I’m tired of watching you scamper away like you think I’m gonna bite. So if you want my hands on you, you need to make it clear. Give me a fucking, yes, please. Otherwise I’m cutting you loose. Tell me now.”
Cristo. Sometimes I shock even myself with what comes out of my mouth with this girl. And the truths she pulls from me are even more surprising.
I definitely shocked her. Her blue eyes are wide, pupils huge. She’s squirming against my fingers, panting over the stress on her scalp.
“Yes, please,” she whispers.
My chuckle is dark and possessive.
My desire is black as night.
The things I want to do to this girl.
The things I’m going to do.
I tug her knees wide, throwing her legs over the outside of mine and slap her pussy with three sharp smacks. Then I grind the seam of her jeans over her clit.
She wriggles and moans.
“You gonna be my good girl?” My voice is gravel-dirty. Dangerously gruff.
“N-no.”
I slap her pussy again.
“Yes!” she yelps. “Yes?”
I bite her ear. “You aren’t sure?”
“Wh-what do you want?”
I laugh. “That’s right, angel. It is about what I want, isn’t it? Because you know I’m gonna make it good no matter what I do. Don’t you, baby?”
She cups her own breasts. My dirty talk has thrown her over the edge into full on sexual excitement. I get the feeling it’s unknown territory for her, and I fucking love how brave she is.
“Let’s get this off for starters.” I pull her t-shirt over her head.
She reaches to unbutton her jeans.
I catch her hands. “Uh uh. Did I say remove your pants?”
She stops, confused.
“Maybe I want them on.” I can’t think of any good reason to keep them on at the moment, but I feel like calling all the shots. I’m so done with pussy-footing around this girl. If she wants my touch, she’d better fucking submit.
“Bra off,” I order.
She unhooks it and slides it off her arms. I cup both her breasts and pinch the nipples.
“What did I tell you about these breasts?”
“Um… I don’t know.”
I slap her pussy, then return to rolling the nipples between my forefingers and thumb. “I said they’re perfect. Now you say it.”
“Oh, Jesus, Gio.”
“Say it, babygirl. You already have a punishment coming.”
“For what?”
“You know what for.”
She gulps as I rub the seam of her jeans against her clit again. “They’re perfect,” she mumbles.
“Louder. Say my tits are fucking perfect. Loud and proud, baby.”
“Oh my God, Gio. You’re nuts.”
I pinch both nipples tight and hold. Bite her shoulder. “Say it.”
“My tits are fucking perfect!” she squeals.
I release her nipples and she mewls.
I push her up to stand. “Bend over the table, baby.”
She shoots me a nervous look over her shoulder but turns back to the table and slides her fingertips over the surface until her bare breasts are flattened against the glass.
“Now that’s a pretty sight.” I stand up and unbuckle my belt. She shoots another nervous glance over her shoulder.
“I’ll let you keep your jeans on for your spanking, pretty girl. I wouldn’t want to leave marks.”
She sinks her teeth into her lower lip and turns back to face the table. I can see her reflection in the glass. She’s excited.
“Spread your legs.” I nudge her feet wider.
I wrap the buckle end of my belt around my fist and try it out on my leg. I’m just playing- I definitely don’t want to hurt Marissa.
Tempering the strokes, I let the belt swing, careful not to let the tail wrap around her hip.
She gasps.
I rub all over her ass, rub between her legs, squeeze. “You okay, baby?”
“Yes, please.”
I laugh. “Please, huh? That mean you want more?”
“Um, yes? I think so.”
“Tip your ass back and show me you’re gonna be a good girl for your spanking.”
She does and I deliver five quick stripes. I don’t go heavy, but enough that she’ll feel a little sting, even through the jeans.
When I stop and rub, she hums in appreciation.
I reach around the front and unbutton her jeans, then shimmy them, along with her panties, down her legs. She kicks off her sneakers so I can get them off her feet. Then I slide my chair around behind her, push her ass open and lick her from behind.
Her pussy squeezes and ass clenches at the contact of my tongue with her sensitive lips. She shivers and trembles as I lick her from clit to anus and back again.
“Was this what you were hoping for when you said, yes, please?”
“Um, yes,” she whimpers.
“You like the way I own your body, doll?”
“Yeah.”
“Even though you kneed me in the balls for it?”
“I’m sorry,” she pants. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Tell me, angel.” I stand to penetrate her with a finger. “What is it you’re so afraid of?” I pump my finger inside her. “The way I make you feel? Or something you think I’m gonna do to you that you won’t like?”
“I-I don’t know,” she gasps.
I pump faster, then stop to add a second finger and pump again. “No, baby. I’m not accepting that answer.” I keep pumping.
Her breath shudders, inner thighs tremble. She’s close to coming just from my fingers.
“Tell me the fucking truth, Marissa.” I push my thumb over the pucker of her asshole and rub.
Her pelvis jerks. She doesn’t answer.
I pull my fingers out and slap her bare ass with a resounding crack.
“A-aah!”
“You want me to let you come, angel?”
She whimpers.
I slap her again. “Answer me with words.”
“Yes, please.”
“Then answer my question.”
“It’s not… I’m afraid because…”
I slap her again when she doesn’t finish.
“Because you’re a Tacone.”
I wrap my fingers her in hair and tug her head up, lower mine to meet it. “So what?”
“So… you’re dangerous.”
I ignore the screwdriver that just rammed through my ribs. I push her hair back from her face so she can look into my eyes when I ask, “Dangerous to you?”
She blinks.
“Answer me,” I murmur. “Am I dangerous to you, Marissa?”
After a moment, she tries to shake her head, which, of course, doesn’t work because I’m holding her hair. “No,” she whispers.
I release her hair. “No.” I step back and slap her ass again. “I’m gonna take care of you, Marissa. I told you that.”
I pull out a condom and free my erection.
“Because of the nightmares?” she rasps.
The breath goes out of me at the mention of them. “Yeah-no-I don’t know, baby. Because you’re you. I’m not going to let anybody hurt you.”
I slap her ass and hold, giving the plump cheek a jiggle. “Not even me.”
I rub the head of my sheathed cock over her swollen entrance, and the flesh parts immediately to take me in. Like it’s where I fucking belong.
The moment I’m in, I know I picked the wrong place for this. My glass table top will not withstand the pounding I want to give this girl. I slide in and out slowly, my eyes rolling back in my head with the glory of how good she feels. I grip her hips and give her a few short thrusts then a few slow full glides again.
“Angel, you want me to fuck you hard?”
“Yes.” I love how there’s no hesitation in her answer. She may be unsure of me in other ways, but my dominant kink doesn’t scare her a bit.
In fact, I’d have to say Marissa’s a bit of a freak in the sack, too.
“Then I’m gonna have to get you off this table or I’ll crack it in two.” I thrust in deep and pull her hips back with mine, helping her straighten. I rotate our bodies away from the table. “On your knees, bella.” I pull out before she drops to her knees, but immediately follow her to the floor, thrusting in again the moment she’s down.
And then it’s just the bliss of slamming in and out. Holding her hips firmly in place while I slap my loins against her ass, get in deep to satisfy the building need.
No telling how long I’m at it-my mind slipped away in the pleasure of it, but then it returns, and I realize I crave more.
I pull out. “On your back, doll. I want to see your face when I make you come.”
Ever obedient, she instantly drops and wriggles onto her back before me, her knees bent open in an invitation.
“That’s it, bella.”
That’s when I see she’s shaved bare. Last time she was neatly trimmed. “Oh, angel. I stroke my thumb over the smooth skin. “Did you do this for me?”
She meets my gaze and holds it, nodding slowly.
Ave Maria.