She may not have worn the skirt, but she still was thinking about pleasing me. About giving herself to me. The shot of pleasure that runs through me nearly makes me come right there.
I spear her with my pulsing erection, slamming in and up hard.
She gasps and wraps her legs around my back.
“Baby, that definitely deserves a reward.” I proceed to fuck her to high heaven. Every thrust gets me deeper, gets her wilder. She lets out panicked little cries, yanks my hips in with her ankles crossed behind my back. Digs her nails into my shoulders.
I love seeing her so lost, so crazed for the release.
It actually makes me hold out longer, my own pleasure so tied up in watching hers unfold. I shift my weight to one arm and use the other hand to roll and tweak one nipple. When I pinch it and hold, she comes with a scream.
“Gio! Oh my God! What are you doing to me?” Her hips buck frantically against mine as her pussy milks my cock.
I hold off a few more thrusts, and then I come too, shoving in deep and staying there for the release.
I drop my head into the crook of her shoulder, my breath combining with hers as we pant and recover. I suck her earlobe into my mouth, swirl my tongue around the delicate pink shell.
She squirms and giggles.
“Che belleza,” I murmur against her skin. “I love watching you crash over the other side.”
Her pussy squeezes, making my cock twitch inside her. “I’ve never had sex like this,” she admits, which I’d already guessed.
“Me neither,” I tell her. It’s true. I’ve fucked a lot of girls. More than I’d ever care to count, and I’ve done it in every way imaginable, but it’s all different with her. It feels new and exciting and so much better.
I brush her hair back from her face and trail my lips across hers in a loose, investigatory kiss. “You do something to me, Marissa. Something good.”
“You make me feel…”
“What?” I prompt when she doesn’t finish.
“I don’t know. So much. Like everything’s magnified-the good, the bad. All of it.”
I ease out of her. “What’s the bad, angel?” It’s like one of those car crashes where you know what’s coming but can’t stop from asking.
She shakes her head. “No, it’s not bad. Just my anxieties. I’m out of my depth with you, Gio. And it scares me.”
I’m flayed open by her honesty. It makes me want to give her everything. My heart on a stick. My money. My life.
“Don’t be scared with me,” I murmur. “Never with me. Remember my promise? I’m a man of my word.”
Marissa
I blink up at Gio, a riot of emotions filling my chest beyond capacity. It seems too unreal to believe this powerful, wealthy, dangerous man is making pledges to a twenty-five-year-old line cook from Cicero.
But if it all goes back to me being in his nightmares, I guess it makes sense. I represent something to him. Something about why he survived or what he should change in his second chance at life.
Because the moment is too big, too vulnerable, too scary, I blurt, “I made dessert.”
A giant grin stretches across Gio’s beautiful face. “She made me dessert,” he narrates. “This girl is perfect.” He arches one brow, movie-star style. “Only I thought you were the dessert, angel.” He climbs off me and helps me to my feet.
“Another dessert, then,” I tell him. I’m excited to give it to him. He was so stand-offish when I got here, I’d decided to just tuck it in the fridge and let him find it on his own, but now I’m eager to treat him.
“Lucky me,” he rumbles.
“Yes,” I agree.
“You’re excited,” he observes. “You really love what you do.”
I try to pick up my jeans from the floor, but he swats my bare ass. “No clothing, angel. I like it when you serve me naked.”
My well-used pussy gets hot and wet again at those words.
His gaze drops to my nipples, which tightened. Flushing, I scoot toward the kitchen and he follows me. When I try to at least put on the apron like last time, he shakes his head. “No way you’re covering up that pretty pussy, angel.”
“I think the health inspector might have something to say about this,” I mutter, but I’m fighting a smile.
His smirk is sexy as hell.
I pull out the container with the dessert from the refrigerator and grab two plates. I keep my back to Gio as I dust the plates with powdered sugar and cocoa, then serve us each a piece of homemade tiramisu with a handcrafted espresso truffle on the side. I decorate the edges of the plates with a drizzle of raspberry sauce and one raspberry, one blackberry and one strawberry, cut into a flower shape. Then I turn to present them.
Gio’s gaze falls on my body first, traveling from my breasts to my pussy and back to my breasts. Then he finally sees the dessert. “Tiramisu? My favorite.”
“I remember,” I admit. He always orders it when we have it at the deli. “My nonna’s recipe, but I made it special for you.” I blush at the admission.
He holds his arm out. “Come here.”
Setting down the plates, I walk over and he wraps his arm around my waist, pulling my naked body against his fully clothed one. His hand slides over my ass and squeezes.
“I fucking love it when you cook for me,” he murmurs against my temple, then tips my chin up and slides his lips over mine in a slow kiss. “I might have to lower your wages so you never pay off your debt to me.” He says it so warmly, with such an appreciative purr, the alarm bells don’t go off in my head. “I guess you were right about the Tacones after all.”
My pussy’s dripping again. I don’t know why my body’s so responsive to him-whether it’s his words or his touch, but I’m definitely owned, even without the money situation between us.
I look up and rub my nipples over his shirt. “Shouldn’t you making me an offer I can’t refuse?”
The broad smile stretches his lips again, revealing gleaming white teeth. “Angel, I’d give you anything. Make a list and I’ll start fulfilling it.”
A puff of surprised laughter comes out of my mouth. “Okay… how about erasing my debt?” Might as well go for the gold, right?
Regret flickers over his face and my belly twists up tight. “Not that one, baby. I’m not ready to free the little caged bird yet.”
I knew it was too much to ask-thirty grand is a huge debt to ask forgiveness for, and yet his refusal pierces me. Maybe because he’s so bald about what this is. I try to stumble back, but he holds me fast.
“We had a bargain, angel. We’re both enjoying it. Let it ride a while longer, baby. I’m open to renegotiating if that changes.
I relax a little. He brings his mouth down, hovering over mine, but doesn’t claim my lips. “Kiss me,” he commands.
The moment I do, all my misgivings and apprehensions fall away. I wrap my arms around his neck. He pulls my legs up around his waist and I dive into everything it means to be owned by Gio Tacone. To be naked and at his mercy. He backs me against a wall and presses me into it, pinning me firmly so he can rub the bulge of his cock against my weeping pussy.
“Wh-what about dessert?” I gasp when he comes up for air.
“Spend the night,” he demands.
I blink. The truth is, I had already told Aunt Lori I might not be home tonight. That I was going to a concert with a friend and would probably crash at her place. “Okay,” I murmur.
Gio rewards me with his magnificent smile and slowly lets me slide to the floor. He kisses me one more time. “Then I guess we have time for dessert,” he says, cupping my ass and giving it an appreciative squeeze before releasing me.
Gio picks up both plates and two spoons. “Pick a wine,” he orders before carrying the plates out to the dining room.
I find a moscato dessert wine and pour it into small crystal glasses. I love that Gio has every size and style in his cabinet. I hate to admit it, but I love everything about his luxury place. Just being in it makes me feel wealthy, as if being around the expensive furnishings somehow nourishes my own body and being.
In the living room, Gio pulls me onto his lap, straddling him and feeds me the first bite. I take it, but as the delicious sweet confection melts in my mouth, I say, “You try it. I made it for you.”
“I know, angel. I’m still rewarding you for that.” I watch as he takes a bite and rolls his eyes with pleasure. “Mmm. So good, baby. I can taste the love you put into it.”
I laugh. “That’s what my nonna always says about her food.”
“It’s true.” He feeds me another bite.
“So,” I say, rolling the sweet, creamy fluff around in my mouth. “I haven’t seen a piano move into Michelangelo’s. What’s going on with that?”
“Oh. Yeah. Still thinking about it.”
I make a scoffing sound. “What’s to think about? It’s your dream, Gio. Make Michelangelo’s into something you love. As long as you love it, so will the world. That’s what one of my teachers at the culinary institute told us. She said yes, follow what’s trending, know the market, know what’s hot. But still create what you love.”
Gio’s gaze slides over to his baby grand.
“That piano in white would look perfect there,” I insist. “Where do you get a piano like that? Let’s go shopping tomorrow.”
Gio’s lips quirk. “You’re gonna go piano shopping with me?”
“Yeah, totally. It will be fun.”
“What time do you work?”
“I actually don’t work tomorrow. Not at Michelangelo’s and my aunt can probably handle Milano’s-I’ve worked it alone all week with Mia’s recovery. She owes me.”
“That’s great. It’s my birthday.”
“It is?” I straighten up. I’m the type who goes all out for birthdays. I don’t know-product of being abandoned by my mom and hating every birthday growing up when she didn’t show. Now I work overly hard to make sure everyone else’s birthday isn’t as big a disappointment as mine always are.
Gio feeds me the last bite of tiramisu and pops the truffle in his mouth. “Ohhhhh yeah. This is so good, angel. Coffee bean?”
I’m ridiculously pleased with his appreciation. “Espresso, yes.”
“I love it.”
I wriggle over his lap and put my arms around his neck. “What do you want me to make you for your birthday?”
His smile is feral. “Oh, angel. There’s nothing you make that would disappoint me.”
“That isn’t what I asked. What’s your favorite meal? Or dessert? Why didn’t you tell me so I could make a special birthday dinner?”
He runs his hands up and down my bare back. “We do family dinner for birthdays. Will you come?”
I stop breathing.
I haven’t even accepted the fact that Gio and I are dating-or whatever we’re doing. I’m so not ready to be brought to a birthday dinner with the family.
But Gio looks like he’s holding his breath, too. And it’s his birthday.
“You, um, really want me there, or you’re just inviting me to be nice?”
I know he’s not going to give the answer I’m hoping for. He brushes both my nipples with the pads of his thumbs at the same time, sending a shiver straight to my core. “I want you there. For my birthday present. Will you come?”
Fuck.
A Tacone family dinner.
I swallow. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll go. On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“You leave the gun at home.”
It bothers the hell out of me that he wears a gun every time he leaves the house. Every time I see it or feel it on him, the memory of six dead bodies on the floor of Milano’s shoots me through the center of my forehead.
He hesitates for a breath. “Yeah, okay.”
“Okay?”
“Yeah.” He shoots me that devastating grin. “Can I keep it in the car?”
“Leave the gun, take the cannoli,” I joke, quoting The Godfather, but I also get wet. Is he really asking my permission? This man who rules Chicago. Who lives in a world of crime and violence? Whether it’s a real power he’s giving me, or just the illusion, I freaking love it. I kiss his neck. “That’s a decent compromise.”
Gio grins and pulls my hips tight against his. “Twenty-four hours with the girl of my dreams. Sounds like a perfect birthday.”
“You mean nightmares,” I say to take away the flutters in my belly, the panic over what I’m getting myself into.
His smile is sad. No-haunted. “Same thing.”