YES, DADDY, page 3
Once I’m inside her.
I push the blanket further upward, then lift and fold it back to see she’s wearing lime-green cotton panties that ride high on her lush hips. I see the indent of her slit and want to run my tongue through that groove. I’m teased by the Star Trek T-shirt she’s wearing. Like her furniture, it looks vintage with a serious-looking James T. Kirk staring back at me, the fabric bunched just under her braless tits.
Wildness bends my thoughts in depraved ways, but I won’t go any further.
Not now at least.
I squeeze my eyes shut and take a deep breath, heat blasting through me as I cover her again and lean down, breathing her in.
Before I retreat, I press my lips to hers for a moment, feeling her warm breath on mine, and inhale sharply to take her inside me in this small way.
“Sleep well, my Bambina,” I whisper into her ear before taking my leave, softly pulling the bedroom door closed behind me.
Outside the door, I lean one forearm against the wall and drop my other hand to bring release to my throbbing dick.
I fist the steel girth; it only takes a few strokes before I’m cumming in my hand, thoughts of my lips on hers fueling my release.
One touch, and I’ll never be the same. I don’t know what sort of monster I will become once I take all of her, but I know one thing: Anyone that hurts her will face a wrath unlike any I’ve unleashed before.
3
Esme
KAREN UNFOLDS THE TOP of the brown grocery bag, then starts lifting out white take-out containers.
“It’s eight in the morning,” I groan, touching the bump on my head and pulling my legs under me as I shove a pillow behind my back on the sofa. “Who eats Thai food at eight in the morning?”
She bobs her head back and forth, making her slick black hairbrush at her shoulders. “Me.” She smirks. “And you. Hey, I just got off work, so feels like dinner time to me.”
I met her on the bus to the courthouse the week I started my internship. She was headed there herself to pay some overdue parking tickets for her loser boyfriend, who she—thank goodness—kicked to the curb soon after we met.
The bus was full, the seat next to her the only empty space, and as luck would have it, she can make friends out of rocks. I liked her immediately, and we look like yin and yang twins. She has the exact same hair as mine, shoulder length, thick and always a bit messy with bangs, except hers is jet black.
Her eyes are nearly as dark as her hair, and her skin is a deep olive that makes her look like she’s just disembarked from a month-long tropical cruise. We match each other almost exactly in height and weight and enjoy finding clothes for each other on our thrift store outings nearly every weekend.
In getting to know each other, we figured out we have a fear of driving in common, as well. So we buy a lot of bus tokens and are able to figure out the route to wherever we are going without even looking at a line map.
She pokes two sets of chopsticks into two of the containers, then comes over to join me on my faded blue crushed-velvet sofa that looks like it came out of the Formans’ basement on That '70s Show.
My apartment is within walking distance or a quick bus ride to the courthouse. I rented it for next to nothing, and it came partially furnished—thank goodness. I do love to make places look nice, but even I need something to work with. At school, a few other girls even asked me to help them decorate their dorm rooms after seeing mine. So with some luck, clearance finds and thrift stores, I’ve made this little place look pretty nice, if I do say so myself.
I take a deep breath over the takeout container, and as the scent of red pepper and peanut sauce makes my mouth water, I realize I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday morning.
“So, what gives with the goon?” Karen shovels a bite of noodles into her mouth and raises her eyebrows, staring at me.
I swallow my first bite, the butterflies in my belly swarming as I think of Vito.
“He’s not a goon,” I shoot back, more sharply than I should. “He was just trying to do the right thing.”
She slurps a noodle between her lips and rolls her eyes. She’s still in her work clothes, black overalls with a red t-shirt, the uniform for the building maintenance company she works for cleaning offices at night. The pant legs are rolled up almost to her knees, showing off a pair of purple socks with green Frankenstein characters running up the sides. Her little rebellion against the less-than-flattering uniform.
“The doctor said I shouldn’t be alone, so he was probably trying to keep me from suing him.” The reality hits me like a punch in the gut as I wonder if my statement holds some merit.
“Oh! Reminds me...” She sets the container down on the coffee table and jumps up, walks to the counter, and grabs a piece of paper before handing it to me. “Yeah, I don’t think he’s just trying to keep you from suing him, my dear.”
I set my food down and take the paper from her hands.
My heart starts pounding when I see the thick black writing. Shifting on the sofa, I push my hair behind my ear and start reading.
Sweet girl,
I am leaving you with your friend for now. I have some things to take care of today, but I will be back. I hope when you wake your head is feeling better. If not, I’ve set out two Tylenol for you in your bathroom. (If you haven’t seen them already by the time you read this.) You can take two more every six hours until your headache subsides.
Know that when I return, if you are still in pain, we will be making a return trip to the hospital as I will not risk that there could be some other complications that were not detected last night.
I look up to see Karen grinning. “Did you read it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes at her, and she nods.
“Of course I did.” Her matter-of-fact answer doesn’t surprise me. “I get here, there’s some Italian Stallion-slash-linebacker dude who hit you with his car, there’s a note on the counter from him to you, and I’m not going to read it? Do you know me?”
“You’re impossible,” I reply, then lower my eyes to finish reading the note.
I did not get your phone number before you went to sleep, my oversight. I need you to text me when you wake to let me know how you are feeling. You will find my number at the bottom here.
As well, I will let you know when I will return, and depending on how you are doing, I will tell you what tonight’s plans will be.
Until then, my Bambina, rest, and know I will be back for you.
Vito
My head is spinning as I re-read the note and feel the tension rising in my belly at the thought of his return—and why I seem to be so entranced by a man I barely know.
“My Bambina?” Karen snorts, taking another bite of noodles off her chopsticks.
“Shut it.” I poke mine toward her. “He’s just being nice. Gentlemen are unusual these days, that’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” She rolls her eyes as she chews, and I fail to restrain the smile that curves my lips. She swallows then goes on. “So, what exactly happened last night? How did you end up getting hit?”
My mood darkens, remembering where I was and why. “I had an interview for a job.”
“Cool. Where?”
“It was with this guy, Salvatore. The fact that he didn’t give me a last name should have tipped me off. Nadine from work gave me his number, so I called, and he said to come down for an interview last night. As soon as I got there, it felt off. It was this old warehouse. The job was supposed to be as a hostess for some club, so I thought maybe they just don’t do interviews there, or maybe it’s some trendy basement club or something, but...”
“What?”
“It wasn’t. And it wasn’t the kind of club I thought it would be, either. As soon as he started talking, I knew I wasn’t what they wanted. And the interview turned into more of a tryout for what I think was the real job.” I raise my eyebrows, hoping she will catch on. “It was being a special sort of hostess.”
“No shit. Like he wanted you to do something?”
“Yeah, he told me about this private club, the pay would be great. Then he asked if I was ‘experienced.’ Said if I was a virgin, the pay would be a lot more. Before I could figure out how to get out of there, he had unzipped his pants and told me to show him how much I needed the job.”
“God damn. I’m so sorry, Esme. Fucking men.” She shakes her head with a disgusted look on her face.
I shrug. “It’s okay. I should have punched him in the face, but there were about six other guys in the office when I walked through, so all I could think of was to run. So, I ran. Out the door, down the street through the rain, and with all that thunder and lightning and being in this crazy panic, I thought I could make it across the street, but I tripped and fell straight into Vito’s car.”
“Wow. Enter the white knight on his trusty steed, racing in to save the day.”
I feel my heart thumping at the memory of Vito kneeling and picking me up off the pavement. How he looked at me like a precious broken doll, then did everything he could to put me back together.
For his size and manner, he was so gentle. He felt fatherly almost, but with this underlying gritty sexiness unlike anything I’ve imagined before.
I shiver, thinking of each time he touched me, oddly entitled. I should have been furious, but I was more flattered. He took control of me in a way, and I hate to admit how much I liked it. I barely know him, but I feel as though there is this unreasonable connection between us that has its hooks already sinking into me.
Just thinking of him has my pulse racing and heat coursing through my veins. We barely know each other, and to most I’m sure he’s frightening. But all I feel is this sense that somehow he’s here just for me.
Whatever is going on, I’m craving more. Thoughts I’ve never had about a man or boy before careen around in my mind. Vito is big, and for the first time in my life, I am wondering if he is big all over.
Karen interrupts, cock-blocking my dirty thoughts. “So, we know Vito is the hero of this story. But all we know about the asshole is that he’s Salvatore? Are you sure you didn’t walk into an episode of The Sopranos last night?”
I shrug. “Coincidence.”
“And someone at work referred you to him?”
“Yeah, Nadine. She’s a paralegal. She asked me what was wrong Friday, and I don’t know, I just spilled. About Mom, Dad, the bills, everything. She’s always been nice to me, and she seemed to really care, said a friend of hers knew someone with a club that was hiring evening staff, good money. I can’t imagine she knows what it was really about. I mean, she works for the DA...”
“Weird. Like, 'something smells funny' weird.”
I shrug, the dark cloud over me returning. “Back to square one.”
Karen and I finish our food and put on a movie. I’m still tired, and I lay my head on the arm of the sofa.
“Here.” Karen reaches to grab the crocheted afghan from behind her on the sofa and throws it over me. “Take a little nap. How’s your head feel?”
“Fine,” I answer, my eyelids already drooping. “It feels fine.” I let them close, and visions of what Vito might be packing under that suit lull me into a lust-filled sleep.
4
Vito
“FUCK.” I LOOK DOWN at my phone and see there still isn’t a message from Esme.
I told her to message me when she woke up, and it’s now almost 11 a.m. She could still be asleep, but I’m anxious as fuck that something could be wrong.
“What the fuck is your problem today?” Malcolm Fideri sounds more curious than irritated. He’s a work associate and my friend. He’ll be working with me more now that I’ve broken away from Salvatore, and today we had meetings with a few contractors about doing work on our new offices.
I want to lean toward looking, and being, more legit. Meeting Esme last night has only fueled my fire to live a life I can be proud of.
A life we can both be proud of.
Because that’s how I’m thinking now. I can’t help it—she's in every thought I have. How what I do in every way could affect her and our life.
Our. Life.
“Nothing, I’ve just got things on my mind.”
“I’ve seen you with things on your mind before. You’re never like this.”
“New things. Personal things.”
He chuckles. “You have personal things? Since when do you have personal things?”
“Since last night,” I bark back.
He holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Does this something have a name? Does this something have anything to do with you sending the workers to your house and all that other shit you’ve been doing all morning on the computer?”
“Maybe,” I answer, at the same time replying to a text message from the owner of the security company that services my home.
I have them doing a complete upgrade on my system to include more interior and exterior cameras, infrared sensors, anything and everything that I need to be sure she will be safe when she’s home. Things I should have done years ago but never got around to while it was just me.
“You got any pictures of this something?”
Before I can shut him down, Malcolm grabs the phone out of my hand, dodging my attempts to snatch it back long enough to bring up a photo I took last night of Esme while she slept. Luckily, all it shows is her face. I don’t know what I’d do if he got even a glimpse of what’s mine.
“Give the fucking phone back, Malcolm, or I’ll shoot you where you stand.”
He laughs, but he hands it over. “Jesus, you’re serious?”
“Deadly.”
“And her name?”
“What are you? Like sixteen and female all of a sudden? What do you care?”
He shakes his head. “No, but I’m fascinated by this turn of events.”
Malcolm and I haven’t known each other all our lives the way that Salvatore and I have, but what our friendship lacks in history, it makes up for in trust. Malcolm has had my back on more than one occasion, and he’s never had much love for Sal.
“Fine,” I mutter. “Esme.”
“Esme have a last name?”
I cough, then mutter under my breath, “I don’t know. Yet.”
Malcolm laughs. “Wow, this just gets better and better.” I glare at him, and he takes the hint to veer in another direction. “So, where're things with Salvatore? I get that you clearly had other things on your mind last night, but you cancel on him again, that might fuck things up.”
“We’ve come to a semi-agreement. I talked to him last night when I couldn’t make the meeting at his place, and we agreed to meet at Paesano’s tomorrow.” I shrug. “Not much more to do but argue about who has the biggest dick, find a compromise we can both live with and seal the deal. This shit he’s getting into pisses me off, but for now, I’m just trying to ignore it. We could both destroy each other; the trick is to be the first to launch the attack. I don’t think it’s going to come to that...at least I fucking hope not. I just want to move on.”
Malcolm nods. “We’ll get there. You still have people that are loyal to you.”
I think about that for a long moment before responding, “Yeah, but I’m trying to find my exit plan.” He stares at me, crossing his arms. “I need to go straight, man. I’ve thought about it a long time, but now it’s what I need.”
He shakes his head. “You know that’s going to make people nervous. Especially Sal.”
“Fuck everybody. Especially fuck Sal. It will be okay. If you need to keep your distance, I’ll understand.”
“I’m not keeping any fucking distance,” he barks. “Loyalty is exactly this. You want to clean up a bit, I’ll help you. Can’t say I’m looking to do the same, but I’ll try not to muddy your waters, and I’ll go in on deals as best I can to support you. But...” He sniffs and finishes. “What’s really going on? Yesterday you were talking about dropping by your old office, getting your books so you could set up a delivery of AK’s. Today you want to go white picket fence and a day job?”
He looks confused, and I don’t blame him. He’s right.
“Sometimes, something hits you, and you see things differently. Like someone turned the light on in a room you forgot you had and you realize that’s where you want to be. I guess my light got turned on.”
That’s not the only thing that got turned on.
Fuck, I’m losing my mind. Esme doesn’t even know me, and I’m planning our future together. I’m planning a fuck ton of other filthy things, as well, and I plan to get started on that later today.
But why the fuck hasn’t she texted me yet? Her friend Karen seems nice enough, but my guess is that she wouldn’t call me if something had happened. I throw my head back and growl, looking at the ceiling.
“You gonna make it?” Malcolm asks, stepping over to the console on the wall in my office and grabbing his leather jacket.
As he puts it on, I catch a glimpse of the special inside pocket he has in all his jackets, the one holding his nine-millimeter, and it reminds me of the dangerous life we still lead.
“Yeah.” I shove my desk chair back so hard it hits the wall, then stand, shoving my phone into my inside suit jacket pocket and locking my computer. “I gotta go.”
“Didn’t you say the Lucci brothers are coming in an hour to make a payment on the next shipment? You going to blow them off, too?”
“Fuck,” I grunt. “Just deal with them for me, will you? I need you on this, man. I’ll message them, tell them you’re taking point on this for now, I have an emergency or something.”
He shrugs but takes his jacket back off. “Okay. Like I said, I’m loyal.”
Before I can make it out of the office, there’s a quick knock at the door, then it opens.
“Hi there, boys.” Maria sashays in with a devious smile, wearing her scrubs from work and looking so much like my mom that a flash of melancholy tightens my chest.
