Fuck yes.
“Turn around,” I order, taking a step closer, swallowing up the space between us.
“Blackie,” she whispers, turning around and locking her eyes with mine.
“You wanted me on my knees, girl,” I growl, dropping on one knee. I press my palms against her thighs, forcing them apart before dropping my other knee down on the floor. “Got me right where you want, right where I belong.”
I brush my hair away from my face before palming her pussy over the lace and inching my index finger beneath the material.
“What if she comes back?”
“Then she’ll know she did her job properly,” I tell her, shoving the lace away from her pussy and reaching behind her with my free hand. Squeezing her ass, I bring her sweet cunt to my mouth and run my tongue down her center.
“My Lace, so fucking good, so fucking pretty,” I mutter in-between slow laps of my tongue. She grabs onto my shoulders, fisting the leather in her hands as I peel back her lace and take my fix.
Leather and Lace.
A temptation so sweet—a man drops to his knees just to survive.
Chapter Seven
Juggling the groceries in one hand, I open the door and disarm the alarm, turning around to face the quiet house.
“Gina? Bert? Ma?” I call out into the silence.
I drop my keys on the console table in the hallway and make my way into the kitchen, setting the brown paper bag, full of groceries, on the counter. Robotically I unpack the bag, waiting for the boisterous voices of my in-laws.
After I returned from my visit with Vic, I found Michael and Nikki on my doorstep with my in-laws in tow. Vic’s sister, her ‘companion’ Bert, and my ninety-four-year-old mother-in-law were staying with me for the time being. They drove up from Florida after finding out Michael had proposed to Nikki. I think they’re disappointed we’re not throwing the happy couple an engagement party. Nikki is having a hard enough time planning a wedding without her father to even think about planning an engagement party.
I grab the colander and toss the fresh string beans into it before running the water over the vegetables. I break the ends of the string beans, discarding the tips into a bowl as I go.
“Whatcha got there Gracie?”
Victor’s arms circled my waist as I leaned over the sink and cleaned vegetables—fresh from the garden I planted in our yard.
“String beans,” I said as he leaned over me and turned off the faucet, spinning me around in his arms. “What are you up to Mr. Pastore?”
“Does a man have to have an agenda to want a moment with his wife?”
“Victor…” I admonished.
“Fine,” he relented, smiling sheepishly at me. “I have a surprise for you,” he admitted, leaning down to press his lips to mine. “C’mon, we’re going for a ride, Gracie.”
I stop cleaning the string beans as the memories work their way to the surface. Since my visit with Vic I haven’t had a moment alone. I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not. I’ve been begging God for a moment of quiet, just a sliver of silence, which is ironic, since my husband turned himself in all I have left is silence. It drives me mad, sitting here, day after day, alone in this big house with nothing but the memories of the life we shared, the life we made that was cut short.
I felt the car stop rolling and Victor’s hands on my shoulders.
“Can I take the blindfold off now?”
“Not yet,” he replied and even with my eyes shielded I knew my husband was smiling at me. I felt it in my bones, I heard it in his voice. Vic’s smile, his happiness, it was just as contagious as everything else about him. I grinned as he opened my door and helped me out of the car.
“Just a few more steps, Gracie,” he crooned, placing his hands on my shoulders. “Right there. Stop. Are you ready, sweetheart?”
“I’m ready, Victor,” I whispered nervously. I never knew what to expect with Victor and usually I rolled with the punches. After all, I was the wife of the most notorious mobster in New York. What other choice did I have?
He lifted the blindfold and slowly I opened my eyes blinking against the sunlight as I stared at the brick mansion that took up more than half of a block. It was a corner property, a house we had passed a bunch of times, one I always stopped to look at.
“Welcome home, love,” Victor whispered against my ear.
Victor thought I used to stare at this house with envy but the truth was I’d look at it and wonder what kind of people lived in a house like this. I assumed the previous owners had a big family to need a house of this size to call home. And then the monstrosity became ours and I had the answer to my question.