“At your uncle’s request, be at the prison tomorrow.”
Not feeling the need to reply, I turn to Violet.
“I think we’re done here.”
~*~
The ride back to my house was silent for the most part. Violet tried to talk to me, but I was still reeling from the shit she dumped on me and my altercation with Rienzi, not to mention the news that Uncle Vic was being transferred to North Carolina. In all the talks we’ve had since that fateful night when he told me he was handing me his organization, not once did he mention a transfer. I almost want to call Bianci to see if he had any knowledge of this turn of events but when I enter the house and see I have a missed call from him, along with six from Rienzi and three blocked calls that are likely from the prison, I decide against it.
“So, that’s it? You’re just going to remain silent for the rest of the night?” Violet asks as I make my way to the kitchen. Ignoring her, I open the wine fridge under the island and pull out the first bottle I see. She steps around the island before I can grab a glass and pulls it out of my hand. Slamming it down against the granite, she glares at me.
“What the hell was that about?”
“I told you not to ask questions.”
“And I thought you knew me better than to assume I’d be your puppet.”
Frustrated, I comb my fingers through my hair. Hand to God, I do not want to fight with her right now.
“Look, today has been a long fucking day,” I start. “I’m not in the mood to go toe to toe with you, right now.”
“Well, that’s just too bad. You never answered my question back at the restaurant when I asked you if you agreed with my mother, but I’m starting to think you don’t have to. Your actions right now are telling me all I need to know.”
“I don’t even know what the fuck that means,” I fire back. “I’ve had one thing after another thrown at me today. My head is pounding and all I want to do is fucking shut down for the night. I don’t want to think about your mother, or whoever this Yankovich guy is and I don’t want to spend my night analyzing why my uncle is being transferred. I just want to be left alone!”
I want to get fucked up too.
So fucked up that I don’t know my name.
But I leave that part out.
“Then maybe I should leave,” she snaps. “Bruno is still outside, I’m sure he won’t mind driving me home.”
Whether she means to bait me or not, I take it and before either of us can blink, I pin her against the island.
“You’re not going anywhere.”
Fire sparks in her eyes as she juts her chin defiantly.
“I’d like to see you try and stop me,” she spats.
Her nostrils flare and just like that, we’re back to basics—tempting and taunting one another. I don’t know who makes the first move, if it’s her or me, but our mouths fuse together and our tongues take charge of the battle waging between us.
Not breaking our kiss, I grip her hips and lift her onto the kitchen island. Her hands slide up my chest and over my shoulders, pushing my suit jacket down my arms as mine fall to her knees, spreading her legs as wide as her dress allows. Drawing her lower lip between teeth, I tug softly and slide my fingers under the hem of her dress, pushing the material up her silky thighs.
I tear my mouth away from hers and watch her chest rise and fall as she pants and tries to catch her breath.
“Thought you were leaving,” I growl, smoothing my hands up the insides of her thighs.
“I still can,” she counters, breathless. I lick my lips. There’s no way in hell she’s leaving here tonight. In fact, I may never let her go. Her dainty hand wraps around my tie and she tugs forcefully, pulling me between her legs. “But I prefer you fuck me before I go.
“I think we both know you ain’t leaving, Bug. Once we start fucking, we’re not stopping.”
“Got a lot of pent up energy, do you?” she taunts as she releases my tie and starts working the buttons of my dress shirt.
That’s putting it mildly.
“You have no fucking idea,” I hiss, tearing the straps of her dress down her arms. Her breasts pop free and my eyes lower to her hardened nipples that are ripe and ready to be sucked and pinched. She arches her back and I take one perfect bud between my fingers, rolling it softly. A moan escapes her lips and my eyes flit to hers.
“Like that?”
“I’d like it more if you sucked on them.”
Yeah, so would I.
Chapter 26
Violet Cabrera
Dating Rocco was an experience. I mean from the moment we arrived at the upscale Italian restaurant; the staff fawned over him. It was almost as if no other patron mattered but him. They rushed to fix us a table in their private room and as soon as we were seated a silver ice bucket was delivered to our table with a complimentary bottle of the smoothest merlot I’ve ever tasted. The chef came out of the kitchen to introduce himself too and a half hour later we were sampling all sorts of appetizers that weren’t even on the menu.
Everything was delicious—or at least it looked delicious—I didn’t have much of an appetite. My mother’s words were still at the forefront of my mind and even though I was going through my own shit, I could tell there was something off with Rocco too. The banter between us just wasn’t there. But unlike me, he wasn’t afraid to approach the problems and when he asked me what was on my mind, the truth tumbled out of my mouth.
From there a domino effect trickled into our perfect night, complete with a barrage of gangsters interrupting out intimate dinner. At that point I just excused myself, but when I came back, my perfect gentleman of a date had morphed into his alter ego and was choking the living shit out of some Paulie Walnuts wannabe. I’m not kidding—the resemblance to the famed Sopranos character was uncanny.
There was no recovering from all of that and the shit really hit the fan when we got back to Rocco’s house. He was in a bad mood and I know I probably should’ve let him be, but I couldn’t. I had this horrible of sense dread in the pit of my gut and I feared that if I didn’t do something to rein us both back in, we would lose ourselves. We would lose each other.
So I did what I do best—I goaded him and instead of duking it out with words and facing our inevitable truth, our bodies did the sparring. Now, I’ll admit that’s probably not the most mature approach, but tensions were high and we both needed to relieve ourselves from the burdens weighing us down.
Some people go to the gym to work out their shit.
Some go to a therapist.
Rocco and I fuck it out.
He stripped me bare and fucked me with his fingers on the kitchen island until I couldn’t feel my legs and I came loud and hard. But it wasn’t enough. It never is. We moved to the bedroom and before we could fall back on the bed, I fell to my knees and took his cock into my mouth. There was something so gratifying about watching a man so powerful surrender his control. With every stroke of my tongue, he gave me a piece of himself. I couldn’t take my eyes off him—even when his cock hit the back of my throat and tears clouded my vision. It was until he pulled out of my mouth and decorated my tits with his cum that I finally let myself blink. Then he took me in his arms and carried me to his bed.