Licentious (13 page)

“Love the shit outta you, too,” I tell her with a hip bump. “So. What are we shopping for today?” I ask as we head into the mall.

Aléssandro

Benefits to working for the family business are the connections. I have connections to pretty much anything I want. Parties, rare possessions such as sold out tickets, guns, women, hookups, money, drugs, idiots to run errands, or whatever. Not saying I use all or any of them, but the option is always there. Tonight I called in a favor from one of my connections and they pulled through. It pays to have a connection with the police and to the DMV database.

I researched into Briana
Marblen today. She’s married—now known as Briana Nastan—with two kids, and a husband who’s serving a thirty-year sentence without parole. Working two jobs, and still on state aid. I have a feeling getting the information I’m looking for will be easier than I originally thought.

Pulling up to the address that I got from my guy, I pull to the curb to check the place out. A
run-down, ratty grey building that has missing siding and shingles. Bars on windows on the lower units to give the tenants a false sense of security. I actually feel bad for people in places like this. No one should have to fight this hard to survive. Especially when kids are involved.

I get out and activate the car alarm before heading to the entrance. The door is propped open with a cigarette butt can.
Well, that’s safe
. Walking in, I head to the second level and locate apartment F. I hold my ear to the door and hear the voices from a TV, but no other sound. I look down at my watch and wonder if I’m stopping over too late for someone with kids. Nine-twenty-three on a Saturday night.
Hm.
Fuck it. I knock lightly on the door just in case she would consider it to be too late. I’d rather not piss off the person I need a favor from, especially when she doesn’t even know me. She owes me nothing.

I hear the deadbolt of the door click before the door slightly
opens, stopped by a chain hooked from the door to the frame. A small blonde with short wispy hair pops around the side.

“Can I help you?” she asks a bit
timidly.

“Are you Briana Nastan?” I ask confidently.

“Yes, can I help you?” she asks nervously as she looks me up and down. I probably should have thought about how I looked. I’m still wearing my black tee, worn jeans, and black boots, and my tattoos are fully on display.
Well, the ones on my arms anyway
. If I were thinking, I would have at least put on a nice full-sleeved shirt.

“My name’s, Aléssandro Dé Luca
.” I smile at her, as her brows raised and eyes narrowed. “We actually don’t know each other, but you knew my brother,” I add quickly before she could shut the door on me.

“Who would that be?” she asks cautiously.

“Frank Dé Luca,” I admit.
Fuck, now I’m nervous
. This may be the only lead that the cops missed. What if she isn’t willing to listen? What if she isn’t willing to talk? Nah, she can be bought.
Everyone
has a price.

“And why are you here to see me about a guy I barely knew?” she asks confused.

“Because you might be the only one who can help me,” I admit softly. “May I please come in? I’ll only take a few minutes of your time. If you don’t like what I’m saying, you can kick me out, and I’ll go willingly,” I promise.

“Right. And I’m just supposed to take your word for it?” she fires back.

“Here,” I reach behind my back, and grab the gun from my waistband by taking hold around the barrel rather than the handle. I pull it around to my front and she gasps and jumps back. “Calm down, I’m giving this to you. If I get out of line, you can shoot me,” I tell her. “With my own gun,” I add. I actually can’t believe I’m doing this. I
never
allow someone to shoot my gun. Desperate measures, though.
I wonder if Joey knows how to shoot a gun?
Man, she would be smokin’ hot firing one off.

“You’re giving me your gun,” she confirms.

“Well, not exactly. I’m
loaning
you my gun. I want it back when I leave.” I chuckle.

She steps forward and shuts the door.
I hear the chain rattle before she opens the door wide. Wearing grey sweats and a tight pink tank top, she gestures me in with her hand. I step forward and hand her my gun causing her to smile.

“How do you know that I won’t shoot you?” she asks with a sly smile.

“The same way you didn’t know if I would as soon as you unlocked the door. But you opened it anyway.” I smile back. She nods once as she takes the gun and walks over to the couch. She places the gun on the rugged coffee table cluttered in toys and Sippy cups before falling back on an old ugly pea-green colored couch. Looking around, all I see are toys littering every free space, crayon colored pictures hanging on the walls, and old outdated furniture.

“Sorry about the mess
.” She gestures to the room. “I just got home from work not too long ago. Figured I’d rather shower than clean.” She laughs lightly.

“Not a problem,” I reassure her
. “May, I?” I gesture to the other end of the sofa.

“Yeah
.” She nods to the space before moving the gun closer to her and turns her body toward me.
Smart girl
.

I take a seat facing her, making sure to leave a cushion of space between us. I lean forward resting my elbows on my knees before rubbing my palms together. “I came across a file today. It was the case file surrounding my brother Franks’ death,” I say as I look up at her face and see her eyes grow wide. “I’m curious about what happened that night. You were one of the only witness statements I found in there. There was one by a few other party-goers who were too intoxicated to be considered a valuable source. And then
, of course, there was Cameryn.” I spit his name out as if it left a bitter taste in my mouth. “He only collaborated what you stated.”

“Look, I’m really sorry about Frank. He seemed,” she ducks her head as a faint blush
crept up her cheeks and neck, “sweet. But I’m not sure that there’s anything I can tell you that I didn’t tell the cops who questioned me.”

“How long were you dating Cameryn at the time?” I ask.

“Why?” she answers me with a question.
Go figure
.

“Just trying to get as much information as I can. Can you tell me what you remember from that night?”

She sighs, rolling her eyes. “Fine, but we need to hurry this up. I have to be at work early in the morning. I need to get to bed,” she tells me, as I nod my head in agreement. “Frank and I were getting…
friendly
. Not like, hooking up friendly, but I would say… heavily flirting type of friendly. Cam saw and flipped a lid. We were only together like a month at the time. I just wanted to have a fun high school thing, he… wanted more,” she pauses to purse her lips as if she’s deep in thought. “We were all drinking, Frank, especially. He was hammered, but we were all pretty drunk.”

“Sloppy drunk or…?” I trail off.

“Hammered, but I wouldn’t say sloppy. Just drunk.” She shrugs.

“Okay, so Cameryn saw the flirting. Then what?”

“He came up and told Frank to leave me alone and that I was his. I was only sixteen. I didn’t know what to do. So I stayed quiet, let them work it out themselves.” She slightly shakes her head as if the memory disturbs her. “Frank left shortly after, and Cam and I left together a while after that,” she adds quickly.
Too quickly
.

“Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t lie to me, Briana. My brother is
dead
. And we both know damn well that you and Cameryn didn’t leave together that night,” I growl, my patience wearing thin. “I
despise
liars.”

“
If you don’t want to believe what I’m telling you, then what was the point of coming here other than you just wasting both of our time?” she shoots back, pissed.

“Look,” I sigh as I rub a hand down over my face
, “I just want the truth. I’m not going to do anything to get you in trouble. Shit, I most likely won’t even go to the cops.
I
just
need
to know what happened to my brother,” I plead with her. “I’ll give you five-thousand dollars to tell me the truth about that night. If what you’re saying is true, then fine.” I shrug. “If not, then I need you to tell me. Either way, the money is yours,” I promise.

She narrows her eyes at me, lips pursed as she considers my proposal. “Fifteen thousand,” she says firmly.

“Ten,” I counter.

“Fifteen or no deal.”

“Fine. Fifteen. Now, what happened that night?”

“Look, whatever I tell you, I need your word that nothing happens to me.
Nothing
. I’m all my babies have, and I need to be here for them,” she says as worry clouds her eyes.

I reach over and grab her hand
. She slightly flinches but doesn’t pull back. “I promise
nothing
will happen to you
or
your babies,” I tell her softly.

“After Frank left,
just a few minutes later, Cam left, too. I was having fun, so I decided to stay. A while later—”

“What’s a while?” I ask.

“I dunno.” She shrugs. “Maybe an hour or so,” she said.

“Okay
.” I nod for her to continue.

“A while later
, he comes back and drags me to a back bedroom. At first, I thought,” she pauses and looks at me before averting her eyes to her hands, “never mind, it doesn’t matter what I thought. Anyway,” she sighs, “he begged me that if anyone asked about him that he was with me the whole night. We did actually
leave
together, but we weren’t together the entire time,” she whispers.

“Why did you lie to the cops?” I ask. I’m confused and pissed. My brother died because of flirting with someone’s girlfriend?

“He threatened to kill me,” she whispered, her eyes never meeting mine.

“What did you think was going to happen when he pulled you into that room?” I ask hesitantly.
What kind of guy is Cam?

“He was angry. And he literally dragged me by the arm in there even after I told him I didn’t want to,” she says.

“You thought he was going to rape you?” I ask softly. She doesn’t speak, but she nods in response. “Did he ever do anything to you before that night? Any threats? Abuse? Anything?

“No, not really
.” She shakes her head. “But when he was drunk he became… rough. Crude comments, threats, things like that.”

I nod before
I stand and grab my gun from the coffee table. I can see Briana flinch when my hand makes contact with the handle. I pick it up and place it back in my waistband after checking that the safety was still on. I reach into my back pocket and pull out a blank check. “Do you have a pen?”

Aléssandro

I slept for shit last night.
Ideas and endless possibilities of what really happened between Frank and Cameryn run through my mind. Each idea crazier than the next. The look in Briana’s eyes showed me just how fearful she was of someone finding out she came clean about it, which makes me wonder what the hell Joey is doing by being friends and business partners with him.
I don’t like it. At all.

Since I’m obviously not going to
get any more sleep, I throw the covers off me and crawl out of bed. Throwing on a pair of athletic shorts and shoes, I head toward the main house to hit the gym. It’s early enough that the likeliness of anyone being around is slim to none. Not saying that no one is up, but yeah... I’m sure they’re still sleeping. The sun is barely up.

I flip the switch to illuminate the room and look around. Weight benches, cardio machines, girl shit like inflatable balls, mats, free weights, and a heavy bag are all strategically placed throughout the room. I start to head for one of the cardio machines and then think twice. Instead, I decide to beat the shit out of the bag for a while before swimming my morning laps. I turn the stereo on to some upbeat mix that’s already in there before I proceed to tape my hands and wrists.

As I begin to throw jabs, uppercuts, and crossovers, I let my mind go. All I see is Cameryn’s face in place of the bag and something in me snaps, causing me to unleash.
I know he had something to do with Franks’ death
. Otherwise, why would he threaten Briana to cover for him? I keep a steady rhythm of my fists and kicks connecting with the bag, even though the music is now nonexistent.

“Aléssandro?” I hear Ma’s voice being carried throughout the expanse of the gym.

I stop beating the bag and turn around to look at her, a worrisome look shining bright on her face. “Good morning, Ma,” I greet her breathlessly with hands on my hips.

She stalks over to me with a warm, sad smile gracing her lips. “Alé,” she says with a hint of sadness as she places her hands on the sides of my sweaty face
, “what’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, Ma,” I tell her lightly.

“Who taught you to not trust liars?” she reminds me.

Closing my eyes, I
sigh. “You and Dad did, Ma.”

“Si,
si. Again. What’s wrong?” she asks softly. “Is it Joey?” Just hearing her name makes me ache to hear her voice, her harmonious laugh when she’s had a few drinks. I’m a little taken back that Mom would think my problems are related to Joey
. I just met the chick.

“Ma, I barely know Joey,” I remind her through clenched teeth.

“Ah,” she smiles wide as she backs away and starts to roam around. “Doesn’t matter how long you’ve known someone, Aléssandro. What matters,” she pauses as she stares straight into me, “is your connection. Your chemistry. The heart wants what the heart wants.” She smiles as she rattles off the overused cliché.

“I’m
not
in love with her, Ma,” I tell her firmly.

“Maybe not yet
.” She winks. “I like her,” she smiles, wrinkles appearing at the edges of her eyes, “but there’s something… sad about her. She could use someone like you in her life.” I go to respond, but she puts up a hand to stop me. “And you, Alé, you could use someone like her,” she tells me as she comes forward and kisses my cheek. “Ti amo, Aléssandro.”

She starts to head to the door
sporting her pink heart pajama pants and t-shirt that says
I LOVE NY
– even though she’s never been. “Where you goin’?” I ask her confused if that’s the only thing she wanted to talk about.

“Ah. To cook. Lots of food to prepare for today,” she says with a wave before disappearing from sight.

*****

After my little chat with Ma, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe
she was right. The entire time I was swimming my daily laps, I tried to recall a time she was wrong and not one moment came to mind.
Not one
. I know I want to have Joey under me again. And above me. And in front of me. I can tell she wants me, too, but she seems… closed off. Like she’s hiding something.
Or from something
. Whenever she looks at me, I can see fire and fear in her beautiful blues. I can see her breath speed just enough that it shows in the rise and fall of her beautiful breasts. I’m just not sure if I can wait for her to let me in order to have her again.

As the hot water gushes down around me, smoothing the tension from my achy muscles, my mind flashes back to the glorious purrs and moans she made when she came. She really was a feisty one. I wanted to start off slow, willing to take my time pleasing her, but she attacked me like a wild animal as soon as we were
alone. I’ve always been more dominant by nature. I usually call the shots, telling a woman when she could come. Always controlling the experience. I’m never greedy. In fact, quite the opposite. I just don’t like to give up control.

I wouldn’t go as far as to call myself a
Dom.
I think the term is thrown around too lightly these days. I also don’t have a thing for whips, floggers, or any other gadget. All I need is my body.
And maybe some restraints.
God, just the idea of seeing Joey spread wide, and tied to my bed makes my dick painfully hard.
I wish I had busted those out with her
. My hand wraps around my length with a light pressure as pieces of that night float in my mind.

“
Anyone ever tell you how fuckin’ hot you are?” She smiles wide at me as she pushes me hard until I fall back on the bed with a bounce. She pounces on top of me with a wicked gleam in her eyes, her lip caught between her teeth. With her straddling my upper thighs, I can feel the heat of her arousal through our jeans. Her hands go right to the buckle of my jeans as her eyes lock with mine.

“Are you in a hurry?” I smirk, my throat tense.

“I’ve thought about doing this all night.” She nods as a slow seductive smile spreads on her face and she frees my hard cock. Her eyes grow round as she runs her hand over my length, and she freezes.

Instantly
, I start to panic that something’s wrong with my dick and I didn’t know it. “What? What’s wrong?”

I hear her swallow before she finds a shaky voice. “Can I suck your cock?”

I don’t fight the grin. The fact that she asked me permission, she probably has no idea what that does to me. “Honey. You can do more than just suck it.”

“Will these…
will they come out? Will it hurt you?” she asks as she tips her head down slightly, running the pads of her fingers over my piercings.

“No, it won’t hurt me or you. If anything, they’ll
—” I’m cut off, as I gasp at the instant heat around me. Her mouth hot and tight, sucking on me. She places a hand at the base and simultaneously moves her mouth and hand. Her other hand softly rubs and teases my jewels.

“Oh, fuck,” I hiss between my teeth. Her mouth feels so fucking good. She continues to suck me as her tongue
teased the underside of my cock. “Shit, Joey,” I groan as my hand holds tight to the back of her head, guiding her to show her just how I like it.

“Fuck, baby. You…” I clench my teeth, trying to keep myself from shooting my come down her throat. I try to pull her head away from me
, but she pushes her mouth further down, swallowing me whole. I can’t help but pump my hips in rhythm with her until I feel my balls tighten and pull up. “Joey, I’m gonna come,” I warn her through gritted teeth. In response, she sucks me harder and faster until I groan out my release. My come shooting right down her throat.

I’m pulled back to the present when the water turns ice cold
, my eyes latching onto the come I accidently sprayed onto the tiled wall. “Damn.”

*****

Walking out the door, my eyes take in the sinfully sexy woman wearing a… one-piece?
What the fuck?
Why, in God’s name, would anyone who looks like her, be in a one-piece? I mean, it’s a sexy one-piece. Red, with thicker straps, low square neck revealing just a hint of those luscious breasts. The chest has some weird fabric folding thing.
What do they call that?
Oh! Ruching.
I take in her long, toned legs before my eyes slowly move back up her body. I can feel my dick growing hard,
again
. Damn.

Thinking about it
, I realize that she never took her shirt off when we were together. Pulled it down to free her tits, yes. But off? Nope. I tried, and she swatted my hand away. I thought she was teasing. And when I finally sunk my dick in her, I didn’t think about it again.
Until now
. Seeing her all covered up again makes me wonder why.

My eyes suddenly focus
, and I realize that she’s staring back at me, eyes narrowed, lips pursed. And then, she turns her back on me.
Me!
What the fuck did I do?
Is she pissed? Whatever. She has a nice ass to stare at. As Maria and her jump into the pool, I head into the main house to find Dad. I have to fill him in on Brian, and I have to know why he’s brought out Frank’s case file ten years after it was supposedly closed.

Walking through the kitchen, I smell the heavenly aromas that fill the air. Nina, Enedina, and Ma are all talking over each other laughing while they move expertly around one another, none of them realizing yet that I’m even in the room.

“He’s definitely got a thing for her,” Enedina states with a nod.

“Yeah, but that’s
not
one sided,” Nina adds with a grin.

“I like her. They’d be good for
each other,” Ma talks over them.

“Really? She seems a bit…
reserved for Alé,” Enedina objects.

“Si, Enedina. But she’s also new to the family. That’s natural,” Ma explains before giving Enedina a kiss.
New to the family?
Good, God. What are they thinking? She’s not a part of this family. She’s Maria’s trainer!

“Don’t even think about playing matchmaker,” I growl as I walk through to see if Dad’s in his office. Not giving them
the time to hound me about it, I nearly run to the closed office door and hear voices coming from inside, but are too muffled to make out. I knock twice and wait to be allowed in. The door opens and Uncle Jack fills the space in front of me.

“Hey, Uncle Jack,” I greet him in surprise. “You’re here a little early for the barbeque,” I joke.

“Alé,” he smiles and gestures for me to enter. As soon as I walk in, I see my Uncle Marco sitting on the black leather sofa. Dad’s occupying his king chair.

“Good morning,” I greet them wearily. Why is Uncle Marco here? Uncle Jack doesn’t really throw me
because he’s usually around ever since Aunt Camilla passed a few years back. But Uncle Marco—he’s a disgrace to the family. He cheated on his wife, my Aunt Emelia, numerous times. Full, traditional Italian families have unwritten rules that you abide to. If you cheat on your wife or lover, you are considered untrustworthy, and you are bumped to the bottom of the chain. You’ll be listed right under
snitch.
Betraying the trust with the one person you promise to protect, love, and cherish only proves that you’ll do the same if not more to someone you didn’t make a commitment. A cheater to a traditional family is no more trustworthy than a rapist, thief, snitch, or liar.

Women are
sacred and should be treated with the utmost respect. In a traditional Italian family, you’re taught these ‘laws’ at a young age and are expected to abide by them at all times. Even the women in our strip clubs we own are treated with respect. If a patron were to show anything but just because the women were strippers, they would pay the consequences.

When Uncle Marco came clean
of his infidelity several years ago and announced that he wanted to marry his mistress, he was basically shunned from the family business at that moment. Don’t get me wrong, he’s family and always will be, but communication was chosen to stay minimal. I honestly can’t even tell you the last time I saw or had contact with him or his new wife. Aunt Emelia moved back to Italy, and we haven’t heard from her since. Their remaining son, Michael, I see from time to time, but not as often as we used to before all of this.

“Aléssandro
.” Uncle Marco smiles. His round pudgy cheeks giving away to deep dimples. His greasy, thinning black hair is in disarray, and the stench of stale whisky is overwhelming. He stands and reaches out to embrace me, but the thought of him touching me makes me nauseous. He’s always been an arrogant slime ball. His actions that led to his disgrace of our family were unsurprising to me to say the least. I take a step back from him as I turn to face Dad, who’s sitting in his chair witnessing the awkward reunion with a stone face.

“Alé, what can I do for you
, son?” He finally smiles.

“We need to talk,” I tell him firmly as I take a seat in the black leather, wing-backed chair placed in front of his desk. I turn toward Uncle Marco and narrow my eyes at the untrusting bastard.
“Alone,” I growl.