Speak Low (16 page)

When I could finally breathe again, I looked up at him. His eyes were open, and in them I saw the battle between how much he loved me, which meant he didn’t want to hurt me, and how badly he wanted to pound his cock into me until I screamed for mercy. And even though a sliver of fear still lingered that my body wouldn’t be able to handle it, I knew what I wanted. When he hit the deepest spot again, I held him there; then I tilted my hips so I could feel pressure exactly where I needed it.

“Right there, baby?” he whispered, rocking into me with smaller movements.

“Yes,” I breathed, closing my eyes as pleasure triumphed over pain. Staying deep within me, he circled his hips in a slow, steady rhythm. Within seconds I grew wetter and hotter and the buzzing tension began building again at my center.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he said. “I had no idea, no fucking idea…”

“Me either,” I breathed. “I used to dream about your hands on me, and even that was enough to make me crazy.”

“I used to think about exactly what I’d do to you if I had the chance. All the ways I’d touch you. How you’d feel wrapped around me. How you’d smell, how you’d
taste
. There isn’t one fucking inch of your body I haven’t dreamed about. And now you’re here,” he said, his voice going hoarse, “and you’re so fucking beautiful.” He began to move faster, harder, and I wanted it, I wanted everything. My lower body hummed and coiled, and the euphoria began to overtake me again. “Oh my God,” I panted, completely lost to him. “Oh my God, you’re so good. You’re so gorgeous and big and hard and you feel so fucking good.”

Over and over he pounded into me, hard and steady and deep. His mouth came close to mine but we were so out of our minds with rapture we couldn’t even kiss—our eyes locked and our breath mingled and our bodies moved together in an unceasing, savage rhythm.

“Christ, I’m gonna come,” he said through clenched teeth. “So if you don’t want me inside you—”

Gripping him tight to my body, I lifted my head and pressed my mouth against his. “Don’t leave me.”

With powerful, primal sounds coming from deep within his throat, he pumped himself into my body even harder and throbbed inside me, over and over again. Powerless against the torrent any longer, every cell in my body burst open in a glorious fireworks of light and sound and color. I turned my cheek to the bed and cried out, short, repeated screams of pleasure beyond belief that echoed through my head and were probably loud enough to burst Joey’s eardrums.

The moment our bodies stilled, Joey propped himself on his elbows and dropped his head to mine, pressing his damp forehead to my temple. “Tell me this is real.” His chest rose and fell from exertion.

I finally closed my mouth and licked my lips. “I hope it is.”

He put his lips on my cheekbone and held them there, and inexplicably, a lump jumped into my throat.

What the hell? I was perfectly happy and my body was totally sated. What on earth could I possibly have to cry about? But the tears were coming, and there was nothing I could do about it. Completely mortified, I felt one slip from the corner of my eye, and a sob wrenched itself from my chest.

Joey picked up his head. “What’s wrong, baby? Oh God, I should have pulled out.”

I grimaced through tears. “No, no, it’s not that. Nothing is wrong, I swear to you, nothing.” Sniffing, I squeezed my eyes shut. “This is so dumb, I don’t know why I’m crying because I’m actually really happy right now.”

Laughing gently, he wiped a tear from my cheek. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“I know! That’s why it’s so dumb!” Incredibly, I continued to sob, and even though Joey must have thought I was crazy, he wrapped his arms around me and flipped us onto our sides, keeping our bodies joined.

“Come here. It’s OK.”

I circled his torso with my arms and buried my face in his chest, loving the warm feel and smell of his skin and detesting myself for ruining this moment. Weeping like a child, I let him hold me. Joey kissed the top of my head and rested his chin there, rubbing my back with slow, soothing strokes.

Thankfully, my insanity passed and I was able to stem the tears after a minute or two. “Sorry.” I sniffled. “I suppose I’m just emotional.”

“You? Emotional over me?” He squeezed me tight. “Then go ahead. Cry all you want, doll.”

I slapped his chest and picked up my head to look at him—messy hair, smiling mouth, and best of all, eyes full of content and adoration. No one had ever looked at me that way before. “No, I’m done now.”

“Oh. Well, in that case…” He deftly slipped underneath me so I was sitting on his hips, my hands propped on his chest. We were still connected, and I felt him stirring inside me again. “God, you’re so beautiful. Even with a red nose and puffy eyes.”

I slapped my palms over my face. “Don’t look at me.”

He took my wrists and brought them to his chest again. “Let me.” As his eyes took me in, they warmed with unmistakable intention.

I wouldn’t have thought we had anything left.

I was wrong.

Chapter Fourteen

“I said sprinkle, not pour!” Joey rolled his eyes when he saw how much sugar I’d dumped over the apples in the pan. “That looks like an avalanche.”

“Well, sorry,” I said, laughing. “I thought I was sprinkling. And you never said how much to sprinkle so I just guessed.” He was teaching me how to make a dessert called Brown Betty Pudding, but I wasn’t a very good student. Who could blame me? We’d been in his bedroom for hours working up an appetite, and Joey was still shirtless and barefoot, wearing only a pair of black pants that sat low on his hips. He’d offered me one of his shirts to wear, and I insisted on the one he’d worn today. I couldn’t stop sniffing it.

“Jesus. Give me that.” Joey took the canister of sugar and spoon from my hands. “Go into the pantry and get cinnamon and bread crumbs.”

“You’re supposed to be giving me a lesson. How am I going to learn to cook if I miss what you’re doing?”

“I’m just adding the butter and salt. Did you at least manage to heat the water?” He looked skeptically at another pan on the stovetop.

“I think so. Even I can’t screw that up.”

Joey didn’t look convinced of that, but I was in too good a mood to bicker so I went to the pantry. I found the cinnamon pretty quickly, but didn’t see any bread crumbs. “Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“I need help.”

A moment later he appeared in the pantry doorway. “Geez, Tiny, I’m beginning to think even lessons from me aren’t going to help you. Maybe you should stick to rum running.”

“Ha, ha. I found the cinnamon but I don’t see any bread crumbs. Are they in a box?”

“Oh. No, they’re probably in a container but it might be labeled in Italian.” He glanced up at a shelf and pulled down a canister with something handwritten on the front. Flipping the lid, he peeked in, a curious expression on his face. “Aha.”

“Bread crumbs?”

“Nope.” He reached in and pulled out…a gun?

I jumped back. “Jesus, Joey! What is that and why is it in your pantry?”

He set it on the shelf and closed up the container. “It’s a pistol. My dad’s. He used to keep it in there just in case, and my mom probably forgot about it. Don’t worry. I won’t shoot you, even if you ruin dessert.”

I stuck my tongue out at him, and he swept me up in one arm and kissed me. “But if you stick that tongue out at me again, I might have to end this lesson early.”

I grinned and kissed him back. When he let me go, I couldn’t resist hopping from one foot to the other out of pure joy. Joey laughed at me as he set the empty canister back on the shelf and retrieved the bread crumbs.

“What are you doing, dancing?”

“Why not?” I skipped out of the pantry and twirled around in the kitchen on bare toes. “I just realized on Friday night how much I love dancing. I never knew it before I danced with you.”

Joey followed me out, groaning and shaking his head. “You have no idea how hard that night was for me. First of all, seeing you there, in that dress, and thinking you were there for someone else.” He set the bread crumbs on the counter. “And then when you asked to dance with me, I couldn’t resist saying yes even though I knew it would be a bad idea.”

“What are you talking about? It was a great idea!” I bounced around some more and sniffed the inside of his shirt again.

“I didn’t think so at the time. I wanted to throttle you for getting me so worked up and thinking it was all a big joke.”

“I didn’t think that at all.” Coming up behind him, I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head on his back.

“I didn’t know that at the time. Move for just a second, OK, baby?”

I let go of him and watched as he added more butter, sugar and cinnamon atop the bread and poured the hot water around the edges of the pan. He stuck the whole thing in the oven, closed the oven door and took me in his arms again.

“I figured you’d only asked me to make Rosie mad. But even then, I couldn’t resist the chance to get that close to you.”

I snuggled into his chest. “I’m glad you couldn’t. But I didn’t ask you only to make Rosie mad—although that was an added benefit, I’ll admit. I asked you because suddenly the thought of you leaving the club was unbearable to me.”

He kissed the top of my head. “Well, I’m glad you asked, although keeping my hands to myself during that song was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. No—I take it back. Leaving your house last night was the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

Squeezing him tighter, I shivered. “I can’t believe I let you go. After you walked out the door, I cried myself to sleep.”

“You slept?”

I looked up at him and smiled. “Maybe just a little.”

He swatted my backside and I yelped in protest. “Hey!” I said, scooting backward with my hands on my butt. “You were the one out with someone else. What went on with Rosie after you left the club? And why were you out with her again last night?”

Joey’s eyes lit up. “Jealous?”

I shrugged. “Maybe a little.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about. I took her straight home both nights, and dancing at the club was the closest I got to her.”

“It was close, all right.” I sniffed, crossing my arms in front of me. “I thought I’d have to peel her off you.”

“Well, you didn’t. And
you’re
here now, not her. In fact, you’re the only girl I’ve ever had here.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“But there were…other girls before me?” It was the kind of question no girl should ask, but I had to torture myself a little.

Joey shrugged. “No one like you.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means no, you’re not the first girl I’ve ever been with, but you are definitely the first girl I’ve ever loved.”

I took a deep breath. I’d assumed I wasn’t his first—and I hadn’t been a virgin before seven o’clock tonight, either—but it was still hard to hear. I didn’t want to think about his hands or lips or any other body part on any other girl. And I didn’t want to be with anyone else again either. Ever.

Suddenly Bridget’s scheme to marry Vince made perfect sense to me. Now that I knew what it was like to love someone this way, I understood the desperation they’d felt to be together.
And Joey is planning to move away.
We hadn’t even talked about that yet. But before I could bring it up, he took me in his arms and kissed me, slow and deep and sweet.

“I promise you,” he said, resting his forehead on mine. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. I never will.”

And then my throat closed up too tightly to talk anyway.

When the pudding was ready, we sat at the table and ate right from the pan with one spoon. The combination of apples and butter and sugar and cinnamon and shirtless Joey was enough to make any girl moan.

As we neared the bottom of the pan, Joey began smearing it on my lips and licking it off. Then he got more creative, unbuttoned my shirt, and dripped some on my neck, down my chest and onto my stomach, all of which he ate off my body with great relish. He was just licking some from my inner thigh when we heard the front door open and slam.

“Which rosary, Ma? There’s more than one here. Well, I don’t know, so you might as well come up and get it. Cripes, Joey didn’t even turn off all the lights before he left. Is he still here?”

Joey and I exchanged a panicked look. His mother and Marie were here, and we were stuck in the kitchen, nearly naked, and I was covered in sticky Brown Betty sauce! If they caught us, there was no possible way to explain ourselves, and we couldn’t get to the bedroom without coming out of the kitchen.

“Come here!” he whispered. Grabbing my hand, he pulled me into the pantry and shut the door silently. I saw nothing but blackness and heard nothing but the gunfire of my heart.

“I’m scared,” I whispered.

“It’s OK.” Joey put his arms around me from behind. “She just forgot her rosaries and made Marie bring her back to get them.”

“This late at night?”

“She’s religious. Something must have been keeping her up. They’ll be gone soon.”

I hoped he was right. We heard nothing for a few minutes, and I began to relax.

So did Joey. “Your neck is sticky,” he said. “Mmmmmm.” He began licking the back of my neck, and within seconds, I felt him hard against my lower back. A quickening in my stomach made me close my eyes and squeeze my thighs together.

“Joey, no.”

“Yes.” He took his arms from me for a moment and I heard him unbutton his pants. Then he lifted the bottom of the shirt I wore. I had nothing on underneath it.

“Spread your legs,” he said in my ear. My resolve splintered.

I widened my legs and he pushed up into me from behind, lifting me onto my toes and nearly off the floor. Gasping, I had to bite down on my lip to keep from crying out. My hands braced against a shelf.

I would never look at a pantry the same way again. Ever.

Leaning forward slightly, I whimpered softly as he began to move in and out of me, slow and rhythmic. I moved my hands to a higher shelf and my right fingers brushed something cool and metal—the pistol.
Oh my God, sex and guns in the pantry. This is my life now.
Somehow the thought of it spiked my desire even more.

Then he reached around and rubbed me from the front with wet fingers, and I forgot about everything else but his magic hands.

“Does it feel good, baby?” he whispered.

I nodded, unable to speak and terrified I was going to scream with pleasure before we were through. The way Joey moved, it was as if he could read my mind, or at least my body. He knew exactly where I wanted to be touched and how. He knew the perfect way to angle himself inside me and how fast or slow I wanted him to go. He knew just what words to whisper in my ear to rattle my insides and make me clench around him. Grabbing the shelf harder, I sucked in my breath and willed myself not to yell or moan or even squeak.

Suddenly we heard voices in the kitchen.

Joey put his other hand over my mouth.

“What is all this mess? Dear God, Ma, don’t even come in here.”

Oh my God oh my God oh my God. This it is. This is my punishment, isn’t it? This is the consequence of all my awful behavior, my sins, my criminal activities. I’ll be caught fucking Joey in the pantry by his mother and she’ll faint from the shock and never let us be together again and Joey will hear her call me all sorts of names and oh God he’s still hard, how is that possible and why don’t they just leave, I’m so hot and tight and tingly and yes, yes, yes—just like that…

At the slam of the front door, Joey started moving again. “They’re gone,” he said. But he kept the hand over my mouth, and I sucked two fingers between my teeth and ran my tongue along them. He groaned, shoving into me deep and hard and driving me to insanity with his other hand. “God, you’re so wet,” he breathed. “And so tight, and so hot, and I never want to stop fucking you, ever…”

Neither of us lasted another ten seconds.

#

“You have perfect toes,” Joey said. We were in the bathtub, leaning back against opposite ends, and Joey held my foot up near his face. We’d locked the heavy wooden bathroom door, of course, but we’d also been smart enough to throw the deadbolt on the apartment’s front door as well. No need to invite further calamity.

“Thank you.” I bowed my head graciously, and rubbed my hands along the backs of his calves, which were alongside my hips. We’d already soaped and rinsed each other, and now we lingered in the warm water, pruney and damp-haired but happy.

“And your feet are so small,” he went on, holding up his hand to compare the size. “Do you have to shop for shoes at a children’s store?”

I pulled my foot from his hands and kicked water at him. “
Still
with the jokes about my size? Are you ever going to let me be?”

Joey laughed deep and loud, the sound echoing off the black and white tiles. “I’m sorry, I’ll be nice.” He fished underwater for my foot again. “Let me have it back.”

I let him, and he brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I love your toes.” He sucked on each one, sending a frisson of delight up my leg. “I love every perfect part of you. Except maybe your temper.”

I sat up and pushed a huge wall of water at him, which soaked his face and splashed over the edge of the tub. Sputtering with laughter, he wiped his eyes and grabbed for me. “You got water in my mouth!”

“Serves you right.”

Grinning, he got me by the arms and traded places with me, pulling me against him, stomach to stomach. His skin on mine felt so warm, so good, it melted every other feeling but contentment. I kissed his collarbone and rested my head there, tracing the letters of my name on his chest with one finger. His arms wrapped around me, and I closed my eyes. We were back to our comfortable silences.

But in a moment, icy fingers of fear crept beneath the warmth. How could I let him do something I knew might get him arrested or killed?

“Joey, please don’t do it.” The words slipped out before I had an argument prepared.

He said nothing.

“Don’t. Please. I’m scared.”

“I have to, Tiny. I have to do it—I promised myself.”

“But things are different now.”

“Between you and me they are. But that situation hasn’t changed.” His voice had a harder edge to it than I’d heard all night.

“If you kill that man, Joey—”

“When I kill him.”

I picked my head up. He looked at me, but his eyes were cool. “You’re scaring me.”

“This is who I am, Tiny. This is part of me.”

“That’s not true—what you are is not what you do. You’re so much more than that.”

He was silent a moment, staring into the water. “If you think I can let this go, you don’t know me very well.”

“But I do! I
do
know you well.” Agitated, I got to my knees between his legs. “I know you love your family more than anything in the world, and I know you would do anything for them. I love that about you.” Taking his hands in mine, I squeezed them tight. “And I know you were hurt when your father died, but—”

“I was in the car. Did you know that?”

Confused, I just looked at him.

“I was in the car waiting when my father came out of the station.”