The Gun Runner (Mafia Made) (5 page)

“You ever want to know how our relationship’s progressing? Grab my cock, it’ll remove all doubt.”

“Where, uhhm. Where are you going?”

“To finish my workout. I’m frustrated,” he said over his shoulder.

He disappeared down the hallway.

“Frustrated,” I said, skipping across the wooden floor to catch up with him. “Why?”

He stepped into his exercise room. “Because I want to fuck, and I can’t. I have a thirty-day rule, and I never break my rules.”

I followed him into the room. “What’s a thirty-day rule?”

He tore off his shirt and tossed it over the weight bench. “I’ll never have sex before thirty days is up. You know, no penetration.”

I gawked at the magnificence of his body’s muscular structure. It was as symmetrical as his living room, only I found it far more inviting. “Ever?” I asked.

He reached up to the chin-up bar, gripping it firmly in his hands. “Nope.”

Oh fuck.

It seemed ridiculous. It
was
ridiculous. I needed to understand why, but was quite sure I never would. For the sake of entertainment, I asked. “Why not?”

“It’s a discipline thing.”

“What’s a discipline thing?”

“The thirty-day rule.”

I was right. It made no sense. “You’re doing it just to do it? Or
not
doing it?”

“I need to remind myself that sex isn’t important. I need to remain disciplined to do so.”

I hated to be the bearer of bad news, but sex
was
important. “Sex is important.”

“If I’m still interested after thirty days, I know my interest is coming from the right place.”

“What day are we on?” I asked.

He pulled himself toward the horizontal bar, his arms and chest flaring as his body raised each inch of height until his chin cleared the bar. After he exhaled, he lowered himself until his arms were locked straight. “Twenty.”

I studied his shirtless torso. His body was incredible. Covered in muscles and rippled with proof of his devotion. It was difficult not to drool as I admired him. The promise of sex tossed out the window didn’t matter, I was still soaked. I couldn’t help it.

The whirlwind of having him pin me against the wall and kiss me had me instantly aroused. Wrapping my delicate hand around his huge cock sent me over the edge. Sex or no sex, I felt I needed some relief.

Somehow.

“Ten days, huh?” I asked, studying him for imperfections, and finding only one large scar on his left bicep.

He pulled himself up to the bar again. “Yep.”

“Well,” I said. “I guess I’m frustrated too.”

He hoisted himself up to the bar again. “Join in. Exercise helps with frustration. I know that much.”

“Are blow jobs considered sex?” I asked.

“Depends,” he said dryly.

“On?”

“Who’s offering.”

It seemed pretty obvious. “Me?”

“Yes, it’d be sex.”

“Why?”

“Because I want it.”

“The discipline thing again?”

Still hoisted high in the bar, he nodded.

I forced a sigh, then pulled my shirt over my head. He lowered himself until his arms were locked. I removed my bra and tossed it on the floor beside my shirt. With his eyes still glued to me, he dangled from the bar.

I kicked off my flats, unbuttoned my pants, and pushed them down my thighs. He stared. I pulled them past my feet and tossed them into the pile. He hung from the bar, still staring in my direction. I slowly removed my panties.

His eyes went wide.

I lowered my right hand between my legs. The crotch of his sweats began to rise. I slid my finger in my pussy, closed my eyes, and moaned out into the room.

I opened my eyes.

He hung from the bar, the fabric of his sweats stretched to its limit.

I acted uninterested, turned away, and got on the treadmill. A few strides into what I expected would be a five-mile naked run, and I tilted my head toward him.

Still hanging from the bar with his cock poking straight out, he looked frustrated.

I
hope you choke on your thirty-day rule
,
mister.

“Yeah, I think you’re right. Exercise makes it all better,” I lied.

Nothing could be further from the truth.

He released his grip from the bar, dropped to the floor and pressed against his stiff dick with the heel of his palm.

“What’s wrong?” I asked.

With his face clearly showing his discomfort, he tossed his head toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Where you going?”

“I’ve got something I need to take care of.”

I continued my naked sprint. “Okay.”

With both hands pressing into the crotch of his sweats, he turned away. In a few steps, he disappeared down the hallway.

My mouth curled into a smile.

If I couldn’t have sex for ten more days, at least I could have fun.

Chapter Eight

Michael

We were six days away from having sex, and both of us seemed to be enjoying teasing the other about the limitations of my self-imposed thirty-day restriction. Initially, I thought it would be easy for me. After all, I had gone years without sex. In a relationship with Terra, however, things were different.

It was difficult.

My desire to be with her sexually was greater than my desire to do anything else. I attributed the longing to have sex with her to my knowing I couldn’t. Naturally, I wanted what I couldn’t have. At least that’s what I told myself.

Standing on the retail side of the entrance to the dressing rooms staring at her, I began to believe my yearning was more a result of her natural beauty.

She pressed the balls of her feet to the floor, lifted her heels, and spun in a circle. “What do you think?”

The little black dress. A staple in every girl’s wardrobe. Sleeveless with a neckline that exposed the cleavage of her shapely breasts, the dress she chose was revealing enough to provoke tremendous temptation. The knee-high length made it almost elegant.

She did the rest.

I wiped my sweaty palms against the thighs of my jeans. “I love it.”

“Love it, or just kind of like it?”

I shook my head in disbelief at what stood before me. “Love, love, love it. You look stunning.”

She cocked her hip. “Should I get it?”

“If you don’t, I will.”

“Oh, I’d love to see you in this.”

“Not for me, you weirdo. For you. It’s perfect.”

Her eyes dropped to my feet and slowly raised until she met my gaze. She pressed her biceps against the sides of her boobs, forcing more of them to burst out of the plunging neck of the dress. “Okay, I’ll get it.”

I felt my dick go stiff until the denim fabric of my jeans prevented any further progression.

“Uhhm.” She cocked her hip, pressed her elbow to her side, and wagged her index finger toward me. “Your uhhm. You’ve got that stiff cock thing going on again.”

I glanced over my shoulder before pressing the heel of my palm against it. “I’m well aware.”

With her eyes glued to my crotch, she raised one of her perfectly arched eyebrows. “Shame.”

I checked over my shoulder again, did what I could to adjust myself, and pointed toward the long row of dressing rooms. “Go change.”

Obviously making a conscious effort to destroy my sexual reservations, she turned and sashayed toward her dressing room. Watching the cheeks of her perfectly shaped ass rise and fall with each exaggerated step without acting on my desires was sheer torture. With a perfect combination of beauty, charm and elegance, she made her way to the doorway at the end of the corridor.

Thirty seconds later, and she was calling out to me for help.

“Michael, can you come here for a minute?”

Being at Saks Fifth Avenue on a Wednesday night was a far different shopping experience than what I was used to. In complete contrast to my midday runs to the hardware store for duct tape or makeshift firearms parts, it was actually enjoyable. Not only was there a lack of patrons in the store, there seemed to be far fewer employees, which made me feel much less guilty about walking to her dressing room and seeing exactly what it was she thought she needed.

“What?” I asked, the tone of my voice expressing a nonexistent annoyance.

“I need help.”

“With what?”

“It’s stuck?”

“What’s stuck?”

“Just open the door.”

“
Shoppers
,
Saks Fifth Avenue will be closing in fifteen minutes.
At this time
,
we ask that you bring your selected items directly to the closest sales associate
,
and make your purchase.
Thank you for shopping with Saks.
”

“You heard that, right? They close in a few minutes. What do you want?”

“Just open the door, Michael.”

I turned and peered down the forty-foot-long corridor I had just walked down. With the exception of hers, none of the dressing rooms were occupied. The one she had chosen was at the end of the string of identical rooms.

“What’s the problem?”

“It’s stuck. Just come help me.”

A quick glance over my shoulder confirmed what I already suspected.

The hallway remained empty.

I pushed the door ajar just enough to speak through the opening. “What’s stuck?”

“Just open it.”

I opened the door slightly.

Bent over the small bench in the corner of the room, Terra stood with the little black dress bunched up around her waist. With her bare ass pointed directly at me, and her equally bare pussy free for the taking, she shifted her weight from side to side, causing the muscles in her long lean legs to flare each time she did so.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I whispered. I stepped inside and pulled the door shut behind me. “You little fucker, nothing’s stuck.”

“It’s my mind,” she said over her shoulder. “It’s stuck on you.”

She was adorable. There was no denying it. But. She was equally mischievous.

“Cover that thing up,” I whispered.

Bent over the bench with her back arched and her head buried in the corner of the small dressing room, she turned and peered over her shoulder. “What? My tight little pussy?”

My throbbing hard-on reminded me of the six days I had yet to wait. I waved my hand toward her and fought to adjust myself. “Get dressed, you little shit.”

“Did you call me a slut? I love it. I want to be your little slut. Fuck me in here. Get that big dick of yours out and fuck me.”

My tight jeans reminded me there was nowhere near enough room for my rapidly growing cock. While struggling with the mental urge to fuck her right there in the dressing room, I fought against the physical urge by painfully pressing my hands down against my overeager manhood.

“I said
you little shit
, not you little slut,” I snapped back in the form of a whisper.

“Oh,” she said innocently. “I still want to be your little slut.”

My eyes focused on her glistening mound. Perfectly shaped, and swollen from her desires, the lips were exposed and wet as if she’d been playing with herself prior to my entering the room. A few seconds later, and my mind, just like hers, was stuck.

I unzipped my pants and pulled my cock free of its restraints.

“Are you going to fuck me?” she whispered excitedly.

I stood with my cock in my hand, staring down at her irresistible pussy, and considered breaking one of the rules I had given myself when I became an adult. I decided the thirty-day rule would prevent me from becoming a man-whore, and would further force me to be certain of whether or not I wanted to have sex before having it.

With her long brown hair hanging down past her shoulders, she stared back at me over her shoulder, waiting patiently for me to decide what my next step was. Her high cheekbones and slender nose accentuated her eyes, which were normally a very deep brown in color. Now seeming as black as the dress that was bunched up around her waist, they were a perfect match for her evil desires.

I gripped my cock firm in my hand and guided it into her without so much as a warning. She lowered her head toward the bench and exhaled a muffled grunt as I pushed the first few inches of my length into her wetness.

“Are you going to fuck me? That’s what you asked me, right?” I gripped her waist in my hands and pulled her ass against my hips, forcing a little more of my swollen shaft into her. “Does
that
answer your question?”

Her breaths came in gulps. “Holy. Fuck.”

“Holy fuck is right, Terra.”

Her pussy was so tight I almost came on the
in
stroke. I clenched my teeth and gazed down at my shaft as I pulled it from her slippery confines.

I pushed myself back in, this time almost giving her all of it. “I like that tight little pussy of yours, Terra.”

A low rumble of a groan into the pile of clothes that were once neatly folded on the bench was her only response. I held myself deep inside of her and closed my eyes, trying to memorize the feeling of finally being with her in a sexual sense. A few seconds later I opened my eyes, satisfied I would never forget anything about what I was experiencing.

I gazed down at her shaking legs. “You ready?”

“I uhhm...I’m...” she stammered.

“I haven’t got time to wait for an answer, this place is closing in about ten minutes. I’m going to give you six strokes, that’s it. You count ‘em. Ready?”

She lifted her head, paused, and lowered it into the top of her purse. “Oh God.”

I gripped her waist firm. “Oh God’s right. Now, count ’em for me.”

I pushed myself into her fully.

“One.” The sound was muffled by the Louis Vuitton bag her face was buried in.

I pulled myself out and immediately pushed my entire length right back into her tight folds.

“Two,” she breathed.

A combination of having sex in the dressing room, her extremely tight pussy, and her muffled counting was almost too much. I felt my balls tighten. I arched my back and stared up at the ceiling, hoping I could at least last longer than she did.

I needed her to remember it, no differently than I was sure I would. I wanted her to recall the event each and every time she grabbed her purse, saw the black dress, or heard someone mention Saks. I desperately wanted her to feel the exact same way about me that I felt about her.

I gave her another powerful stroke.

“Holy...three,” she muttered.

I released her waist, reached under her right shoulder, and lifted against her until she was standing erect. Wanting more of her than I was getting, I pressed my chest into her back, buried my face in her hair, and inhaled a long deep breath.

Lilacs
,
jasmine
,
and sunshine.

I pushed her toward the flimsy wall separating our booth from the adjoining room. With her potential purchase wadded up around her torso and her bare ass smashed against my hips, I held her to the wall and slid myself out until the head of my dick was resting against her pussy lips.

I pressed my mouth to her ear. “Where were we?”

“You were...fucking...me.”

“Three? Four? Five? Where were we?”

“Two,” she lied.

I grinned. “Ready?”

“Uh-huh.”

I dragged my teeth lightly along her neck—from her ear to her shoulder—forcing my throbbing cock into her at the same time. My mouth came to a rest, and I reached into the dress and cupped her breasts in my hands. As I nibbled on her neck and shoulder, I continued fucking her at a steady pace—each stroke penetrating her fully.

Her tightness gripped my cock like a vise. Each thrust became fractionally easier, inviting me to continue my exploration of her sexual stamina.

“Two...”

“Three...”

I pounded against her forcefully.

“Fuck. Yes,” she grunted. “Four.”

“Yes.” She inhaled sharply. “Oh...God...Yes...”

Her legs began to quiver. She moaned, this time much louder. With her boobs cupped in my hands, I pinched her nipples firmly and began to give her all I had.

She blubbered until she reached eleven, and finally gave up. The grunting continued until the lights began to dim around us. As the dressing room went completely dark, I felt her tighten around my shaft.

“I’m going to come inside you,” I moaned into her ear.

“Oh God. Do it,” she begged.

I felt my cock swell inside of her at the same time the inner walls of her vagina began to clench against me. Together, as if it were all part of some sexual master plan, we reached climax. Immediately following, her legs gave out and she collapsed onto the bench.

“Holy shit,” she gasped. “So much for a candlelit room and roses for the first time, huh?”

“Is that what you wanted?”

“Hell no. This...” she waved her shaking arm toward me “...this is what I wanted. It’s what I
need
. Believe me. Good Lord. You’re going to have to carry me out of here. My legs are jelly.”

All of the lights in the corridor with the exception of two were off, leaving the dressing room with an almost eerie glow. “Just wear that dress out. If we don’t hurry, we’re going to be locked in here.”

“I don’t think I could figure out how to get it off anyway. You fucked me stupid.”

I chuckled. “What?”

“I’m stupid. Like a dumbass. You fucked me senseless.”

“Maybe that’s what they mean by getting your brains fucked out.”

“Obviously.”

She straightened her makeup in her compact mirror and tossed her hair. After gathering her things and removing the tag from the dress, we did our best to straighten ourselves up and look like we had simply missed the announcement that the store was closing.

We wandered around the store for ten minutes, eventually finding a clerk close to the exit. She appeared to be fifty years old, and had apparently spent her entire income on reconstructive surgery. Her hair hung straight down from her head like strings of white silk. As she noticed us approach, she cocked a hip, tossed her platinum-blond hair to the side, and stared.

“We got stuck trying on clothes, and all of a sudden the lights went out. Can we pay for the dress and then you let us out?”

She glared at us like we were insane. “My till is closed.”

I tilted my head toward Terra. “She’s wearing the dress.”

“My till is closed.
We’re
closed. It’s ten minutes after. How did you not hear us announce that we were closing? We made two announcements.”

I’d never been one to lie, and I didn’t think it was a good time to start. “I heard the announcement. We just didn’t get out of the dressing room in time. Can we pay for the dress and go?”

“My till is closed.”

“I got that.
Your till is closed
. But I don’t know what that means.”

Obviously unamused, she glared.

“I guess we’ll go back, change out of the dress and then we’ll need you to let us out of here.”

“Push on the door and it’ll open,” she snapped. “You’ve got twenty minutes and then the alarm will sound. I suggest you hurry.”