25. The Italian Exit
25
The Italian Exit
Italian Exit
Combine equal parts dry and sweet vermouth with a splash of Fernet-Branca in a cocktail shaker with ice. Stir to chill. Strain into a chilled coupe glass and garnish with orange peel.
DANNY
B y the time Lucie had made her goodbye rounds to everyone at the party, I was hard as a rock. Not only had she planted in my brain the image of her lush lips around my dick, but every time she touched me—nothing X-rated, just my wrist, my arm, my shoulder—my skin warmed until I felt like I was wearing a heated blanket of her handprints. I couldn’t stop imagining her fingers on my naked skin. And mine on hers.
I stood behind her as she hugged her friends. Standing behind her lush ass in that swingy skirt did nothing to erase the vision of bending her over a chair, but it was the best way I could think of to hide the ridge in my jeans.
Carly’s fiancé, Andrew, sidled up to me. “Hey, man.”
I blinked away the fantasy of her glowing, naked skin and glanced at him. He was my height and around my age, but he’d been to college, he came from money, and he looked like it in his button-down and khakis that I knew hadn’t come from the Gap.
“Hey,” I said.
“I’m glad you two are working your stuff out. She looks happy.”
Were we working our stuff out? I’d thought we were, until she’d found out my age. But in the months since, I’d been nudging my way into her life through a slow campaign of doctor’s visits, healthy snack drop-offs, and a steadily growing selection of literary-themed mocktails. I glanced at her, catching her profile. Her cheeks were rosy, and her plush lips curved up into a smile. “She does.”
“I’m really sorry I have to say this because I like you a lot, but if you hurt Lucie, especially with the baby and her book, I’m going to have to?—”
“Beat me up,” I interrupted him. “I get it. I have sisters.”
“Actually, no, I’m getting too old for that, and Carly likes my face the way it is,” he said, smirking. “I will ruin you. Financially. I know people who could get this place shut down in a heartbeat. So, treat her right.”
I shuddered to think of what Andrew Jones could do to me and my family. His family had a flipping hospital named after them. But thinking I’d ever do anything to hurt Lucie was jacked up.
“Look, man,” I muttered, “I care about her. Hurting her would be like ripping my heart out of my chest.”
He glared at me for a second before a slow grin spread over his face. “Having another guy in the group is going to be amazing.”
“Like having someone who can shoot the shit about baseball and cars while they talk about shoes and old-school boy bands?” I hadn’t pegged Andrew for a guy who looked down on women. I’d much rather hang with Lucie than some basic-ass dude.
With a perfectly straight face, he said, “No. To help them carry out their plans for world domination.”
I was still wondering if he was serious when Lucie turned to face me. Her belly brushed against the front of my jeans, and I sucked in a breath. All thoughts of Andrew and anyone else flew right out of my brain.
“I’m ready to go,” she said. “I’ve said goodbye to everyone. Some of them twice.”
“Then you’ve done it right,” I said. “You’re an honorary Italian now.”
She shot me an expression I couldn’t decipher. Her lips were tipped up like she was happy, but her brow furrowed. I’d never minded everything that came with being Italian—the big family, the constant ribbing, the carbs—but she might.
She took my hand and walked to the door. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ve been a good girl all night. I deserve a reward.”
“I have a present for you.” I strode ahead of her to open the door. “It’s in my apartment.”
She breezed through it into the vestibule and pulled out her key to unlock the door to the residents’ stairs. “You mean it will be, when you dick me down in your bed.”
I let out a short, shocked laugh. She always managed to surprise me. “No. I have an actual gift. In a gift bag.”
She raised her eyebrows. “Sure you do.” Then she turned and walked up the stairs, giving me a glorious view of the curve of her ass in that swingy dress. My hard-on had eased while I was talking to Andrew, but now it raged back. After adjusting myself so I could walk, I followed her up.
Inside my apartment, I snatched the shiny red gift bag from my kitchen table. “Happy birthday, Lucie,” I said, not at all smugly. Okay, I was super-smug about it.
She stared at it. “You seriously got me a gift? I didn’t get you a gift on your birthday.”
“You brought wine,” I said. “And coming to dinner was a gift.”
“You didn’t even drink the wine. Damn it, Danny.” She jammed her hand into the bag and pulled out a wad of tissue paper. She peered inside. “A notebook. And a pen.”
I shoved a hand through my hair, but I forgot I’d put it in a bun. My fingers tangled and stuck. “I’m sorry it’s not much. I’m saving everything I can for the bar.”
“Danny.” When she looked up, her eyes glistened. Were those…tears? “This is exactly the kind of notebook I use in my favorite color, black, which, by the way, is hard to find. And you got me the fancy pen I don’t like to buy because it costs three dollars more than the next-best one. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But are you okay?” I’d never seen her cry before, not even when she told me about the pregnancy.
“I’m fine. In fact, I’m really happy. It’s these stupid hormones.” She set the gift on my table and stepped closer. “Now I want the other part of my gift.”
I’d kissed her on my birthday, but that was two months ago. She was a different shape now, her belly rounded and firm between us. But I was determined to make this good. I leaned forward and curled my arms around her back. An inch from her lips, I murmured, “Is this okay?”
She grabbed my head. “Kiss me, and it’ll be better than okay.” She tugged me down until our lips met.
Her lips were as lush as I remembered. When I ran my tongue across her lower lip, I tasted the blueberry syrup from her favorite mocktail. She opened to me and slid her tongue along mine, lighting up every nerve in my body.
“Mmm,” she purred. “You taste like beer.”
“Sorry.” I kissed along her jaw to her ear. “I meant to stick to nonalcoholic like you, but my brothers kept bringing me pints, so I drank a couple.”
“I don’t mind.” She yanked at the elastic in my hair. The tug on my roots hurt, but it was a good kind of pain, the kind that danced down my spine. “I miss it. Next time, drink a whiskey so I can have a little taste.”
I stroked my hands down her back to the curve of her ass. I liked the sound of next time. Meanwhile, she’d worked the elastic out of my hair, and the release of the steady tug on my roots was an almost sexual relief. She trailed her fingers along my scalp, then combed through the strands.
“I love your hair,” she said.
Goose bumps erupted on my forearms. I knew she hadn’t said she loved me, but my dumbass heart said it was close enough. I buried my face in her neck so she wouldn’t see my goofy expression. Between kisses on her golden skin, I said, “You could pull it later.”
She gave an experimental tug. “You don’t mind?”
My dick strained in my jeans. “God, no.”
“Noted,” she said, tugging again.
“That’s it.” I curled my hands under her thighs to lift her. “Time for your other present.”
She squealed and clutched my neck as I carried her to the couch and set her down. I untied her boots and pulled them off, setting them to the side. Then I pulled off her socks and set them inside one of her boots. Kneeling between her legs, I put my hands on her knees and slowly slid them up her thighs and under her skirt. “This okay?”
“Danny.” Her eyes blazed. “I hereby give you blanket permission to touch every part of me with the aim of making me come on my birthday. Got it?”
“You don’t have to be sassy about it.” I grabbed her panties and yanked them off. I reached for the hem of her skirt to lift it, but she put a hand on mine.
“Look,” she said, “it’s hard to shave these days. I’ve been too busy with work and my book to make a waxing appointment. So things might be a little wild down there.”
I quirked one side of my mouth. “I’m counting on it.”
I flipped up her skirt and sat back on my heels. I’d been so focused on her pussy that I’d almost forgotten about everything else. Seeing her belly under her clothes was one thing but seeing it bare was something else. It was round with purplish lines spidering across the golden skin on the sides.
As much as I wanted to admire her, I wasn’t here to make her uncomfortable. “Lie back,” I said.
She reclined toward the arm of the couch, keeping one leg hooked around my back so her legs were spread for me.
“Comfortable?” I asked.
She grasped my shoulder to pull herself up and repositioned a pillow under her back. “Now I am.”
“Good.” I drew my hands up the insides of her thighs until they met at her center. I watched her face as I explored her swollen labia and smeared her wetness over them. “Tell me if anything doesn’t feel good.”
She flung an arm over her eyes. “So far, so good.”
I continued caressing her, occasionally dipping a fingertip inside, teasing her until I had her squirming. “Danny,” she growled, “I need your dick.”
My dick was fully on board with that, straining in my jeans. “Not yet,” I said. I plunged my fingers inside her, curling them up and stroking her until I found the spot that made her legs stiffen, then I leaned forward and pressed my tongue to her clit.
She shouted my name, and her leg trembled on my shoulder. I stroked and licked her through it, soaking myself in her scent and taste, until she pressed my forehead.
“Enough,” she said, her voice rough.
I pulled out my fingers and sucked them clean. She tasted saltier than I remembered. But a lot of things were different now. Not only her swollen belly, but also how I felt about her. Sure, I’d totally crushed on her as someone sexy and unattainable, but now that I knew her better, my feelings had deepened. I wanted to stay beside her, supporting her, always.
I loved her. But did she feel the same?
I watched her heaving chest like I could see inside to her beating heart. She’d defended me to her parents tonight. She’d come to my family’s celebration and then to my birthday party. I knew she was conflicted about our age difference. But after spending her birthday with her, in front of her friends and my family, I suspected that this sex was different for her too, like it meant something to her. Even if it wasn’t love yet, she might be nudging closer to it.
I’d run with that. If my dick could make her happy in bed, maybe she’d discover she couldn’t live without the rest of me as well.
“I think we should move this to the bedroom,” I said, ducking under her leg and gently laying it on the couch. “You ready?” I held out a hand.
She grasped it. “My joints are all wonky these days. I think it’ll be easier for me to suck you off from on top than kneeling on the floor.”
I stood and supported her as she levered off the couch. “This isn’t an exchange. You’ve been on your feet all night, and you’re tired. If it’s okay with you, I’d rather fuck, then go to sleep.” I made it sound careless on purpose, like it was only about the fucking and not about the feelings straining in my chest. She isn’t ready.
I could almost see the struggle on her face to let go of her idea of fairness. Finally, she nodded. “That sounds fantastic.”
I led her to the bathroom in the hallway. “Need to stop here first?”
“Always.” She slipped into the bathroom and shut the door.
I washed my hands and face at the sink in the kitchen, then went into my bedroom and pulled back the sheets. I tugged off my shirt and tossed it into the hamper, then followed it with my jeans, socks, and underwear. Grabbing my dick, I gave it a rough stroke to relieve some of the building pressure.
“Fuck, that’s sexy,” Lucie said, leaning in the doorway.
“Yeah?” I did it again, squeezing at the base to keep myself from going off under her admiring gaze.
“Yeah. Don’t let this go to your head, but you have a pretty dick.”
“Pretty?” I looked down at it. It was just a dick, bigger than some, but not the biggest. Not as straight as others I’d seen.
She walked to me, bent at the waist, and kissed the head, slipping in a little tongue. My eyes rolled back. I forced myself to step backward. I wanted to save my release for later, when I held her in my arms.
“Can I help you with the zipper?” I asked.
“Okay.” She turned her back to me. Her hair was still clipped up, and I brushed a few stray curls out of the way. Then I grasped the zipper and tugged it down, following the curve of her spine, all the way to the top of her ass. I pushed the dress off her shoulders, then bent to pick it up off the floor as she carefully stepped out. She kept her back to me as I lay her dress on the dresser. “Unhook my bra?”
I did, my fingers trembling. She pulled it off from the front and tossed it on top of her dress. “One more thing,” I said. Gently, I pinched the clip in her hair to release it. I used my fingers to disentangle it from her curls, trying not to pull any strands. I set it on top of her bra.
She reached up to tousle her hair, groaning in pleasure. Then she turned to face me.
Her tits were heavier than the last time I’d seen them, and her tan nipples had darkened to a rosy brown. I’d seen the bottom of her abdomen before when I flipped up her skirt, but now I saw all of her. The baby sat low, giving her a pear shape.
She was indescribably gorgeous.
One of my hands was already reaching toward her. “Can I?—”
“Blanket permission, remember?” she said.
I started with a brush of my hand on the side of her breast and worked my way forward. I licked her nipple first, then smoothed my thumb across the peak. She pressed closer. I repeated the action with her other breast, gazing into her eyes as my thumbs circled her pointed nipples. I caught the scent of her arousal and licked my lips.
A sly spark lit her eyes as she reached down and grasped my dick. It was already leaking, and her thumb slipped across the head, making me shiver. “Let’s lie down,” she said.
“What’s comfortable?” I asked as she sat on the bed and scooted toward the middle.
“I’m not supposed to lie on my stomach, and my back hurts if I lie on it for too long. Maybe doggy style?”
No way was I going to look at her ass, delectable as it was, while I fucked her. Not while this felt more like making love than fucking, no matter what I’d said. “Try on your side? I have an idea.”
“A dirty idea, I hope,” she said, smirking.
“Sex isn’t dirty,” I said, kneeling on the bed. “It’s natural and beautiful, especially with someone you lo—care about.” I cleared my throat. Condom. I leaned over to pull out the bedside table drawer.
Her fingers wrapped around my wrist. “It’s not like I can get more pregnant. And I haven’t been with anyone since you.”
I swallowed. “Neither have I. You’re sure?” I’d never been bare with anyone before.
“Yeah.” She licked her lips.
I planted my hands on the mattress to hide their tremble and sat back on my heels. “Lift your top leg.”
She did, and I straddled her bottom leg, scooting up to her thigh. I rested her raised leg on my shoulder. “This okay?”
“Yeah.”
I took a second to admire the contrast of her dark hair against the white pillowcase and the smooth curve of her flushed cheek. I kissed her ankle, then ran my hand down the inside of her thigh to her center. I swiped across her lips. They were slick and swollen, ready for me. Grabbing my aching dick, I rubbed it across her. She hummed, her eyelids drooping.
Mindful that she hadn’t had partnered sex in a while and things might feel different, I pushed inside her slowly. She moaned as I filled her, and so did I. It was so good—the squeeze of her around me, the friction, the warm wetness. I wanted to stay like that for hours, or the rest of my life.
But then she contracted around me, and I gripped her leg like a rudder, like it was the only thing keeping me from going off after less than ten seconds inside her.
“My clit, Danny,” she said.
The fog cleared a little. “Right, sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry,” she said. “Rub my clit. I’m so close.”
I swiped my thumb where we were connected to gather her wetness, then I set it on her clit, strumming gently as I pulled back and thrust forward.
She gave an incoherent moan, so I kept doing it. When the sensations around my dick got to be too much, the best kind of pain from holding myself back, I rested my forehead against her leg and breathed in the scent of her skin. Feeling her muscles tense against my chest, I thrummed her faster.
Letting out a choked cry, she stiffened, and I let myself go. I thrust into her once, twice, then relief and pleasure flooded me. I was shaking, and my lips trembled as I brushed a lingering kiss against her ankle. “Christ, I…”
“I know, honey,” she said, laying her hand on my chest.
The pet name, her hand on my heart, the pulses that still massaged my dick, all of it broke me. “I love you, Lucie.”
The words hung in the air between us for a second as I simultaneously wished I could call them back— she’s not ready, dumbass— and desperately searched her face for a reaction.
At last, she patted my chest. “Sure you do, honey. Now get up. I’ve got to pee.”