16. Noah
Noah
M y pussy is pleasantly sore.
Delancy fucked me on the couch. Then he dragged me to the bedroom and fucked me on his bed. Then we made our way to the shower where he ate me out again before fucking me against the tiled wall.
Maybe I am a fan of shower sex.
The way he dried me off after… It was gentle, caring. I never imagined him to be so loving.
Like right now. My period is about to start. I woke up with debilitating cramps. I’m spotting this morning, then it’ll be a day or two of heavy bleeding and more cramps. The hormonal IUD I got barely helped with my PCOS symptoms. Some months are worse than others.
I just don’t have time for this. I can’t wait until menopause, and I’m done with periods. I’ve known since I was eleven years old that I didn’t want kids and yet every month I’m reminded about my body’s failure to get pregnant.
“I got the stuff you asked for,” Del says entering the bedroom carrying a plastic bag and tray. He hands me the bag with my pads inside and sets the tray down on my blanket covered lap.
“Are these chicken wings?”
“You said pads with wings.”
I cover my mouth, trying to hold back my laughter. This sweet, adorable, clueless man.
“I didn’t mean chicken wings.” I hold up the package of pads and point to the word. “The pads have wings.”
“How the hell was I supposed to know?”
“What else do you have here?”
His face lights up with excitement.
“A heating pad, chamomile tea, berries, Midol, and...” He takes his phone out of his pocket and taps at the screen for a few seconds. Smooth instrumental music starts playing. “Soothing tunes to ease your stress.”
I pop a blueberry in my mouth. “Did you Google things to help with period cramps?”
He frowns at me. “Yes, why?”
I shake my head but smile at this thoughtful man.
He leaves the room and returns with a bottle.
“Want a full body massage? What?” he asks at my confused face. “The Internets told me it would help. Don’t look at me like that, woman.”
“The internets? With an ‘s’?”
“Shut up. You know what I mean. I fucking hate the Internet . I’m lucky I found this information. So, humor me.”
I take a sip of the tea he brought and hum.
“You like it? I can bring you something else if you hate it.”
“No, this is perfect.” I twist off the cap to the Midol and pour out two pills. After popping them into my mouth, I chase them down with another long sip of tea.
I could get used to this pampering.
“So... massage?” Del wags his eyebrows at me and waves the bottle of massage oil.
“You just want to get me naked and put your hands all over my body.”
“That’s true, but I also want you to be comfortable. Tell me what you need from me.”
My face drops because I’ve never had anyone offer to take care of me. My father doesn’t count. He cares too much. My father cares when I don’t want him to, when he doesn’t give me the choice.
“Thank you, Puppet. I appreciate this. All of this. I’m just really tired, so... rain check on the massage?”
“Of course.” He leans in and kisses the top of my head, then stands up straight with an awkward look on his face. “Um, sorry. I hope that wasn’t weird. It just felt... like a natural thing to do.”
I laugh. “You can kiss me on top of the head anytime.”
Del leaves, taking the chicken wings after telling him my stomach will not be happy eating them. I finish the bowl of berries and drink all the tea. The Midol is already helping, so I lie back down and place the heating pad on my lower stomach.
I must have dozed off because now I'm on my side. The bed behind me dips, and a pair of strong arms wrap around my body. The heating pad fell during my tossing and turning, so Del picks it up and holds it in place over my cramping uterus.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” he whispers next to my ear before kissing my neck.
“Don’t call me sweetheart, asshole,” I mumble.
His soft laughter at my feigned anger is the last thing I remember before falling back asleep.
F ive days pass and my period kept me and Delancy from fucking. Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against period sex, but this cycle was a rough one. I did not feel sexy. Which was good because keeping our hands off each other was productive for our plans to figure out our mothers’ murders.
Well, sort of.
Del asked his brother to contact his law enforcement source to see if police reports were filed on the Christmas Eve murders and my mother’s death the night before.
Surprisingly, there were. Of course, most of it contained fabricated details.
Same with the FDNY’s report on the deadly fire at the Lords Mansion.
The police report on Sasha Lenetti’s death is somewhat how I remember the night.
After I was found hiding in my room, a detective brought me downstairs.
My father was there, which as a kid I didn’t find strange but now.
.. He was supposed to be in the Bronx all night finishing up work before the holiday.
How did he get to the Lower East Side so fast?
I remember seeing my mother’s body covered in a white sheet with deep red blood soaked through at the head.
Nothing else was out of place. The men didn’t go through our belongings or steal anything, yet the police report marked my mother’s murder as a deadly home invasion and burglary.
It’s bullshit.
The men spoke Italian and while I wasn’t fluent in the language, I remember them saying Lenetti several times. They also kept saying figlia —daughter—as if they’d seek me out next to kill.
Maybe this is why I feel so connected to Del. We both experienced something no child should ever have to go through. We both got a second chance at living.
And now we both kill for a living. We seek out revenge by ridding the world of the bad.
Fingerprints were taken from the scene of my mother’s murder; DNA was collected but neither garnered a match in police databases.
Too many details were left out of these files because it’s the mob. They only included what they wanted the government to know. Which made our investigation that much harder.
The file on Imogen Carter didn’t have any information on Del. Nothing on a child being found in the snow, nearly dead.
His father really did erase him from existence.
The FDNY file on the fatal fire at the Lords Mansion was so fabricated, the information was useless.
The cause was listed as a wire malfunction in the laundry room.
The cause of death for Cillian’s mother and sister was listed as smoke inhalation.
Cillian made it clear over the years that an accelerant was found in the bedrooms. He also claimed an autopsy—that remained off record—revealed his mother was raped, stabbed, and strangled.
But can we really trust Cillian’s words?
“That’s the third time you’ve looked over those reports. Find anything new?” Del asks. He’s sitting across the kitchen table from me, drinking a mug of coffee and eating a crème filled donut from a shop down the block.
“Nothing. We need to find the mob reports.”
“You know we don’t leave paper trails.”
“Your father did.”
“Yeah, well, that was a dumb thing to do. He knew better.”
“But then you’d never been able to kill the men responsible—”
“I know,” he says, his voice short and clipped.
I frown at him. “Was your mother... did they...”
“Yes,” he answers the question I struggle to ask. “They raped her just like Cillian’s mother.”
“But my mother wasn’t…”
I stand and pace, hoping the movement will trigger a memory or... something.
“This was a planned attack. Why hasn’t anyone connected the murders until now? Why has everyone moved on as if it never happened?”
Stopping in the middle of the space between the living room and kitchen, I put my hands on my hips.
“Fight me.”
“What?” Del pauses mid-bite and he stares at me as if I've gone mad.
“Fight me. I do my best thinking when I'm beating the shit out of someone.”
He laughs. “And you think I’m going to let you kick my ass?”
I shake my head. “No, I think you’re a competitive asshole like me and you’re going to push me to my limit.”
His humor drops from his face.
“Challenge accepted.” He stands and walks into the living area. “Let’s move all the furniture back to give us more space.”
By the time we’re done, a big empty circle remains.
“Should we do a countdown or—”
I don’t let him finish and kick out my leg, aiming for his chest. He catches it by the ankle and twists, sending me to the ground.
I ignore the shot of pain to my hip from the impact of the fall and swipe my foot, striking him in his Achilles tendon.
He topples over, knees and palms hitting the hard floor right next to me.
“Goddamn it, Noah.”
He's in the perfect position for me to implement a triangle choke hold. I wrap my legs around his head, squeezing tight until his face turns red.
He claws at my leggings, and I almost let go but seconds later he swings his legs around, twisting his body to turn me on my side. I lose my hold, my legs parting enough for him to free his head and the next thing I know, I’m on my stomach, and he’s smashing my face down on the cement floor.
“Ready to tap out?” he whispers next to my ear.
“Fuck, no.”
He slaps my ass hard before getting off me to stand. I scramble to get to my feet, huffing because it’s pissing me off that he’s winning. I adjust my tank top and swat a piece of hair out of my face.
“You look sexy all flushed and disheveled.”
“Shut up, Puppet.”
He slowly walks to his right, so I do the same and we move in a circle, sizing one another up. Looking for a tell or a weakness to implement our next attack.
“It’s hot in here. Don’t you think it’s hot in here?” I stop to fan myself, then hook my fingertips behind the band of my leggings.
“Don’t,” Del warns.
“What are you talking about?” I peel them down over my ass and hips. “I’m just trying to cool off.”
I step out of the pooled fabric, then shed the tank top, tossing it into a corner.
Del groans and adjusts his cock. “You’re not playing fair,” he says, his heated eyes scanning my body from head to toe.
I look down at the sheer black lace bra and matching thong I’m wearing. “Oh, this thing? Isn’t it cute? I wore it just for you.”
I turn around to shake my ass, fluttering my eyelashes at him over my shoulder. He runs at me, but I bend down just in time, grabbing his arm to catapult him over my back. He hits the ground with a heavy thud, knocking the air out of him.
I mount him and grind my pussy in circles over his groin. He closes his eyes and runs his hands up and down my thighs.
“Does that feel good, Marionette?”
He nods and swallows hard.
“I want to eat you out. Straddle my face, Vixen.”
“We’re supposed to be fighting,” I say, but he tugs me down until his nose and mouth are buried in my pussy.
He moves the thin fabric of my thong out of the way and plunges his tongue inside me. I toss my head back and moan.
His nose rubs against my clit while he thrusts his tongue in and out at a damning pace.
He digs his nails into the meat of my thighs and scratches thin lines down to my knees, hard enough to break skin. The pain mixing with the pleasure has me quickly building up to an orgasm.
I speed up the grinding of my hips, and he spreads my legs further apart to give him more access to my cunt. He takes my clit into his mouth and sucks hard, then grazes his teeth over the sensitive bundle of nerves.
“Fuck,” I yell out and bury my fingers into his hair, tugging at the strands as his magical mouth sucks and laps and bites.
His palms skim over my thighs, spreading the blood from the scratches. When his hands reach my ass, he smacks both cheeks hard. My pussy reacts with a spasm.
I’m close so I pinch both of my nipples and Del nips my clit with his teeth, taking me over the edge.
When I'm done shaking, I fall to the floor next to him, breathing hard.
Del turns to his side and rests his head on his palm.
“I almost lost consciousness from lack of oxygen there at the end,” he says and a laugh bursts out of me. “What a way to go, though, right?”
He leans in for a kiss and despite his face being covered in my release, I part my lips for him. He doesn’t hold back and plunges his tongue inside my mouth. I taste myself; salty and somewhat sweet. I groan, and Del reacts by getting on top of me.
He pulls his hard dick out of his sweats and without warning, thrusts into me in one slick move.
“Fuck, Delancy, don’t stop,” I say as he pounds into me.
He pushes my hair out of the way to gain access to my neck where he leaves rough kisses and love bites. He sucks one patch of skin hard enough to leave a hickey, and I don’t even care at the moment. He's not being gentle, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“Harder,” I moan, and he abides. His balls slam into my ass with pleasant slaps.
“I’m close,” he groans.
Two more thrusts later, he’s fully seated, emptying his cum inside me.
Once he’s done, he slides out and presses a thumb against my clit. I jolt at the pressure since it’s still sensitive from him eating me out.
“I need you to come, too, Vixen.”
“I already did,” I say, my voice breathy.
“Come again for me, sweetheart.”
“Don’t call me—ah.”
He presses harder, massaging in tight circles. He notices his cum starting to leak out of my pussy and pushes it back in. When he slaps my tits, hitting my aching nipples, my orgasm erupts throughout my body, and I scream.
“That’s a good girl, showing me what my touch does to you.”
My vision blurs with how hard I came. I’m breathing like I just ran up ten flights of stairs, my skin slick with sweat.
“So,” Del begins, lying down on the floor next to me, “did the fighting or fucking help your thought process?”
I smile drunkenly because that’s how I feel right now.
“Actually, yeah. It did help.”