Chapter 3
Gia
There’s no telling when I last exhaled. I down my entire drink in a flash as the models are paraded around on stage in some sort of upside-down world mafia pageant. And that’s not even the weirdest part – Castor DeMatteo, my brother’s best friend – has his hand firmly around my knee.
The lights are dark, and the marble table blocks everyone from our little secret. And my own little secret is how drenched my slit is because of it. Honestly, I’m scared to look up at him, because he might take it as a green light to do something naughtier.
That wouldn’t be so bad though, would it?
“Our second beauty from the Bronx comes seeking adventure. She wants a date that involves axe throwing, zip lining, or hiking while boozing. This little firecracker needs a real man to wine and dine her, not some lazy schmo!” The announcer presents a curvy Latina woman who’s confident enough to blow a kiss at her audience.
“Guess I’m out!” Big Ace shouts from a table over, and the whole crowd laughs, including Castor.
I giggle too, but then my elation fleas when Castor removes his hand.
No. Stay! I plead in my head.
I guess I didn’t give him the right signal. Now I’m turned on and intrigued. What if Marco walked in right now? What would he say? Those are rhetorical questions.
One tiny scoot closer to Castor is all he’s going to get out of me, so he better use my gesture as a cue to bring that hand right back to my leg. Test the waters, you big hot oaf.
He leans his head down toward my ear. “What do you think, should we bid?”
I slap him in the chest, a goofy smile on my face. “Idiot.”
His cackle rumbles like a throttle. It’s throaty and hot. Now that he’s so close, his warmth radiates like a furnace that I want to curl into. His musk is that of high-end cologne, just a spritz.
That same waitress walks over again to clear our drinks.
“Another round, please,” Castor says, and I finally look up at him when the waitress struts away.
“You trying to get this girldrunk, Castor?” I can’t stop myself from being flirty.
“No. Never. Just being a decent host to my boy’s kid sister.”
“I thought I’m supposed to be working,” I test.
“Your shift starts when I say.” His eyes are forward on the third model clacking her way to center stage.
The change in tone keeps me on my toes. He’s like three personalities in one, flipping switches at all times. Must be hard to work for someone like that. It’s fine, though. All I have to do is remind myself who I am to him. He can’t push the employer envelope too far—
I gasp when his hand finds my leg again. That’s not my knee anymore. This is a full handful of thigh he’s got in his meaty palm.
My toes curl completely as I’m whisked back to all the times I peeked at him growing up. He was off-limits, older, and would want nothing to do with a girl like me. Now one glance down at his inked up gold-wrapped fingers makes me swallow past a lump in my throat. It’s all the taboo of my fantasies come to life, and I love it.
His grip loosens when the waitress returns with our refills. My face glows with heat, and when I lock eyes with her, we both know I’m uncomfortable, but it’s not because of him.
Go away.
Her gaze lingers a second too long before she’s off to the next table, leaving me to gasp when his grip tightens another inch closer to my inner thigh. My skin is tender to the touch now, my chest weak from rushing blood to one area.
I finally find the courage to look up at him, and when I give him the green light with slightly parted lips, he reaches closer to my slit. Too close. A voiceless moan escapes me. I want to kiss his full lips, tell him to take me to the bathroom.
But I can’t. Marco… he really would kill us both.
“All the way from south Jersey, Bianca Ambrusio comes to us in search for a night on the town. She wants a ride in a limo, with a bad-boy giving her a tour. Who’s up for the challenge?” The announcer holds the hand of a bleached-blonde, fake-tan woman with bolt-on breasts and a BBL.
After another strong sip of my drink, I cheer her on, because why not?
“Woo!” I join the crowd, and as I do, I reach my hand down to Castor’s and drag him all the way up to my slit, over the panties. I make sure he’s not looking, because I have my embarrassing ‘avogato’ underwear on – whiskered avocados and all.
“No more teasing, please.”
When he grunts his pleasure, I fight not to let my eyes roll to the back of my head. I have to keep appearances above the waist. Mobsters are out of their seats now, like dogs chasing bones toward the stage.
“I got twenty-K on the date, Ms. Ambrusio. Right here.” A tall mobster smacks a wad of cash in his hand.
“Twenty. We got twenty. Anyone higher than twenty? Do I see twenty-five? Twenty-five in the back!” The announcer points.
We all turn to look, giving Castor prime opportunity to stick his finger inside my soaked slit. I force down a moan and dig my claws into his arm. Firecrackers of pleasure go off like never before. Hell, sex with my Tinder dates didn’t even feel this good. I want all of Castor’s fingers inside me, but I’ll settle for this one right now.
This is so wrong. I bite my lip, wrapping both my arms around his working one, not knowing what to do with myself.
When he rubs my clit with his thumb, I see stars. I can’t concentrate. I want to grab all of him, so I reach my hand toward his cock to return the favor, and I’m appalled when he catches it and guides my fingers around my drink, holding them there.
“This is all the pleasure I need tonight.” He slides a second finger in like I’m doused in lube. But I’m not. It’s just me. I have a river flowing inside me as all my teenage dreams come true.
The rim of his gold rings add an additional layer of pleasure as they edge against my slit.
Imagining his cock inside me is all I can think of now. The hot tub when his shirt was off. There was a huge bulge hiding under there. I glimpsed it. Years later, he’s much more man.
He digs deeper, to the point I’m nearly out of my seat. He’s so damn strong, and when it’s almost too much, he relaxes his fingers and rubs my clit some more. Is he trying to kill me?
“You’re acting like you haven’t been fucked in a year, Gia.”
Him uttering my name stokes the fire of pleasure spreading through me. Tiny pulses are signaling an orgasm is on the way.
“Or maybe… you just haven’t been fucked right.”
He dangles my clit gently, telling me he’s not some brute who watches too much porn. He’s a master at what he does, and it shows. Not only is he in my head now, he’s in my goddamn danger zone.
I reach again for his cock – to disarm him of his pleasure high-ground – but he squeezes my hand again to tell me ‘no.’
“Be a good girl and take what I give you,” he whispers close to my ear, eyeing the stage where a thin brunette is being pranced around.
Another fire ignites in my slit and pulses outward. I open my legs wide under the table, thankful for the wall of marble, unable to help myself. I grab his wrist, telling him not to stop, and just as I’m about to cum, a short balding man slaps our table, jarring us both out of our stupor.
“Bullion, my man. You see who I nabbed up there?” The man’s eyes are glazed, settling my panic by a tiny margin. “Lisa’s a damn unicorn! Melons the size of Kansas, marone.” He gestures to imitate how big they are. “Oh, excuse me, didn’t see you had company.”
Castor retracts his fingers out of me when the man leans forward to kiss my hand. I must be bright red and blotchy at this point. Equate it to the booze. I’m a lush, that’s all.
“Sorry, Miss…”
“Gia,” I say.
“Sorry, Gia, if I spoke crudely. I’m just a simple man with a lot of luck, hah. Did you see that dime piece on stage? C’mon, you must’ve.”
“It’s her first time to the show. She’s shy.” Castor laughs and sticks his fingers right back inside me.
I choke back a moan and it takes everything in me to keep what I hope can be waved off as a drunken smile, my toes curling all over again. For sure, I thought the orgasm receded from the shore, but nope. It’s coming.
“Catch you later, Bull. I gotta go collect. Gia, pleasure.”
Oh, if you only knew. I smile pleasantly at him, hiding ten thousand screams.
Castor DeMatteo is working me like a stringed puppet. I can hardly—Oh!
I slap the table, then clench my fingers around it hard. My mouth is wide open, forehead about to touch the marble, legs pulsing.
“Don’t, stop.” I’m holding my breath as a fire turns catastrophic. Pulsing, endless pulsing… until finally… it stops.
I exhale for what feels like a minute and fall back into my seat.
“Holy shit.” I blink in quick succession to remember where I am.
Castor licks his fingers, eying me up and down, then takes a swig of his scotch. “Now you know what you’ve been missing all these years.”