Chapter 9 Valentino
I’m taking a sip of my espresso this morning when Carlito knocks on the dining room door. When I look up, he steps in, a small white box in his hands.
I frown. He hasn’t opened it yet to check the contents.
“What’s this?” I ask.
A ghost of a smile hovers on his craggy, worn face. Carlito came on as a soldier decades ago but has always preferred to stay in my family’s employ as the help at home rather than joining any crew. Quiet and discreet, my father kept him on around the house. Butler, chauffeur, manservant—he takes on all these roles and excels at them.
“Special delivery,” he states with a nod.
I lift an eyebrow in question.
“From the ragazza next door.”
Does he sound a tad too happy? I brush this off and wave him over. Naomi sent me something? It’s not the gift I sent over. That will have been delivered in a bigger box. So, it’s definitely something else.
An exchange?
Or a message telling me to go fuck myself?
No, it won’t be that. Naomi wants something from me. Like all those years ago when we used to see each other across our windows, she’s been trying to catch my attention since the ball. And let’s speak of that night, of that kiss.
I have to move in my seat thanks to the inevitable tightening in my pants. Every time I think of Naomi, it gets me. How she melted into my embrace. How she returned my kiss, greedy but clearly inexperienced. It took some coaxing to get her to stroke my tongue back with hers, to find a rhythm where we both took and gave.
She’ll be like this in bed, too, I know it. A worthy lover. One thing I hate is a woman who expects me to do everything while she just lies there waiting to be pleasured. I’m not saying she needs to wait on me hand and foot, but sex is an interactive activity.
And Naomi has started the exchange.
It’s hard to sit now. My loins are on fire, but curiosity is also making me spring up to reach Carlito and take the package from him.
He leaves with a small nod, the hint of smile still on his face.
I shake my head. Cazzo , I think, looking at his departing back with a little grin on my face. He’s enjoying this. Everyone in this household has always had a soft spot for the lonely girl next door. Mamma wanted to feed her all day, and Francesca tried to befriend her. Alas, her father would inevitably loom, his shadow casting darkness over her. We tried, but we couldn’t let his evil touch us.
My hand stills on the package.
I’m getting into bed with Naomi. Literally and figuratively. And she comes with her father—he is tethered to her as she is to him.
My back goes stiff, and I take in a deep breath.
Naomi was a child he controlled. He has plans to make her his lackey—I know this. But what about her in this whole thing? Does she have a voice now? Will she stand up to him as a grown woman?
Something tells me the box she sent over has part of the answer.
I let out an exhale and grab the parcel, breaking the tab holding the lid in place.
A laugh bursts out of me when I open it to find a medium-sized bunch of mistletoe inside, a small card tucked amid the greenery.
If you want me to play with fire, use this to show me where it’ll burn x
I have to close my eyes and force my body to stay stock-still when I read the words she has penned on the card.
I told her during that Christmas office party when she tried to kiss me that doing so would mean getting close to flames. She remembers it. The sass in her reply makes me smile as much as it makes me yearn. She’s feisty, and I cannot wait to get to know this side of her more intimately.
In my study, I tear a small branch from the bunch then tuck the rest back into the box. I grab a small card from the desk and scrawl a few words on it.
Maybe you should use this to show me where our next kiss should be x
I close the box and head out to find Carlito. He’ll have one of our younger guys sent over to deliver this like a regular courier service, to not alert any suspicions. I sent her the lingerie gift this way, and it doesn’t seem like anyone’s the wiser next door as to what’s happening.
I’m on tenterhooks all day, my mind not at all on business. Thank the Lord it’s still the very early days of January—most of the crews are still on the New Year break, so I get away with being distracted.
Thankfully, sunset and evening come very quickly. In my bedroom, I place the branch of mistletoe in the middle of my bed. The green and white stand out starkly against the dark comforter, and I make sure to open the curtains wide so she can have an unhindered view of the bed.
It’s not long before the lights come on in her bedroom across the yard. The curtains aren’t drawn completely, and I can see her silhouette walking around the room.
Then the curtains’ part, and I grow still.
A sprig of mistletoe is clearly visible dangling from the canopy of her four-poster bed.
The minx. She’s clearly playing with fire. That’s where she wants us to kiss?
The breath gets knocked out of me when she steps in front of the window and slowly, carefully, deliberately, she unties the knot on her silk robe and slides the soft fabric down her shoulders, baring her body.
Her body which is clad in the crisscrossing lines of the purple teddy I sent her.
Is it possible to spontaneously combust? The sight of her in such decadent lingerie starts a fire in my blood, an inferno threatening to consume me. I chose the color because it reminds me of the cushion, she was holding all those years back when she watched me from her window. It’s a reminder we’re picking up from there.
The lines of thin lace are barely holding her breasts up, and as I travel my gaze lower onto her stomach, I know they’re tapering to two tiny straps on the sides of her pussy, the crotchless design exposing her completely down there.
Naomi almost plasters herself to the window, arms wide, hips gyrating softly against the glass pane. I can’t hear a sound, but I might bet she has music playing in the room.
Then a sound does register—a car starting next door. It has barely left the driveway when she moves away, then returns to dangle a sprig of mistletoe on the windowsill.
Is that an invitation to come over?
No one is home tonight with her except her father. The car must mean he has left.
Naomi throws me a come-hither look. When she retreats to the bed, laying down on her back, I can already imagine her with her legs parted, sweet pussy glistening with her arousal.
My blood does a quick turn, and I’m racing down the stairs at the side of my room before I can think this through. Her father might catch us…just like he might not. And if he does, well, we’ll deal with it.
The cunning vixen is luring me over, and damn if I’m going to put up a fight right now. I’m an Andretti—we deal with our issues. If Joel Smith becomes one, I’ll take care of him.
There’s a big tree conveniently on the other side of the fence, one of its strong branches leading directly to Naomi’s bedroom’s windowsill. It takes me a lunge and some crawling upward, then there I am in front of the panes she was pressed to just moments ago.
The glass slides quietly, and I step into her bedroom. It feels surreal to be here in this space I’ve seen and watched so many times over the years. I know the layout almost by heart now. Naomi doesn’t like change, I’d wager, because everything has always had its place in this room, and nothing ever moved in all these years.
Catching sight of her on the bed, I freeze. Because there she is, on her back, legs slightly open, one hand on her belly, the other on a slim thigh that she parts even more when she catches me looking.
She looks like a thirst trap of the worst kind. And suddenly, I’m parched.
“You are definitely playing with fire,” I tell her.
She has the gall to smile.
“I didn’t call any fireman.”
“No. You called me.”
She writhes on the bed. My dick is threatening to burst out.
“What am I going to do with you?” I ask with a shake of my head.
She bites her lower lip, and I have to take a deep breath.
“Everything you want.”
Fuck, she shouldn’t extend such an open-ended invitation.
There’s still time to back out of this. We can still both walk away without getting burned. Because that’s exactly what will happen if we proceed today. There won’t be any coming back from this.
“Fire, Naomi.”
Her body goes still, and I’m preparing myself to turn around and go back from where I came from. It’s her body, her choice. I need her consent. Without it, I’m not a man but a bastard of the worst order. Without it, I’m Joel Smith.
My lips curl when I think of the cazzo. What am I doing here, in his house, with his precious daughter? Is Naomi the one playing with fire, or am I the one looking to get singed?
“Val,” she says, tone tentative.
I come back to the moment and stare at her.
“What you did to her…”
A frown touches my brow. What is she on about?
She must see my expression because she speaks up again.
“The first night I saw you, with that girl. What you were doing to her…”
Do it to me…
I remember the night in question, recall all she saw before I drew the curtains in the room.
My gaze roves over her tantalizing body exposed to me but for a few scraps of lace wrapping around her form. Her breasts espouse the almost transparent demi-cups, the edges of which can barely conceal her puckered nipples. Even from here, I can smell her arousal gathering at the apex of her thighs.
What’s a man to do in such a situation?
There she is, all but begging me to take her.
“Val? Please…”
When she literally begs me to do it, I can’t resist anymore. In a lunge, I’m on her bed on all fours, crawling up to her so I can slam my mouth onto hers and take from it. I got a taste at the ball, and I want more. So much more.
She wastes no time opening up to me today, and my tongue is sweeping into her mouth, engaging hers to tangle and dance, stroking and caressing. Her moan drifts into our passionate kiss as I plunder her.
My hands are itching to touch her, to feel her smooth skin. And it feels indeed like soft satin when I lay my palms flat on her sides and caress up her ribcage until my thumbs brush the underside of her heavy breasts.
Kissing her feels amazing, but I recall what she asked of me. I tear myself from her lips and stroke my tongue along the side of her jaw and onto the column of her throat. Another guttural sound tears from her mouth as her fingers slip into my hair and tighten around the locks.
Nibbles turn to open-mouthed bites as I feast on her skin. Naomi is writhing under me, and her back arches off the bed when, with one thumb, I bring down the edge of lace on a breast and rub the pebbled peak there. Even I can feel the shudder that races through her at the touch.
I continue my downward journey with my mouth, lips closing around the exposed nipple and laving it with my tongue before I suckle on it with growing intensity. Meanwhile my other hand grazes her other nipple with feathery light strokes on purpose. I smile when I reckon it’s driving her mad.
Suddenly, her hands still in my hair, and she’s pushing me away with a cry. My body tenses, and I lift myself up to see why she is pulling away.
I need not have worried she is rescinding on this little stolen moment of passion when I take one look at her face. Cheeks flushed, mouth slightly agape, crying out with breathless cries.
Dio Santo, she’s having an orgasm!
A wave of red-hot pleasure bursts through me. It’s not completion but satisfaction. Look what I just did to her…and I frankly haven’t even started yet. In retrospect, I should have realized she might end up climaxing without penetration after seeing how responsive she was on our infamous flight home.
I watch her as she comes down from her high, and something catches my eye.
“You dirty, dirty girl,” I say with a chuckle.
Naomi’s eyes fly open. “What?”
The bewildered confusion in the word makes me smile. I just love to make her lose her wits in my arms.
“Look up,” I tell her.
She does, and frowns.
“Mistletoe, Naomi.” I wait for her to catch up. “Where is it?”
“Th-there,” she mutters.
I crawl back a few paces to expose her lower body.
“It’s on top of your body,” I say. “Right above your pussy.”
In all her writhing, she’s ridden up on the bed, so now, the mistletoe dangling from the middle of the canopy hovers right above her lower body.
Her eyes grow wide as her mouth forms a small O.
“Is this where you want me to kiss you?” I ask.
Her eyes seem to glaze over as she hears me. Without waiting for an answer, I press my palms on her inner thighs and part her wide open, dipping my head forward to seek her pretty pink core. She shaved her pussy completely, exposing all her sweet plump folds and pearly clit.
I hear a loud moan as I close my lips around her swollen clit. She is slick and almost gushing with cream, the aroma of her arousal dousing my nostrils with her need. I suckle harder, and just as she tenses, I pull on it with a sucking sound then run the flat of my tongue over her wet slit. More cream gushes into my mouth as she comes with shudders wracking her body.
I force her thighs to remain open, which appears to make her come even harder, this time with a loud cry.
The sound of the front door closing with a slam tears me out of my drunk-on-her-cream bliss.
Merda. It must be her father—he’s back. Did he just hear Naomi?
I can’t let him catch us like this. I’m pretty sure Naomi locked the door, plus what kind of sick fuck would he be to barge into his grown daughter’s room unannounced, but I can’t take the risk.
I pull myself together and scramble off the bed.
“Val?” She protests.
“We need to be careful if we want to keep this a secret. Don’t worry, gattina. This isn’t over,” I tell her as I backtrack to the side of the bed to drop a kiss on her tousled hair. I can’t resist stroking my hand between her legs, her smooth velvety folds still engorged from her orgasm.
My cock isn’t happy at all we’re having to run away from her, but the cazzo will have to bear it this time. I have ample material for fantasies of Naomi coming to satisfy it until I can get my hands on her again.
This certainly isn’t over, not by a long shot. I’ll be back, this time for everything, I promise myself as I descend down the tree and walk over onto my side of the fence.