Chapter 10 #2
In the morning… I hope to God he’s spending the night. Snuggling under the covers with him against his naked body—the second most beautiful thing in the world—I predict he will stay.
He aims a lazy grin at me. “Can I stay the night?”
“Don’t beg, Trick. It’s not like you.”
“Beg?” Feigning outrage, he lightly smacks me in the rear and a peal of giggles escapes me before he clamps a hand over my mouth. Our eyes catch and hold, and he replaces his hand with his mouth.
“The only thing I’d ever beg for, if you really want to know…” he pauses as he plays with my lips, and I manage a nod because he has me under some kind of spell.
“What would you beg for?” I finally prompt in a breathy voice after he takes his time, stamping kisses all over my face.
“What I’d beg you for—and only you—is another drink from your sweet swollen pussy.”
His words make me dizzy, make my pussy tingle all over again until it weeps for him, for his tongue.
But his grin begs for more than pussy. He’s asking for a challenge. Or maybe it’s me reflexively needing to challenge him.
“Don’t you think it’s late and you should be getting home?”
He laughs, lifting off me and kneeling up over me. “Not a fucking chance—pardon my French. Not when I have the upper hand.”
“Upper hand?” My indignance is real, even as my eyes are glued to his magnificent body, the ripples of muscle, the smooth skin, the massive size of his chest and his thighs, but mostly, the impressive majesty of his erect cock.
He gives me a naughty nod, smirking as he slides his hands down my body, lowering the blankets and then bends to kiss my belly button with his hot velvety mouth.
“Shit. Maybe you do have…” I stop talking, stop breathing, waiting for his mouth to come down on my pulsing—no throbbing—pussy.
He doesn’t disappoint me. He also doesn’t leave. He does make me scream again, into a pillow this time. And that’s the last thing I remember until I open my eyes to sunlight streaming in the window.
Now, that scream, and everything that preceded it, is the first thing I remember as I blink at the sunny morning and smile.
“What are you smiling at?” Trick’s voice has a sexy roughness to it, and turning to him, I wonder if this is his morning voice, if I woke up with him every morning, this is what he’d sound like?
I answer his question. “Life. You. Sunshine.”
“You sure it’s not that last orgasm before you fell asleep that’s making you smile?”
I chuckle and my face heats up, but it’s not a blush of embarrassment. No, I’m done with those blushes after last night’s naughty abandon. The warmth I feel is the deeper kind.
“Oh that. Maybe… I’ll think about it. Or maybe you could refresh my memory—” My phone rings. I ignore it as I snuggle against him.
He wraps his arms around me. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”
“I don’t know. Maybe later. What time is it anyway?”
He reaches over and grabs my phone, handing it to me. The ringing has stopped, but I read the time in disbelief.
“It can’t be eight o'clock.”
Trick shoots bolt upright. “Fuck. Are you shitting me?” He grabs the phone from my hand and looks at it to see for himself.
“You have practice?” I’m guessing because he always has practice in the morning, and I’m hoping it doesn’t start until nine, but I have a funny feeling, as he throws the covers off and jumps from the bed, that practice starts earlier than 9 a.m.
“What time do you have to be at the rink?”
As he stumbles into his sweats, he looks up at me. “A half an hour ago.”
There’s a mix of regret and heat in his eyes, and I’m not sure if his regret is about having to leave or about having stayed too long.
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be.” He slips into his sneakers on his way to the bed and leans over me for a quick kiss. “Gotta go, sugar lips.”
“Sugar—”
He grabs his hoodie off the floor and flies out of the room before I can ask him which lips he was referring to.
Emerging from my room, finally presentable—which took more effort than usual after last night, but I’ll take it because last night was worth so much more than an extra layer of makeup—I join Ricci, Nina, and Darcy at the coffee maker where they’re lined up waiting for their cups of the magic brew.
“Glad you’re finally joining us,” Ricci says, a snide smirk in place. “Or are you? Is Trick still in your room waiting for round two? Or is it round three?”
Darcy snorts. “Is his pecker as big and talented as the rumors claim?”
While I try to hold back the blush of embarrassment, I try to think of something smart to say that won’t sound bitchy.
Nina’s eyes widen, and she rises to the bait on my behalf. “Shut. Up. Don’t call it a pecker. That’s just disrespectful.”
I laugh, grateful that Nina said it because I’m too biased to trust myself—plus, there’s no way I’m opening the door to sharing private information. And Trick’s body parts are the most private—and cherished—of all.
“I agree with Nina. I wish I could hang out and talk about the distinction between peckers and cocks—not—but I need to call my dad back.”
“Your father called you while you were in bed? That must have been a buzz killer,” Ricci says.
“More like a pecker-shrinker,” Darcy says, making us all laugh in spite of her use of the P-word again.
“Call him later,” Nina says.
“I wish I didn’t need to call him at all.” I sit on the counter stool because I need a few sips of coffee at least before I talk to my dear dad. Guilt is killing me with the scent of Trick still lingering in my memory.
“Why not?” Darcy asks. “You don’t get along with your dad?” Her interest perks up.
“It’s… complicated.” I glance at Ricci. I’ve never said directly that I’m forbidden from seeing Trick, but she and Nina might have figured it out since it’s no secret back home that our families are enemies, or heated rivals at the least.
“Do tell,” Darcy leans in.
Nina frowns. “It has to do with you seeing Trick, doesn’t it?”
I nod, looking into my coffee cup for solace. Luckily, I’m not a big drinker or I might throw a shot of whiskey in the cup the way I feel. But dammit, after spending the night we had together, I should be wallowing in giddy happiness.
“Yes, Dad forbade me from seeing Trick since high school when Frank caught us—well, you know.” I wave a hand. I’d told them about the kiss and Frank at the time, but not about Dad and the aftermath.
“Shit,” Ricci says. “I would not want to be Trick on the receiving end of Leo’s wrath.”
“Exactly. So all this is extra top secret.” I turn to Darcy and give her one of those promise-me looks.
She crosses her heart. “Who would I tell? I don’t know your family.”
Her words are only semi-reassuring.
Picking up my cup, I stand. “I’m probably making a big deal out of nothing. He’s probably calling to ask how I am.” I smile because he’s like that. He’s always cared about me—all of us.
“Say hello to Leo for me,” Ricci says. She worked at the family’s restaurant in high school for a while, and she and Dad got along. Which is one of the reasons he let me live on campus and share this apartment.
Taking my phone and my coffee cup, I head to my room and close the door. Sitting at my desk, I relax back in my pink leather desk chair and press Dad’s icon. It only takes one and a half rings for him to pick up.
“Sweetheart, I’m glad you called me back. Good news—your mom and I are coming to the UNH-BC game tomorrow night. We can go together to watch Vincent play. Then we can all go out to dinner after the game.”
He finally stops talking, but my mind keeps spinning. This blows up my plan to have dinner with Trick—and spend the night with him.
“Oh. Sure. Great. But… are you sure? Saturdays are your busy night at the restaurant. What about Frank? Wouldn’t you all rather go to the home game at B.C.
on Wednesday?” My mind races through the implications and stops with a horrifying possibility.
What if Trick’s family is coming to the game too?
“No problem. Frank can handle Saturday night at the restaurant.”
Shit. Part of me is glad to see my parents, though I get a twinge because Carmela won’t be with them either, but that can’t be helped since she’s so far away, and I’m still getting used to that. I’m barely used to my big teddy bear brother Tony being away in Canada.
It will be nice seeing them and sharing my excitement about the design class and Prof Matami, but I’m torn because it means changing my plans with Trick.
Plus, we’ll have to pretend we’re not together. Shit. He’s going to think I’m a wimp backing out on our relationship at the first sign of stress.
“Frank is going to the game in Boston on Wednesday. He might even be bringing a young lady.” Dad chuckles, sounding unusually lighthearted. Frank’s young lady must be someone he approves of, probably someone Italian.
“That’s cool. Good for Frank. He works too hard.”
“He’s fine. We all work hard in the Rossi family. It’ll be good to see you tomorrow. I wish you were living at home. It would be an easy commute to campus—”
“Dad, you know I need to learn to adult by living on my own.”
“What do you mean on your own? You’re in an apartment with three other girls, right? Did you hire that housekeeping service I told you about?”
I roll my eyes, but my smile is automatic. “Let’s talk about all this when I see you. I have a class.”
“Alright, alright. I know when I’m being given the shuffle. You be good and take care of yourself, and don’t forget to call your mother on Sunday. You sure you don’t want to come home for dinner?”
As much as I miss our family Sunday dinners, I don’t want to miss the chance to spend time with friends—and by friends, I mean Trick—here on campus.
“I have some studying to do, Dad. I’ll be home in a few weeks for Mom’s birthday.
Love you, love everyone. Gotta go.” I end the call and stare at my phone, willing the sharp twinge of guilt about lying to fade away.