I couldn’t imagine it getting much better than this, but then he quickened his pace, moving his fingers more vigorously over my center. My noises went from soft moans to little cries, and he pushed one finger inside of me. My cries became longer, louder, saturated with yearning. I wasn’t even me anymore. I’d become this ball of energy, expanding out into the universe.
Then, he added a second finger at the same time as he flicked that tiny bundle of nerves with his thumb. The pleasure I’d been feeling spiked upwards and I exploded, my core contracting wildly as I keened, writhing in his arms like a woman possessed. The waves crested and crashed, one after another, until the pulsing slowed, then ebbed away.
I’d rocketed up into the atmosphere, but now I returned, coming back to earth. I opened my eyes, not remembering when I’d shut them, and found Marco cradling me in his arms. My breathing began to calm, and he pecked me on the forehead. I felt euphoric and relaxed, utterly content.
“Your turn?” I asked after a long minute. But releasing a breath that I couldn’t help notice was unsteady, he shook his head.
“This was about you, remember?”
“It could be about you, too,” I countered.
“No, we need to get you home.”
Instead of saying anything more, he held out my panties, which I shimmied in to. He helped me with my bra next, and even though this felt like some kind of weird reverse seduction, I found his solicitousness strangely sweet.
This behavior wasn’t something I’d ever heard about. A man fulfilling a woman’s physical desires without seeking his own, then being conscientious enough to make sure she’s properly dressed afterwards?
I’d heard so many stories about how men would go after theirs without thinking about the woman at all. I’d heard women complain about their boyfriends or husbands, about never being satisfied, about being pawed at but left unfulfilled. It seemed like a fairly common occurrence. And yet, that’s not what I’d experienced.
Had those women been exaggerating, or had Marco Varasso just proven himself to be the exception to the rule?
By the time I arrived home it was late, my parents already in bed asleep. Marco dropped me off again, and I’d spent the ride holding his hand in silence. He kept looking over at me, his gaze soft. I didn’t know what these looks meant, or even what I wanted them to mean. All I knew was that I was enjoying being with him in the moment.
I didn’t want to think about what the future might bring, the consequences or complexity of anything. So I didn’t. I’d stayed in my dreamy haze as he took the Ben Franklin Bridge over the Delaware, the skyline glowing brilliantly against the backdrop of the January night.
I slept in the next morning, having rested better than I had in a long time. But when I went to our small galley kitchen to scrounge up some breakfast, my brother was there in the adjacent dining area waiting on me. He wore his uniform as he sat there at our kitchen table, the navy-blue fabric still scrupulously clean even after working all night, his coat on the back of his chair.
“Mom having a bad day?” I asked him.
“Yeah. I checked on her when I got here. She was in a lot of pain so I gave her one of her pills so she could sleep.” Those pills were powerful and would likely keep her knocked out for the remainder of the day.
The first stab of guilt darted through me, just like I’d suspected it would. Instead of coming home on time, I’d spent an extra hour at work as Marco brought me all that spellbinding pleasure. And instead of waking up early like I usually did and peeking in on my mom, I’d indulged myself by sleeping late.
“Dad at work?”
“He’s not here so I assume so,” David answered, shifting his weight in the old, broken down chair. “You gonna tell me what’s going on with you?”
I sighed, knowing this had been coming. “Marco’s not who you think he is, David.”
“Marco,” he parroted back the name. “Since when are you on a first name basis with that creep?”
“He’s not a creep.”
“He’s a fucking organized crime leader, Kelly. Just below the head honcho in the chain of command. I told you about that family months ago. But instead of avoiding them, you start working for one of them?”
“He bought the place. It’s not like I sought him out.”
“But you stayed there with him without telling me. Without reporting his activities to the authorities.” He scrubbed a hand down his face.
“There have been no activities to report. He’s been a great boss. He offered me that promotion, and then he gave everyone in the place raises, raises they all desperately needed.”
“And where’d the money for those raises come from, huh? Can you tell me that?”
“It came from Organic Eats. Business has been thriving since he took over,” I told him.
“I just bet. What’s he doing? Lacing all the sandwiches with cocaine? Selling meth and heroin out the back door?”
“Of course not!”