Page 11 of The Associate

Conor Jacob. The name suited him. Gio, too. Nice to have a full name to associate with the hot-as-fuck image before him, which he now imprinted as a core memory.

“Well, Conor Jacob,” he said as the man nibbled a trail down the underside of his shaft to his balls, “my name is Joe Spatafora. The honor is mine.”

Damn it.So much for anonymity. Spatafora wasn’t exactly a common surname. Too late to backtrack, though. He had to hope Conor accepted this for the one-night hookup it was.

He ignored the extended hand. He enjoyed the soft texture of Conor’s red hair between his fingers too much to stop playing with it.

Conor closed his lips together in a lopsided pucker and nosed Gio’s balls a moment before raising his head and dislodging his grasp. With the faint lot lights muted by the condensation on the windows, Gio could just make out the lines of Conor’s face. He saw Conor blink his eyes and swallow hard enough to bob his Adam’s apple. His direct gaze required more light to interpret, but Gio figured the hazy gratification brought on by their intimacy had taken hold.

Gio knew they weren’t the first couple to find themselves romping in a car near JT’s. Others would follow over time, some strangers to each other, and he congratulated himself for picking a good one. Life with the San Gaetanos had taught him to read people, and sort the devious-minded from the well-intentioned. Conor had come to him as a genuine person, one seeking a reprieve from the million minor burdens crowding his head—bills, work, inconveniently closed Irish pubs. Good thing he’d come along to suggest JT’s as an alternative.

Just as well, too, they leave their acquaintanceship in this dark corner of the city, testing the suspension of Gio’s car. So long as Don Salvatore breathed, chances were slim that the family would adopt the same mindset as the Supreme Court where same-sex marriage was involved. Not that Gio considered it with a man he just met, but he should be so lucky to have a hot guy like Conor interested in him like that.

“Spatafora,” Conor said, stroking Gio’s cock. He circled the pad of his forefinger around the tip, igniting every nerve on the sensitive patch of skin. “Italian, then?”

“Sicilian, actually.”

Conor nodded. “My mistake. Are you first generation American or…” He paused, tilting his head. “What’s so funny?”

Conor could see his expressions in the dark? Gio wasn’t outright laughing, but had found Conor’s reaction amusing. “All good,” he said, “just that every time I correct somebody, they say ‘what’s the difference?’” Yes, Sicily merged with Italy centuries ago, but her people and cultures were distinct. Gio’s grandparents had called themselves Sicilians, full stop. “It’s like, a Puerto Rican wouldn’t call himself an American, even though it’s an American territory.”

“No, I hear you.” Conor relaxed his grip on Gio’s erection, which began to soften. “I often have to explain to foreigners why the Republic of Ireland and Northern Ireland aren’t the same place.”

Gio pushed up his hips, encouraging Conor’s touch. “If it’s all the same to you, I didn’t come here for a geography lesson.”

“That’s two of us.” Conor flopped forward and captured Gio’s mouth in an invasive kiss. The mad grabbing resumed. Gio scrabbled blindly for buckles and zippers until the sensation of silken skin met his rough fingertips. Taking Conor’s dick with one hand, he pressed his renewed hard-on into it and pumped his fist. He palmed the back of Conor’s head with his other hand to prolong their kiss. His wallet lacked his emergency rubber, ruling out a backseat fuck. Better to grind, anyway, given their near equal heights.

If Conor had complaints, he disguised them well. He rocked into Gio, adding to the delicious friction about to reach its boiling point. Still lip-locked with him, Conor pushed up both of their shirts in time to avoid a mess. Gio thanked him by moaning his orgasm into the man’s mouth.

Fuck.Gio slid away from the kiss. He tended to come harder and longer inside his lover’s mouth, but this stolen moment in semi-public must have heightened his arousal.Maybe I had the right partner, too, he thought. Something about his climax improved his clarity—Gio opened his eyes to an unraveled Conor slunk back on the opposite end of the car, enjoying his own afterglow. They both panted in the stifling, heated air, scented with sweat and spunk. Gio would have to drive with all four windows down to temper the stench, but no big deal.

“That was fucking awesome,” he said.

Conor echoed the sentiment, stuttering out a deep laugh. “After the week I’ve had, I needed that.”

“Location scouting’s that stressful, huh?”

“No, it’s…” Conor wiped his eyes and blinked several times before seeking out Gio’s face. “It’s multiple things. Travel. Being away from home.”

Gio understood. Time lags and other details, like differences in food and sleeping in strange beds, no doubt contributed. “Well, hope you enjoyed this bit of American hospitality,” he said. He counted to five in his head, calculating his next move. He’d have loved asking Conor to come home with him, and share his bed. Working for the family meant no set schedules. If one of Aldo’s errand boys—or, God forbid, Aldo himself—knocked on his door at four in the morning, he didn’t want to explain the situation to the one-night stand tangled in his sheets.

“Can I give you a ride back to your hotel?” he asked, reaching out to stroke Conor’s arm. Their dicks remained exposed, soft between their thighs. Wherever the man was staying, it wasn’t too far from Gio’s apartment, if the man had walked to Lonnegan’s.

“I appreciate it, but I won’t trouble you. I’ll book a ride.” Conor raked his fingers through his hair and began to tuck himself back into his clothes. Conor had done him a favor by declining. Gio chose this particular car because it wasn’t flashy or remarkable in traffic, allowing him to blend. Still, one sharp eye in his direction, seeing a stranger in a mobster’s car would inspire questions.

The recycled air within the car cooled with their inactivity, and after Gio buttoned himself up, he leaned into Conor for one last kiss. “This was fun,” he said. “You take care.” He meant it. Thanks to Conor Jacob, he could scratchredheadoff his conquest bucket list.

“Same to you.” Conor opened the side passenger door, and Gio caught his beatific smile in the backlight of the nearly full lot. A gust of wind caressed his face, and he savored the brief refreshment before Conor sealed him off. Eventually he’d move to the front and go home, but for now Gio stretched out across the back seat and closed his eyes. He was thankful no work calls or texts had spoiled the evening. Despite his devotion to the San Gaetanos, he lived for these occasional moments of normalcy, cosplaying as a regular gay man with desires.

God help him if he met another man like Conor Jacob, one so fine as to turn him legit.

* * * *

Hugh survived Conor’s first night home.

He seemed to have rested comfortably with his upper body slightly elevated in his new bed, enough for Conor to worry more about his mother. When he had slipped through the front door close to midnight and checked on his da, he found Mona dozing upright in a chair, her hand laid over her husband’s.

The thought to rouse her and help her to bed had passed quickly. Concocted dialogue had played out in his head as he watched them from the doorway.I won’t miss another minute with him. I’ll rest later, he heard in her voice.For certain, he’d feel guilty for moving her to another room for even five minutes on the off chance Hugh slipped away.

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