Page 66 of Rosetti Family New York
He’s lost all traces of his bravado now, stripped bare. I crouch down, bringing my face level with his. Close enough to make him flinch.
“What if you change your mind?” I taunt him, watch his eyes grow wide as eggs. I want to savor this. I want him to believe the worst.
He coughs, chokes on his own excuses. “An agreement’s an agreement,” he gasps, clutching his side.
“If you don’t honor it, you know what happens.” I grab him by the collar again, drag him close. “How long, Price?”
His words are a tremor. “Forever.”
I drop him like a sack of potatoes, and he falls to the concrete.
I spit on him, then leave one last piece of advice. “Never contact my wife again.”
35
Eleanor
The rumble of the Cadillac matches the rhythm of the city around us. Wind skims my skin through the open window as we drive, the air smelling of hot dogs and exhaust and the sea. It's a sticky September afternoon, and Leonardo is tense beside me, knuckles white as they grip the wheel. His phone keeps buzzing. He ignores it with curses under his breath.
When we pull up at a light, I turn for the tenth time to look at the large box on the back seat. “What is it?” I ask. It is white with a large red bow, and looks suspiciously like a gift.
“Jesus, woman,” he laughs, “Fine, it’s a present. But you can’t open it yet.”
I run my hand down his bicep, slowly. “What if I really, really want to?”
He winks at me, a slow, wicked smile, and peels away when the light changes. “Not until I say so.”
The box rattles as we turn a corner, and I look at him, eyebrow raised. It’s huge, barely fitting on the backseat, a ridiculous, over-the-top kind of package.
“I’m not kidding,” he says, half-laughing. “You’ll have to wait.”
“Until when?”
We’re driving into Brooklyn now, getting closer to Nanna Toni’s place. He turns down a narrow street and parks before we reach the house.
“Until now,” he says, shutting off the engine and sliding his seat back. He’s still grinning, that smug, confident smile that makes my insides twist. “You’re looking at me like you don’t want it anymore.”
“I don’t like waiting.”
“You like what happens after.” He unbuckles my seatbelt then pulls me across the seat, and I laugh. “Come here,” he says, a low growl in his throat, and I forget all about the present.
My legs are over him, straddling his lap. He kisses me hard, gripping my arms, then my hips, moving so fast I can barely breathe. I bury my fingers in his hair, tugging, pulling, trying to get even closer. The windows fog up, and the air is sticky and thick. I want him everywhere.
“God, Leo,” I say, and it comes out half a moan. His teeth scrape at my neck, my collarbone. My fingers go to his jeans, and I gasp when I get them unbuttoned. His cock is warm and heavy in my hand. He groans, thrusting up against me.
“Fuck, Eleanor,” he mutters, voice strained. “Do you even know what you do to me?” He’s tugging at my shirt, fingers on my bare skin. I try to kick my pants off, and he laughs. “You want it that bad, huh?”
“Shut up.” I grind against him, feeling how ready I am, aching and wet. His mouth moves to my ear, his breath a shiver down my neck. He grips my ass, steadying me. His fingers slide inside my panties, teasing my clit in slow circles. I gasp, arching into his hand.
“You like that?” he whispers, biting my earlobe.
“Yes.” I’m trembling. “God, Leo, please—”
But he keeps going, keeps driving me insane. A finger slips inside me, and I buck against him, nearly crying out. He captures the sound in his mouth, kissing me hard and deep, his tongue tracing mine. It’s all too much, but I don’t want it to stop.
He doesn’t let up, just keeps on with his merciless pace until I can’t take it anymore. Everything goes white and hot. I shudder, clenching around his fingers, nearly screaming.
He holds me while I catch my breath, pulling back just enough to see my face. “My turn,” he says, a dangerous look in his eyes. I’m already pulling at my underwear, shifting on his lap. His pants are down enough. It’s all we need.
