3: In Which She Lets the Right One In

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I flicked the light switch on in the living room and gestured for Carlo to take a seat. He pointedly didn’t mind me. I froze when his hand came to the small of my back, instantly scorching my skin through the fabric of my dress.

“What are you doing?” I croaked out.

It wasn’t as if I was a stranger to a man’s touch, but being a single mother was rarely appealing to the run-of-the-mill male, so I could definitely be forgiven for flinching in surprised arousal the way I did. By Carlo’s tone, he thought I found his touch unbearably disgusting.

“Talking,” was his abrupt response.

My mobile bleated from the depths of my handbag and snapped me out of my trance. I stepped away from Carlo and pulled it out, grateful for the diversion. Jules had finally replied to my text.

It’s OK. Turns out he just wanted that stupid bear Charlie bought him. See u tomorrow. x

So she was fine with Mickey spending the night. I shouldn’t have been so pleased about that but I was. Mickey certainly shouldn’t have been privy to the discussion that was about to take place. Plus, the less he saw of Carlo Donafrio, the better.

I cleared my throat and turned to fix my eyes on the man that was currently invading my space. “Sit,” I commanded, knowing that he wouldn’t obey me. Obedience clearly wasn’t in his vocabulary, unless it was directed to him.

“Is this some sort of strange, coy English girl foreplay?” Carlo questioned, closing the space between us in one step. “I must say, it’s...refreshing.”

“Foreplay?” I sputtered, noticing how his eyes had turned a shade darker, murkier. “You think I’m... You think I want to... to seduce you?”

“I don’t think it, cara. I know it.” He firmly cinched his big hands around my waist, drawing me to him in one swift tug.

Of course he would’ve thought that. In the murky puddle that was my mind, I knew that that’s what it had sounded like when I’d invited him in ‘to talk’. Obviously he used his mouth for other things after ten p.m.

“But...but...” I stammered, then changed tack. “I’m not your type.”

He cocked his head. “No doubt.”

I felt myself go cold. “Now that we’ve clarified that particular bit of information, why don’t you let me go?” I said through clenched teeth.

Why are you offended? my conscience wanted to know.  It’s the truth! You’re complete opposites!

“But we are having such a fruitful discussion, Danielle.” He dragged my name out; tasting it, making it his.

I pushed at his chest, fighting against the way I was creaming my thong. “You’re the one that wanted to talk about my son and I think you’re right. I need to set some ground rules here.”

He slowly released me and claimed the armchair behind me as his. “Go ahead.”

“Good,” I said, shocked to learn that I was actually disappointed that I could feel his big hands all over me no longer. It was this cursed dress. It was probably far too short for me and probably had some kind of aphrodisiac built into the hemline. “I’m going upstairs to change,” I told Carlo, “and don’t follow me.”

Before he could say anything, I turned on my heel and bounded up the stairs. Once inside my bedroom, the dress came off and a faded pair of jeans and tatty T-shirt came on. As an afterthought, I stuffed my gun into my back pocket before heading back downstairs.

To my disbelief, Carlo was right where I’d left him. I paused in the doorway, watching him when I was sure he couldn’t see me. He really was as good-looking as his picture all those years ago, if I remembered correctly. Thick, wavy hair slightly tousled... The top few buttons of his white dress shirt undone... He looked good enough to eat.

“I don’t know about you English, but in my culture, it’s rude to stare,” he uttered, not even bothering to look at me.

I reddened, shuffling through the doorway. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be in contact with my son,” I told him, getting straight to the point, “and don’t try to act like you want to be Father of the Year, either. We both know it’s not you.”

Carlo stretched his long legs in front of him, majestically reclining in the chair. “Go on.”

I didn’t want to think about what those legs would look like, bare and exposed against the white of my bed sheets. I didn’t want to, but I found that I was thinking about it.

I cleared my throat, briefly tearing my eyes away from him. “I don’t want anything to do with you and the clinic; with your legal proceedings. I just want to be left alone.” I paused, thinking about it. “Granted, I should be enraged that Mickey has some of your blood in his veins because the clinic didn’t want to get rid of what they figured was A-grade sperm – but I just want to get on with my life, okay?”

“I see.”

“I also really don’t want anything to do with your family,” I continued. “Mia’s fine, if you look past how scary she comes across at first, but Angelo and God-knows-who-else are as dirty as you are. I don’t want to be guilty by association.”

“Guilty of what exactly?” His brow was creased in confusion.

“Don’t play dumb with me,” was my response. “I listen to the news. On that note, if you ever pick my locks again, I will report you to the Parkton Police Station.”

“Is that a threat?” he asked menacingly, looking up at me with a slow smile spreading across his face. Despite the fact that I was the one standing, Carlo was the intimidating party.

“I’m glad you find me so amusing but I’m being serious,” I spat, folding my arms across my chest. “You can’t just waltz into someone’s house anytime you please. There are laws against that.”

“It’s not your house yet,” Carlo said quietly. “You’re still paying off the mortgage, aren’t you?”

“Are you checking me out?” I hissed in disbelief.

“I am, and from down here, I like the view.” The smile left his face. “I know you don’t think I could possibly care, but let me remind you, Danielle Clarke, that I never asked for this, either. But the fact remains that Michael is half mine and I must ensure that the woman he calls his mother is as she seems.”

“Half yours?” I snorted. As if my son was a piece of property to divide… “Don’t make me laugh!”

“This is far from a laughing matter,” he growled, getting to his feet. I instinctively took two steps back. “What is it?” he barked, eyes blazing. “Do you think I’m going to attack you? Rape you?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I breathed out, sweat trickling down my back. “But I can see that I have royally pissed you off, so if it’s all right with you, I’d like you to calm down first before we discuss this like rational adults.”

“Is that so?” he said sarcastically. “According to you, I’m nothing but a dangerous criminal. There is absolutely no way a gangster like me can be a rational adult.”

I gulped. “I think... I think I’ve said everything I wanted to say.”

“But I haven’t,” he said in a low voice.

I was the stupid little pig who’d built her house out of straw and made the big, bad wolf’s job easier by inviting him inside to gobble me up. The big, bad wolf just happened to be Carlo Donafrio, who’d made me think for just a millisecond that he was a decent human being.

What a laugh.

“What is it, then?” I forced myself to say, the back of my legs bumping the coffee table.

“What are you going to tell him when he’s old enough to ask about his father?” Carlo intoned, voice as cold as the look on his face.

“That’s funny. Angelo asked me the same thing – right after he lied through his teeth to get into my house and scare me half to death.”

“Forget about my cousin for just one second,” he snapped. “What will you tell your son?”

Anger seized me. “I’ll tell him to look at the Wanted Fugitives section in the local paper, because that’s exactly where you’ll be!”

His mouth became a thin line. “Dangerous words. Why have you invited me into your home if I’m such a threat?”

“You’re not a threat,” I lied. “In fact, I pity you. You must have been extremely low on cash to wank into a cup for it, Carlo Donafrio.”

“You know I didn’t do it for the money,” he growled.

“How philanthropic of you!” I sneered, feeling like a vindictive bully in the playground – but Carlo deserved it. How dare he think I wanted to take him to my bed?

I felt the first sharp stab of fear through my heart when Carlo looked at me with thunder in his eyes. That look was a mixture of anger and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on.

“What are you going to do now? Kill me?” I continued, unable to stop goading him. Fingering the 9mm in my back pocket, I remembered that I’d never even shot the damn thing, despite my brothers’ constant pleas to teach me. If push came to shove, I’d probably just end up shooting myself like that New Orleans rapper.

Carlo’s shadow blanketed me. “Kill you?” His brow furrowed. “Do you really think that lowly of me, cara? I’m wounded.”

“Then what the hell do you want?”

His face flashed with a look I barely recognised – pure arousal. Even when he reached out and pulled me to him, I could feel it but couldn’t really understand it.

“I realised that the mother of my child is more of a spitfire than I thought.” His lips brushed my earlobe. “Call me a pyromaniac.”

I tilted my head upwards and eagerly anticipated the touch of his lips, so full and inviting. When it finally came, I threw my arms around his neck and gave him permission to do whatever he wanted with me. It was then that I realised that even from the beginning, this was how I’d wanted the evening to end, with Carlo Donafrio ravaging me completely.

It was a bad idea for me to let this happen, I knew, but why did bad things feel so wonderful? So right? So good?

Carlo’s hands gripped the back of my head, his fingers tangling with my unruly hair. A moan escaped my lips when he gently sucked on my bottom lip. His touch sent the most exciting electric shocks through my entire body, making the tiny hairs on my skin stand up. It felt like he was already inside me by the way I became wet.

Has it really been that long? I thought to myself, pressing myself against him. The swell of his erection was now pushed against my abdomen.

“Tell me, Danielle,” said Carlo, momentarily removing his mouth from mine. His hands were unbuttoning my jeans. “Are you a screamer?”

“Only if someone makes me,” I breathed, nearly pleading with him to hurry it up.

“Challenge accepted.”

And he picked me up, hoisting me over his shoulder. Upside down, the blood quickly rushed to my head. I screamed, gripping at the material of his shirt.

“Are you crazy?” I squealed as he carried me upstairs. The steps had never seemed so many until just then.

“Nice room,” he remarked, kicking my bedroom door closed behind him.

Finally, he set me down on the bed.

“Don’t ever do that to me again!” I fumed, heart thumping against my chest. Something felt wrong. I pressed my rear into the mattress again, then dug into my back pockets. “Where’s my –”

“This?” Carlo held my gun up.

I scowled.

He handed it back to me. “I’m confused. Were you going to shoot me if I made one wrong move?”

I sighed, getting up and shoving the bloody thing into the drawer of my nightstand. “I don’t know what I was going to do.”

“Do you think I’d hurt you?” he asked, coming up behind me.

“Maybe.” I let out a hiss of pleasure when he brought his mouth to the side of my neck. “God, everything you do is...” My voice trailed off as I stared at the curtains above the nightstand. What the hell was I saying?

“What?” His arms snaked around me and his hand slid up my T-shirt. “Everything I do is what, cara? Say it.”

I thought I’d be even moderately self-conscious about the miniscule zigzags of stretch marks still taking their time to disappear, and the faint scar of my C-section, but I wasn’t. In fact, I revelled in Carlo’s caress. The pad of his index finger circled my navel, tickling me yet only intensifying the tug of arousal in my abdomen.

I turned around. I had to ask.

“Why do you want me? Why are you here, in my bedroom?”

He swept a hank of hair away from my face. “Because we both don’t want to be alone tonight.”

There was something in his beautiful emerald eyes that made me want to believe him, that made me want to believe that there was more to the man behind the sordid headlines.

“Baciami,” Carlo said softly. “Make the next move.”

I wanted to.

I kissed him with a passion I didn’t know I possessed. It was a hungry kiss, a desperate one. It was as if his mouth contained the oxygen I needed to breathe and melding our mouths together was the only way for me to get it. Somehow, without my knowing, our clothes came off. I pulled away, wondering if Carlo was just as gorgeous naked as I’d imagined over the past few weeks.

I was shocked to see the scars, the tattoos; the visible evidence of who he really was.

His body was chiselled in all the right places, a fine line of dark hairs leading down to the short, dark curls surrounding his startlingly huge, erect manhood. I dragged my eyes away from it and zoned in on a particularly ugly scar that ran across his side. He had tiny pockmarks on his chest that showed signs of less violent fights, fights in which he’d probably been the victor. Like a graffiti-laden wall, tattoos covered any other bare skin on his upper torso.

“You’re afraid,” he calmly observed.

“I’m not,” I whispered, coming to him. “Just...just curious.” I pressed my hand against his heartbeat, over one prominent tattoo. “Who’s Milo?”

“He was my brother.”

I didn’t want to pry.

“And yes, if you were wondering, he was murdered.”

My head jerked up. “I wasn’t wondering.”

“Of course, you were.”

I didn’t bother correcting his assumption. Instead, I traced my fingers over the scar on his side. He flinched.

I instantly retracted my hand. “It can’t still be painful, can it?”

“We’re standing naked, cara, and you’re touching me. It is painful.”

A sly smile spread across my face. “I see. Does this hurt?” Emboldened, I palmed his length, astonished by how hard he was.

Carlo’s breathing grew ragged. “And you say I’m the monster.”

I got on my tiptoes and placed a kiss on his lips. “I want you, Carlo. Take me.”

“Gladly,” he rasped, and he pushed me back onto the bed, wrenching the covers aside. He parted my thighs, spreading me wide open, giving me no time to hide myself.

His gaze was feral; his hands warm, and when he knelt between my legs, I had no idea why the usual what-does-he-think-about-my-body thoughts weren’t swirling in my mind, ruining everything. They were what had always dampened the mood and made me feel so pathetic, like the Danielle-with-the-lesbian-mum from high school had never really grown up.

My mind instantly went blank when Carlo’s tongue immediately ran along the inside of my thigh, tasting me. It was all I could do not to scream for him to stop, when what I really wanted was for him to lick every inch of me if it would feel as good as his mouth on my inner thigh. I could feel myself getting even wetter, if that was even possible at this point. Carlo’s breath was hot against the sensitive skin of my thigh and when he went higher, I could barely keep my control. He reached for a pillow and deftly manoeuvred it beneath my pelvis so that it felt as if I were offering myself to him on a silver platter. Squirming in anticipation, I nearly came there and then when his breath returned to the warmth of my cúnt when he positioned his mouth right above my apex. He grabbed my rear and pulled my hips even closer to his face.

“Stop,” I whispered, clutching a fistful of bed sheet. “Oh God, don’t stop.”

He was licking me, slowly, like an ice-cream. His tongue ran along my swollen clít, tormenting the tight bud of nerves, and then it became frantic, almost greedy, until finally, he plunged it inside me. I arched my back, screaming with the intense pleasure of it all.

“Bloody hell, Carlo, stop,” I groaned, not recognising this guttural voice as my own. I was vaguely aware of his hands leaving my arse and then I felt him slide two fingers inside me with no resistance. I was too wet for that, so wet that I could hear the squelching of his fingers fúcking into me.

I didn’t want him to stop. I wanted him to keep sucking on my clít until I passed out from pleasure. I wanted him to keep exploring the inner walls of my cúnt with his talented tongue and fingers, and I wanted him to bring me to what I knew was going to be an earth-shattering climax.

I pressed my opening into his face, bucking wildly and feeling the eruption build up inside me like a volcano. He was finger-fúcking me while he drew my clít into his mouth – his teeth gently nibbling at the sensitised bud – and I knew I wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer.

“I’m...so...close.”

Finally, the explosion came, like a sweet release.

Carlo straightened up, licking his lips. “Delizioso.”

I sat up, panting for breath. The órgasm Carlo had just gifted me with had settled it: “Fúck me.”

“Ask me nicely, bella mia.”

I reached out and gripped his erection in my hand. Warm, throbbing and hard, it took everything in my power to stop myself from pushing him onto his back and getting on top of him. Carlo released a low groan.

“Perhaps you can return the favour,” he said in a low growl.

“Oh, I intend to,” I murmured, watching him settle beside me.

His c0ck was certainly the biggest I’d ever seen. After all, he was the biggest man I’d ever seen. Lying back against the pillows, Carlo regarded me with open curiosity. Perhaps he thought I wasn’t used to sucking men off – which would be the correct assumption. It was far too vulgar, too intimate to even consider. Yet here we were, with me practically gagging for it.

Bending, I ran my tongue along his shaft until I reached his heavy balls, giving them a slow lick as well. He shuddered beneath me, and I persevered, licking my way back to the weeping head. The salty taste of his pre-cum made me wonder what it would take to make him lose control, to beg me to stop and not mean it. With both hands wrapped around the base, I claimed Carlo’s c0ck as mine, taking as much of him into my mouth as I could.

Carlo hissed, grabbing me by the hair. “Merda, merda, merda…” he chanted, his grip on me becoming painful.

I knew enough to know that that he was cursing and that made me smile as I took him even deeper, until I could feel his head brushing against the back of my throat. I felt him tense as I pulled back, releasing him from my mouth with a pop. Tentatively, I began to pump his c0ck slowly, my saliva and his cum making it easier. As I became more used to what I was doing, I picked up the pace, squeezing his balls in one hand and stroking him with the other. Carlo’s hips moved to my