ROMANCING SAL GABRINI Page 7

  That was another reason why Gemma knew she had to be cautious here. What if Sal was involved with the mob? What if there were some shady connections going on in his life? She doubted it. For some reason he seemed too principled to her in a weird, unruly sort of way. But she still had to be cautious.

  But when Sal returned with their drinks, and sat back down, silence, rather than more questions, ruled the day. For nearly half an hour longer they sat out on that terrace and said nothing, did nothing, but enjoyed the peacefulness of the evening. Until Gemma began to fall asleep.

  “What time is it?” she asked with a yawn.

  Sal looked at the Rolex on his wrist. “Twelve minutes after eleven,” he said. “Early.”

  “Early my foot,” she said as she began to rise. “I’ve got a nine o’clock seminar to teach tomorrow morning.” She stood up, sitting her drink down as she did. “I’d better get going.”

  Sal was inwardly disappointed. He hated that she had to leave him. He stood up too, sitting his drink down too. “Why didn’t you bring luggage?” he asked with a slight accusatory edge to his voice. “You could have stayed here tonight. Why didn’t you bring some clothes like I told you to?”

  “I wasn’t dragging all of that over here,” Gemma said as she began to head back inside of the house. “But I enjoyed myself,” she added as she walked, looking back at him.

  She caught Sal checking out her ass when she looked back, and it made her smile.

  “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” Sal said, following her. “But you could have enjoyed more if you would have brought clothes like I told you to.”

  It was damn distressing, in fact, that she was leaving him. “Are you sure you don’t wanna stay anyway and let me get you back in time to change for your class in the morning?”

  “I’m sure,” she said as she grabbed her purse from the living room’s sofa. “But thanks.”

  Sal attempted to smile off her rejection, although inwardly it kind of hurt. “Can’t fault a man for trying,” he said. “Let me grab my keys and wallet.”

  “Sure,” Gemma said as Sal hurried upstairs, taking two stairs at a time. She sat down in the arch-top chair in the foyer, near the front door. And it was true, she really did enjoy herself. Not just the sex, which was phenomenal, but dinner with Sal and conversation afterwards. He was a man who really didn’t seem to take himself too seriously, who knew how to cut loose and have some fun, and she liked that about him. But where did they go from here, she wondered. Was this as good as it was going to get for them?

  Upstairs, Sal had to take a moment to compose himself. He hated that she was leaving, and he hated that it bothered him. Why did it bother him so? This was nothing new to him. He was no fucking novice, what was his problem, he wondered. Women came and went in his life all the time. That was the nature of his relationship with women. They came and they went. All the time. And he was the one who usually precipitated their leaving.

  But he had the nerve to ask Gemma to stay? What was wrong with him? She must take him to be some punk-ass jerk asking her to stay like that. He grabbed his wallet and keys and began to head back downstairs. Enough of this shit, he thought. As soon as he dropped her ass off, he was moving on. Nobody was pussy-whipping him.

  But as soon as he made it back downstairs, the whipping recommenced.

  “Ready?” he asked her when he made his way up to the foyer.

  “Yup,” she said as she stood.

  But as soon as she stood, and Sal got a full look at her, he was taken again. Something about the look of her, the way she held her head and stood so proud and the way he remembered how she made him feel.

  He moved closer to her and placed his hands on her bare arms. And he said words he had no intention, when he had all of that bravado upstairs, to say. “You’re going to miss me?” he asked her.

  She smiled. “Yes,” she admitted, although she had no intentions of admitting such a thing either.

  “I already miss you,” Sal said and Gemma’s heart melted. He really knew how to treat a girl.

  Then he kissed her. It was meant to be chaste and simple. A goodbye kiss. But nothing was chaste and simple when Sal got together with Gem. He bore into her, kissing her harder, remembering how much he loved the taste of her. And they were at it again, kissing in that circular kissing that simple French-kissing couldn’t match.

  Then he pulled her into his arms, with his mouth pressed against her hair. “Sore?” he asked her. He knew he had put it on her long and hard most of the evening.

  “Little,” she admitted.

  “I want more. Hate to admit it, but I do. Give me some ass,” he said. “Will you do that for me, baby?”

  Gemma knew she shouldn’t. How was she going to wean herself off of this man if she kept letting him have his way with her?

  But she really didn’t hesitate. She turned around, allowed him to drop her shorts and panties and squeeze and lick her there. She allowed him to finger her there, put ointment in, sheath that massive rod of his, and then enter her.

  At first she cringed. It never felt good this way, especially with a dick as big as Sal’s. But he kept moving it further and further in, inch by loving inch until soon, as he began to stroke, she began to enjoy it too. It took time for the joy to come, but when it came and as he fingered her clit, the feelings intensified. He fucked her hard up the ass, long and hard. Her hands splayed against the wall, holding on as he rocked and pounded her small body. She was amazed at his stamina.

  But the feelings that shot through her with every stroke he made forced her to forget his stamina and concentrate on his dick. It felt so good. It never used to do much of anything for her the few times she took it this way. It got to the point where she wouldn’t give her boyfriends the pleasure of doing it this way.

  But it felt different with Sal. Between his pounding and fingering, she was cumming. She was actually having an orgasm. And her squeezing clamp down brought Sal up. He came too. Ramming it all the way in for that final pour out, as he came.

  When there was no more to leak, Sal leaned against her so drained he could barely stand up. And then he opened his eyes. Because the naked truth was staring him right in the face. He wasn’t going back. She was black, that was true, and he wasn’t going back. He could fight the feeling any way he pleased, but there was no way he was giving up Gemma Jones. As he lay against her soft back, and smelled her sweet, fresh scent, he knew it now. She was his. All his. There was no way, absolutely none, that some other man was ever getting his paws on this.

  Sal’s Ferrari was pure power as it roared through the streets of Seattle. Although Gemma was excited about this new relationship she was about to undertake, she was circumspect too. She looked at him as he drove. He was, in a lot of ways, her dream man come true. He was gorgeous with his brown hair and blue eyes, his strong face and muscular body. He was rich and powerful with what Gemma was beginning to believe was an empire of business ventures. And he was nice. Something about tough guy Sal Luca seemed nice to her.

  But he was complicated too. Great in bed, without question he was fantastic in bed, but what did she really know about him? He had a tough father, an absent mother, a mob boss uncle now deceased, and a brother he seemed to idolize. But what did he mean about those things he sometimes did that might be his father’s fault? What things? Were they immoral things? Where they things he wasn’t proud of? Were they illegal things???

  Gemma was an attorney, an officer of the court. Their relationship would undoubtedly go no-where fast if she knew he was involved in illegalities. And that concerned her. Because, despite the newness of their relationship, she really did like Sal Luca.

  He drove in front of the hotel’s entrance and placed his car in park. The valets were at the ready, but instead of getting out, or letting Gemma out, he looked at her instead.

  “When’s your last class tomorrow?”

  “Same time for the rest of the week. At two p.m..”

  “I’ll be here at three.
You have your sweet ass waiting right in that lobby for me.”

  Gemma smiled. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “And this time, young lady, you come prepared. Understand? I don’t wanna hear about you having to drag any clothes anywhere. You won’t be dragging them. You will carry them downstairs and then I’ll take it from there. No excuses. Understand?”

  “Now how can I turn down such logical reasoning as that?” she asked with a smirk on her face.

  “Just give me a kiss, smartass,” Sal said as he leaned over to her. She gladly kissed him.

  Sal’s car phone began to ring.

  “See you tomorrow,” he said as he answered it. She moved to open the door and the valet took over, opening it for her.

  She waved one last time at Sal as she entered the hotel’s lobby. Sal waved back as he spoke on the phone with one of his executives. He was, in fact, about to drive off. But then he saw Craig or Greg or whatever his name was, Blondie, approach Gemma in the lobby. And began talking to her. And for some reason a surge of jealousy swept through Sal like he couldn’t believe. All he could think about was that muscle head trying to get next to his lady.

  He told the executive on the phone that he would call him back. He then hung up and got out of the car. He began hurrying for the lobby.

  “Sir, you can’t leave your car here,” the valet quickly pointed out. “Sir?”

  But Sal wasn’t thinking about him. He slung open the lobby door and walked over to Gemma and Craig.

  Gemma was surprised to see him. “Sal?”

  “Hey,” Sal said, mainly to Craig. “I’m Sal Gabrini.” He said this and extended his hand.

  Gemma could see that Craig was confused, but he shook it anyway. “Hi.”

  “And you are?” Sal asked him.

  “I’m Craig. A friend of Gem’s.”

  “Well, friend of Gem’s, Gem’s tired. She’s had a long day. So she’ll say goodnight and talk to you another time.”

  Gemma was surprised by Sal’s behavior. Where did he get off telling somebody something like that? She started to straighten him out, too, but Craig smiled.

  “Sure thing,” Craig said as if it was no big deal. Then he began to leave, heading for the lounge. “You can have the bitch,” both she and Sal could hear him say as he walked away.

  Sal frowned and was about to rush him. But Gemma pulled him back. “It’s not worth it,” she said. “I’ve been around assholes like him all my life. Just forget it.”

  She kissed him. “Go home,” she said, patting him on his hard chest, a chest she remembered sweating profusely as he fucked her. “You can use some rest yourself.”

  “Good night,” he said and watched as she made her way to the elevators. But by the time she stepped onto that elevator and turned back around, she saw Sal hurrying for the lounge.

  “Sal!” she yelled nervously, but he was already gone.

  Inside the lounge, Craig was at the bar and had just ordered a beer, when Sal walked up.

  “Hey, Pal,” Sal said over the chatter of the crowd.

  Craig turned around.

  “Wanna say that to my face?” Sal asked him.

  Craig looked Sal up and down. “I would suggest you take your street act back to the street where you and it belong.”

  Sal moved closer, invading every inch of the man’s personal space. “Make me, bitch,” he said.

  “Back off man,” Craig said.

  “And what if I don’t? Hun, man? What if I don’t? What your punk ass gonna do to me?”

  Craig frowned. “What’s your problem, dude? You’d better back the fuck up! I don’t want that broke-ass bitch anyway!” Craig said this as he slammed his hands into Sal’s chest and pushed him back and out of his personal space.

  Sal stumbled back, the push was just that powerful, but Sal then lunged at Craig so fast that it almost seemed simultaneous with his stumble. And he knocked Craig so hard that Craig flew over the bar counter. Sal jumped over the counter and landed on top of Craig. He then commenced to beat him down.

  By the time Gemma ran into the lounge, terrified that Sal might take it too far, two other men, apparent friends of Craig’s, were running behind the bar and ganging up on Sal. Her heart rammed against her chest as Sal fought all three gallantly, but they began to get the best of him. To the bar crowd, who was cheering them on, it was pure entertainment.

  But not to Gemma. She ran behind the bar too, grabbing a bottle as she ran, and slammed it over the head of one of Sal’s attackers.

  Although the man wasn’t injured and was only briefly staggered, it worked to free Sal just enough to regain his edge. He began beating on the men as if they were stationary punching bags, with the bar crowd egging him on. Gemma, too, thought Sal had it well in hand. Until two burly uniformed cops came out of nowhere and grabbed Sal. They had apparently been in the lounge all the time, because they warned her to stay out of it as if they had seen her get involved. They cuffed and frisked Sal within seconds.

  And just like that, the melee was over.

  “Whatta you doing?” Sal asked, amazed that he, not Craig, was being subdued. “His ass hit me first! You’re gonna arrest me because I won the fight? Is that what you’re doing? I kicked his punk ass so you’re arresting me?”

  But they didn’t want to hear any arguments about who started what first. They were arresting Sal. Period. Gemma yelled that she would do what she could to get bail for him, but he told her no. He didn’t want her involved like that. “You stay out of this! I don’t want them involving you in this at all, Gemma! You keep your ass out of this!”

  But as he was being dragged out of the lounge, fighting his restraints and restrainers all the way, she could see the anguish in his tired blue eyes.

  “Call my brother!” he finally yelled to her as the cops yanked him so hard that it buckled his knees. Gemma could hardly believe what she was seeing.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She hurried into the police station nearly two hours after Sal’s arrest. The police, on Sal’s urgings, had given her the keys to his Ferrari and she had driven it to the station. But because everything in that car had to have a code to work at all, she couldn’t access the GPS or anything else that could have helped her navigate through unfamiliar streets. She not only got lost once, but twice, and then ended up still at the wrong location. Now that she had managed to arrive at the right location, she felt flustered and was worried sick. She knew Sal had told her to stay out of it, but she wasn’t about to sit back and do nothing. She at least needed to make sure that he was all right.

  But when she entered the station, and saw Tommy Gabrini seated on a wooden bench against the dingy wall, she immediately felt better. While she was cavorting around Seattle trying to find her way, at least somebody had been here for Sal.

  She made her way toward Tommy. She still wore her white shorts and yellow blouse, and she still felt the sting of those three rounds of sex she endured with Sal, and she knew she looked like she’d had a long night. But Tommy, on the other hand, looked like he’d just stepped off of a cover of Essence magazine, with his perfectly tailored suit, perfectly styled hair, and perfectly beautiful face. He looked about as out of place in a place like this as anybody could possibly look, but he looked good anyway.

  “Tommy, hi,” Gemma said as she made her way toward him. She’d met him before in Vegas, but she wasn’t sure if he’d remembered her by face. She’d called him earlier, and he actually had said Gemma who.

  But now he remembered her. He stood to his feet when he realized it was her. “Gemma,” he said. “You didn’t have to come down here.”

  “I know,” she said, removing a scarf she had placed around her neck. “I wanted to make sure Sal’s okay.”

  Tommy kissed her on the forehead and gave her a quick hug. “He’s okay, sweetie,” he said. “And I’m sure he’ll appreciate your kind gesture.”

  “How is he? Have you heard anything?”

  “Yes,” Tommy said, motioning for he
r to sit down beside him. “He’s being processed out now.”

  Gemma was stunned as she sat. “Processed out? But there hasn’t been a bail hearing.”

  “The charges were dropped,” Tommy said as he sat down too.

  “But how could they be dropped? Two police officers witnessed the fight. Craig, the so-called victim, is going to be thrilled to press charges.”

  “Not actually,” Tommy said. “After some backroom persuasion, Mr. Craig Richards has opted not to press charges. And then I called in a favor, and since there was no harm, no foul, he’s being processed out as we speak.”

  Gemma was impressed. She knew that Trina once said how Tommy was a Mr. Fix It, but she never understood, until now, to what extent.

  “Good looking out, Tommy,” she said and Tommy smiled. Only it was a weak, strained smile. “I see now why Sal have you so high on his list of wonderful people.”

  “Yeah, well,” Tommy said, “he will still get a mouthful from me. I do not condone this need of his to hit first and then think about the consequences later.”

  He made it sound as if Sal had a history of barroom brawls. She wanted to ask about it, but knew that wasn’t something he should be discussing with her. And besides, he looked kind of distracted to her.

  Gemma leaned back. “I was so concerned when they took him away. I’m an attorney, I know how cops can be. When I used to practice criminal law, I had too many clients with all kinds of injuries that the cops declared were self-inflicted or the result of some random, freak accident. I know how cops can be. And with Sal’s big mouth, please. I figured it would be a miracle if he survives the night.”

  Tommy nodded. “You probably wasn’t far off. That brother of mine, I tell you. I’ve never met a more stubborn s.o.b. in my life. I tell him to avoid this nonsense time and time again, but Sal is going to do whatever the hell Sal wants to do. And then he has to drag good people like you through this mud.”

  “He told me to stay out of it,” Gemma made clear. “I came on my own.”