Scarlett and the Feds (13 page)

Read Scarlett and the Feds Online

Authors: S.L. Baker

BOOK: Scarlett and the Feds
12.93Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
Chapter 13

 

V
ictor sat on the bed holding a small white box with a red bow. Scar pushed me out of the way and grabbed it. She was over the moon with excitement remembering the other little white box that was left for me before. Scarlett was trying to wrestle the box out of Victor’s hands and was reaching for her Mace when I shook my head No. she stuck her tongue out at me.

“Sit down before you open it,” he said, excitement dripping from his tone.

I sat on the edge of the bed, carefully peeled off the bow, and pulled the top of the box off. Scarlett was kneeling next to me on the bed urging me to move faster. I sat stunned and bewildered.

“Um I’m not sure what—” I didn’t finish my sentence before Victor jumped in.

‘They’re called Luna beads.”

“Ok,” I replied, still having no fucking idea what Luna beads were.

“These will become your favorite toy very quickly. They go inside your vagina and rest on your G spot; it’s like a never ending orgasm. We’re it taking up a notch, come with me,” he said grabbing my hand.

Victor took me to the garage. Scar grabbed the shiny beads of ecstasy out of my hands and was looking at her reflection and shaking them, trying to figure out how the hell they work. When Victor opened the door to the garage and she saw a Harley she passed out cold, clutching the beads in her fist. Sharing space with the motorcycle were a full size pickup truck and a brand new Camaro convertible.

Victor still clutched my hand which was sweating. My pulse quickened when I saw the motorcycle. He whispered, “Bend over the seat of the bike.”

My sweet spot swerved down the road going a 100 with no helmet screaming hell yeah! I bent over the leather of the seat. Victor gently moved my legs apart and then whisked my bikini bottom to the cement floor. He took the beads out of my clenched hands. His finger tantalized and tormented my sweet spot that now was taking curves at 110 mph and gaining speed.

“Easy, baby,” he whispered.

I squirmed at the sensation of the first bead doing its job by exciting my G-spot. I opened my legs further and leaned back toward Victor. I craved more, the sensation was beyond words and my orgasm was building with such intensity it took my breath away. Scarlett finally re-gained consciousness and was getting annoyed because she was dressed in her biker bitch attire and was pushing down on the throttle to start the Harley. I was too absorbed with the beads and Victor. I wanted more. I twisted and squirmed to get a different sensation. When the second bead was in place, Victor started kissing my neck. The intoxicating elixir of his lips tangoing with mine, his hands massaging my ass, and the beads doing gymnastics on my G-spot made my sweet spot free fall off a cliff. The intensity of my orgasm was at ten on the Richter scale. I grabbed onto the Harley for support, my legs having the consistency of spaghetti and my breathing hitched. Words refused to form, just deep groans. Victor flashed that mesmerizing smile and pulled me into his arms.

“Pace yourself, baby, this is just the appetizer. Wait until you’re straddling the bike with the vibrations heightening the sensation. It will be one non-stop orgasm.”

For the first time ever, I saw Scarlett cry out of sheer joy. How could this get any better? She was ready and motioning me to hurry up and get my biker bitch outfit on.

I could barely walk, never mind form coherent words. Victor grabbed my hand and led me back to the master bedroom. I wrestled with begging him to take me right then and there, but the thought of an ongoing orgasm was exciting, exhausting, and fuckin’ erotic as hell.

I was fumbling though my suitcase. “Jesus H! I didn’t bring anything but warm weather attire and I highly doubt a sundress and sling back sandals would work for riding.”

Victor disappeared into the closet, returning with two large boxes, each with a red bow. His signature when it came to gifts. Scarlett was standing in the door, arms folded, tapping her foot, enough of this already, she wanted to ride. So did I, these Luna Beads gave a whole new meaning to foreplay and my lust and desire for Victor was off the chain. Inside the box was a pair of jeans, leather chaps, leather riding jacket, gloves and boots.

“You have two sets of riding gear now. One on each coast.”

“Thank you,” I said hurrying to get dressed. Victor grinned. It took every bit of self-control not to push him on the bed. Scarlett was pushing me from behind out of the bedroom and Victor held my hand as we went back to the garage.

The door to the garage opened and Scarlett was squealing when Victor fired up the bike. Scarlett’s back was to me as she was waving to the goons and blew kisses to Walker. They maintained their goon pose and nodded as we sped down the driveway out onto the main road.

With every move of the bike, the beads were doing somersaults crashing into my G-spot. More than once I felt like I would pass out. Scarlett fished out the smelling salts just in case. Victor grabbed my leg as we stopped at a red light. I shifted my weight trying to get some relief from the beads sending me over the edge for the third time. Victor headed down a curvy road and I came so hard I worried that we’d eat some asphalt. I had reached my breaking point, the orgasms were building and crashing so fast I couldn’t catch my breath and was exhausted. Victor turned off the main road into a Vineyard and pulled in a patch of grapes growing. Scarlett slapped him up the side of the head. She wanted to keep feeling the wind in her hair and the freedom of the open road. I was like a rabid animal pulling off Victor’s pants. The one time I needed Scarlett’s help and she was out on the main road hitch hiking hoping a biker gang would pick her up.

Victor picked me up, his lips savoring mine like fine wine, and put me on the leather seat. His hands were around my waist and he pulled down my jeans, thrusting his manliness inside my throbbing sweet spot. I was on the verge of collapsing from sheer exhaustion, but so full of want and lust it was out of control. The primal scream that radiated from the vineyard echoed for miles. I collapsed into Victor’s arms, every ounce of my strength stripped from my body.

“I have no words for the last hour, besides holy fuckin’ hell that was beyond anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“Each time it’s more intense, erotic and over the top. This is just the beginning of the pleasure I want you to experience, baby,” Victor said, brushing a stray piece hair away from my face. He straddled the bike and the engine growled to life. Scarlett came running down the dirt path waving her arms frantically so we wouldn’t leave her behind.

I grabbed Victor’s shoulder. “Wait. I don’t think I will make it back to the house with these beads still having a boxing match with my G-spot.”

“We’re not going back to the beach house. Hang tight for ten more minutes, we’re almost to our destination.”

“I nodded, not sure if I could survive that long. My sweet spot was begging for a shot of adrenaline, or even IV caffeine at this point. Scarlett was drawing the syringe of her own concoction of Vodka, three energy shots, and pure unadulterated sugar and lots of it, with a pinch of chocolate, a lethal combo at high doses.

The road turned very narrow, barley wide enough for one car. We were surrounded by vines of grapes for miles in every direction. Scar snatched a few grapes off the vines as we passed. My stomach voiced its opinion, I was starving. The last two hours I’d worked up an appetite. I leaned to the left as the bike turned sharp, the beads crashing against my G-spot. My sweet spot waved the white flag and gave Scarlett the thumbs up to shock it back to life.

The road we were on was nothing more than a path, revealing a replica of a Tuscany Villa transported all the way from Italy and dropped smack dab in the middle of a vineyard. Victor cut the engine of the bike and we both just sat silent. It was peaceful and inviting. The lawn surrounded by wild flowers and rose bushes just screamed blanket, picnic basket, and a bottle of wine.

Victor dismounted the bike and helped me off. Grabbing my hand, he led me up the stone steps onto the porch. Each stone of the balusters was unique, in shape, color, and origin, the porch had two rocking chairs and a swing. Scarlett jumped on and begged for me to give her a push. Victor unlocked the front door.

The flavor of this house was so different than the others. It was quaint, but the feeling of being in Italy was everywhere, from the décor to the furniture. I got the tour. A massive kitchen was the focal point of the house. There was a living room with a highly detailed stone fireplace, and I picked up a picture on the mantel.

“That’s my mother, my grandmother, and me when I was six-months-old. My mother and I spent every chance we got in Italy, she loved it and so do I.”

“Do you own property there?”

“Yes. I inherited my grandmother’s estate when my mother died, but I’ve only been back once.” Victor’s face tensed up and he continued with the tour.

We headed up to the second floor which encompassed the master bedroom and bathroom. I grabbed Victor’s hand and led him to the massive bed with ornately carved cherry posts and intricate wood work on the head board. I kissed him and he grabbed me around the waist.

“Love these little balls of ecstasy, but I think I set a record for consecutive orgasms in an hour. Scarlett shook her head.
Nope that record still stands from some chick in Topeka.

“Those beads, positioned in the right place, can transcend you to places you never knew existed.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I said shifting my weight, wishing they would stop bullying my G-spot for the moment.

Victor sat on the edge of the bed. “Pull off your jeans and panties.”

I obeyed.

“Lay over my lap.”

Scarlett was on a mission to see if she could find some ancient bottle of expensive wine that maybe Grandma had willed to Victor.

Victor ran his hand up my thighs pushing them apart. My breathing intensified. Victor’s fingers traced the opening of my sweet spot, still out cold, and I gasped when he pulled out the first bead and then the second. I swear my sweet spot peeked out from under the covers for a brief second, but then pulled the quilt over its head. It needed a nap. I needed to eat. My stomach was going to be forming a coup if it wasn’t fed soon.

I stood up and then sat in Victor’s lap.

“The house is perfect. I love it,” I said.

Victor smiled and stroked my hair. “It is perfect and so are you, my angel.”

I heard Scarlett squeal. This meant two things, either Victor had dessert stashed in the house or alcohol, two of her favorite things.

 

***

 

I chopped veggies for the salad. Victor grilled steaks on the stone patio. The non-stop orgasms of the last hour left me famished. I brought the salad and dressing Victor made from spices in the small herb garden in the lush backyard, and put it on the table. Scarlett had her grill master apron and hat on and was checking on the steaks.

“It’s so peaceful here, Victor.”

“That’s why I purchased the vineyard and built this house. Very few people know of its existence. Just you, me, and the builder, who’s my cousin on my mother’s side.”

“Does your father know about the Vineyard? He has a hand in your companies, so he must know if a property is purchased,” I said, popping a cucumber in my mouth.

“No. I own my business independent of my father. I told you I want as little to do with my father as possible.”

“How did you get the money to purchase your first company without your father’s help?” I asked.

Scarlett stopped picking the roses from bushes to listen to his answer.

“When my grandmother died, she left my mother her estate which included thirty million dollars. My mother left me as her sole beneficiary, so at age twenty-two I inherited her estate.”

“Your father must have been livid.”

“He didn’t know. She had put everything in a trust in Italy. I was summoned to Italy for a meeting with her executor. He went over the details of my mother’s will. She had made it very clear that my father was not to have any claim to her money.

“When I returned and told my father, he was so furious that he broke his hand punching both me and the wall. I moved out that day and bought my first company six months later. Now I have seven successful companies. Every single one free of Mob influence. My money is clean. It’s not contaminated by the Mob, and I will keep it that way until I take my last breath on this planet,” he said.

I shuddered at that thought and Scar put her fingers in her ears to block out such crazy talk about Victor dying. I had a vivid picture of why the animosity between Joe and Victor existed. It wasn’t just about Victor’s betrayal by not succumbing to the gangster lifestyle and gearing up to take the top spot when his father was de-throned, it was about Victor being successful without the Mob and its power. That’s as much of a threat as that book. The possibility that the Mob could be obsolete. Victor was the poster child showing that you could make a fortune without having ties to the Mob.

Victor put two steaming steaks on a plate and placed them on the table. Scarlett had a bib on and her sleeves rolled up, she was starving. The sun was starting its descent and the sky was pink.

“What a perfect night. Amazing food, wine with the man I love, and a breathtaking sunset,” I toasted.

Our glasses clinked and we both devoured our dinner like ravenous animals. Scarlett was on her knees praying to God almighty that somewhere in the house was chocolate cake, or brownies. She had a wicked hankering for chocolate.

I picked up both of our plates and headed into the kitchen with Scarlett hot on my heels. She was jonesing for sugar and she was on a mission to score some. I giggled as I envisioned her in a seedy part of town, handing some sketchy dude fifty bucks for a bag of chocolate laced with mint.

I rinsed off the dishes as Victor played grab ass with me. I squirted him with water and we laughed. I enjoyed these light hearted moments with him, free of every care in the world. The mob, the Feds, and Nelson’s agenda would all still be a reality when we returned to the East coast, but for now I wanted to savor ever minute I could.

Other books

Rough Likeness: Essays by Lia Purpura
The Man Who Was Left Behind by Rachel Ingalls
Suture (The Bleeding Worlds) by Stone, Justus R.
The Year of the Ladybird by Graham Joyce