STRONGER (9 page)

I stepped out from behind her and stared. The Don was sprawled out across the bed, completely nude. His erection stood out angrily away from his body. For a man in his forties, he was remarkably well preserved, I observed. His limbs and trunk were hairy but fit, the foreshadowing of a belly earned by excess his only flaw.

He grinned and put his hands behind his head. “Looks like I made a good investment in Miss Jazz, didn’t I, Cocoa?” he crowed.

“You sure did, Don Costa,” my roommate said, taking my hand and twirling me around. “Look at this pretty thing, already wet for you. Enjoy yourself, darling.”

Cocoa took her leave and I was alone with the Don. He beckoned me to approach the bed.

“Do—do you want me to get a condom?” I asked. “There are lots in the bathroom.”

“I don’t think we want one of those, do you?” Don Costa said, running his hand up and down my flat stomach. “This is your first time. I want you to feel everything.”

The Don always got what he wanted, I thought. I had to make it happen.

He lunged forward suddenly, scaring me, and pulled me onto the bed. His kiss was rough, demanding, and tasted like vermouth. I tried not to gag, tried to reciprocate, tried to think happy thoughts. I was doing this for Mama. I was doing this for the nightclub, so the girls could keep working. I was doing this for me, to earn money so that I could survive on my own.

I slipped my tongue into his mouth, almost afraid I’d get drunk just from the way it tasted. I thought about the boy I’d kissed on the bus that day, the way he had gingerly hefted my breasts in the palms of his hands. What was he doing now, I wondered. I bet he wouldn’t guess what I was doing now.

I moaned politely as the Don grabbed a handful of my ass, squeezing it like he was judging its ripeness. He fumbled with the clasp of my bra and I pulled away.

“I want to keep my bra on,” I said softly, thinking about all the scars that it hid.

“Why?” Don Costa groaned. He pressed his erection almost painfully into my thigh.

“Because it’s new,” I said. “Because it’s pretty.”

“Simple girl,” the Don said. “I’ll buy you a hundred bras.”

He managed to unfasten the clasp and I reluctantly let the bra fall away from my body. Don Costa thumbed my brown nipples and I gasped at the unexpected pleasure. He paused when he noticed the burn marks. I bore them all over, but the majority of them dotted my breasts.

“Who did this to you?” he demanded quietly. “I’ll kill them.”

It was the first time tonight that I liked the Don.

“He’s already dead,” I said, making myself smile. It was true. Jack was dead to me. Mama had said that part of my life was over.

Don Costa continued his exploration of my body a little more gently. I flushed as I realized that he must think I was fragile, damaged. In a sudden rush, I realized that it was probably to my advantage.

He reached my thong and slipped his finger in, caressing my slippery lips. His touch made me arch pleasurably, banishing the fears that he’d try to purposefully hurt me. The Don may have been a powerful man, but he wasn’t another Jack. Only I could make him another Jack, and I refused to. Jack had injured me down there once, but my pussy didn’t seem to remember. It responded in the only way it could to his insistent, knowledgeable touches.

“Cocoa was right,” Don Costa said thickly. “You are already wet.”

“You make me wet,” I said, blushing furiously and feeling ashamed of myself. If my mother could see me—see how far I’d fallen, seducing a mob leader, lying and spouting off disgusting dirty talk—her shock and disappointment would be crushing. Maybe as crushing as my own disappointment when she ceased being my mother, drowning in the fantasies the bottle of gin fed her.

The Don pushed me onto my back and climbed over me, still slipping his finger up and down my lips. He eased my thong down and smiled.

“I’m going to be your first,” he said. “And you always remember your first.”

He leaned down and kissed my neck while simultaneously guiding the head of his cock to my entrance. I responded almost automatically to his kisses, leaving a trail of red lipstick over his cheek.

I cried out as he thrust in completely, my body struggling to adjust to the unfamiliar invasion. I tried to think of anything else—of ice cream, of pizza, of money, of this being over, of Mom being alive again, of getting the hell out of here. It hurt too much, it was too much.

I realized I was clawing at the Don’s back with my sharp new manicure and tried to stop, worried he’d get angry if I made him bleed.

“Don’t stop, you little hellcat,” Don Costa grunted. “I just made you a woman. You deserve to try to take something from me.”

He started to thrust in and out of me and I yowled at every movement. The lubricant Cocoa had practically forced on me helped ease the way, but my body was having trouble adjusting to the Don’s eager but brutal pace. He was too excited and I just wasn’t physically ready for this onslaught.

I bit his neck to try to smother my cries and Don Costa laughed low in my ear.

“I love a girl who gives as good as she gets,” he said, ramming into me even harder.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my chest as I wrapped my legs around his waist, squeezing and trying to slow his pumping. It felt like he was going to break me in two if he didn’t slow down.

He worked his hand between my thigh and his ribcage and pushed his thumb against the hard bud of my clitoris. I saw stars, forgot myself, lost everything. All his ramming didn’t seem so bad anymore, just as long as he kept his finger right there—right
there
. I moved my body against his, my breasts bouncing, feeling dirty, feeling desperate and empty.

I didn’t understand what I was working toward until it happened—a shattering climax that surprised me with its intensity and suddenness. I howled, not caring what I looked or sounded like to the Don, not caring who heard me. I didn’t care who I thought I was. The only thing that mattered was the orgasm, the painfully short white nothingness. I felt like crying when it released me from its hold.

The Don sucked in air between his clenched teeth and gave one last massive thrust, driving into me. The water of his completion filled my body. The mob boss moaned in my ear, suckled on my neck as he emptied his cock into me.

After a few final thrusts, he pulled out of me and flopped down on the bed, making it creak dangerously. We panted side by side, and sounds began to return. I hadn’t even realized that my senses had been drained, boiled down to only the sense of touch. Mama was well into another set, it appeared, the lyrics and tune muffled but just audible.

A wretched wave of nausea washed over me and I rolled off the bed.

“Be right back,” I said, trying to smile.

I managed to get the bathroom light on and the door closed before the bile came. I collapsed in front of the toilet, my body heaving, vomiting even though there wasn’t anything to throw up. It was all water, perhaps some bits of breakfast that my stomach had been trying desperately to hold onto.

It was almost as if my body was disgusted with itself.

I flushed the toilet and rinsed my mouth out in the sink. The water still running, I splashed my face and wet a washcloth I found on a shelf. The Don’s semen was trickling down my legs. I cleaned myself up, rinsing the washcloth again and again, making sure I wiped down every surface of my skin.

By the time I left the bathroom, the Don was already half dressed.

“There she is,” he said, grinning. “Was I a little too much for you, doll?”

I smiled shakily and said the most flattering thing I could think of. “It was just so big.”

Don Costa threw his head back and laughed. “I can tell we’re going to get along great,” he said. “I know this won’t be the last time we enjoy each other’s company.”

I retrieved my underwear from the floor and stepped in to the thong. My pussy felt wet, slippery, strange. The Don fastened my bra for me as I held my hair up and out of the way. He turned me around and kissed me again, almost softly.

He reached into his billfold again and drew out two Benjamins. He tucked them into my bra, getting one last grope in for good measure.

“These are for you and you alone,” he said. “Mama doesn’t get a cut of these. Your official ‘tip’ was included in the money I gave her, so she doesn’t have to know about this little tip.”

“Thank you,” I said, a little confused. Was Don Costa encouraging me to lie to Mama?

“I’ll make the offer one more time,” he said. “All you have to do is give me a name. I’ll make the son of a bitch who burned you disappear.”

It was tempting, but I only smiled and went looking for my uniform.

After we were both fully dressed, Don Costa held open the door for me. Cocoa waited out in the hallway.

“Hey there, lovebirds,” she said, beaming. “How’d everything go?”

“Like a dream,” the Don said, slapping me on the ass as I walked past him and into the hallway.

“Well, you were in there long enough,” my roommate jokingly scolded. “You’ve squandered practically the whole night.”

“I wouldn’t call what we did squandering a night,” he said, grinning suggestively. Cocoa whooped and laughed, slapping her knee.

“I knew it,” she said, still giggling. “Our Jazz is a good girl—everywhere except the bedroom, is that what you’re telling me?”

The Don winked rakishly. I knew my smile probably looked sickening on my face, but I wore it like a mask.

We went back downstairs, where the crowd was feverishly applauding Mama. Her set was over. I realized that I had no idea what time it was. Was everything really almost over? The world had slowed down while Don Costa plowed into my body. Customers had changed inside the nightclub and the line outside had vanished.

“We’ll be closing in thirty minutes,” Mama announced to groans and disappointed shouts. She held her hands up. “Now, now, you know I can’t slow down the march of time. I can only help you enjoy it a little better.”

There were wolf whistles and catcalls to this statement.

“Finish up your dinners, finish up your drinks, settle up your tabs, whisper sweet words to that special someone,” Mama rattled off. “And tip my girls. They live to make you happy.”

“Are you okay?” Cocoa whispered to me. I nodded quickly and smiled.

The curtains closed and Mama emerged on the floor again. She made a beeline for the Don’s table.

“Well, well,” she said saucily, putting her hands on her hips. “Look who decided to return to grace us with his presence.”

The Don laughed almost sheepishly. “What can I say, Mama?” he asked. “You have a fireball on your hands with this one. I’m lucky I didn’t come away burned.”

I flinched at the obvious reference to my scars but didn’t say anything.

“Well, it looks like you wore Miss Jazz out,” Mama said. “I’m going to send her away early. I bet a shower and bed will do her a world of good.”

She marched me across the floor and to the staircase leading up to my room.

“You’ve done good, honey,” she said, kissing me wetly on both cheeks. “You’ve earned more money than any other girl tonight.”

I felt like I was going to faint, but I tried to smile for Mama. She was proud of me. I had helped the nightclub by sleeping with the Don.

She patted her breasts. “I’ll keep your money safe,” she vowed. “It’s not safe in here to just leave it scattered around. I keep all the girls’ money in my office. If you want to buy something, all you have to do is ask and I’ll get it for you.”