The Promise
Page 84
She nodded to him and would have only given me an embarrassed glance and a chin dip to say good-bye, but I didn’t let her.
As she passed me, I grabbed her hand.
She stopped and looked at me.
“Am I havin’ a brother or sister?”
Hope flared in her eyes and I got further ticked at my father, because seeing it, I knew she wanted this to go a whole lot better than it did. I also knew giving her child family was important. So I knew if I ever got to know her, I’d probably like her.
“Sister,” she answered.
I smiled. It was small but I gave her that and whispered, “You probably need to go, but call Enzo Junior. Get my number. Keep in touch.”
Bright filled her eyes and she whispered back, “I thought this would be a happy surprise. I never would have come with Enzo if I’d known—”
I cut her off with my hand tightening around hers. “I’m sorry for you it wasn’t. But I do wish you the best bringin’ my little sister into the world.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand back, saying softly, “Thanks, Francesca. And I’ll call your brother. Get your number.”
“Good,” I replied. “Now make him be safe driving you two home,” I ordered, dipping my head to her belly.
She grinned at me, no bright in her eyes this time, nodded again, and hurried out the door.
The instant it closed, Ben stated, “Pure f**kin’ Frankie.”
I looked his way. “What?”
“Your best bet is to steer clear of that situation, which is right now not good with the forecast of gettin’ real f**kin’ messy, and you tell her to keep in touch.”
“She’s carrying my baby sister,” I returned.
“Yeah. Pure f**kin’ Frankie.”
It was then I processed the look on his face.
So I smiled.
Ben didn’t smile.
He ordered, “Come here, Francesca.”
Our happy reunion delayed by a crazy one, unusually, I immediately did what I was told.
* * * * *
“Frankie, tesorina, stop.”
I closed my eyes, slid Benny out of my mouth, and took my time looking up at him.
It was after the scene with Dad, time for the good reunion after the bad, and things hadn’t started great.
And that was all on me.
It might have been being wound up by Dad’s visit and his news. It could also be what he’d said about me scoring the good Bianchi.
But it was mostly about me thinking that it was high time I saw to something I hadn’t seen to since Benny and I got physical.
He frequently went down on me to spectacular results every single time.
Either due to unconsciously avoiding it or the fact that Ben guided things in bed (completely), I’d never returned the favor.
Now, I was.
And I was tense, in my head, knowing he knew from Vinnie that I wasn’t good at it, worried he was thinking the same thing, and trying too hard.
I opened my eyes and looked his way and there it was. I wasn’t good at it. Ben’s face did not look at all like the dark hunger I was used to seeing when we were naked.
“Come here, baby.”
I didn’t want to go there.
I wanted to grab my phone and run to the bathroom, lock myself in, and exist on pizza and Chinese deliveries through the window until I knew Benny was gone and he’d made the decision never to see me again.
“Frankie, come here,” Ben repeated.
I still didn’t move, because I was frozen with humiliation.
I’d been embarrassed a lot in my life.
Like when I was seven and my mother wore that black, slinky, wraparound dress to church that had so much cle**age, it almost showed nipple, and Father Patrick’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he came out to give mass. Not to mention, when he gave it, his face was tight and I knew he was displeased with my mother and the fact that all the men were paying more attention to her br**sts than his sermon.
Also the many times my father would run into someone he didn’t get along with too well, and it wouldn’t matter where we were—at a Cubs’ game, at a Burger King—he couldn’t ignore it. He’d say something smartass and the guy would return it and it was never pretty. He’d even once goaded a man who was with his wife and kids and didn’t want to be drawn in. But Dad didn’t stand down until the man had no choice but to call him out.
That one ended bloody, for both men, and not only had Dad done that in front of his kids without thought, he’d pushed that man into doing the same in front of his.
But even with all that, and worse, I was never more embarrassed than I was right then.
This, of course, made me freeze, perpetuating my embarrassment, seeing as I was on all fours close to Benny’s cock, staring at him, unmoving.
“Fuck,” Ben muttered, did an ab curl, grabbed me under my arms, and hauled me up his body. He rolled and covered me.
“I think I need to go to the bathroom,” I whispered, staring into his eyes probably like a deer in a road stared at the light coming its way.
“No you don’t. You need to talk to me. What’s f**kin’ with your head?”
My gaze drifted to his ear.
His hand lifted to my jaw and he ordered, “Frankie, look at me.”
I looked at him.
“What’s in your head?” he asked.
“I’m not good at that,” I admitted.
“Why?” he asked, and I blinked at his absurd question.
If I knew why, I’d be a whole lot better at it.
“Why?” I repeated, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah, why?”
“Uh…I think you need to give the reasons for that, Benny,” I pointed out the obvious, but even doing it, that didn’t mean at that moment I wanted him to give me the reasons for it.
He shook his head but said (scarily), “You want that, I will, honey. But for now, I wanna know how you go hot and give it your all, lose control at a kiss, but get tense when you’re goin’ down on me.”
“I know you know I’m not good at it,” I explained.
“Okay. Is there more?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Something moved over his face I didn’t get before he asked, “That shit with your dad eatin’ you?”
I nodded.
“Anything else?” he pushed.
My voice sounded as horrified as I felt when I reminded him, “He said I’d scored ‘the good Bianchi.’”
“Think it’s been proved conclusively that your dad’s an ass**le, babe,” Benny replied.
As she passed me, I grabbed her hand.
She stopped and looked at me.
“Am I havin’ a brother or sister?”
Hope flared in her eyes and I got further ticked at my father, because seeing it, I knew she wanted this to go a whole lot better than it did. I also knew giving her child family was important. So I knew if I ever got to know her, I’d probably like her.
“Sister,” she answered.
I smiled. It was small but I gave her that and whispered, “You probably need to go, but call Enzo Junior. Get my number. Keep in touch.”
Bright filled her eyes and she whispered back, “I thought this would be a happy surprise. I never would have come with Enzo if I’d known—”
I cut her off with my hand tightening around hers. “I’m sorry for you it wasn’t. But I do wish you the best bringin’ my little sister into the world.”
She nodded and squeezed my hand back, saying softly, “Thanks, Francesca. And I’ll call your brother. Get your number.”
“Good,” I replied. “Now make him be safe driving you two home,” I ordered, dipping my head to her belly.
She grinned at me, no bright in her eyes this time, nodded again, and hurried out the door.
The instant it closed, Ben stated, “Pure f**kin’ Frankie.”
I looked his way. “What?”
“Your best bet is to steer clear of that situation, which is right now not good with the forecast of gettin’ real f**kin’ messy, and you tell her to keep in touch.”
“She’s carrying my baby sister,” I returned.
“Yeah. Pure f**kin’ Frankie.”
It was then I processed the look on his face.
So I smiled.
Ben didn’t smile.
He ordered, “Come here, Francesca.”
Our happy reunion delayed by a crazy one, unusually, I immediately did what I was told.
* * * * *
“Frankie, tesorina, stop.”
I closed my eyes, slid Benny out of my mouth, and took my time looking up at him.
It was after the scene with Dad, time for the good reunion after the bad, and things hadn’t started great.
And that was all on me.
It might have been being wound up by Dad’s visit and his news. It could also be what he’d said about me scoring the good Bianchi.
But it was mostly about me thinking that it was high time I saw to something I hadn’t seen to since Benny and I got physical.
He frequently went down on me to spectacular results every single time.
Either due to unconsciously avoiding it or the fact that Ben guided things in bed (completely), I’d never returned the favor.
Now, I was.
And I was tense, in my head, knowing he knew from Vinnie that I wasn’t good at it, worried he was thinking the same thing, and trying too hard.
I opened my eyes and looked his way and there it was. I wasn’t good at it. Ben’s face did not look at all like the dark hunger I was used to seeing when we were naked.
“Come here, baby.”
I didn’t want to go there.
I wanted to grab my phone and run to the bathroom, lock myself in, and exist on pizza and Chinese deliveries through the window until I knew Benny was gone and he’d made the decision never to see me again.
“Frankie, come here,” Ben repeated.
I still didn’t move, because I was frozen with humiliation.
I’d been embarrassed a lot in my life.
Like when I was seven and my mother wore that black, slinky, wraparound dress to church that had so much cle**age, it almost showed nipple, and Father Patrick’s eyes nearly bugged out of his head when he came out to give mass. Not to mention, when he gave it, his face was tight and I knew he was displeased with my mother and the fact that all the men were paying more attention to her br**sts than his sermon.
Also the many times my father would run into someone he didn’t get along with too well, and it wouldn’t matter where we were—at a Cubs’ game, at a Burger King—he couldn’t ignore it. He’d say something smartass and the guy would return it and it was never pretty. He’d even once goaded a man who was with his wife and kids and didn’t want to be drawn in. But Dad didn’t stand down until the man had no choice but to call him out.
That one ended bloody, for both men, and not only had Dad done that in front of his kids without thought, he’d pushed that man into doing the same in front of his.
But even with all that, and worse, I was never more embarrassed than I was right then.
This, of course, made me freeze, perpetuating my embarrassment, seeing as I was on all fours close to Benny’s cock, staring at him, unmoving.
“Fuck,” Ben muttered, did an ab curl, grabbed me under my arms, and hauled me up his body. He rolled and covered me.
“I think I need to go to the bathroom,” I whispered, staring into his eyes probably like a deer in a road stared at the light coming its way.
“No you don’t. You need to talk to me. What’s f**kin’ with your head?”
My gaze drifted to his ear.
His hand lifted to my jaw and he ordered, “Frankie, look at me.”
I looked at him.
“What’s in your head?” he asked.
“I’m not good at that,” I admitted.
“Why?” he asked, and I blinked at his absurd question.
If I knew why, I’d be a whole lot better at it.
“Why?” I repeated, not knowing what else to say.
“Yeah, why?”
“Uh…I think you need to give the reasons for that, Benny,” I pointed out the obvious, but even doing it, that didn’t mean at that moment I wanted him to give me the reasons for it.
He shook his head but said (scarily), “You want that, I will, honey. But for now, I wanna know how you go hot and give it your all, lose control at a kiss, but get tense when you’re goin’ down on me.”
“I know you know I’m not good at it,” I explained.
“Okay. Is there more?”
“Isn’t that enough?”
Something moved over his face I didn’t get before he asked, “That shit with your dad eatin’ you?”
I nodded.
“Anything else?” he pushed.
My voice sounded as horrified as I felt when I reminded him, “He said I’d scored ‘the good Bianchi.’”
“Think it’s been proved conclusively that your dad’s an ass**le, babe,” Benny replied.
