He stopped talking. He stared at his hands and blinked slowly, and I could see the pain in his face, the wound ripping open and his blood leaking out anew.
“It isn’t your fault my dad killed Carmine.” I whispered the words. And they were true. It was my fault, not his. He’d gone to jail for Carmine. He’d done enough already.
“If I were there, it might’ve gone down different.”
“If you were there, you’d be dead now too. You know Carmine and Falsone could fight and defend themselves. Still didn’t matter. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He closed his eyes. Pain was etched all over him. I moved closer and touched his shoulder. He was warm, so warm, like a furnace burned in his core.
I hated myself. I was a traitor and Carmine was dead because of my stupid mistake. Mal was pure, violent, deadly, but pure. Mal would’ve done anything for Carmine. He never would’ve made a mistake like I did.
I didn’t deserve this. I didn’t deserve any of it, and I hated myself, sitting in this truck with this beautiful man. He was broken because of something I’d done, and it twisted me into pieces, watching him suffer.
“It’s not your fault,” I whispered, shifting closer. I squeezed his arms and touched his shoulder. I touched his thigh and ran my hand up his stomach, his rock-hard muscles, and onto his chest. I felt his heart racing. I touched his cheek and pulled him toward me. “Look at me. It’s not your fault.”
His eyes burned into mine. “Feels like it is. I keep killing them, Cap. And it doesn’t make it any better.”
I crushed my lips against his. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t handle his pain, not when mine overflowed like lava onto my skin. I needed something to take it away and he needed it just as bad, so I threw myself at him, I lost myself in his lips and tongue, in his desperate desire, in my own intense and horrible hunger. I was starved for his pleasure, for his touch, and I let myself believe it was okay to take some measure of him, if it meant giving him comfort, at least for a little while.
He kissed me back. It was fierce and perfect. His lips were soft and hard as his tongue explored mine. He grunted as he pulled me into his lap and I let out whimpers, weak moans. I felt his stiff cock between my legs and I bore myself down on him, wanting it against my soft, glowing, wet spot. My pussy was on fire and my nipples were stiff, and his hands squeezed my hips and moved up my side, slipping under my big sweatshirt, cupping my breasts. I wore no bra and his hands on my bare nipples sent waves of pleasure down into my core. I moaned, whimpered, gasped into his kiss and tongue, and began to roll my hips back and forth, grinding myself down on him.
I was lost and stupid. I needed it and knew it was wrong. I was a liar and a fake and a monster. Carmine was dead because of me. I kissed Mal harder. He bit my lip and I gasped. It hurt and I loved it. He pulled my hair and kissed my neck and teased my nipples until I moaned his name.
“I need you, Mal,” I gasped, arching my back. “Tell me this is okay. Tell me it’s not fucked up.”
“Everything about this is fucked.” He pulled my hair tighter and his lips were inches from mine. “But it feels right when you’re in my lap. It doesn’t matter how wrecked my life is when my tongue’s in your mouth. I want to hear you moan my name, Cap. I want to make you sweat and gasp and come. I want all the filthy, fucked-up things I could never have before, because it doesn’t matter anymore. I want you, Cap. I want all of you.”
I threw myself forward and unbuckled his jeans. He grunted, maybe from pain, maybe from pleasure. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. I got his pants down enough to feel his thick cock through his boxer briefs. I stroked his length then shimmied out of my yoga pants. It wasn’t easy, but he peeled me open like I was a prize. He cupped my ass, spanked me, and pulled me back on him.
Only my thin cotton panties and his thin cotton briefs separated us. He was thick, long, stiff as iron. My pussy was silken soft and dripping. I rolled my hips.
“You ever think about this? Back before.”
I nodded as he cupped my breasts and kissed my neck. “All the time.”
“I did too. Felt terrible about it.”
“I felt like a piece of shit.” I laughed, feeling giddy and ashamed. “I was supposed to marry Carmine.”