He finds his rhythm, I scratch his ass, and then he fucks me. I'm not talking making love, making whoopee, or having sex. Dante Lattanza
fucks
me hard until I scream.
And it's good. It's the way a god and goddess are supposed to go at it.
“You have to be tired,” I say, stroking his face. I have lost count of my orgasms and have totally lost track of the time.
“I have much stamina,” he says.
I notice a light under the door. “Look how light it is out there.”
“It is the sunrise,” he says. “We have made love all night.”
All night long.
“Dante, we weren't exactly making love the whole time.”
“I am sorry,” he says, his eyes looking sad. “I got carried away.”
I grasp his face with both my hands. “No, no, it's all right. All of it was all right. You made love to me passionately, and when I wanted you to fuck the shit out of me, you fucked the shit out of me.”
“It is a vulgar word,” he says.
“What is?”
“Fottere.”
I graze his booty with my fingernails. “You're very good at
fottere.
In fact, it was the best fo-tear I ever had.”
He laughs. “Fo-tear is not a word.” He stretches his back and groans.
“Oh, how are your knees?” I ask.
“Stronger. And how is your . . .”
“Both my
figa
and my
culo
are sore.”
He sighs.
“But,” I add, “they are happy and wanting more.”
He stares at my breasts. “I thought I would break you in two.”
I nod. “You did, but then you put me back together again.” I sit up. “Damn, I'm hungry.”
“Me, too,” he says. “I would like some fish. Would you like some fish?”
“Didn't we eat it all?”
“Hmm.” He rubs his eyes. “Yes. I will go catch us some fish. You go and bathe.”
I need to soak my
figa
and
culo
for a while.
“By the time you are done, I will have two nice bass for us.”
I smile. “You're going to cook for me?”
He shakes his head. “You do not want me to cook for you. I turn everything I cook black and crispy. I will clean them, though.”
I kiss his cheek. “Okay.”
He helps me to my feet and hugs me. “
Buon giorno,
Christiana.”
I hug him back.
“Buon giorno,
Dante.”
I . . . could . . . get . . . used . . . to . . . this.
Ow.
My booty . . .
Chapter 18
I
soak in the two-seater, my feet propped up on the other seat, and let the hot bubbles soothe my aching thigh muscles, my poor
figa,
and my bruised
culo.
Bubbles and jets tingle me instantly, and I start to think about him inside me. In seconds, I set an all-time personal best for orgasms in a
month
.
In less than ten hours.
Buon giorno,
indeed.
If just the
memory
of his body gives me an orgasm, I will be having waking wet dreams for weeks!
I throw on some more of Evelyn's sweats, once again with no underwear. I drift into the kitchen, make myself some Red Rose tea with extra sugar, and curl up in a chair looking out the picture windows at Turkey Island and the lake. Fall colors only an impressionist painter could duplicate. Peaceful waves, a pink and orange sun. It's as if God used a sponge and pressed colors into those mountains.
My hands are still sweaty. Geez, I'm fifteen again and have a crush on a cute guy.
Red comes in. “Are you leaving today?”
Is this his only concern? “Good morning, Red.”
“Sorry. Good morning, Christiana.”
I stretch. “No. I may never leave. I like it here. I have a bunch of vacation days saved up. I can work on my stories, maybe do a little more fishing . . .”
“Conjugate some Italian verbs . . .”
I smile. “Does it show?”
“It doesn't have to show. Sound travels around here.”
“Che?”
“I'm sure we weren't the only folks to hear you two.”
Oh my goodness! “You . . . listened?”
“We couldn't help hearing you,” Red says. “Lelani's jealous.”
I thought that closet was soundproof!
“I'm really . . .” I sigh. “I am so embarrassed right now.”
Red sits in a chair next to me. “Don't be.”
I replay last night and this morning. How loud were we? Did the sounds of our lovemaking echo around the lake?
“I have some news,” Red says, looking suddenly serious.
“Is it good news or bad news?” I ask.
“It's just . . . news. Take it whatever way you want to.” He exhales a long time, forcing a tight smile. “Evil Lynn is on her way here to pick up DJ a few days early.”
“On her way . . . from Syracuse?” I feel a tinge of stress, but just a tinge.
“No.”
The tinge becomes a pull. “From Ottawa?”
“She drives up, comes through the Thousand Islands.” He looks at me. “She's driving through Barry's Bay as we speak.”
The pull becomes a panic. “Holy shit!” I sit up. “But school doesn't start till after Labor Day, right? She shouldn't have to come up till Saturday or Sunday.”
“She likes to surprise us.”
What a . . .
shitty
surprise! I just get some, and here
she
comes. She has to be past Barry's Bay by now. I hope she gets stuck behind all that construction on 60. Maybe the pavement-eating machine will mistakenly chew her up. Shit! She's going to be here in less than half an hour!
“What am I supposed to do, Red?” I ask.
He smiles at me. “Want to surprise her back?”
“How?”
“Go with me to the Landing when I pick her up.”
“No.” I stand. “I have to clean up the guesthouse.” I look at the sweats. “And I'm wearing her clothes! And the ones in the guesthouse smell like . . . They smell like Dante, Red.”
“Lelani is taking care of all that,” Red says. “Relax. Lelani will do the laundry, and we'll somehow sneak it all back without Evelyn knowing it. Don't worry. Sit. Finish your tea.”
I sit. “Should I leave?”
“What for?”
Oh, I can think of several reasons, chief among them . . . “The queen is coming back to her castle.”
He rolls his eyes. “Does Dante want you to leave?”
“He better not.” Not after last night and this morning and, damn, I wanted more of him later today and tonight and tomorrow morning, too.
“So,” Red says, “you've decided to stay.”
“Yes.”
“Good,” Red says. “Just don't be too surprised if you see some changes in Dante. He's a whole different person whenever she's around.”
“Why would he change? I mean, after last night . . .”
“Maybe you've broken her hold over him,” Red says. “I hope you have. I would love to see him happy for a change.”
I sigh. “Maybe I
should
go. You told me there's a lot of drama when she's around.” I don't want any drama from DJ's mama.
“And until now, there's been no one to stop her,” Red says. “Christiana, Evil Lynn is Salome, Jezebel, the Wicked Witch of the West, and Mata Hari all rolled into one. Someone has to be here to stand up to her. She's Dante's albatross, his Sisyphean stone, hisâ”
“You read a lot, Red.”
“I have lots of time to do it up here.” He looks out over the water. “Christiana,
you
are what Dante needs. He doesn't need her.”
“What do I do?”
He throws out a jab. “Take it to her, champ. Show her who the boss is.”
“While wearing her clothes?”
He shakes his head. “While wearing the
hell
out of her clothes.” He bites his lip. “Lelani recommends you wear as little as possible so you, um, so you can let it all hang out. Her words, not mine.”
I like the sound of that. “How cold is it out there?”
“About forty-five.”
Damn. “Is what I'm wearing going to be enough?”
He turns away. “Doesn't leave much to the imagination.”
Oh yeah. I have no drawers or bra on. “Isn't that good?”
“What's good for Dante is good enough for me,” Red says. “But Christiana, brace yourself. Evil Lynn is not stupid. She will know what's up the second she sees you in her clothes. You think you can handle her?”
“I hope I can.”
I mean, after all, I'm a middleweight, and Evelyn's only an itty-bitty flyweight.
Chapter 19
W
hile Red tears off in the ski boat to get Evelyn and I fight off panic attacks on a couch in front of the fireplace, Lelani slides through the great room with a suitcase.
“You're not leaving, are you?” I ask.
“Didn't Red tell you?” she says. “When Evil Lynn's here, we go. By the way, you'll have to return her clothes to her. You wore so many, and I had to wash one pair of sweats twice.”
Oh, that's just great.
“Your clothes and her clothes are in the dryer at our cottage. I didn't find much in the way of underwear, though. I wonder why.” She giggles and gives me a hug. “Thank you both for last night.”
“Che?”
I seem to be saying that a lot lately.
“It was kind of like listening to porno, you know? Fired Red and me right up. You have to
come
around more often.”
I am so embarrassed. “You were listening to us the whole time?”
“Let's just say that when I finally wore out Red, and he went to sleep, I, um, had a little fun out on our couch while you two were humping.” She raises her eyebrows. “You must be gifted or something, Christiana. You worked him
good
, girl.”
I'm more than embarrassed now. I am mortified. “You can't leave, Lelani.”
“I have to.”
“Why?”
“
Eve
lyn has always been trouble, and the two of you will be nothing but more trouble. I don't want no trouble. It'll be much quieter in Montreal.”
I grab her arm. “Lelani, you can't leave. I'll have no one to protect me.”
“DJ will protect you.”
“He's not here now,” I say, squeezing her arm. “He's still over at the island.”
“He'll show up, and he will protect you.” She looks down at my hand. “You have huge hands.”
I withdraw my huge hand from her arm. “Why would he side with me over his own mama? No child would do that.”
“C'mon, girl, DJ likes you. I'll bet he even has a little crush on you.”
“How do you know?”
“I watched some of your workout, and DJ couldn't take his eyes off you. And Dante is genuinely happy. I doubt DJ has seen him this happy
ever
.”
That might be true, but . . .
“You are also so much more the mother DJ wishes he had. You have encouraged DJ more in two days than Evil Lynn could do in two years. She never goes fishing or hiking with them, and there you were, catching lots of fish and climbing a mountain. Evelyn also doesn't want DJ boxing at all.”
The witch! “Why not? He's a natural. He'll probably be better than his father.”
She looks around. “I wouldn't say that too loudly if I were you.”
You're not me. “Has she said as much to DJ?”
She shrugs. “It's mostly in the face she makes whenever DJ works out with Dante.” She makes a severely mean face, her eyes fierce. “She wants him to become an accountant or lawyer or doctor or something.”
I shudder. The doctor and lawyer wish I can understand, but an accountant? What sixteen-year-old boy wants to push numbers his entire life?
“Where's Dante?” Lelani asks.
I smile shyly. “He's out fishing for my breakfast.”
“Very cool.”
“I know.” And then I realize that whatever we catch, we'll probably have to share with Evelyn.
Lelani's eyes are dancing, and she won't stop grinning at me.
“How can you be so happy and so calm about all this?” I ask. “The enemy is coming!”
“Let's see,” she says. “Hmm. Well, there's really only one reason.”
“And that is?”
“It ain't happening to me.
Ciao
.”
I follow her to the dock, where she places her suitcase next to a duffel bag. Lelani is really leaving. I suddenly feel so alone. We both look across the lake and see a boat approaching.
“There she is,” Lelani says.
I can't see Evelyn, but I can sense her evil presence. It's as if I'm in a horror movie waiting for the final showdown with the Shrew from Syracuse.
“Nervous?” Lelani asks.
“Yes.” I can't keep still.
“She'll be nervous once she sees you in all your . . .”
“My what?”
She steps closer. “Girl, I can see every part of you through those sweats. She will be able to see every part of you, too.”
“I don't look like a hoochie, do I?”
She laughs. “Maybe a hoochie is what Dante needs.”
“Che?”
“I'm joking. You look fine.” She hands me a piece of paper. “This is Red's cell number. Just don't use it tonight, okay?”
I stuff the number into a pocket. “I won't.”
“I intend to put a hurting on my man,” Lelani says, “and I don't want to be interrupted.”
The ski boat coasts into the dock, and I catch the front, expertly tying the boat down while Red ties the back.
A figure rises from a seat, clutching a Coach bag and wearing jeans, boots, and a heavy winter parka with a furry hood. Either she's huge under that coat, or Evelyn is anorexic.
“Hi,” I say cheerfully. “I'm Christiana Artis from
Personality
magazine.”
Evelyn steps out of the boat. “I was not aware that Dante was giving interviews.”
“We finished our interview last night,” I say.
Evelyn blinks at Lelani's suitcase. “And now you're leaving.”
This is priceless! “No. Lelani and Red are leaving.”
Evelyn turns her head slowly toward me. I get a vision of that girl in
The Exorcist.
I hope Evelyn doesn't projectile vomit on me.
I smile. “How long are you staying,
Eve
lyn?” Saying her name is a chore, but I'm trying to be polite. For now.
Evil Lynn blinks again. She must have something in her eyes. I watch her eyes narrow to little dots as she focuses on my sweats.
“Oh, I hope you don't mind if I borrowed some of your clothes,” I say as genuinely as I can. “Dante said it would be all right. I wasn't planning to stay overnight two days ago, so I didn't pack any clothes. They're a little tight, though. I hope I didn't stretch them too much. I'll be sure to wash them before I go.”
I expect her to say, “The nerve!”
Evelyn shows more restraint than I would have. “And when will you be leaving?” she asks.
If school starts on Tuesday, then Evelyn would have to leave on Monday at the latest. “Monday night.”
Boom. Take that.
Evelyn's mouth moves in an attempt to speak. Once again, she turns to Red, who quietly pulls her bags from the ski boat and puts Lelani's suitcase and his duffel bag into the boat.
“I've been staying in the guesthouse,” I say. “It's really nice.”
Evelyn's little eyes pop. I have to be winning this round. What must be going through her head!
“Oh,” I add in my sad voice, “but I'll be staying at Red and Lelani's while they're gone.” I step closer to Evelyn. “Do you need any help with your baggage?”
Her eyes pop again. Man, I am good with the jabs.
“I think I can manage, thank you,” she says.
Red's eyes cut toward the lake. He wants to escape. Lelani is already in the boat and untying the back.
“Red, I hope you and Lelani have a wonderful time.” I pick up two of Evelyn's bags. “I don't mind helping.”
Red starts the boat while Lelani unties the front. “Good to see you,
Eve
lyn,” he says. Then he backs out the boat and takes off across the lake.
Once the boat is out of range, all I hear are the waves tapping the dock.
I hold up Evelyn's bags, and they are seriously heavy. “Ready?”
She picks up the remaining bag and smiles. “I always overpack for up here. Sorry.”
I swing them around and head to the stairs. “No problem.”
I carry her bags up the stairs. I am surprised I can even walk up the stairs at all because my booty is so sore. I take the bags directly to the guesthouse while she lags far behind. I snicker. Evelyn's out of shape. Ha! I open the door and smile. Lelani has returned the room to exactly the way it was when I got here. I set Evelyn's bags on the bed, looking for anything Lelani might have missed. I only brought a laptop case, camera bag, and myself, so . . .
Evelyn walks into the guesthouse, blocking the door, mainly with her puffy coat. If I sneeze, she might fall over.
“I'll leave you to freshen up,” I say.
She doesn't move. “I don't mean to be rude, but what exactly is going on here?”
She's getting out her claws. I check my nails. Hmm. My claws need some work. “Why does there have to be anything going on? I came to interview Dante for our sexy-man issue. I only planned to be here for a day, but Dante asked me to stay a while longer.”
She almost drops her bag. “Dante asked . . . you . . . to stay?”
I take a giant step toward her and stop. “Yes.” I look at her boots. Nice boots. “You're just here to pick up DJ, right?”
She unzips her coat, revealing . . . Where's the rest of her? She can't weigh more than ninety pounds. She puts the
pet
in
petite
. And she wears a size six? Maybe she's lost some weight. Is there a size zero? Or even a size
negative
one?
“I am also here to see my husband,” she says, finally dropping her bag.
I take a baby step this time. “Ex. He's your ex-husband.”
She removes her coat and tosses it on the chair under the window. “If Dante beats Tank Washington, we are getting remarried. I'm sure he told you.”
I squint. Either she isn't thinking straight, or she doesn't yet see me for the threat that I am.
“He
did
tell you, didn't he?” she asks.
“Yes.”
She smiles, but I can tell it's a shaky smile, worry lines creasing her forehead. “We've been planning this all through his comeback.” She pauses. “You aren't writing any of this down.”
Huh?
“You're interviewing me, right?” she asks. “For my side of all this. For the story you're writing.”
Well, I guess I could interview her, but I'd rather try to disarm her. “I hadn't planned to.” It ain't all about you,
Eve
lyn.
“Maybe later.” She goes to the bed and unzips a bag.
Maybe never. “Didn't you just say â
if
Dante beats Tank'?”
She doesn't answer right away. “I thought I said âwhen.'”
“You said âif.'”
She sits on the bed. “It's quite a long shot, right?”
“You want him to win, don't you?” I ask.
She nods. “Of course I do.”
“Well, Dante
will
beat Tank,” I say. “There's no âif' about it.”
She shakes her head. “I hope you're right.” She looks out the window. “Where is he, by the way?”
He's fishing for my breakfast. “Fishing.”
She smiles. “Oh. The man sure loves to fish. He'll be working out later, though, right? I like to watch him work out.”
This is
not
going the way I want it to. She's actually a nice personâso farâand I'm not scoring any points. I want to tell her all about Dante's training and his long workout last night with me that only ended a few hours ago. I want to say things that will clamp her little mouth shut. I want to tell her Dante is out fishing for
me.
“Um,” I say instead, “I have some batter to prepare. I'm sure he'll catch something.”
“You're cooking for us? How sweet.”
Yeah. How sweet.
I leave the guesthouse, letting the door slam behind me. What the hell just happened? I'm dressed in her clothes, I'm wearing said clothes so much better than she ever could, and I'm obviously overstaying my welcome. Is she that clueless? Or is she playing with me? I need to put the bitch down for the count, but how?
While I make a smaller batch of Red's famous Lime Pine Batter, I frown at myself. After my conversation with Evelyn, I'm not sure who the worse bitch is, her or me. I wish she had cussed or used improper English. I wish she had stuck her nose in the air. I wish she had growled at meâsomething. She probably doesn't know how, being from Syracuse and all. Syracuse must be a quiet place.
I look out the window over the sink. “C'mon, Dante,” I whisper. “Come home.”
I am getting so domestic, but I want this. I can see why DJ and Red protect Dante so much. I mean, he's lovable. He's a lovable man who just happens to be a boxer. He's a boxer and a gentleman. That might make for a nice movie. Dante is a hero to his son and to so many other people. He's nothing but a possession to Evelyn. I just cannot believe she actually said, “If Dante wins”! What kind of a woman says that about the man she plans to remarry?
“C'mon, Dante,” I say to the big iron skillet. “I'm hungry. It's time for you to come home.”
Dante is a man to me. A man. There are damn few of them around these days. It's not just his rock-hard abs and everything else that rocked my world until the sun rose today. He is a man I canâ
I have to grasp the sink.
Dante Lattanza is a man I want to cook for, and for the rest of my life.
Not only do I want to take Evelyn's place, I want to take Red's place as well.