Italian Stallions by Karin Tabke, Jami Alden

Gabe would come around.
    Gianna washed her face and crawled into bed, the gun within reach on her nightstand. For long minutes different emotions swirled in her head. She stared at the shadows on the ceiling, listening to the distant rumble of traffic. She closed her eyes and inhaled, and could not help smelling Gabe’s lingering scent on her. It smelled good. Potent. Her skin warmed, her nipples tingled, and heat speared between her thighs moistening her. Biting her bottom lip, Gianna moved her hand down her belly and over the flannel fabric of her nightgown. Slowly she hiked up the fabric.
    When she touched the moist spot between her thighs, she gasped. And moved her legs farther apart. She pushed the covers off and lay exposed from the waist down. She pressed her fingertips to her mound and caught her breath again. Sharp spears of desire pierced her skin, heating her hotter. She pressed her other hand to her right breast and squeezed. Her back arched and her hips rose against her hand.
    Closing her eyes tighter, Gianna pressed a finger between her slick folds. She was so wet, so warm, so aroused. A soft cry escaped. She wanted Gabe’s hand there, not hers. She wanted more of him than his finger. She wanted to feel him inside of her. She wanted wild, wanton, sweaty sex with him. She pressed her finger deeper into herself and moved against the pressure. Her tiny nub jutted out from its hood, demanding satisfaction.
    Slowly she rubbed her fingertips across it. Sweet wisps of ecstasy swept through her. Her hand moved faster. Her hips pressed into the air, her legs rigid and her back arched. She wanted more than what she could give herself, and for the first time, she felt no guilt, no shame in touching herself.
    She had visions of Gabe raised above her, his big body naked, covered in slick perspiration as he slammed into her. Gianna’s breathing turned harsh and labored as her hand swept back and forth across her clitoris; her body rigid, feeling just out of reach of that place she so desperately wanted to go.
    Just as she climbed the peak, the heat of her body almost too much to bear, the phone rang.
    “Argh!” Gianna cried out. She rolled over, shoving her nightgown down, and grabbed the phone. “Hello,” she grumbled.
    “Gia, are you all right?”
    She sank back into the pillows. “I’m fine, Tress.”
    “You sound…busy.”
    “Nope, just lying here in my boring bed.”
    “What happened with the Dirty Don?”
    “Oh, he told me I had two weeks to cough up the hundred forty K my father owed him and that he’d knock some off for the pleasure of popping my cherry.”
    “Oh, my God! What a pig!”
    “I told him no on both accounts.”
    “My God, then what happened?”
    “I left.” Gianna didn’t tell her she was afraid he would hurt her family if she didn’t comply. She figured she had two weeks before she’d have to alert them. Maybe then she’d go to the cops. As a last resort. She didn’t trust them. Her father taught her that.
    “I’m coming over!”
    “No, Tress. I’m in bed, and I have to sleep. I’m opening tomorrow; then I decided I’m going to do some damage in Union Square.”
    “Oh, yippy skippy! I don’t have to be in until five. I’ll pick you up at noon!”

6
    “W hat the fuck happened to you being just around the corner at Lucia’s?” Gabe demanded, getting real close to Gordo. His partner opened and closed his mouth like a floundering catfish gasping for breath.
    “I got there, but those goons were just getting up from whatever the hell you did to them!”
    “No shit, ’cause you weren’t there!”
    Gordo pulled his shirt from Gabe’s grasp and looked around the darkness of the street. “Hey, I had to, uh, you know, use the can. I got a bug going through me.”
    Gabe moved backward and shook his head. “Next time, when I call for backup, Gordo, you can shit your pants on the way. That girl was almost raped!”
    Gordo perked up. “She want to press charges?”
    “If