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  Jimmy lifts my chin, gazing into my eyes. "Theresa, that doesn't explain why you are outside, instead of inside in a bathroom. Why didn't you tell me? I would have retrieved your car."

  I try to look away, but he won't let me.

  "Theresa," he growls. "I'm waiting for an answer."

  "Um…" I trail off.

  "Geez Louise, woman, it's like being kids again. Do you need me to treat you like a kid again, Theresa, will that get your tongue wagging?" His threat does the trick.

  "I'll have you know, James Junior, that I don't need anything or anyone. I was simply being polite and trying to not interrupt the wake."

  "I think that you're lying to me, Tesoro; try again. I warn you, if you lie to me, you'll have another trip down memory lane, only this one facing the ground as you dangle over my knee."

  He pulls me closer, close enough that I can smell his scent—Italian coffee, aftershave, and man. Jimmy's scent is so masculine, my lady parts clench in response.

  "Um, well."

  He marches over to a large garden boulder and puts his foot on top. He is about to pull me over his knee. "Wait, Jimmy, please don't do that."

  "Then, the truth, Amore."

  "I was afraid." My gaze moves from his face to the ground at my feet. "I was afraid of what I might find when I arrived. I was afraid that you had forgoten me or didn't care about me anymore. I was afraid you were happily married. But now I see you remember…many things. I needed to get away, fast. That's why I didn't say goodbye to you. That's why I was changing here, honest."

  He takes his foot off the boulder and pulls me into an embrace. "Good girl," he croons. My physical response is at odds with my thoughts. I want to tell him to screw off. My senses, however, are very much enjoying the embrace, and truth be told, being called a good girl is nice, too.

  Finally, logic prevails. "I must go, Jimmy. Do you think you can get my car unblocked?"

  "Already done, little girl."

  "Wait, what? And stop calling me that."

  He chuckles. "I saw your dilemma and you sneaking down the side of the house. Al went to deal with it; you can go now." He steps away from me in dismissal. I throw on my sports clothes and pick up my suit and heels. I am stalking away when I hear, "I'll see you later, Tesoro."

  I don't respond, just keep walking until I arrive at my car. I get in and finally make my escape.

  Chapter One

  Jimmy

  It's been eight days since I saw Theresa at my mother's wake. I'll never forget the way I felt when I looked up from talking to my mother's aunt, who had flown in from Sicily, and saw Theresa standing on the threshold of my house. She looked very unsure of herself and incredibly sexy. She oozed submissive energy that sent a pulse right down to my cock. Her curvy, athletic body begged for sex and plenty of it. My cock wanted me to drag her upstairs to my room and fuck her for days.

  She hadn't grown much in height, maybe an inch or two since I last saw her. Her legs were long, strong, and made to be wrapped around me. Her round ass was full and looked firm, made for my hands to spank it. Her breasts were not large, but they were perky and begged to be pinched, caressed, kissed. Her auburn hair shone in the light from the stained-glass door. I watched her; she looked downright uncomfortable, but then she always did in crowds.

  As I stalked toward her, my thoughts drifted to my childhood, which was filled with her. We'd gotten into trouble all the time, once throwing rocks at cars while hiding in trees. When our hiding spot was discovered, I'd told her to run. I got caught and took the belting from my pops. I didn't have a birthday memory without her in it or any memory I valued. She was my past; she had been everything.

  We moved when I was fifteen, to the mansion where I still reside. Theresa visited me here once, right after the move. But things weren't the same. She seemed sad, and I was excited about my new life, new school, new challenges. Back then, the norm for me would have been to not let her leave until I knew what was bothering her, and then I would fix it. As my bestie, I would have done anything for her. But the move and the increase in social status had me focused on the future, not on Theresa, who represented the old hood.

  We had chemistry, although we didn't know it at the time. Everything I found adorable about her as a little girl made me horny as a teenager. In many ways, my father's construction company taking off had come at the perfect time. I probably would have had her pregnant by graduation and married the next day. That was not the life I wanted for her.

  Instead, I met Christina and got her pregnant during a one-night stand. Shortly after my daughter's birth, Christina was out with her boyfriend and her date crashed the car; both died.

  Seeing Theresa at my mother's wake did all kinds of things to me. I think I felt compelled to play a game of monster with her and Maggie to do a reset. She wanted me. I could see that. I wanted her, too, only I was better at hiding it. I wanted to touch her so badly, take her, own her, make her scream my name over and over as I gave her orgasms she didn't even know were possible.

  I'd marked her when I was young as my future mate, before the family moved. That was the real reason for the spanking in the treehouse. 'T' was mine from that moment, and the wake confirmed it. Based on her reaction to me with Maggie, I'd say she remembered that day, even if she didn't understand the ramifications of what it meant.

  I'd almost come undone when I saw her almost naked down by the side of my house. All I could think of was pushing her down on all fours and slipping inside her silky folds. Dismissing her was my way of getting ahold of myself. I knew she had been turned on, but she was also skittish. Letting her go was part of a bigger plan. Now that she was back in my life, my goal was to keep her in it.

  "Jimmy!"

  I shifted my focus back to the present in time to alter my stance and hit the soccer ball that was flying toward my face, into the net, scoring the winning goal. I kissed both sets of the index and middle fingers before extending them, just like my favourite soccer player, Claudio Marchisio. With the game over, I headed off the field and toward my car.

  "Jimmy, where are you going?"

  "Home; I'm a family man, remember."

  "Come on, Jimmy, Maggie's almost thirteen; she doesn't want to hang out with her dad. Come out and have a few beers with us."

  Maybe they were right, I'd been keeping a very close watch on Maggie. She had been very upset by the news of my mother's imminent death and, until the wake, very sad and shut down. The wake was a tipping point for her. What the magic ingredient was I didn't know. It could have been that the wake signified an ending and a beginning.

  Her nonna—and surrogate mother—was gone. Theresa stepped in and was able to help Maggie grieve in a way I hadn't been able to. These could just be fanciful thoughts; she is young, after all, and kids bounce back way faster than adults. It's easier to move on when you have your entire life ahead of you. Maybe an afternoon drinking beer with the guys would be okay.

  "Sure. Okay, let's go," I finally conceded. Leaving my car parked, I piled into Al's 4 by 4 with the rest of the guys. We'd only driven a block, when Al slowed down.

  "Would you look at that piece of ass," Al said as we passed the soccer field adjacent to the football field. I was in the back, on the passenger side, and couldn't see who they were staring at.

  "Oh, man, look at the way she bends. I'd love to plant my dick in her," Freddy moaned.

  "In who," I asked?

  "Look, boss." Al pulled over. There, standing in the center of the oval field was a woman with a gorgeous ass. We had a perfect view of it as she bent in half stretching her hamstrings. I felt like an idiot sitting at the side of the field with four other guys, staring. I was happy she was facing away so she couldn't see the five of us gawking at her. She stood up and, reaching back, pulled her foot to her amazing ass to stretch her quadriceps. Something looked strangely familiar about her.

  When she turned to face us, I slunk down in my seat and moaned.

  "Stop gawking," I shouted. Damn, it
was Theresa, in her little shorty shorts. Is that what she wears when she works out? How is it the silly woman hasn't been raped? I was annoyed that her juicy ass was on display for anyone to see. "Drive around the park, Al, to where the cars are parked, by the bleachers."

  Theresa

  It was my workout day at the track and I'd just finished my routine and cool down. A few more stretches and I would head home and get ready for drinks with Robert. Today had been hard to focus on my workout. My thoughts constantly strayed to Jimmy Falcone. Eight days since the wake at his home and my lady parts were still squeezing when I pictured that wolfish grin of his. Absently, I reached behind to grab my foot as I bent my knee, drawing my toes toward my ass, getting a nice quad stretch.

  I turned toward the parking lot as I lowered into a half squat with one leg extended to target my inner thigh for a good stretch. I noticed a man walking toward me at a rapid pace. He looked like Jimmy. As he got closer, I realized it was Jimmy. Shit, what was he doing here, and why did he look angry?

  I quickly gazed around to see if there was anyone else out here that he could be stomping toward, but I was the only person on the field. The closer he got, the more I thought I should run. His aggressive gait, his glinting eyes, told me I was in trouble and… wait a second, I wasn't in trouble. I was single; I didn't owe him any sort of allegiance, and he certainly had no right to me, sexual or otherwise.

  Still trying to convince myself of my independence, I turned to flee as he got within a few feet. "Theresa, stop!" I immediately stopped running and let him catch up to me. He grabbed my arm and, without a word, marched me over to the parking lot.

  "Jimmy, what the hell? What's your problem?"

  But he didn't answer, just wore a permanent scowl on his face as he continued to march, dragging me along with him. We were almost to the bleachers when I dug in my heels. "Get your goddamn hands off me. You are such an egotistical shithead!" His eyes grew round at the insult. Instead of continuing to drag me, as I'd expected, he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder.

  "Keep quiet, little girl; one more comment out of you, and I'll tan your hide."

  I stopped struggling. He was more than capable of doing exactly what he threatened. Reaching the back bleachers, Jimmy sat down and dropped me over his lap.

  "Now, Theresa, tell me, do you always wear skimpy shorty shorts on the field?"

  That's what this was about, my shorts? I began to laugh at the ridiculousness of the question and of the situation. Seriously, he had himself all tied up in knots over my shorts. They happened to be my most comfortable shorts. If he found them too revealing, that was his problem. "Yes, now let me up, you brute."

  His hand came down on my ass, making a loud thwack sound. I peered around, praying no one was watching or within hearing distance. Thankfully, the few runners who had been running around the track had left. Jimmy continued to pepper my ass with his hand.

  "Yes, what, Theresa?"

  "Yes, I always wear these shorts when I work out. So what?"

  He delivered ten more smacks, these much harder than the rest. "Yikes, ouch, stop, please, pleassse!"

  He sat me up. "If I catch you in those again, I'm going to belt your ass."

  "What, why?"

  "Right now, Theresa, I have four guys in the car dreaming about planting their dicks in your sexy ass. Jesus, Theresa, I don't want anyone visualizing that."

  My face flushed, surely matching the colour of my bottom. Jimmy cupped my face and gently pressed his lips against mine. His tongue stroked mine as one hand grabbed my hair, holding my head hostage while his tongue explored my mouth. "Mmm, Theresa, you taste delicious," he hissed. His other hand reached between my thighs. The heat from the spanking created a delicious warmth in my woman parts. Jimmy's hand was stroking that into an intense inferno of need deep within my core.

  Jimmy slid a finger under my shorts. "Oh, baby, I see you enjoyed your trip down memory lane."

  I pulled back. "Fuck you, Jimmy." I made to stand up and leave. But Jimmy had other ideas. He pressed me onto his lap and pulled out his android. "Al, you guys head to the pub; I'll meet you there shortly." He switched off his phone and put it away in his pocket.

  "Okay, little girl, you have two choices. I can pull your shorts down right here and give your ass a good thrashing. Or, we can go to your house and finish this in private."

  "Or choice three, neither," I sulked.

  He chucked my chin up so our eyes were level. "Then I choose," he assured with finality.

  I hated to admit it, but his words made my pussy clench. I was tempted to see what he would do if I pushed a little more. What else would he do, I wondered. "My house."

  "My house, what?"

  "My house, please," I sneered.

  "Wrong, princess, it's my house please, Sir. Don't worry T, by the time I'm done, you will know how to offer respect."

  Ugh, infuriating man! We stood and headed to the car, his hand, an iron band around my wrist. "Give me the keys, Tesoro."

  I reached into my running belt and handed him the keys. Ten minutes later, we pulled into my driveway. He got out and opened my door, pulling me out of the car and into his arms in one move. He squeezed my ass.

  "Ouch," I yelped.

  He grinned, capturing my bottom lip between his teeth and giving a gentle tug. Everything he did was to dominate. My mind screamed at me to tell him he had no right, but my body told a different story. I wanted this, wanted him. Isn't that why I went to the Falcone's in the first place?

  It wouldn't have mattered if I changed my mind and wanted to stop this, as when Jimmy made up his mind, there was no changing it. I would keep my mouth shut and give him no reason to continue. He would finish early and leave. Then I would shower and get myself off because I was so horny, I needed the release.

  He unlocked the kitchen door, the one we had used as kids, and marched us to the living room.

  "Bend over," he said, pointing at the arm of the couch.

  "No." I shook my head. So much for not provoking him; clearly, my sanity had taken a vacation.

  "No? But your body says yes, Theresa. You're wet. I can see it even with your shorts in the way. Your chest, cara mia, is moving rapidly with your heart rate. Your nipples are hard and begging to be touched. Be a good girl and bend over the end of the couch, and I won't use the wooden spoon on your ass."

  His words motivated me to lay over the end of the couch. "Shorts down," he ordered. I stood back up and wiggled my skin-tight shorts down over my hips and let them slide down to my ankles. I stepped out of them, hooked my shoe inside and flicked them into the air, hitting Jimmy in the face completely by accident. His expression had me in peals of laughter despite the vulnerability of my situation.

  He gave me a predatory smile. "Very funny, Theresa, now over the couch."

  I was still laughing when his hand came down hard on my backside, taking my breath away. A dozen more, and my flaming ass was doing the jiggle. I had never been spanked, except that one time in the clubhouse, by Jimmy.

  "Theresa, why are you getting spanked?" he asked, punctuating each word with his hand.

  "Because you're a tyrant who's pissed because his friends want to fuck me."

  There was a pause. I think I shocked him. I certainly shocked myself. I never spoke that way, not to him or anyone. I don't know why I did it now, except I was so turned on. I think I was embarrassed and trying to deflect, or worse, seeing what would happen if I pushed back a little.

  Jimmy must have read my mind. He slid a finger along my glistening lips. I moaned. "If more is what you want, princess, I'm happy to oblige." He pulled me up and marched me into the kitchen where he rifled through drawers until he found a wooden spoon.

  "You wouldn't dare."

  He grinned. "No? But you just asked me to, Theresa, didn't you?"

  I pleaded the fifth by not responding. We marched back to the living room. This time, he sat down in the center of the couch. "Theresa, do you know how many beatings I
took for you, growing up?"

  I stood in front of him, naked from the waist down, embarrassed, my gaze on the floor.

  "Look at me, T." My gaze shifted to his, and suddenly, I was looking at the old Jimmy, my BFF. I shook my head no.

  "Too many to count, and do you know why?" I shook my head again. His voice and mannerism had shifted to the old quiet command that he had back when I knew him last, which seemed geared toward bringing me to a place of contriteness.

  "No, Sir." I finally said the words I knew he had been waiting for.

  He smiled in response, pleased with my obedience. "Because, I never wanted anyone to touch you, Theresa, not even your father. The only spanking you have ever had was from me, right?"

  I was shocked. My mind replayed all the times we had gotten caught doing something. I never got the blame. There were never consequences to my actions. Understanding dawned and, with it, an entirely new perspective of my childhood buddy.

  "I wonder, now, if I should have allowed you to take some of the blame and some licks to go with it, as you seem completely devoid of respect."

  "However," he continued, "as I said, the thought of anyone but me touching you was unthinkable. Now be a good girl and climb over my lap."

  With my head down and eyes averted, I lay over Jimmy's, lap.

  "Let's try this again, Theresa, why are you over my lap?"

  "Because I wouldn't accept my first punishment gracefully earlier at the park, Sir, or the second one here."

  "Good girl, are you ready now?"

  "Yes, Sir, and, Jimmy, I'm sorry; I didn't know."

  "Never you mind, sweet cheeks." With the word 'cheeks,' the first blow landed on the right side with a loud crack. I squeezed my buns together and gripped the couch with my hands. A dozen stinging blows landed on my backside in quick succession. When he stopped to rub my ass, I took in gulps of air. Unknowingly, I'd been holding my breath during the spanking and found myself gasping.

  He slid a finger between my hot folds, and I mewled like a kitten in heat. I pressed up into his hand, desperate for relief. But he wasn't done with me yet.