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  "Count," he demanded.

  At thirty, I hung over his legs blubbering and crying, completely wrung out. He set aside the spoon and rubbed my throbbing backside. I sucked in my breath at his touch, my ass so sore I thought I would scream. He added a finger to my pussy and rubbed from my clit to my anus with the overflow of juices.

  He continued to rub all three spots, and my pain quickly changed to desire. I was about to beg for release, when Jimmy said, "Next time I punish you, Bella, I'll fuck you in the ass. Take that as your only warning."

  "Yes, Sir." His words aroused me to new heights, the thought both terrifying and exciting. I tried pressing into his hand and gyrating into his thigh at the same time. "Be still," he said as his hand landed a sharp blow across both cheeks. I stayed still as he played with my outer lips. I tried to comply, but I was so horny, I couldn't help but buck my hips and moan pitifully.

  "I see my little farfallina likes my punishment."

  Farfallina? I hadn't heard that term in years. I suddenly felt a need to know what the term meant. Why did he say it now? My need to know temporarily overrode my need for sexual release. "Jimmy, you used to call me that all the time, what does it mean?"

  He stopped stroking my outer lips and sat me up, looking into my eyes. "Farfallina means little butterfly, Theresa. You have always been my little butterfly, so precious."

  For reasons I couldn't decipher, I became unhinged by his words. The tears welled in my eyes and leaked down like rain on a window pane, continually beading and sliding. He pulled me in tight and held me while I cried, my steady dripping turning into a full ensemble of sobbing and messy tears.

  Released from twelve years of life without him, I felt spent and so open. I felt like twelve years of indecision, grief, and loneliness was swept away in that simple act of surrender. Sure, I have accomplished a lot professionally. I am a strong woman, but I realized now that Jimmy had been my entire life. He was always there, and then he wasn't.

  I pushed him out of my life when his family moved away from our neighborhood, punishing him for leaving me. Twelve years later, here I was, coming to terms with that fact over his knee. All I'd accomplished was alienating the Falcones and making myself miserable. The petals of awareness came at me in a flurry as I bawled my eyes out on Jimmy's lap.

  "Shh, Tesoro, everything is okay; you're going to be fine."

  My bawling slowed down to hiccups and snuffles, the aftermath of my release leaving me feeling vulnerable.

  "You left me," I accused with none of the venom I'd felt earlier.

  "I know, vita mia, and I am sorry. I had no power then. I was not the master of my life like I am now." I pulled back, grabbing a few tissues from the box on the coffee table. I felt self-conscious of my nakedness. I excused myself and went to the bathroom for my robe. When I came back, the living room was empty. Jimmy was gone. I rolled my eyes. Typical Italian.

  But it was just as well. I was due to meet Robert for tapas and drinks, and I had just enough time to shower and get dressed before I needed to leave.

  Chapter Two

  Jimmy

  I had to get out of there; the guys were waiting and hearing the words, "you left me," almost broke me. It was why I never sought her out when we lost contact, not long after we moved. I didn't want the quiet hurt she'd displayed the one time we connected after the move. I couldn't handle knowing I'd let her down, abandoned her.

  I arrived at the bar and downed several beers in quick succession and then headed over to the pool table to challenge Al to a game. I was leaning far over the table, reaching for my shot, thankful for my six-foot-two-inch frame. I lined up my shot, and as my pool cue slid through my fingers, something caught my peripheral vision. I scratched my shot and stood straight, swearing and looking around for my distraction.

  My inner beast reared its head when it realized the distraction was Theresa. She didn't see me as her back was toward me, her mini skirt clad ass heading toward a table on the other side of the bar by the front window. A tall, slim man, fashionably trendy, stood and gave her a hug. He passed her a drink which she seemed grateful for and downed.

  "Hey, boss, isn't that—" Al began.

  I held up my hand to shut him down. Theresa chose that moment to glance in our direction as she was setting her empty glass on the table. As her eyes fell on me, her pouty lips forming a perfect O, she missed the table completely, her glass smashing to the floor. All eyes turned her way.

  She blushed furiously as she jumped off her stool and bent down to pick up the shards of glass. I stalked over and picked her up and placed her back on her stool. "Stay," I commanded. I quickly picked up the shards of glass and took them to the bar to be discarded and ordered her another drink. I returned and handed it to her. "Try to keep this one in your hands, amore."

  She blushed a beautiful pink. The guy she was with stood and reached out his hand to shake mine. Theresa hopped off her stool, placing herself between us. I was a little loaded, having not eaten anything and downing five pints. I could tell she was nervous that I might do something.

  "Jimmy," she said cautiously, "this is Robert. Robert, this is Jimmy, and we are leaving." She made to push past me as the skinny dude hurriedly pulled bills from his wallet to leave on the table for their drinks.

  "Where do you think you're going, little girl?"

  She whirled around, her face angry. "Stop calling me that, Jimmy. I'm a woman, not a little girl."

  I leaned into her, my body just touching hers. A small gasp escaped her gorgeous pink lips. "Yes, you are, Theresa. Very much a woman, and a very sexy one at that." I stroked her throat and her eyes fluttered; she wanted to surrender but she wouldn't, not with Robert there.

  "As a woman, you must realize what a tantalizing morsel your derriere was offering up today. Really, T, bent over in those shorty shorts for anyone to ogle, but your time over my knee, turning your fine ass beet red corrected that, didn't it?"

  She gasped then steeled herself, all surrender gone. Her icy blues glared at me. "What happened to you, Jimmy? I don't know if I like the adult you. I do know I miss my best friend." A tear slid down her cheek. She picked up the drink I gave her, chugged it, and slammed the glass down. She grabbed Robert's hand and stalked out of the bar. My inner beast was now quelled by her tears and her words.

  I found myself unwittingly sober. It was time to go home. I paid my tab and waved goodbye to the guys. I walked the half hour back to the football field and my car. I had plenty of time to replay the scene that had happened. I knew it was wrong, even while I was doing it, but that woman did all kinds of crazy to me. The beast in me wanted to devour her. I needed a new plan, one that allowed for her forgiveness.

  When I arrived home, I found Maggie on her laptop chatting happily with her girlfriends. I stopped to watch her. She reminded me so much of Theresa at that age. In a few weeks, my Maggie would be turning thirteen-years-old, the age Theresa was when I marked her as mine.

  I looked at Maggie, so young and innocent, happily so. I couldn't imagine her having a friendship like T and I did. I couldn't imagine anyone marking her the way I'd done to Theresa. But then, Maggie had a father who loved her and took care of her. Theresa had no one, only me; the epiphany struck, it was so simple.

  Theresa needed her childhood Jimmy. She needed to know I was still the safest person on earth for her, that, with me, all was possible, and most importantly, that she could be herself without recrimination. Thanks to Maggie, I had the beginnings of a plan forming in my mind. I headed to bed, and while I lay waiting for sleep to claim me, I laid out my steps.

  I woke before Maggie and made my way down to the kitchen. Pops had left for Florida, his parting words, 'be back at Christmas.' I think he wanted to escape everything that reminded him of Ma, including me and Maggie.

  With his departure, the mansion felt like a huge void. Without my parents, the place needed some life to fill it up. Once I got Theresa talking to me again, I was going to have her help me with Maggie's thirtee
nth birthday party. I would claim ignorance, guilting her into helping. I knew Mags would support the idea as the two of them hit it off. But first, I needed to apologize.

  After breakfast, I drove Maggie to school, and before heading to work, I stopped by Theresa's favourite coffee shop. I watched her with the staff, and after she left, I went in. I spoke with a cute little blonde with perky tits.

  "What can I help you with, big guy?" She winked and licked her lips.

  Inwardly, I rolled my eyes. Outwardly, I gave her a million-dollar smile. "Do you know that woman who just left?"

  "Theresa? Oh, yeah, she's a regular, why?"

  "I'd like to buy her morning coffee for the next month."

  She grinned at me conspiratorially. "But I'd like it to be our secret…" I glanced at her name tag, "Cindy, and here is something for you to seal our deal." I handed her an extra one hundred dollars for her secrecy.

  Her eyes grew big, then she winked as she slid the money into the back pocket of her skin-tight jeans. "You got it, mister," she finished and strutted away. My next project, lunch. I knew nailing the exact time would be a little more challenging as her schedule was her own. She had routines, like on Wednesdays and Saturdays, when she volunteered as a coach at LaSalle University for the track team.

  Coffee every morning at the same time and meeting up with Robert for beers and food on Sundays were her only other regularly scheduled events. My earlier 'research' was proving useful. Upon further inquiry from the guys and the bartender, she rarely frequented that bar, if ever, as no one could recall seeing her there. I didn't recall ever seeing her juicy ass at the field on Sundays before and wondered if both the bar and the location for her workouts were new. And if so, how come? Or was it all simply a fluke?

  I went to work for a few hours, and later, on my way to a site, John Hopkins Hospital. Robert, her new 'bestie,' worked there. His schedule included the bar I'd seen him in with Theresa the day before, at least once per week. Being a regular, the bartender knew where he worked and even suggested that he was gay. I was hoping to confirm that.

  When I arrived, I was directed to the sports medicine department of the hospital and into the physical therapy wing on the main floor. Robert was having lunch in his office and agreed to see me. He poked his head out of his office but kept his distance.

  I held up my hands and said, "I just want to talk." He waved me in, and I sat down in front of a desk loaded with case files. "You're a busy man; I appreciate you taking the time." He nodded but offered nothing in return. "Look, I want to apologize. I had just finished playing ball and I downed too much beer, the beast I usually keep safely locked away decided to rear its ugly head, and you and T just happened to be there, my apologies."

  Robert smiled. "I accept, but it's not me you should be apologizing to." So, the guy wanted to bust my balls.

  "Yes, I am aware, thank you."

  "You humiliated Theresa yesterday. I've never seen her so upset."

  Good time to find out the truth about their friendship. "Are you in the habit of seeing her upset?" An edge was creeping into my tone. Who did this little shit think he was?

  He sat back and studied me or perhaps was articulating his next words. "Well, I'm her best friend and got her through her father's death."

  "Second," I said quietly. "Second best friend."

  He sighed, exasperated. "Look, Jimmy, I know you two have history. I've been hearing stories about the great and wonderful Jimmy for almost eleven years. Why are you here, talking to me?"

  I sighed, sitting back in my chair. This wasn't going as planned; the guy just needed to come out of the closet with me, so I knew he posed no threat. "I'm here to extend the olive branch and ask for your help."

  That surprised him. "But first, I need to know, are you gay?"

  He let out a bark of laughter, not expecting such a direct question, I presumed.

  "You are a very direct man, aren't you, Jimmy Falcone? Yes, I'm gay and married, to my best guy friend. Theresa was my best man at the wedding last year."

  Hmph, never thought much about gay marriage and I found myself picturing what a gay wedding may look like. "That's cool, congratulations," I said.

  "Yeah, so I will not be competing with you for Theresa if that is what you are wanting to know. Theresa and I met at university at a lecture on sports therapy. We took our passion, me, turning mine into a career in sports medicine. My much smarter and wealthier friend turned hers into a blogging career."

  I chewed on that for a moment. "She has always been a gifted writer. Is her blog personal?" I thought maybe the timeline answers I needed for her next surprise may lie in reading her blog.

  "No, she keeps her private life very private, no social media pages, strictly professional. So, you can imagine you outing her at the bar yesterday was horrifying for her. Ever since that Steve douche in college, she has never dated or even hung out with any other men, other than myself and my husband Josh. We're safe for her, so she lets herself relax around us."

  I felt myself bristle. "What Steve in college; what did he do to her?"

  Robert gazed at me, assessing. "Do you really want to know, Jimmy?"

  I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.

  "Steve Gibson was a recipient for the track scholarship, just as Theresa was, but he was from Central. That was your school, wasn't it?"

  He continued, not waiting for an answer from me. "He pursued her relentlessly. Theresa was favored by the staff, they loved her, and Steve knew she was the first choice for the junior coach position upon graduation. At the time, that was her dream. Steve was a business major and well-liked by the staff, but he played games. I warned Theresa about the rumours flying around about him. But she didn't listen. Honestly, Jimmy, Theresa was like a lost little girl; she did well at school, and she did well in track. But with everything else, she struggled. Anyway, one night, she walked in on Steve and her roommate fucking. She walked out, disgusted. He didn't even attempt to apologize. Instead, he told her he was tired of fucking a useless virgin. He spread rumours around the school that Theresa was frigid, that fucking her was like fucking a statue. He knew her well enough to know she would give up the idea of junior coach, after being so humiliated. And he slid into the position after graduation."

  My blood was boiling; I was going to kill him. "What the hell! What kind of douchebag would do that?"

  Robert smirked, "You mean, embarrass her publicly? Like you did yesterday, or take what they wanted from her and then leave? Uh, like you did yesterday."

  I hated the little shit, but he was right, and what's worse, I had done things to women, maybe not as bad as Steve, but I had discarded many with no regard to their feelings. I'd truly fucked up. "Robert, I'm not that guy. I love Theresa and it's time for me to woo the socks off her."

  "I agree, Jimmy, how can I help?"

  Theresa

  It had been two days since Jimmy humiliated me at the bar. I knew seeing me with Robert had set him off. He was drunk; I know that, but it still made it hard to just forgive him. Unwittingly, he had embarrassed me beyond what I would tolerate. But he didn't know about Steve, maybe if he had, Sunday wouldn't have played out like it did.

  Should I forgive him was the question I'd been asking myself since the incident. His actions at the bar hurt me, but instead of feeling righteous indignation, I felt confused. What we shared before the bar, that was real. The release, letting go of the frustrations and pain from the previous twelve years had been amazing. I was inclined to chalk up his bad behavior to bad timing.

  Any other day but a Sunday, I would have been home after our session, with time to process the feelings and relief I felt after he spanked me. As it is, I'm still processing them now, in addition to Jimmy's drunken actions that took place after. That's why I'm confused. Any other man, or any other time, and this would not have been an issue, would it? Maybe Jimmy was an asshole, and I'd missed it all these years.

  I left the house with my head in the clouds and jogged down t
o my favourite coffee shop, hoping a cup of strong java would clear the cobwebs of confusion from my mind. Cindy was working, and she handed my coffee but refused my money.

  "Your coffee has been paid for already, Theresa."

  "Great, a stalker, that's all I need." I was about to ask by whom, when Cindy offered the information voluntarily. "I'm not supposed to say who, but this gorgeous six-foot-two Italian stud came in yesterday and paid for your coffee for the month and gave me a generous tip. I was supposed to keep that a secret, sorry."

  Jimmy, everyone thought Jimmy was a stud muffin.

  "But I don't think he's a stalker; he seemed to know you. And the guy is gorgeous, Theresa. Seriously, if you're not interested, pass along my phone number, would ya?"

  "Yes, he knows me all right."

  I said goodbye to Cindy and told her I'd keep her posted regarding Jimmy and left. I pondered my advance coffee purchases, wondering what he was up to. Two and a half hours later, my doorbell rang. Perfect timing for an interruption, I would answer the door and then go and find some lunch. I was starving. Opening the door, I was shocked to see a food delivery. "Enjoy your lunch, ma'am," the driver said, handing me the bag and disappearing off my porch.

  It smelled Greek and delicious. I carried my bag to the kitchen and opened it to find at the top of the stack a container of tzatziki sauce, and on the lid, was a note.

  'Thinking of you, love, Jimmy.'

  It was tempting to send it back with a note that said, 'fuck you.' But as I was starving, I decided against it. I laid out the food and dove in like a starving woman. How did he know what I liked?

  The only way was if he'd talked to someone who knew me well, and the only one who did was Robert. Jimmy wouldn't know where to find him, even if he wanted to.

  I worked two more hours, and then the doorbell rang again. Opening the door, there was another surprise, flowers, a massive bouquet of flowers and attached was another note.