Vanni: A Prequel (Groupie Book 4) Read online

  “Hey, baby,” I say, in that sleepy bedroom voice that always makes her tremble in my arms. I swear it makes me feel like a superhero. I’m butter in her hands as she kisses me, even if it has to be a modest kiss because we’re standing in front of my conservative great-aunt and all her friends.

  Susan grabs me by the arm and pulls me further into the kitchen, where a veritable feast awaits. There’s pasta and meatballs, eggplant parmesan, baked ziti and Susan’s renowned ravioli. And for dessert she has prepared a decadent favorite of mine, scrumptious homemade tiramisu.

  My mouth waters as Susan pours the Prosecco for everyone. Lori cuddles closely, fitting nicely in the crook of my arm. It’s a good hiding place for her since she’s never been one for crowds of people she didn’t know. She’d much prefer our private celebration later, when I can sneak her away to my room. (I kind of prefer that, too.)

  Thanks to all the people present I don’t really know, who mill around me, talking in their own little groups, I am able to do that sooner rather than later. I close the door behind us before I take the tiny blonde back into my arms. Lori is short, like Susan, but she is also fairly petite. Lifting her into my arms is like picking up a bird. From the moment she entered our home for piano instruction five months ago, I have been completely fascinated by her. She’s tiny and fragile, like one of Susan’s old porcelain dolls she kept packed away so that they didn’t crack.

  The similarity between the two makes me want to wrap myself around Lori like living body armor to keep her safe.

  Whether it was her fair, freckled skin, that slight body, or her full, heart-shaped face, one that hovers somewhere between adolescence and adulthood even years after she came of age, there is just something about her that would jump-start the white knight complex in any guy prone to such tendencies. Fun fact about me: I’m one of those guys. She held me off for a good four months before we finally consummated our relationship. Since that amazing night three weeks ago, she has proven to be an enthusiastic partner.

  “I’m just making up for lost time,” she’d say before she’d wind her arms around my neck. I’d then trail my fingers across her satiny flesh, which would spring up to meet my touch as she gasped against my ear.

  In fact she is so passionate and responsive to my touch, it remains a mystery how she stayed a virgin until she met me.

  “I just know what I want,” she’d tell me if I dare asked. And who the hell needed to talk after that?

  I lift her against my 6’3-foot frame and press her against the door. I toy with her lips momentarily before I murmur, “So where’s my birthday gift?”

  She giggles against me, which shoots electricity through my core. “You’re holding it.”

  I can’t help but growl against her mouth as I lift her up and carry her towards my single bed. We barely fit, which makes it even sexier. “Just what I wanted.”

  We topple together on the bed. She allows it for a brief, passionate moment before she withdraws. “Vanni. Everyone is here.”

  “So?” I say as I kiss my way along the fragrant line of her neck. She smells like citrus and spice, fresh and bright, like a summer morning. Who cares if there are people right downstairs? In fact, it rather excites me. I’m like a thief in the night, stealing kisses and passionate embraces right under their noses and they don’t even know it.

  “So, it’s disrespectful. They came here to share your birthday with you.”

  “Fuck ‘em,” I say as I continue to explore the nape of her neck.

  She glares at me out of the corner of her eye. “Vanni.”

  “Fine. You’re right,” I admit with a sigh, before I caress the curve of her lovely face. “You’re too good for me, you know that right?”

  “I know,” she chirps happily. She springs to her feet, pulling me up with her.

  When we return to the shindig, my best buddy Tony Biello has arrived. It is now officially a party.

  “Hey, buddy,” he greets as he hands off a bottle of whiskey with a blue bow on it. He can’t possibly remember that is my favorite color, since guys don’t really think about those things. I know it’s a happy accident. It makes me appreciate it even more. “Birthday greetings,” he says as he takes me in a side hug, effectively putting himself in the middle of Lori and me as we head back towards the kitchen.

  “I thought you forgot,” I accuse.

  “Me? Forget?” he says as he withdraws a long envelope with yet another blue bow. Maybe it isn’t an accident after all.

  “What’s this?”

  “Open it,” he tells me.

  I withdraw three tickets. “Holy shit,” I breathe. They are tickets to Madison Square Garden, to catch a concert I had been jonesing to attend for months, but the tickets are outrageously expensive. “How’d you get these?”

  He shrugs. “Client at the firm had some and didn’t want them. Score one for corporate America.”

  I am contrite as I face him. Tony and I had been thick as thieves since I moved to Bensonhurst. We met on the street corner down the block, right in between our two houses, and we had been inseparable ever since. We attended the same high school, shared many of the same classes. He was always the better student, even though he was just as likely as I was to be caught ditching afternoon classes and smoking a J in the parking lot with the rest of us slackers. We loved the same music, which connected us on a deep level almost immediately. I’ve always picked my friends by how versed they were on the rock music I’ve loved by my whole life. If I can sing a tune and someone can sing the next lyric, we’re automatically bonded for life.

  Somewhere around junior year, Tony got serious about his future. His parents were ragging on him to give up his delinquent behavior, so that he could get into college. His dad had worked two jobs just to pay for his first year. Tony ended up paying for the rest.

  He got a job in Manhattan after he graduated, and has been moving up the corporate ladder in the last few years since. I tease him mercilessly because of it. A million years ago, we had talked about forming our own garage band and touring all over the country, singlehandedly bringing rock back to the forefront of popular music. Now he is a suited lackey with an expensive shoebox of an apartment in the city he now called home.

  But he is a suited lackey who could acquire coveted concert tickets. I am sincere when I tell him, “Thanks, man. This means a lot.”

  “Of course it does,” he shoots back with an affable grin. “Who knows you better than your best friend? You’re taking me with you, you know. Unless I’m some kind of third wheel.”

  “Never,” Lori assures him immediately as she places her hand on his arm. “We’d love for you to go.”

  “Excellent,” he says with a smile. “Now where’s that ziti? My mouth has been watering for it all day.”

  We don’t break away from the crowd until the last of the guests leave. In the case of Susan’s peers, that means about ten o’clock, after all the food is put away and the dishes are washed. Also a tradition: Susan shoos away every good Samaritan that wants to help her. Eventually we all land on the front stoop.

  Though it’s frigid and the light clouds above are threatening snow, we do not dare to go back in until she’s done. Instead I sit on the concrete step, cuddling a shivering Lori in my lap.

  Tony turns to me. “So what time do you want me to pick you up for the concert?”

  “Oh right,” I say. With the chaos of the party, I’ve forgotten all about one of my favorite gifts. “What day is it, again?”

  “Thursday. Christmas Eve-eve,” he clarifies with a lopsided grin.

  “Good, because if I miss Christmas Eve at the church with Aunt Susan, she’ll fill my stocking full of coal.”

  “You got that right,” Susan says as she walks out onto the porch where we sit. “My Vanni always sings for the church.”

  “O Holy Night,” I tell them. It’s her favorite. It always makes her cry when I sing it.

  “You should come,” she tells them, and Tony instantly shakes
his head.

  “My family is getting together Christmas Eve. The house should be full of about thirty people.”

  “Then they will hardly miss one, will they?” Susan teases. I know she doesn’t mean it. Family is the most important thing to my beloved prozia, so she’d never stand in anyone’s way to enjoy it.

  Tony grins as he stands. He leans over to kiss her cheek. She’s as much his family as I am by now. “It was a great party, Susan. Thanks for inviting me.”

  She pats his shoulder. “You’re a good boy, Tony. I had my doubts but you’ve really come a long way.”

  He laughs. “Guess it’s time to get Vanni in shape.”

  Her dark eyes meet mine. The love there takes my breath away. “Vanni’s all right,” she assures him.

  Tony claps his hand on my shoulder as he trots down the steps. “See you Thursday,” he tells Lori and me.

  “What’s Thursday?” Susan wants to know.

  “Concert,” I tell her. “He got some tickets through his firm.”

  “That’s generous of him to give them to you,” she says as she collapses on the bench on the porch with a happy sigh. “I’d say everything shaped up to be even better than last year.”

  For a moment I can say nothing. Yes, it had turned out to be a pretty great birthday. I got some killer concert tickets, I ate like a king and I have a beautiful woman sitting on my lap. There is only one thing missing. “Almost,” I finally say.

  Susan realizes her error with widened eyes. “I’m sorry, Vanni.”

  “It’s okay,” I assure her with a smile. She had tried so hard to make the evening special. It wasn’t her fault the universe or God or whatever anyone wanted to call it had decided to take Mama the year before. And I know Susan feels the loss every bit as much as I do. “It was truly a beautiful night. Really.”

  She smiles. “Anything for you, dear boy.”

  I notice that she’s shivering. “On that note, I think you should probably get inside and defrost.”

  She nods. It is cold, and cold isn’t as easy for her to shake off these days. She rises with a little difficulty. I immediately put Lori on her feet next to me and hover over my aunt, who won’t take my outstretched hand, but won’t begrudge how I shadow her to make sure she doesn’t fall.

  Lori follows us into the house.

  I hate that Susan doesn’t seem to be getting around like she used to. When Mama and I first came to live with her, she had the energy of women half her age. Now she moves a little slower, she holds onto furniture to stabilize herself and often overexerts herself with simple tasks like cooking dinner or doing the laundry, though she’d beat you black and blue with her yardstick if you dared to take over. “You need some help to your room?” I ask, knowing she wouldn’t ask for it even if she needed it.

  She brushes me off with an impatient wave of her hand. “I can still see myself to bed, thank you very much.” She stops only to kiss me, and I can feel her tremble from the effort it took to walk a few measly feet. I know that she had pushed herself too hard today. Instantly I feel guilty.

  “Giovanni. Mi amore,” she says as she caresses my face with both hands. “Happy birthday, beautiful boy.”

  We watch her leave the room, heading for her downstairs bedroom. The door closes behind her before either Lori or I say anything. Lori breaks the silence as she wedges herself back into my arms. “She loves you,” she says as she runs her fingers through my long hair.

  “More than anyone has or will,” I reply softly.

  She tightens her hold around my neck. “Oh, I wouldn’t say that.”

  My eyes meet hers. I love how they shine like sapphires in the dim amber light of the hallway. “Baby,” I say as I reach for another kiss. Her mouth opens under mine eagerly, which only makes me hungrier for more. I lift her easily into his arms and carry her up the narrow stairs to my bedroom.

  She has pushed my shirt from my shoulders before I have a chance to close the door behind us. We land together on the bed, tearing away each piece of fabric in the way of our curious fingers. God, how I love it when she touches me. Her soft skin feels like a feather brushing across my nerve endings. Lori wasn’t the first girl I had been with, not by a long shot. But she is the first one I’d ever worked up to. Not to toot my own horn, but finding a romantic partner had always been a bit like shooting fish in a barrel. I’d always had confidence to go after what I wanted, and girls seem to respond to that. Not Lori. I had to try harder with her. Lines didn’t work. The flirting, the smirking, the innuendo didn’t work. Instead I had to learn how to be a patient, respectful gentleman. A good Catholic boy. I had to open doors, say please and thank you, talk about the future, talk about my feelings… and listen to hers.

  That somehow made the grand prize more appealing.

  Needless to say I had fucked plenty by the time I was twenty-six years old. But I had only really made love to one woman, and she is the one beneath me on my tiny single bed.

  She wears a blue dress, and I know that is no accident. I easily turn her over onto her tummy to pull down the zipper with my teeth. She giggles as my hair brushes against her back. I watch goose bumps rise along her spine. I kiss my way down the sexy line of her back to the gentle swell of her ass. She trembles beneath me. I’m instantly hard as I hear her breath catch as I hover over her, my breath hot against her satin panties. “Time for dessert,” I say as I loop my thumbs on either side of her underwear and peel them from her body.

  I turn her onto her back and spread her legs. Her thighs quiver as I snake my tongue up the delicate expanse of flesh. She arches her back and moans as I dive in between her legs. I love to make a woman come. It’s brilliant, like a ray of sunlight shining through every single facet of a diamond all at once. They are never more beautiful, and never more themselves, until they finally let go of each and every inhibition holding them back.

  I learned this lesson when I was sixteen. Like I told you before, my aunt insisted that I provide services in the community. One summer I mowed the lawn for a thirty-something single mom just down the way. This was just after my last growth spurt, when I stood about a foot taller than the rest of the kids in my class. I wore my stubble proudly, and strutted with all the confidence of a man.

  It only took three weeks for her to turn me into one. Over that summer, she taught me everything I needed to know about pleasing a woman. Through her I learned all about multiple orgasms and cunnilingus and g-spots. She had all sorts of toys and was never shy about teaching me how to use them.

  I went to the tenth grade a changed man. Not only could I get a sexy, grown woman, I could make her scream. Regularly.

  Now, with Lori writhing under me, arching her hips towards my face as she unsuccessfully tries to muffle her cries of pleasure, all I can say is: Thank you, Myra.

  I love everything about sex. I love the sounds, the smells, the tastes, the exploration. The minute our clothes come off, I’m excited to see what new things we could discover about each other. Lori tastes like honey on my tongue, I spiral in lazy circles until she’s begging me to stop teasing her. “I want you inside me, Vanni,” she pants.

  I wear a smile as I climb up her body, kissing her sweet-smelling skin as I go. I latch onto one tightly puckered nipple as I slam myself inside her. She gasps hard against me before she grabs a handful of my hair. It shoots volts down my spine. I love it when women lose control. I love it when they take control.

  Most of all, I love how tightly she wraps herself around me, pulling me in tightly where I love to go.

  I bite my lip before I say something dirty. Myra loved it, but girls like Lori are sweet, nice girls. They didn’t want to hear me tell them that I love shoving my big hard cock inside them.

  These are the girls you make love to.

  These are the girls you marry.

  That’s my thought as I come hard, as if my body understands what kind of decision it’s making for me. Of all the variables in front of me as I face a new birthday, this life decision I
can wrap up tight with a huge, happy bow. I gather her close in my arms to catch my breath, feeling her body continue to quiver all around me as she gently drifts back down to earth.

  If I ever wanted to order a wife, Lori has a lot of green checkmarks already in her favor. She is a devout Catholic, which means Aunt Susan loves her. She comes from a large, Irish-American family that instilled in her a strong work ethic and ambition to see things through. Hardworking, moral, faithful and ambitious? Check, check, check, check.

  She is everything a guy could want, all in one sexy package. I kinda like the fact that most guys pass her over when she walks into the room, so quiet and unassuming. It’s like I alone have solved the riddle. I alone discovered the treasure. One day people would look at her and think, “How did she land a rock star?”

  And I alone would know the secret.

  I honestly can’t wait to see her backstage at one of my concerts. She’ll wait patiently for me to dominate the crowd and win over legions of fans. Rag mags would write about my longtime sweetheart, while groupies gnashed their teeth, waiting for the chance to get me into bed.

  Only it would never come. Lori is the kind of woman that demands better of me, and I have been waiting for a girl like that for a long, long time. I’d keep myself true. She is much too perfect to lose.

  I break our kiss to stare down into her face. “I’m the luckiest guy on earth.”

  She smiles happily. “Remember that.”

  “I’ll never forget,” I promise, bending for another kiss, repeating the word ‘never’ over and over again.

  This time she pulls away. “You really mean that, Vanni?”

  “Of course. How can you question it?”

  She clearly mulls something over as she toys with one lock of my hair, which had escaped over my strong, bare shoulder and clung to my damp skin. “I don’t question you,” she clarifies at once. “But I do question our future.”

  My eyes roll. I can’t even help it. A perfectly nice moment and she has to ruin it. Ever since she decided to sleep with me, her thoughts had turned to the future, and exactly what I might be doing (or not doing) to secure it. I lift away from her. “Not this again.”