Love in the Eye of the Storm

"Oh. I'm glad. I read you're supposed to make sure your partner has an orgasm too."

She was still spooned in front of me. I nuzzled her hair and said, "Don't you have to get up early love? You need to sleep."

"I don't think I can. It felt so good," she murmured, amazed. "Hey! Your name is Jam. Seriously? That's what your Mom named you?"

I chuckled. "No, it's my first, middle, and last initials."

"So, what is your name?"

"Jacopo Alberto Matteo"

"Whoa, that is a big name to carry around." She repeated my name. "I like it! You can keep it."

"Gee, thanks," I said wryly. "But no one ever calls me Jacopo, you know."

"Hmmm," she said softly, nodding off.

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.***.***.***.

Wren

.***.***.***.

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SO THAT'S WHAT AN ORGASM FEELS LIKE. I was even clumsy at masturbating and would have a little thrill ripple through me, but nothing like the locomotive train that Jam treated me to.

Jam. Jacopo Alberto Matteo. That was a heavy name for a little boy, but no one would bully you either.

I was in his arms, his even deep breaths in my hair. I couldn't sleep. I had to be up in a matter of hours but already chalked tonight up as a sleep loss.

But what he did to me made up for it. I never knew it would be that good. My nerves were still hypersensitive. His bare chest was against my back, with his legs curved behind mine. His hand was on my breasts, with just the tips of his fingers touching. Just thinking about it and feeling him that close made my nipples ache.

If I were another person, I'd wake him up and make it exciting for him. I'd stroke and kiss him all over until he was moaning for more. I'd take his cock into my mouth to feel the power of his orgasm. I'd discover what would bring him to a shattering release. I would revel in his orgasm as much as mine.

But I wasn't that girl. I had no idea what I was doing and was unsure where to start. Would he feel sorry for my fumbling and react so as not to embarrass me? He has never seen me naked. Would I turn him off when he does? My breasts are too big, and my hips and butt are too big. If I had time, I'd go to the gym, but even going once a week wouldn't help.

I watched the lighted orange numbers march by. It was almost time to get up to go to the bakery. This was the first time I didn't want to go. I wanted to stay right here. But I wouldn't do that. I'm a responsible dull girl who will get up, shower, change, and walk to the bakery.

.

Thankfully, I managed to do all that without waking him up. I needed time to think, and the walk to the bakery was just what I needed.

I was partway down the block when I heard a rattle, it startled me, but I realized it was a garbage can lid. Probably a raccoon looking for breakfast.

I could faintly hear footsteps in tune with mine as I turned the corner near the store. If I'd stop, they'd stop. I swung around quickly, thinking it was Jam following me. But nothing. Nobody.

I started walking again, and the footsteps began again, but a little louder, closer. I kept walking but looked back over my shoulder.

Finally, I was in view of the bakery. With shaking hands, I unlocked the door and turned to close and lock it, but the door wouldn't close. Fingers crept around the edge of the door and pushed it open and me out of the way.

"Oh my god! You scared the hell out of me," I shouted.

"I mean to do that, my little Wren. You shouldn't be out walking around in the middle of the night." He turned the lock on the door.

"Oh, for god's sake, I do it almost every morning. It's safe here!"

I slammed my bag and sweater on the counter and huffed into the kitchen. I busied myself getting the lights on and heating the oven.

"I thought you'd be a little more amenable this morning," he said. "I mean, after last night and all."

I looked at him, widening my eyes, not believing he had said that. Then he started laughing.

"You do need someone to care for you," he said thoughtfully.

I pulled the trays of dough-filled bannetons out of the refrigerator and arranged them on the work table. I methodically upended the banneton on the oven rack and quickly scored down the center of the dough with a razor blade.

I stopped blade in hand.

"I can take care of myself."

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.***.***.***.

Jam

.***.***.***.

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IN RETROSPECT, I PROBABLY SHOULDN'T HAVE STALKED HER THAT WAY. But she needed to become aware of her surroundings.

I'm not well-liked, and if those people discover I have someone important to me, it could lead to real danger for Wren. I planned to teach her to shoot and carry. I'll take her to the pistol range with me. I already talked to my martial arts instructor, and he will teach her some self-defense moves.

She thinks she's a wimp, but I've seen otherwise. Even though she's adorable, she's gutsy, stands up for herself, and doesn't take any shit. Pretty much the perfect woman for me.

It was somehow satisfying watching her pull the cooled bread out, flip it, score it, and push the tray into the hot oven. Then repeat until she had emptied the cooler.

"I have to go get some work done," I said, leaning over to press a kiss on her flour-dusted lips. "Mmm, I like the bread better when it's baked." She giggled.

"You're closed tomorrow, right?" She nodded. "Okay, my little Wren, I'll see you at home later."

I could see a sharp retort on her lips, but I turned and was out the door quicker.

I called Joey from the car.

"Hey, boss," Joey said in his deep gravel voice. His vocal cords were damaged in a fight, and he ended up with a low bass. Lucky, he was able to talk at all.

"I need you to do something."

"Sure!"

"Stop by Wren's Bakery on Brown Street and pick up a loaf of bread."

There was a hesitation.

"A hit at a bakery?"

I laughed. "No, I just want you to familiarize yourself with the proprietor. Her name is Wren, and she's important to me."

"Ah, gotcha! She must be quite the donna to catch your eye."

"Oh, Joey, she is perfect for me."

"I'll head over now," he said, signing off.

I knew he was anxious to see her. That's okay. There will be occasions when I will entrust him with her life.

I had a meeting with someone needing cash. I didn't often loan because getting paid back could get so messy. In this case, I thought it might be for drugs. I've been involved in many things since Dad got me into the family, but we refused to deal with drugs. We were earners and got what we wanted.

I ensured I had one in the chamber before I exited the car. His office was in a nineteen fifties red brick corner store near the university. The hood was okay, but I still got a prickle on the back of my neck. That was my first warning.

I set the Lexus alarm and took a few steps to the front door. It unlocked, so I knew he was watching on video. My senses were on full steam.

"Jam," a dark voice rumbled from the shadows. Just the tone held a veiled threat.

My eyes adjusted, and I saw it was Tomasso 'The Lion' La Rossa, a character that tried to cut into my territory with a shylock business. Joey and I roughed him up good, and this was obviously retaliation.

Not giving him time, I raised my hand and shot through my suit jacket pocket. But not before he got a round off that nicked my leg.

"Now look what the fuck you did," I said. I got a clean shot, and he was down. I looked at my shredded pocket. That wasn't what I had planned.

The blood stained his shirt like a flood of Bordeaux, and I heard his last rattling wet breath. "You ruined it, you dickhead. You ruined my suit."

He wasn't coming back up, but I popped him again just for putting a hole in my suit pants. My Brioni wool suit was a total loss.

His cronies would get the message when they saw the bullet through the eye, and we would expect retaliation.

A towel under the seat wrapped my leg to protect the leather seat as I headed the short distance to the Doc. He had patched me up before and was no stranger to gunshot and knife wounds because he knew how to keep his mouth shut and pleasantly accepted the generous donations for his services.

I jerked and hissed through my teeth as Doc tightened the last stitch. I looked at him, and he slightly shrugged as though I deserved the pain.

Joey texted that the job was done, and he approved, accompanied by a wink. I thought that was the most warmth Joey ever exuded, laughing to myself.

I headed to the penthouse to change. It would be tough to shower for a while since my thigh was wrapped with bandages.

I fed the cat, made several phone calls, drove to Wren's apartment, and met the workers there. I wanted them to be done and gone by the time she came home.

I knew it would take some talking to get her to move in with me, so I packed a bag since I'd be staying there. I hung suit bags in her closet and found an empty dresser drawer. I wondered if I even knew a woman with an empty dresser drawer.

Tomato sauce was bubbling, garlic bread was ready to go under the broiler, and red wine was at the perfect temperature.

There was a tap on the door.

"What the hell did you do," I heard before the door opened. "I can't believe you did that," she ranted. "There wasn't anything wrong with the lock on that door." She stood with her hands on her hips and glared at me.

"It matches the one on the balcony doors." I shrugged.

She rolled her eyes.

"I've lost count, but we must be up to six by now?" I had to smirk.

She started to say something but stopped and sniffed. "What's that? Spaghetti? Garlic?"

"It is. I hope you're hungry."

"Starved," she said, walking by the balcony doors and checking out the new locksets.

I refrained from telling her about the video camera aimed at her door, stoop, and went back to stir the sauce.

"Why are you limping?"

"Had a little run-in with someone today," I said casually, trying to blow it off.

"Run in? Someone knifed you again?"

"Hey, why don't you start the noodles? The water is boiling."

She came around and pushed between me and the stove, looking at me.

"Well?"

"No, not a knife. Bullet just nicked my leg."

She turned white as she stared at me, digesting what I told her. "My little Wren, I'm fine. See, I'm right here with you. I'm good."

Her bottom lip trembled. Oh my god, she was going to cry. I turned all the burners off and pulled her to me.

"You fucking got shot?!"

She clutched the front of my shirt.

"I did, and I'm fine, sweetheart." I kissed her softly. "Frankly, I'm disappointed in you," I said in an attempt to change the subject.

She sniffed. Tears rimmed her eyes but hadn't spilled over yet. I rubbed her cheek with my thumb. She was so damn sweet it took my breath away.

"What?" she sniffed.

"I'm not wearing a suit," I grinned. "I thought you'd notice first thing."

"Where's your gun?"

"Put away."

"I'm hungry," she said, turning the burners back on.

.

.***.***.***.

Wren

.***.***.***.

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I WASN'T SURE HOW I FELT YET ABOUT HIM MOVING IN. It was going so fast that it felt like my life was whirring around in a blender. My emotions were in turmoil. I went from having no boyfriend to one that was turning my life upside down.

It was the best sauce I'd ever had, and I probably looked like I ate like a pig to him. I didn't have time to cook, and it wasn't much fun just for me.

"I shouldn't have eaten so much," I admitted. "You're a good cook."

I poured another glass of wine, took the plates to rinse, and put them in the dishwasher. My kitchen was of the era and had gorgeous white enamel cabinets, but fortunately, a dishwasher fit in.

I turned the television on and sat on the sofa. I didn't want to get in such an intimate position with him tonight. So much was going through my head.

"How does your leg feel?"

I had yet to see it. Other than on television, I'd never seen a bullet wound in real life. I wasn't sure I wanted to.

"Did you ever put anyone in the ground?" I asked him directly, and the corner of his mouth quirked.

"Umm, I'm not going to lie to you, my little Wren. I have, yes."

He carefully sat beside me, sitting sideways to prop his leg.

"Does it hurt?" I asked.

"If I said it does, would you kiss me?" he grinned.

"I think it's that you kiss a kid's owie-boo-boo and slap a bandage on it," I laughed.

"Better yet!" he laughed. He looked at me for a moment and said, "You know, I didn't mean to upset you about the door lock thing. I want you safe, is all."

"I know. I'm not mad. I was just surprised. I get why you get it, and I'm so glad you care."

"I suppose now is the time to tell you I've brought some clothes. I figured you weren't ready to stay at my place," he shrugged and winced when he moved.

"Did you get any pain pills?"

"I did. Would you mind getting one for me? The bottle is in the bathroom."

I started across the room, then stopped. "How are you going to shower?"

He raised an eyebrow and twisted his lips. "Therein lies the problem."

"Take your pants off," I told him, wanting to survey his bandages to see how we could cover them.

"Ohhh, dominating too. I didn't know that about you. I like it, I like it," he wisecracked, standing up and dropping his pants.

I cringed. The white gauze and tape wrapped around his thigh for ten or twelve inches.

"I have some restaurant clear food wrap that's pretty tough. How about wrapping it around a few times? Then sealing the top edge with tape so the water doesn't run under the plastic?"

"I think it sounds like it'll work. A shower would be great. I didn't get one today before I came over."

I went to get the transparent film and began to wrap it around his thigh, starting above the bandage and working down. The upper edge had to go under his boxers, and even though he held the leg higher, I struggled to keep the clear wrap from tangling with the silk boxers.

"I'm gonna drop them," he said.

My face flushed, but I busied myself with the wrap and tape and finished the job with shaking hands.

"I'm always patching you up," I smiled.

"Yes, it seems you are." He winced when he moved. I'm going to have a tough time navigating in the shower.

"Hmm."

"If I were trying to seduce you, it would be much different than asking you to help me wash myself," he laughed. "I am a little more suave than that, thank you very much."

I had to laugh. And agree.

"Okay, go on in, and I'll ensure my new locks are locked and everything is put away."

He nodded and headed into the room. I watched him walk away. God, what a great ass. I sighed.

He was behind the curtain, and the bathroom was steamy. I thought two in my claw foot tub would be tricky as I slipped out of my clothes.

He hadn't seen me naked, and I just had to push that out of my mind. I am who I am better than he knows that right up front, he'll take a look at me and run to the nearest svelte coming out of the gym.

I peeked in the curtain.

"Wow, this is close quarters," I said more to myself than him.

He wasn't a muscle-bound jock but big enough to occupy most of the tub's space. I never wished I had a real shower more in my life than now.

I slipped a leg between the curtains until my toe touched the mat.

"Oh, you're here! I'll help you," he said, taking my hand.

I sidled through the curtain and hit a wall when I completely stepped in. I knew he was back as far as he could get, so here we were.

"Me first," he said, squishing the jasmine bubbles through my shower sponge.

He circled it on my back with his other hand, following the circles on my skin. I'd never had anyone wash me, and I immediately melted at his touch. He worked down each arm, then rinsed me under the warm spray.

I didn't plan on washing my hair, but he pulled the pins, and it tumbled down my back.

"You know this is the first time I've seen your hair down. It's so long and pretty," he whispered, wetting it with the spray.

I heard him rubbing my shampoo between his palms, then on my scalp. Deft fingers rubbed tiny circles into a froth, and I nearly moaned with pleasure. He carefully worked it down the length of my hair, then massaged my scalp again.

I was boneless.

He rinsed, worked conditioner through my hair, and rinsed again.

The sponge and his hand made circles on my ass, and I couldn't stifle the moan this time. He worked down the back of my legs as best he could because bending over was tricky without shoving the shower curtain out.

He handed the sponge to me over my shoulder and turned, and I carefully turned towards his back. I leaned down and checked the wrap over his bandage, which was still secure and dry.

I ran the scented sponge over his shoulders, broad but not too muscular. I followed the same path, down his lightly furred arms, then up across his shoulders to work down his back.

Right under his shoulder blade was a six-inch well-healed scar. I traced it with my finger, then moved the sponge and began to follow it with my hand. His skin was slick, but his body was hard.

I ran down his back with the flat of my hand, my thumb in the valley of his spine, right down his lower back to his ass. He had a firm but muscular ass that I knew he worked for. Men didn't have nicely curved asses like that on their own.

I slid my hand up his side at his waist and felt it. I knew what it was before I looked—the scar from a bullet. I hesitated, and he seemed to hold his breath.

I didn't see the point in bringing it up. It was old news. Obviously, he has been and will always be in danger.

I wondered if I could handle sending him off each day, wondering whether he'd come back with a knife wound or gunshot... Or even make it home. I chilled at the thought.

"Everything okay, my little Wren," he asked quietly.

"Sure, everything is fine," I replied, pushing it all out of my mind.

When I was done with his back, he rinsed and turned. We were now face to face, body to body. We could move inches apart, and that was it if we wanted to remain in the tub.

"No need to be nervous," he smiled, dripping some of my Jasmine body wash into his hand, then into mine.

We both began at the shoulders and neck, then worked lower.

His chest was lightly furred, with the same coal black as his hair. His complexion was olive, and he obviously spent no time in the sun because he had no tan lines.

As I worked lower, he did as well. He ran his hands around and under my breasts, carefully avoiding my nipples. He didn't want to rush me, I know. And I appreciated it. But I decided it was better to show him than tell him.

I arched my back, which rubbed my nipples on his chest. I heard his quick intake of breath. I trailed my fingers down his chest to his flat stomach. Then down to the neatly trimmed nest of black curls that surrounded his cock.

My eyes went to his when I took his stiff cock into my hand and squeezed.

"Oh, Wren, baby. Your hands on me feel so damn good. I've been waiting for this so long."

"I know," I said, kissing him. "I'm ready."

I stroked his stiff cock and cupped his balls in my soap-slick hand.

He bent and nipped at my breast and began teasing my nipples. I moaned, arching for more. While he sucked, his hand slipped between my legs and stroked through my slit.

"Mmm, I'm so ready," I moaned.

My head fell back when he stroked my clit. I ran my fingers up and down his cock, and he gasped around my nipple. He shoved two fingers inside me and increased the rhythm, and I shuddered out a long low moan while I rode the waves of pleasure.

"Let's get out of here," he said, shutting the water off.

We toweled off quickly, and I checked his bandage and removed the clear wrap.

His cock was throbbing while I knelt in front of him. I held it and licked the tip.

"Oh my god," he groaned.

Inspired by his reactions, I licked the smooth tip and trailed my tongue around the rim.