Page 88 of At The End Of The Day

Carefully lying down, I licked my fingertips, wet my tip, and eased inside him slowly and deliberately. Yet another one of his sexy moans had me writhing inside. Sliding my hands beneath his shoulders to lace my fingers through two slats of wood by his head, I yanked myself forward to thrust deep, filling him completely.

“Unh, fuck.”

I smiled at his reaction and did it again.

“Ah!”

His cock smashed between our stomachs, I took my time making love to him, going out of my way to shower him with affection. Billy just wanted to own and use him like a toy, he didn’t want to appreciate the man he was. He expected Vincent to sit in his closet until he was ready to play, and god forbid anyone else show interest. He was a user, a manipulator, a dead man.

I was here. I knew how important he was. I saw Vincent for who he was. Amazing. Sexy. Formidable. Irreplaceable. Mine.

Choking on an inhale at that last thought, I froze, my mouth against his, and gawked into his stare that was darkening with confusion at my sudden shift. Gulping, my heart pattering wildly, I didn’t know how to feel about that inner revelation.

“Dario,” he whispered, cupping my ass cheeks to pull me closer. “Don’t stop, baby.”

I shuddered, the rain picking up and coming down a little thicker. Claiming another heated kiss, I let go of the slat of wood, curled my arms around him, and sped up while still being sensual. I wasn’t fucking him, I was making love to him, worshipping this man.

My man.

Goddamn, when the gayness hits, it hits hard. I was definitely falling in love with Vincent da Silva. What a wonderful change of events.

Chapter 37

Vincent da Silva

Friday 10.04.2019

The temperature was a scorching ninety-eight degrees, a record high for this time of year. Hiding in the shade of the front porch that spanned the entire length of Dash’s house, I was slouched in a rocking chair, an ankle propped to my knee, that foot bouncing. My fingers tapping the wide, wooden arms, I was peering down the length of my nose, watching him lower his tattered, American flag so he could replace it with a new one. Usually, he did this every year on September 11, in honor of the attacks eighteen years ago, but had missed it because of everything else going on. Though he had no personal ties to anyone lost that day, he’d always taken time to honor them every year.

We’re all in the same country, I didn’t have to know them, they were my people, my family.

It was one of many attributes that made me admire him as much as I did, why I valued our close friendship so much. Not too many gangbangers were as patriotic, but – outside the Serpents – Dario Mangiacavallo was a man of integrity, honor, and justice. He didn’t lean one way or another in politics, he didn’t give a shit about right or left, he wanted action and fairness and honesty, something rarely found, if at all, on either side of the coins these days. Open to all suggestions to get the end result as quickly and peacefully as possible, the only subject matter he threw judgement on was homosexuality.

More than once, he initiated intimacy between us. When he held me in his arms and made love to me on the deck in the rain for nearly half an hour yesterday, he hardly closed his eyes, wanting to look at me the entire time. He called me baby repeatedly. The way he looked at me, kissed me, touched me, it was hard to believe he was ever homophobic. And now I was expected to believe he was a changed man? For me, he was changing his entire stance on the matter and embracing what he once hated?

Groaning, I pushed off the chair and stood, going back inside. Digging my smokes from my pocket, I tucked one in the corner of my mouth but didn’t light it as I turned left and cut through the dining room to the kitchen. Hungry, I opened the fridge and searched the items, wondering if I wanted something quick and simple, or should I cook Dash a full breakfast?

“Hey, Vin!” he shouted from outside.

Something in his tone had my stomach sinking. Closing the fridge, I strode through the house and stepped onto the porch. He was standing by one of the columns, his stance wide, arms crossed, a scowl on his face. Following his trail of sight, my brows shot upward.

Removing the cigarette, I grumbled, “What the fuck are the cops doing here?” and went to his side to watch the unmarked vehicle bounce down the dirt road.

“No fucking clue, man. I thought you and Tiny said we was okay with what happened in Georgia.”

“They said no charges. Self-defense. This gotta be something else.”

“Jesus, what the fuck we do this time?”

“Don’t worry about it none. These are local pigs, so more than likely nothing to do with Georgia. Just chill.”

“Mm hm.”

The car’s brakes squealed as it came to a stop and shut off. A moment later, two men climbed out, one in full suit, the other missing his jacket. Their expressions stoic, they approached rather quickly.

“Mr. Mangiacavallo?”

“Yeah? What?”