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"Aaaaaaand," I groan, ramming them in my backpack with thecornettiI stole from Nonna, "this is my cue to leave."
Good God. My three older brothers hooking up with theirboy toythey met in a bar last week isnotsomething my innocent eyes needed to see.
They have some nerve doing that in our family swimming hole. I mean—yeah, every one of my brothers and cousins have beaten off in there at least once. Some have certainly banged their partners in the murky depths.
Still—Santino, Lazaro, and Marcello’s touchy feely sesh with their new boy isn’t what I wanted to stumble across while birdwatching.
"Now thatbirdwatching is off the table," I muse, turning my gaze toward my next-door neighbor’s house. "I might as well pay a visit to Daddy."
A thrill works its way up my spine. My next-door neighbor, Jako, has been the bane of my existence (because he loves to reject me) and the sole object of my wet dreams for years. I meanyears.
Jako is a fifty-six-year-old ripped, tattooed silver fox with at least a billion in the bank.
He rides a motorcycle and he’s helped my brothers on a mission or two.
He was actually in prison with Medici for two years. He went in for bribing a public official.
Since forever, he’s played a prominent role in my late-night mental life—you know what I mean.
When I became legal, I decided to act on my attraction.
Let’s just say that reality hasn’t conformed to my adolescent fantasies.
Instead of agreeing to be my dream Daddy, whisking me into his arms, and sweeping me off my feet, Jako has avoided me like the plague.
I show up every now and then (fine, every afternoon) to leave him care packages of Nonna’s treats—and hepretends he’s not home.
I don't know what his freaking deal is. I mean, I’m a cute, young college boy from a well-off family who’s hung as hell.
And—I’mcrazy about him.That’s why Jako should be my Daddy. Isn’t that what every man wants?
"All Jako needs is a sign," I muse, skipping through the woods like I’m Little Red Riding Hood or some shit. I amLittle—but I don't wear a hood, certainly not a red one. I prefer cuddly onesies, specifically the ones with animal print designs. "One sign from above—then, he’ll have no choice but to be mine."
I heard that Jako got out of prison by bribing his judge. Maybe I need to bribehimto get him to take a chance on me—I must learn to speak his language.
Hopping over tree roots and dangerously sharp rocks, I make my way to Jako’s mansion.
I’m breathless when I reach it. I’ve stumbled across it countless times in the woods when I happen to be stalking him, and each time, it blows me away.
Pastel green paint surrounds the Italian Riviera-esque exterior, lending it a natural, Earthy air. Wide windows overlook the shimmering Mediterranean, absorbing its ripply light. A vegetable garden complete with every veggie known to man grows in the sun beside the backyard cliff, packed with peas that I love to sample when I’m stalking him in his backyard, capers, and tomatoes.
Nothing relaxes me more than hiding behind the big rock next to the oak tree he planted in memory of his mother twenty years ago, pulling out my binoculars, and spying on him making breakfast. Nude. Yes, Jako is a part-time nudist—that’s another reason I’m so obsessed with him.
(When I first stumbled across him, I'd never seen another naked body before. Jako’s was the first I’d ever laid eyes on.)
"Faro."
Firm. Deep. Unwavering.
It’s scary as hell—thunderous as a storm.
I tick my eyes up. Oopsie—Jako spotted me today. Normally, I’m smarter than to come up the side path where he can see me from his window especially after he caught me coming to deliver him gifts the last time.
My eyes lock on him… and I lose the ability to breathe. Today, Jako is fresh out of the shower. A fluffy, light green towel sits loosely on his firm hips, leaving little to the imagination. His abs, those rock-hard beauties, reflect the glistening sunlight.
His midsection is what I focus on next. God—God.How a man his age has a package that big, I’ll never know. His flaccid rod displaces his nuts—the left one is pushed to the side, resembling half of a moose’s knuckle. The right one is covered by his shaft.
I gesture to my picnic basket. "Good morning, Jako. I brought you something."
