“Uh huh! Uh huh! Uh huh! I’m still coming!” I whimper as a tear leaves my eye.
He just growls in rapid succession, looking down at me, his face locked on mine as my virginity doesn’t just fade away…it’s completely taken, by him.
Seconds later he falls to the side of the huge bed, his dick inside me, taking me with him.
I’m lying on my side, my hands still tied together and bound to my ankles. There’s a good foot between each ankle and my hands and now I probably look absolutely ridiculous, but I feel like pure bliss.
Quickly, he unties me, his cock still pulsing inside me.
I rub my wrists, looking at the redness.
“That will go away, but the memory never will.”
I smile. “Good.”
“And when I say the memory, I mean our memory…because I’m never going to forget the time I first claimed the mother of my unborn children.”
His words hit me in the chest like a freight train. Suddenly it’s just too much, but before I can go to the bathroom or somehow give us some distance, and me some time to process what just happened, he pulls me in tight, pushing my head into his chest.
And with that, there’s no need to process anything, just feel. And this feels so perfect, so right.
Too bad it’s just an arrangement, and not meant to last.
CHAPTER 19
Sloane
The next day
After that mind-blowing experience Stefano and I fell asleep, woke up in the middle of the night for more fun and then passed out again.
When I woke up this morning Stefano was gone yet again, but it wasn’t a bad thing.
I spent the morning just walking around the vineyard, adjusting to the time difference, and then in the afternoon went to the beach.
Mondello, the beach I went to, is a beautiful white sand beach with different colors running from deep blue to turquoise. After working on my tan, I walked around discovering that one side of the beach features a bunch of delightful cafés where I was able to buy delicious, locally grown food at really low prices.
Then I rented an umbrella and lazed away even more of the day. These Europeans sure know how to live.
When I get home there’s a box, with a dress inside of course, and a note to be ready at seven.
Five minutes before seven, Stefano arrives dressed in a linen suit and together we go to the Palermo Cathedral Piazza, where apparently there’s some private gathering.
I love how it has such a family vibe to it. The older people are well respected and revered, yet there are so many little kids playing freely as well. Stefano introduces me to all kinds of people, although he doesn’t give me any sort of title…not even ‘friend’, which leaves me wondering just what we are.
What happened last night certainly wasn’t emotionless from either of our sides. Sure, we have an arrangement, but that far surpassed it. I told myself he could have my body, not my mind, but I’m quickly losing that battle. He’s getting all of me, and I’m not so sure if I like that or not.
It’s only temporary, I remind myself, despite how enjoyable this is.
Stefano whispers in my ear that my dad is watching TV. I laugh. Of course he is. In a way I don’t like him snooping on my dad, but it’s good to know he’s safe and sound back home…and not causing any more damage to his bank account…whether it’s technically his or not.
“I have to run off for a bit. Business,” he follows up.
“Okay.”
“You gonna be okay by yourself?”
“Yeah, everyone’s friendly and these kids are playing bocce ball, so I can have a lot of fun.”
“You like kids, don’t you?” he pauses even though I see another man who seems to be impatiently waiting on him just ten feet away.
“I never really thought about them, but yeah…the idea’s kind of warming on me.”
“I just meant kids in general,” he winks, his hand sliding along my back as he walks away yet keeps his eyes on me until he reaches the man I picked out as his business associate.
Damn, he’s right. He did just mean kids in general. I’m the one who extrapolated it into meaning my kids. Is my mind really in that place? Did that talk in the bedroom when he possessed me for the first time really have that much meaning behind it, or was it just dirty talk?
I need to grow up. I’m dealing with a man here, an older man who’s probably ready to start a family of his own. The more I think about it, maybe that’s part of what this trip is all about…to see how well I interact with everyone.
Am I ludicrous? Would he really do something that quickly, after just having met me?
I know there’s the one, so to speak, but is that a feeling that happens to men? I thought it was more a fantasy that’s sold and packaged to women like me.
Maybe the pill that’s hardest to swallow is the fact that I know that’s exactly what did happen to me when it came to Stefano. I do really like him and maybe I’m afraid to admit he likes me too…and what the ramifications could be.
I shake my head and wander around the piazza a bit, noticing the looks and a few stares from some of the other women. I wouldn’t say they’re rude as much as they’re curious.
Stefano does live in a very peculiar society so I can only imagine bringing someone in who’s not Italian, not connected, and as young and perceived as naive as me must not sit well with a lot of the people here, whether they show it directly, indirectly, or not at all.
Surely there will be some conversations between guests when they get home tonight.
I remind myself of that and try and keep my back straight, my chin held high, and just focus on having fun with these playful kids. Who doesn’t like kids and having fun, seeing the sparkle in their eyes, and remembering when you were the one who ran around on those hot summer nights?
Granted I didn’t do it on such a beautiful island with an ocean breeze, surrounded by amazing architecture, but still…some things are universal.
“He’s a rambunctious little boy. I think that’s how you say it in English,” a voice says from behind me.
I look up at the clock tower and notice an hour has already passed since Stefano went off to take care of ‘business’.
I rock back on my heels and look away, deciding not to turn and face the person talking. I subconsciously chew on the inside of my cheek to keep from speaking.
Why am I being like this? Everyone here’s fine, and they’re all connected. I need to talk to people to both win them over and make Stefano look good. It’s not good for him if I’m rude to people or ignore them. I have to remind myself that this is part of our arrangement.
It’s not that it comes hard to me, per say, it’s just that I feel like if I talk to some other guy it’s almost like I’m ‘cheating’ on Stefano. How ridiculous.
“That’s perfect English,” I say turning to see a man who’s probably ten years younger than Stefano.
The man looks good, but after meeting Stefano no one else compares. Like most Italian men I’ve seen so far he’s well dressed, well mannered, and has a perma-smile on his face. Well, most men except Stefano, who’s so much more serious and intense.
“I’m Giorgio,” he says.
“Sloane,” I say, and he leans in kissing each cheek.
“First time in Italy?”
I’m still not sure if he’s just being friendly or if there’s interest there. I’ve heard it’s hard to tell with Italian guys and that they’re the biggest flirts in the world. But by ‘heard’ I mean just from books. It’s hard to know for sure based on my very limited experience here, most of that spent with Stefano.
“Yeah, first time.” I pause. “Is this your son?”
“Yes,” he says, smiling ear to ear. “Lorenzo.”
“Ciao,” the little boy says in Italian as he looks up at me.
He’s too cute. I bend down and give him a little handshake, but as I stand I see the look in Giorgio’s eyes change from playful fun, or possibly even flirting, to
fear.
His lips tremble as his face turns ashen white. I can see the tendons in his neck and he starts blinking rapidly.
His leg muscles tighten underneath his suit pants and his body pivots slightly, as if he’s getting ready to run, making me wonder what in the world is behind me.
“She’s mine,” a throaty growl rumbles from behind me, and there’s no guessing exactly who it’s coming from.
CHAPTER 20
Stefano
I squeeze my fists so tight my knuckles crack. I can hear my own breathing as I plant my legs wide and slide back the sleeves of my jacket and shirt.
Giorgio is a notorious player in these parts, his son the product of an affair with Italy’s top up-and-coming actress. He doesn’t even care for the boy, just using him to attract women at events and parties like this. The problem is he’s the son of an older and very well respected underboss and he’s untouchable and he knows it.
Well, not if he lays a finger on my woman. Then he’s very touchable, as in I’ll fucking break him in half.
“Stefano,” he says playfully, knowing he’s been caught red handed.
I nod. “What were you talking about?”
“Just little Lorenzo,” he says.
Lorenzo’s a good fifteen feet away now and totally immersed in his own imaginary play world.
“Would you care to join us?”
“We were just leaving,” I say, offering my arm to Sloane. She looks up at me and hesitates before taking it.
We turn and leave Giorgio in our dust. Surely he’ll be after another unsuspecting victim soon. He loves young women…all of them, whereas I only want one young woman…the one with me right now.
“What was that all about?” Sloane huffs.
“You don’t know him. I do.”
“I know you were being rude to a guy who was just being nice.”
“He’s not nice. He uses women and dumps them, leaving them broken.”
“You think he was going to use me or something? Like I was going to just jump into bed with him in the hour or whatever it was you were gone.”
“Don’t even talk like that,” I command.
“Why? You’re afraid some of these people you know might hear us?” she says.
“No. Because I don’t even want to think of you with another man.”
“Oh.”
I guide her around the corner and down the street to a small one-way street called Via Gioeni. The second we turn the corner I’m on her, claiming her possessively and I can’t help but pick her up and push her back into the wall.
Anger rips through me and I want her now, rough, and I’m not about to wait.
“In case you forgot who you belong to,” I growl into her mouth.
Her lips are reluctant at first, but I don’t stop and slowly her lips begin to part, letting me in.
“Stefano,” she moans, and my hand finds her panties, pulling them down and to the side as I quickly fiddle with my belt buckle and fly, unable to get it down fast enough.
But as soon as I do I waste no time lining her up with my rod and lowering her right down onto it.
She’s wet as the sea and I immediately take her by the hips and start sliding her up and down my pole.
“Fuck Stefano,” she whimpers.
“Who do you belong to?”
“You,” she moans.
“Say my name. Tell the entire town, the world, the universe.”
“You, Stefano. I belong to you. I’m yours.”
My balls pull up and my abs cinch at her words as my pelvis tilts up and I unload my claim inside her, feeling her pussy grip ahold of my cock, milking it just before she comes all over my cock, coating me in her juices.
“Oh fuck,” she yells, her body jerking and trembling.
Some couple turns the corner, laughing and more than likely coming from the same gathering we were just at.
“Go around!” I command.
The man brings his hand to his face, covering his view and they quickly turn and make their way back onto the main street.
She’s my woman and I don’t want anyone seeing her like this but me.
Her chest heaves and her cheeks swell. Knowing I could get her off that quick makes me feel primal, even more masculine than ever, and more importantly shows her who she belongs to.
Me.
CHAPTER 21
Sloane
The next day
I hold on tight as Stefano weaves along the E90 highway along the northern coast of Sicily. He hits the gas and we shoot through a mountain pass tunnel and come out the other side only to be greeted by sweeping views of the sea.
The wind’s in my hair, or at least the part that’s hanging out of my helmet, as the Ducati slows down to slower speed.
“Over there,” Stefano says into the helmet mic, which is hooked up to mine, as he takes one hand off the bike and points to the sea.
I look to my left, seeing a mass parade of sailboats.
His hand finds the handlebar again and he hits the throttle. I feel the kick underneath me and wish I was the one underneath Stefano like last night.
After we got back to his villa it was straight to the bedroom, where we spent the rest of the night.
Today, Stefano awoke and told me he wanted to show me something. I’m not sure if it’s these amazing views or we actually have a destination.
And I’m also not sure if this is something special he’s doing with me, or if he does this with all women. I’m also wondering just how far his illicit activities extend as I extend my arms around him, holding him tight.
The man’s midsection is built like a tree trunk, and I feel so safe around him. Sometimes the motorcycle goes pretty fast, but he always seems in control. It’s never wild accelerations and he’s not passing people or going left of center. Everything is smooth, fluid, and in control…just like him.
I just wonder how much control I’m going to have when our two and a half weeks are up. How can I ever go back to just going to college and being around boys my age who spend all their time on Tinder looking for one night stands, or ‘Netflix and chill’, which of course means the same thing.
They don’t have the size, the control, the presence, the anything that Stefano has…not to mention he’s Italian, an amazing host, and his cock fills me with more pleasure than even my crazy mind could have imagined. I knew I’d enjoy sex once I found the right guy, but enjoy is the understatement of the year.
Because of his size and strength he can throw me around like a rag doll and bend me into positions that would make a gymnast eating a pretzel jealous.
And I can’t help but be jealous wondering who else he’s done this with, although I don’t want to ask and hear something I don’t want to hear.
Thirty minutes later we pull to a stop in the cutest, quaintest little town atop a hill that even Hallmark couldn’t dream up.
“Where are we?” I ask, as I remove my helmet and take in the sight of the snow-capped mountain off in the distance, despite the summer heat.
“Gangi.”
“Like gang?”
He doesn’t seem amused, and I guess my attempt at some mafia humor needs a lot of work.
“A gang, but not in the way you’re thinking,” he says, helping me down off the bike and then taking my hand.
“What about the helmets? We’re just going to leave them here?”
“No one is foolish enough to try and take what’s mine,” he states as if it’s simply a fact, without any bravado in his voice. Talk about having confidence in your reputation alone.
We walk down some narrow cobblestone streets, older ladies above hanging laundry next to potted plants. Wow, this place is so beautiful and perfect…but I also notice that it’s pretty empty.
We arrive at a small cafe and the older man that works there literally comes out and kisses Stefano’s hand, thanking him time and time again, although I’m not sure for what.
Stefano speaks with him in Italian and then pulls out a
seat for me.
The view is breathtaking and I hear the hiss of the espresso machine in the background and know that smooth taste of Italian coffee will soon slide across my lips and down my throat. And of course being Europe, they bring you a free water to go with it. I love this kind of charm, simple sophistication, and relaxation.
Dad's Italian Mafia Friend (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 109) Page 7