Cocktales

by The Cocky Collective

“I can take a look at it. I build things for a living, in case you didn’t know.”

  “I don’t know. I’d sell it but…”

  He waved his hand to dismiss the conversation.

  “But it’s home?”

  He shook his head and smiled, looking back at me as if I’d said something particularly incisive. “Fucking Americans.”

  Gabby was sleeping across the hotel hall with her nanny.

  I was naked from the waist up.

  My wife was naked with a belt in her teeth, bent over the footboard with her wrists tied to the rails and her ankles tied to the bed’s legs. She had a pillow under her abdomen so the bar didn’t dig into her. The only discomfort she should feel should come from me.

  The red patches on her ass were hot to the touch. She’d taken the swats from my hand like a champ, and when I slid my fingers into her seam she was soaking wet.

  “Now,” I said. “You pulled me away from cigarette smoke seven times and reminded me to take my meds an hour before I was supposed to. That’s eight.”

  She looked around and grunted an objection. The belt in her teeth was wet with spit. I took it out.

  “That’s totally not fair! There was a time change from Prague.”

  “Nine, then.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. I never punished her for that because it didn’t bother me. But she was getting used to pain, and nine would barely make a dent in her defenses.

  “You know what?” I said, tapping her red bottom gently with the loop of the belt. “Let’s make it an even dozen. Count.”

  I brought the belt down on the soft, raw skin of her ass. When she buckled, my balls throbbed.

  “One,” she said.

  Damn, she was perfect. She fit right into my life. I hit her in the back of the thighs.

  “Two.” She was trying to sound bored, but a hot pink mark rose where the belt had been.

  “Oh, Goddess, you’re such a brat.” Across the ass, where her cunt was blossoming, I tried to hurt her free of boredom.

  “Three.” Clenched teeth. Another across the same spot. “Four,” she grunted. I stroked her ass, feeling the rising swells of skin, then slid two fingers deep inside her.

  “Italy agrees with you.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Eight more.”

  She counted three strokes as they came in fast succession, yelping “seven.”

  “Why was my sister crying?”

  She paused for too long, so I gave her one on the back of her thighs.

  “Eight. There were two kids squatting in Antonio’s dad’s place. She was sad.”

  Coupled with the conversation I’d had with Antonio, I could imagine she was. I could get the rest of the story later.

  Swat.

  “Nine.” Her tone was almost relieved, as if she’d arrived at a destination.

  Swat.

  “Ten.”

  “These next two are coming hard, Goddess.”

  “Okay.”

  I never knew if she forgot out of brattiness or if she was so deep in subspace she had limited syllables.

  “Okay, what?” I touched her sore, friction-heated skin and she jumped.

  “Okay, Sir.”

  Pulling her cheek away, I inspected the tight pucker of her ass.

  “Three more. A baker’s dozen.”

  I brought the belt down and she counted to thirteen.

  Leaning close to her, I kissed a tear from her cheek.

  “You are absolutely perfect.”

  She smiled and mouthed, “so are you.”

  “Do you want to use your safeword?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I’m going to take your ass. Are you ready?”

  “Yes.”

  I put the belt by her lips. “Open.”

  She opened her mouth and clamped onto the leather.

  Behind her, I ran my fingers over her cunt, gathering moisture to spread over her ass, tucking a finger inside to stretch her.

  I wet my cock on her seam, and she groaned when I pushed in for a single stroke. I pinched her clit between thumb and crooked finger.

  “You ready?”

  She nodded.

  Slowly, gently, I pressed my cock to her anus, watching it give for me. Changing from a peck on the cheek to a gaping, open mouth. I knew her. I knew how slow to go. I knew how to minimize the pain and maximize the pleasure. How she liked her clit touched, how powerful her orgasms were when I was in her ass, and how it pulsed around me when she came.

  I left everything inside her.

  “Jesus Christ,” I said into her back. “This never gets old.”

  She made a mm sound, and I took the belt from her teeth. “Hang on.”

  I untied her. She was like jelly in my arms. Droopy in subspace. I laid her on her stomach and kissed her everywhere before rooting around in my bag for lotion.

  “How are you doing?” I asked, soothing her welted skin.

  “Thank you.” She spoke in barely a whisper.

  We didn’t say more for awhile. After I’d taken care of her body, I tucked her under the covers and joined her there, cradling her head on my shoulder.

  “Thank you for being there for my sister,” I said. When she looked at me quizzically, I continued. “You tore your eyes away from me long enough to take care of her.”

  “She’s upset.”

  “Antonio told me about the kids on his father’s farm,” I said. “Did you know she couldn’t have any?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How come I didn’t know?”

  “You’ve had other things on your mind.” She stroked the scar in the center of my chest.

  “What did she say they were going to do?”

  “They called the Italian equivalent of child protective services, but…welcome to Italy. No answer. It’s a holiday weekend in August and no one’s around.”

  Antonio had told me the same. I was just testing to see if my sister had the same story.

  “I think they’re staying until after the weekend to sort it out.”

  Her phone buzzed three times against the night table, then two times, then three.

  “Shit,” I said, watching Monica sit up. “What did we bring a nanny for?”

  “So you could fuck me in peace,” she replied, standing in all her naked glory. “Not so she could do our job.”

  “You should stay.” I threw the covers off me. “I’ll go.”

  Monica was already getting on her pants.

  “No. I’ll go.” She wiggled into her shirt. “You went last time.”

  She crawled onto the bed and kissed me. I put my palms on her cheeks to keep her close.

  “See you in the morning, Goddess.”

  “See you then, my king.”

  We kissed again, then she left to take care of Gabby.

  THERESA

  A lock of hair fell over his forehead, swaying with the rhythm. I had one leg over his shoulder, one arm around his neck, his knees using the plush of the mattress as leverage as he drove into me so hard his body rubbed my clit.

  “Deeper,” I cried, clutching the hair on his chest. “Fuck me so deep.”

  “Take it. Take it all.”

  He found another millimeter and I rubbed against him, exploding, arching away as he pulled me into him. He took my hair in his fist and pulled my face into his so I could see him come inside me, all gritted teeth and power, not just coming but conquering.

  Then our joints and bones melted into each other, and he settled behind me with his chest to my back, fitting together in a matched pattern.

  “I love you, Capo,” I said when I finally had the breath to speak. “Ti amo, ti amo.”

  “Your accent, Contessa…”

  I laughed and tried to wiggle away, but he held me.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “Today. I’m sorry I pulled you away from the house.”

  “It’s all right. I understand.” I didn’t need to ask him any questions, I just needed to give him spac
e to speak. He rolled onto his back and I tucked my head in the crook of his arm.

  “They were the caretaker’s children,” he said.

  “Ah.”

  “Fuck.” He rubbed his eyes and drew his hand down his face. “Their parents hid them in the basement.” Hard swallow. “They only heard the gunshots. Nevio almost suffocated Simona trying to keep her quiet. Made her unconscious. He thought he killed her.”

  “How old were they?”

  “She was five. He was eleven.” He turned his head to look me in the eye. “A year ago.”

  It was my turn to create the long pause. I didn’t know what to be sad about. The fact that they’d been on their own for a year, or the fact that their parents were assassinated when Antonio and I were married.

  My husband saved me a response. “They were in the front yard. The parents. I don’t even know their names. The children dragged them into the orchard and buried them. It took a week, he said. They were so little.”

  “And they were too scared to leave.”

  “Si. I need a cigarette.”

  He tried to get up but I pushed him down.

  “Capo,” I said. “No. Don’t run away. Talk to me.”

  He dropped back down, surrendering for once.

  “It was the Carlonis. Donna Maria’s son, Luca. What they did? Payment for marrying you. Revenge for rejecting their daughter. I will not let that go.”

  I turned and straddled him, pushing his shoulders to the mattress. Physically, I couldn’t hold him down. He was stronger and more vicious than I’d ever be, but the fact that he hadn’t already left me in the hotel so he could run off and shoot Luca Carloni told me he wasn’t past sense.

  “No vengeance.”

  “It’s not revenge. It’s justice.”

  “It’s a cycle.”

  “This will hang over us for the rest of our lives,” I said. “Is that what you want?”

  “If you do what I know you’re thinking, we’re going to spend the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders. No, Antonio. No. I won’t. Not until they come for us, and they won’t.”

  “Those kids—”

  “Are alive. And if you kill Luca Carloni? You’re putting them right in the middle of a pattern that almost ruined your life. Is that what you want? To fuck them up too?”

  He cupped my face in his hands. “I can’t let it go.”

  “Don’t let it go, but don’t kill. Please.” I took his wrist and kissed his palm, speaking into it like a prayer. “No more.”

  I laid on top of him, feeling his heart beat against mine. I thought I’d convinced him. But I’d have to win this battle over and over. Revenge was a habit only death could break.

  “I have to go talk to some people,” he said.

  “Antonio. No.”

  He pushed me off him and stood by the bed.

  “If I don’t, and we get through to the agency…they’re corrupt. It’s all corrupt. The kids will be targets. That what you want?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Then trust me.” He plucked his clothes out of his bag. Clean clothes, as if he had to dress for the following day.

  “Oh, like hell.”

  “After everything, you can’t believe me?”

  I kneeled straight on the bed, legs apart not to offer myself, but to stand my ground.

  “I believe you now, but once you get around those people—”

  “I’m not so weak.” Hotel key. Wallet. Switchblade. He couldn’t get a gun on the plane, thank God.

  “You’d better be back here in time to see Nella and your mother, and without blood on your hands.” I sounded hysterical. I’d run a criminal enterprise for a year and a half, and I was acting like a powerless mafia wife. That wouldn’t do. I wouldn’t kneel, and I wouldn’t agree with his decisions out of deference.

  “They know I’m here, and they are not evolved. They still live in vengeance. If they know the children are there they may come for them.”

  “They may not.”

  He stood over me fully dressed and put his thumb on my chin.

  “There will be no blood on my hands,” he said, stepping back to button his jacket with hands already stained red with violence.

  I stood between him and the door with my arms crossed under my breasts.

  “That means you don’t dirty someone else either. Not for money or favors. Do you hear?” That was my capo voice. That was the voice I used with his foot soldiers. It didn’t threaten consequences. It promised them. “I can’t stop you from leaving, and I won’t.”

  He got close to me. He didn’t try to go around me to the door, but gazed down at me and waited for me to move.

  “I trust you,” I said.

  “Besides your love, your trust is the most valuable thing I have.”

  “Then don’t break it, or you’ll break both.”

  He nodded in understanding, then jerked his chin over my shoulder, indicating the door.

  I opened it, standing behind it so I wouldn’t expose my naked body to the hallway.

  “Be safe, Antonio.”

  “I am safe. You stay here. Don’t leave this room.”

  He leaned on the jamb and lightly pressed his lips to mine. He didn’t linger. He didn’t make more of the kiss than he had to.

  This wasn’t a final goodbye.

  I closed the door and got dressed.

  MONICA

  Theresa drove our rental. Even in the middle of the night, she knew where she was going. She spoke enough Italian to read road signs and—bottom line—I wasn’t confident staying to the left.

  Also, she was just too badass to be driven around.

  My hands were shaking too hard to drive anyway. Jonathan would kill me if he found out I’d lied to him, and by “kill me” I meant “be very, justifiably too angry to punish me the way I liked.”

  “We’ll be back before he even notices you were gone,” she said, turning onto a side road. The groceries in the back seat shifted. Gabby’s nanny, Martha had picked them up after we’d gotten out of dinner and kept them in the room across the hall.

  “He sleeps like, nil,” I said. “So we have to be quick.”

  “We will.” The dashboard lights made the contours of her face bluish green, blackening the red of her hair. She looked so much like Jonathan I couldn’t help but love her.

  “Was Antonio sleeping when you left?”

  She let out a sardonic laugh. “Fucking men.”

  “Wait, was he awake? Does he know?”

  “No. He went off to see some friends.”

  She glanced at me sharply, then back to the dark road.

  “Friends? Okay.”

  She didn’t say more, so I didn’t ask. Theresa’s life was left to the imagination. In the years I’d known her, she’d focused on running the Temecula olive orchard, while I focused on Jonathan’s transplant and my career. But the family whispered, about Antonio’s business and Theresa’s acuity in running them. I never got to the bottom of what the business was, exactly.

  We came to a gate, and she stopped.

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  The gate was open, and a metal chain hung on a rung with a padlock on the end.

  “What?”

  “Antonio locked that today.”

  She twisted around to see behind her, and backed the car up, pulling off the road and stopping behind a copse of trees. The engine cut and we were in the dark.

  “So,” I said, “What do we do?”

  “You stay here.”

  “Okay? Why?”

  “Because. Trust me.”

  She switched the dome light to off and got out, closing the door before it beeped. She opened the back door and collected the bags.

  “Dude,” I said. “You’re taking the groceries?”

  “I don’t have a gun. If I bring this I look like a harmless little woman delivering food to children.”

  Martha had gotten very ambitious at the market, and Theresa didn’t have enough arms
for all the bags. She struggled, leaving an entire tube of salami and a flat of pepper plants behind. She closed the door, walking toward the road in the moonlight.

  I looked back at the food and plants she’d left, then at her.

  If she could play the helpless woman, worse, if she needed to, I could play as well.

  I caught up to her at the open gate. She didn’t acknowledge my presence for a few steps.

  “Plants?” she said. “Literally?”

  “I told Martha they were growing tomatoes. She figured they had land. Teach a man to fish, et cetera.”

  “She’s a keeper.”

  Up ahead, an old stone house loomed. It was dark and empty. Theresa got off the main drive and moved around the side. My heart was pounding so hard it hurt. If something happened to me, Jonathan was going to kill me for real.

  “I don’t see another car,” I said.

  “They hid it.”

  “Just like we did?”

  She stopped behind shoulder-high brush and dropped her bags.

  “That’s why you’re staying back while I go in. Put that stuff down.”

  I laid the salami tube and the flat of pepper plants on the ground.

  “Look,” I said. “I know you’re like some kind of badass or something, but—”

  “Monica.” Exasperated, she picked up the salami and left the rest. “Don’t make me sorry I brought you.” She walked toward the house, head up, eyes everywhere.

  Fuck that. I could be badass too. As long as I came out alive Jonathan would forgive me.

  I picked up a canvas bag full of cans and followed her.

  “If you’re going to come,” she said without looking at me, “stay behind and watch my back.”

  I could do that. I looped the bag’s handles around my fist and let her get ahead. The crickets thrummed at a deeper pitch in southern Italy, and the birds made a cacophony of noise I hadn’t heard before. I checked behind, to the sides, everywhere. We were clear. A bug slapped against my shoulder and I jumped.

  “Shh!” If a shush could be a shout, Theresa made it. She waved me over to a dark corner on the side of the house and pointed to the back. “Light.”

  She was right. A warm, yellow glow filtered through the interior to the backyard. We waited. Or, more accurately, Theresa waited. I would have just strolled on back there with my cans of beans.