But there was no motorcycle today, only a simple white van marked with Mario Brothers Plumbing. I almost laugh at the name, but then I freeze realizing it’s a reference to me.
During one of occasion, I’d mentioned to my father that I was in my room playing “Super Mario Brothers” on Nintendo just before I “happened” to come downstairs for a glass of milk. Lorenzo was there and he overheard.
Surely my father took notice of my “random” sightings downstairs each and every time Lorenzo was around.
Whenever I heard the sound of that motorcycle of his, the quiet, yet powerful, rumble of the engine making me feel things inside that I couldn’t put into words.
The way he so effortlessly controlled that big bike. Watching him wind up the driveway…the way he’d turn his shoulders and then the bike would almost follow him, like it was a part of him.
The bike would slow to a stop and he’d throw that big, thick, tree-trunk of a leg over the side and come walking up the cobblestone driveway to the front door, his riding boots making that distinct sound beneath his feet.
He’d unzip his riding jacket just before he rang the bell, and I could see his barrel chest rumbling underneath that snug black T-shirt that seemed as dark as he was.
This time it was different.
Not a black jacket and a black bike, but a white van, from which he quickly removes two of those white bodysuit type things that painters wear to keep their clothes clean.
“Put this on,” he says, tossing it to me.
I raise my hands just in time to catch it before it reaches me.
I shoot him a stink eye, but he’s already looking away as he steps into his own outfit.
“My daughter does not dress like a fucking peasant!” my dad yells.
“She does if she wants to stay alive.”
I turn to my dad, seeing him fume, his face turning red.
“There are two unmarked cop cars less than two miles from your front gate, and a motorcycle cop another half mile past them. We can be proud, dumb, and in jail, or we can be humble, smart, and free. Take your pick.”
He steps into the van and fires up the engine.
I’ve never seen a man talk to my father this way in my entire life, not that I’m privy to hardly any of the men only conversations, but I know most men wouldn’t have the balls to even think about speaking to my father like this, let alone do it.
And that’s why I want him so damn bad.
I know he’ll never fear another man, and as a woman that lives in a savage world that means everything to me. Once they smell a man's fear in my world he’s as good as dead, or even worse a dead man walking. At least when you’re dead you’re dead. When you’re a dead man walking this life will just feed on you until there’s nothing left to take…and then they’ll take some more. Years and years will go by as you’ll lose every last cent, your pride, your family, your dignity…everything.
And no one will care because if you’re not a man you don’t deserve an ounce of respect. That’s the reality, and the moment my father grits his teeth and nods I know he’s signed off on my new reality…an escape with Lorenzo.
I step into the van not knowing where I’m going, but knowing there’s no going back. Somewhere along this journey I have to tell Lorenzo my true feelings about him, and that my future isn’t here…it’s somewhere else…with him.
CHAPTER 4
Lorenzo
I can’t believe the old man didn’t kill me back there.
But I know why he didn’t.
He has no choice and he knows it…and that makes two of us.
Because I don’t have a choice anymore either…not when it comes to her.
My dick is as hard as the stick shift in this van and damn do I want to bury it so fucking deep in her over and over and over again, coming hard and filling her with my seed. I want to breed her, make babies with her, show the whole world she’s mine when her belly swells with our child and my chest swells with pride knowing she’s showing the world the visual proof of exactly who her man is.
Me and only me.
“Where are you taking me?”
I’m taking you to the bedroom the first chance I get and I’m never letting you out.
I keep my eyes on the road, ignoring her question.
“I don’t even know you.”
“Your father knows me, and he trusts me. That’s enough for now. You’ll be safe. You don’t have to worry…ever. Not when you’re with me.”
Except for the part about me becoming a savage beast because she’s turned me into one.
My hand grips the steering wheel tighter and I feel like I have a lead foot all of the sudden.
I ease up off the pedal, not wanting to attract the attention of those cops I saw when I came in. It’s just that I’ve never been so damn close to her before, not alone like this that is.
She shifts on the seat next to me, moving slightly closer.
She’s so damn close I could reach my arm out and grab her, pull her over to me and kiss her hard and fast just like my body demands.
But my head has other plans.
I need to keep us safe until we’re out of this part of Italy. The place is crawling with people that want to take her father down, and trying to do so by getting to his daughter is an easy approach.
I’m not going to let that happen. Not now. Not ever.
She’s mine and this is Italy. If you’re going to live in a patriarchal society the first thing you need to do is be a real patriarch, and that means being the man who protects what’s his even if it means laying my own life on the line.
That’s exactly what I’d do for her.
These last four years I’ve come to realize that life isn’t worth living without her.
Sleeping in the mountains in the middle of nowhere in a shack made sense…until it didn’t. And the moment I saw her the whole “ignore the rest of the world” thoughts I’d had for years slipped away from my mind.
Yeah, I could stay away from cities and civilization as I had been. Sure, that’s no problem…as long as she was there with me.
She’s all I need. Just her by my side and our kids running and playing by our feet. Little boys and girls that we make together hugging my legs and weaving in between them like they’re a jungle gym. And that’s exactly what I’d be too because I’d have my kids lifted up in the air and crawling all over me like I was a human jungle gym.
Anything to make them, and her smile.
I see her glance over at me and take in the sight of me. I’m big and kind of crazy looking, and my beard doesn’t do much to try and sway that notion. Just wait until I get out of this monkey suit and she sees my sleeved right arm. Then she’ll really know she’s messing with trouble.
“Don’t look out the side windows,” I say catching her head moving to the side. It gives me a quick second to check her out. Damn she’s fine as hell, even in that painters outfit. She could make a potato sack look like a million bucks, her natural beauty is so damn stunning.
“Why not?” she says.
“Last thing we need is a positive ID from the cops.”
A moment passes. “Here, you can pick the radio station,” I say, turning the knob of the old van’s sound system.
She quickly turns it off.
“You don’t like music?”
“I like the sound of silence, and there’s something calming about hearing you breathe.”
“Hearing me breath?” I say.
“When you take in air your chest is so big it causes your lungs to fill which pushes your body back into the seat and it creaks a little, the old vinyl almost rocking like a ship on the sea in the night.”
“Are you a poet or something?”
“No, but I spend a lot of time in my room by myself.”
“Doing what?”
“Thinking?”
“About?”
“That’s personal.” She pauses. “So you must have really said something to my dad to get him to cha
nge his mind.”
“What do you mean?”
“I thought I was going with him and all of the sudden things changed.”
“I couldn’t let that happen.”
“You couldn’t let that happen? My dad makes decisions for himself, no matter what other people say or do or how people try and influence him.”
“I never tried to influence him or persuade him or anything like that. I told him how things had to be. You don’t get to the top by being a dummy, and your father is no dummy. He realized the only way was for you to go with me.”
“Why are you so interested in helping me?”
“That’s personal,” I say.
I can see her smile out of the corner of my eye.
She shifts in her seat, throwing her right leg over her left, both feet pointing in my direction.
“Why do you look so angry all the time?”
“Who said I was angry?”
“Have you looked at yourself lately?”
“Have you looked at yourself lately?” Fuck, I’m on the verge of giving away my need for her.
“What does the way I look have to do with anything?”
I see her eyes rake over my body and I know she sees the bulge in this goofy suit I have on. If there was any question about how her looks played any part in my decision, well now she knew.
But this was so much more than her beauty. When I saw her my reaction was primal, sure, but it was so much more dammit. I’ve never felt the urge to wrap my arms around a woman and protect her, make her mine and make a family with her. It was something different entirely, something I wasn’t ready for and something I’d waited my whole life for at the same time. I just didn’t know it existed. But how could I? I’d never met her before. She was the one. I knew instantly.
The sound of the road beneath us is soothing as we head north, passing plenty of police checkpoints where we look like a team of painters. We even have white baseball hats with paint stains on them. I was prepared and the preparation makes this trip so much easier, except for my balls which are aching like hell.
We pull over for gas and I try and use the toilet but I’m so hard I can’t even get myself to go. This is unlike anything that’s ever happened to me. All I can think of is filling her with my thick hard on and relieving myself of this pain. Something’s got to give and soon or else I’m going to explode.
We drive for twelve hours until finally we reach the base of the Dolomites.
My eyes narrow, trying to stay focused on the road. The wind is whipping in every direction, covering the road with snow and blinding my view.
The tires catches a piece of black ice and I feel the van slide a bit before the tread on the tires catches again.
“Is everything okay?” she asks.
“We’re going to pull over and get a room for the night. This isn’t safe. I’m not risking your life out here.”
“We can push on. I trust you.”
I’m not lacking in self confidence but hearing her say that makes me feel damn near arrogant. Knowing I’ve got the backing of the only woman whose opinion matters makes me feel like a Don myself, even though the mafia life never interested me and I’ve got plans to show her why it’s time for her to step away forever…and be with me.
“Right now it’s like we’re trying to maneuver inside one of those snow cone makers you see at the seaside in the summer. Continuing up the mountains to higher elevation is practically suicide,” I say.
I see a light up ahead and pull over to some mom and pop motel.
Of course there’s an Italian police car parked outside and an Interpol car along the side of the building. Nothing better than hiding in plain sight.
“We’re getting a room?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah, that’s exactly what’s happening,” I grumble, leaving out the part about how being able to control myself locked up in some tiny room with her all night is going to be the death of me.
CHAPTER 5
Lorenzo
I hear a knock on the door and know it’s the receptionist. The older gentleman had some leftover lasagna that he said he could heat up for us and he’d also slice some prosciutto and add in some crackers and cheeses. I like this place already.
And I “like” her a whole lot more, as is evident by my raging erection that won’t go down no matter how cold I make the water under the shower.
I hear her open the door and I know it’s my chance to relieve this pressure in my balls.
I hear her talking to the guy and I close my eyes and stroke my cock a single time and I unload onto the tile. I grit my teeth trying not to yell her name. If only she knew I was ten feet away from her right now, stroking my dick to her she’d steal the keys to the van and run to the nearest police station and turn herself in. At least that way she’d be safe…from me.
Even with the release I’m still hard as a rock. What the hell?
My dick, and my mind, aren’t having it. They’re not accepting the shallow “victory,” demanding the real thing.
Her.
I finish up my shower and put on a fresh pair of clothes from the duffel bag I brought along.
Stepping into the main room I see her lying across the queen sized bed in a robe, her hair glistening from the shower she took before me.
I want to take two steps forward and dive right onto that bed, taking her for the first time, making her feel my dick deep inside her as I kiss her lips hard.
“Alessandro, from reception, brought our food,” she says. “He’s looking for a rollaway bed but hasn’t been able to find a spare one yet.”
I’m pissed that he got to see her in her robe like that. I cut the guy a little slack since I know he must be pushing eighty, if not more. I hope he doesn’t find that spare bed and from one Italian man to another I doubt he’ll tell us if he did.
Surely he could see the look in my eyes when we checked in and he referred to Lucia as my wife, even though she had her hands on the reception desk and there was clearly no ring present.
I even saw him look down at her hands, and for a second I thought he was sizing her up for himself. Not a chance. Not him, nor anyone.
“Just the old man came by?”
She nods.
“Nobody else creeping around?”
She shakes her head this time.
“Good.”
“You think those cops are looking for us?”
“Unlikely.”
“What if they are?”
“Don’t you worry about that,” I say moving closer to her, taking a piece of prosciutto from the plate and putting it in my mouth while my other hand rises up and I place it on the side of her head.
My dick jerks underneath my clothes and damn I want to take this further right here and now.
She looks up at me with hooded eyelids like she’s thinking the same thing I am as she maneuvers slightly, adjusting her legs and it takes every ounce of willpower I have not to look at her legs to see if she accidentally flashes me.
“You’re safe with me. I’m not letting anyone get close to you,” I say.
“Anyone?”
“No one but me.”
It wasn’t long ago that the police caught ‘Ndrangheta member Ernesto Fazzalari in the Calabrian mountains after a twenty-year manhunt. Twenty years they’d searched for him. Twenty years is nothing, not when you plan on spending a lifetime with the woman of your dreams.
As much as I want to lock her up for myself forever, that’s no way to live. I need to get us out of here, somewhere where she can live without being in fear…somewhere where we can enjoy life…together.
I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Anything.
“This is yours,” she says, handing me a plate of lasagna.
I take it, my other hand staying on the side of her chin as it slowly drops down, the tips of my rough fingers running along her high cheekbones before leaving her face.
I want to touch every part of her. Her skin is so soft, so perfect, and she�
��s so damn mine.
Why am I about to eat this lasagna when the only food I need, the only thing I want to put to my lips, is her sweet little pussy until she begs me to stop…until I make her come over and over and over again as I drink up every last drop she has to give me.
Italian Mountain Man (A Man Who Knows What He Wants Book 93) Page 2