by Sienna Mynx
“That’s my girl.” Giovanni tugged her hand to draw her closer and eased the door to the shower closed when she was his.
“Abbracciami.” Mira whispered. She asked him to hold her. He brought her up against his chest. There were no words to express how much he adored her. Silent contentment stretched between them. Nothing was heard over the rushing water out of the showerhead. And then he captured her chin to draw her face up and she blinked at him with liquid brown eyes he could drown in. “I have missed my Mirabella,” he smiled. “Sono allupata,” I’m starving for you,” he said. “I can’t wait to make you my wife. I think sometimes I forget how to convey this without becoming an asshole. Do you understand my meaning? Should we discuss what happened upstairs further?”
She didn’t release him from the twinge of guilt he felt over being stern with her. She met his gaze and held it. And though he didn’t bother to voice his thoughts aloud, he wished her to be submissive. The blame was his and the man who raised him. Some things a son can’t help but learn from his father. And some of the blame was hers. Losing her and finding she had effectively escaped him with another man made him both selfish, and distrusting.
There was something else.
The baby growing inside of her struck a protective streak in him he couldn’t dismiss. Her health and the safety of her and his bambina sleeping in the other room was his number one priority. What should she expect from him? After all, she was the one to convince him that he could have the life he didn’t deserve. And now he wanted all the sweet things she whispered in his ear, about their life and future as husband and wife. He’d do anything to keep her to that promise.
At some point, she’d understand the danger and sacrifice made when choosing to love a man like him. There would be no turning back, shifting priorities, or others competing with him for her affection. Never.
Tonight, a little reassurance is all he needed. He waited for her to speak, to submit, and her answering silence made the muscles in his heart constrict.
Mira lifted her hand and eased it up his chest over his shoulder and around his neck. She drew his mouth to hers. One kiss and the soul tie that forever bound her to him strengthened. Her darting tongue was as seductive as her touch. Unintentionally, he stepped forward into the shower of steamy water, and she didn’t shy away as she sometimes did to avoid getting her hair wet. She wrapped both arms around his neck and deeply swept her tongue into his mouth. Every glorious curve made her an undisputed goddess in his life, pressed up against his body, rushing the blood in his veins to his erection. Giovanni chuckled in her kiss. This response would do.
He drew her back under the water and she fought him a bit. “I can’t!” she said jerking and gasping when too much water covered her face. She’d complained before about her hair becoming wet, which was ridiculous to him, but the panic in her eyes and voice was different this time. He released her.
“What is it?”
She gagged and coughed. “I can’t.”
“What? Get your face wet?”
She looked up at him on the verge of tears.
“Bella? Talk to me? Che si dice?”
“I can’t swim.”
“Swim?” he nearly laughed. If she weren’t trembling in his arms he would have. “You’re not swimming. We’re taking a shower. The water just covered your face. Why is that scary?”
“It is okay! Dammit, just forget it.” She made to leave but he swiftly pinned her to the shower wall. She had to look him in the eye and finish the tale. “I nearly drowned at four. I’ve always been terrified of being submerged under water. It just triggered an old fear. That’s all.”
“How is it I don’t know this about you?” he asked, looking deeply into her eyes. “I would never do anything to harm you.”
“I know. You didn’t know. It’s stupid and I’m asha—”
He kissed away her apology. Then dropped his forehead to hers. “There is still so much to learn, for us both to learn.”
“And we will,” she said softly, drawing his face up. “I’m okay. It’s a stupid phobia. I’m fine.”
It took several moments for his heart to stop racing. Giovanni pressed the side of his face to hers. He waited a breath before he relaxed and inhaled another calming deep one. His eyes closed. The idea of her in pain panicked him beyond reason. He shouldn’t hold on too tight. It would never serve him well to act on his insecurities and overwhelm her with his need for reassurance. He forced a smile, and pretended to understand. Hell, he barely knew her history beyond what she shared of Fabiana and her grandparents. There was definitely more to learn.
“Let me down sweetie,” she said softly against his ear.
Giovanni hadn’t realized he had her pinned so high up on the wall. He eased up to let her down and managed a tight-lipped smile. “You tired? You look tired,” he said.
“No. I’m not tired.” She lowered her hand to his groin and squeezed. “I’ve missed you.” She flicked her tongue at his chin.
Giovanni reached and removed her hand, pinning it to the shower wall by the wrist. “Bella,” he said in a deep earnest voice that conveyed all of what he carried in his heart for her. Lust filled him once more, surging against his instinct to maintain control. He ignored the invitation in her smile. “I’m home now. It’s my job to take care of you,” he said.
Mira looked to the water, and the scene between them just minutes ago kept the tension mounting. Her gaze returned to him. Pearls of moisture made her face, neck, and shoulders, all of her glisten. “Then do your job,” she teased. “Take care of me.”
With his cock throbbing, Giovanni stepped back and reached over to the silver dial and turned the shower off. He opened the glass door and made sure she stepped out on the tile floor carefully. The first thing he did was dry her. He took his time to blot her damp skin, and then he used swirling wipes around her lovely breasts and her ass, both being the most seductive parts of her body, second only to her pussy. He brushed the thick towel between her thighs. Mira parted them for him by resting her foot on the toilette. One glimpse of the slight glisten of moisture between the lips of her pussy and he froze. He sucked in a deep calming breath and his gaze lifted to hers. She blinked down at him with anticipation. He nearly ran his tongue into her; the temptation was so close to his face. But he withstood the urge. Tonight wasn’t about him. And he’d prove it.
When he rose from his knelt position before her, he went to the towel cabinet and selected three of the thickest. “Spread these over the bed and lie on your stomach. I’ll join you soon.”
She frowned at his request and looked at him with those questioning eyes. Giovanni’s left brow winged up over her hesitance. “No worries, Bella, you will enjoy this.”
She turned and walked out. What he proposed for her this evening he hadn’t done since college. And to be truthful, he was rarely the doer. But pregnant women needed to be stress free, relaxed; and there was no way in hell he’d hire some outsider, male or female, to come in and touch her body. Not the way he intended to this evening. What he didn’t know, or remember, he’d figure out in the doing.
Giovanni returned to the cabinet and began to search for oil, or lotion. He found things she groomed her hair with but not much else. He removed her black makeup bag that was shoved to the back of the cabinet and placed it on the sink. Running the zipper around the circular lid, he lifted it and did a quick search inside. A small tube of baby oil was there. It would be perfect. His gaze then fell on a tiny velvet jewelry box. It wasn’t the one for the charm bracelet he gave her for Christmas, which she wore even when she slept. He inspected the box, opened the lid and blinked at what lay on the velvet cushion. A child’s bracelet made of gold. Carved along the white gold nameplate in raised cursive lettering, was the word Mirabella. This was the bracelet she lost when they first met. The one she said was given to her by her father. He turned it over and his eyes narrowed on the little insignia stamped on the golden clasp. He’d seen it before. Where? Giovanni’s memo
ry failed him. However, he was certain of the familiarity.
“Giovanni?” Mira called out. “I’m ready.”
“Un momento,” he said. Giovanni held the bracelet up against the light and squinted at the insignia. Why the fuck was it so familiar? After a long moment of reflection, he decided to pursue the mystery later. She waited for him. He dropped the bracelet back in the box and placed the case under the sink. He dried his body and slipped on his silk pajama pants over his erection, then turned the tap water on hot in the sink until the water was steaming. He then dropped a few hand towels in and walked out.
Mira had done as she was told. She lay on her stomach upon the three towels. “I’m here,” he said.
“Let me guess. I get a massage?” she chuckled.
“The best one of your life, beautiful.”
He plucked two pillows off the bed and repositioned her body, so that one rested under her stomach and the other just below her knees. He parted her legs slightly and admired her physique; from her flawless back, slender waist and heart shaped hips, with perfectly round butt cheeks and shapely thighs. All of her was something to behold. He couldn’t wait to witness the changes in her body that had put the tiny stretch marks on her hips and around her tummy. Ones she constantly rubbed cocoa butter on and tried to conceal from him.
Giovanni smiled.
“I’m waiting,” she groaned into her pillow.
“Patience, Bella,” he smacked her pussy with his flat hand and she gasped.
Mira released a shaky breath. The tap he gave her below was unexpected and so naughty, she felt herself moisten and tingle with excitement. She was grateful the pillow concealed her torment, but she moved her ass a bit, revealing how much she desired he do it again. What would he do? Tease her first? Then what? She became giddy with anticipation. He positioned her, making her fold her arms and rest them above her head, so she was completely stretched out on the bed.
And then nothing.
Mira waited. What was he doing?
The bed shifted with weight and she knew he joined her. In fact his knees rested on either side of her thighs. And then she was sure of it when the head of his cock brushed the crease of her bottom. Naughty playful thoughts surfaced and her insides constricted. She smirked to herself. What if I got a ruler and measured his dick when he fell asleep? Is that too kinky? What would he say?
“You laughing at me, Bella?”
“Huh? No,” she lifted her head. “I’m just happy. Lo facciamo alla percorina?”
She lifted her ass up to him and asked him if he wanted to do it doggie style. He smacked her on the butt with an open hand and she gasped. The tap had the same effect as the first, and lustful heat filled her below. The idea of his powerful hand giving her a playful spanking thrilled her. They didn’t do sex play, but she was open to it. Now, with her pregnant, she doubted he’d consider a different game.
“Will you behave?”
“Non lo so,” she groaned her defiance.
He delivered another tight smack to her bottom and she squirmed. “I’ll be good. I promise,” she said, trying hard not to release any laughter in her voice.
The cap popped on something, and then a squirt. Cold oil squirted on her skin, cool as ice. Mira shivered. His hand, absent of warmth, smeared the coolness over her back. He then used both hands. The oil was rubbed up and down with slow measured movements from the base of her spine to her shoulder blades. He used a firm consistent pressure that drove deep relaxing breaths through her. And the oil added the special touch of softness to his calloused hands. When his fingers spread, and his thumbs pressed into the center of her spine, she wanted to sink into the oblivion of pleasure. She closed her eyes and swallowed as an intense longing took hold of her. There was a wondrous swooping pull in her pelvis, and her channel constricted as if he’d entered her from behind. Mira’s lids fluttered open and her mouth parted in a silent cry of relief. From her lower back all the way to her neck his thumbs applied pressure and struck vibrant chords in her with his tender massage. It felt like a rippling of pressure. The release that was continuous.
“How does it feel?”
“Wonderful,” she said as she fought back tears of joy.
“Buono. Now we can begin.”
“That was a warm up?” Giovanni answered her with his hands. He massaged her shoulder blades first. Intense. Her breathing began to settle down to a more even rhythm. She could feel the burn of his technique dissolving the knots of tension along her arms all the way to her fingertips. For five to ten minutes he worked on her this way, focusing on different areas of her back, until all stress melted from the muscles. And then the technique morphed from skill to seduction. The glide of his touch was deeply sustained by the pressure of the balls of his palms. He worked certain areas where he found tighter muscles with deliberate and measured movements of his fingers until they loosened. He scooted back off the bed and began to do his magic on her buttocks and thighs. His firm hands gripped both halves of her butt cheeks and when he tongued her deeply between, her body strained. However, a tingle of excitement tickled her clit.
Mira squeezed her eyes shut. Pleasure was swift and violent. The sensation of his tongue licking her from top to bottom went way beyond the walls of endurance. She began to cry out and shudder hard when he pierced her opening. And then he withdrew. Just as she was so close to climaxing, he withdrew.
Mira dragged in a desperate breath, and scrambled up the bed. But his hands were on her again. So skillful, she kept gasping and sighing. He ended with massages to her calves and then her feet. At some point, hot towels were applied. Where did they come from? Her heart raced so fast and her pussy ached so bad she felt as if her brain went numb.
She was wiped clean.
“Turn over, Bella.”
Dazed and frustrated, Mira did as she was told. Giovanni tossed the pillows away. He crawled over her and stopped when she reached for him. He took her arms and spread them out in a T formation. He played with her first. And she bit her tongue to not scream at him to end the game. His fingers stroked her labia and teased her clit. He dipped his finger in her already desire-slickened vagina and her pelvis tilted up in response. Giovanni gave her the sexiest smile of approval.
“Mi appartieni,” he said. The intensity in his blue eyes was so galvanizing, she would submit to anything.
“Yes, Giovanni. I belong to you. We all do,” she answered, understanding the appropriate response.
He moved his hand away and sat up. The massage had been relentless. And to her surprise, he was not done. He picked up the tube of gel and squirted some in his hands before rubbing them together to get them oiled and slick. His first touch was to her collarbone and shoulders, then an easy glide to her breasts and around the circumference. Her lips pursed and she sucked in a slow measured breath and exhaled through her nose. Giovanni worked in his caress while using his thumbs to tease her nipples. Her wildly beating heart hammered against her ribs. Any minute she’d suffer cardiac arrest from the pent up frustration quivering in her chest over the slow torture. If she hadn’t recognized the same hunger in his eyes to fuck her, she’d think he was punishing her. One minute she could relax, and the next, the sexual heat he stirred had her hot and bothered all over. Convinced of his intentions to only please her, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the way he worshiped her body.
This went on for unrelenting long minutes. He ran both of his hands down her abdomen and his touch became uncharacteristically gentle. She smiled. He caressed the slight curve of her belly, extra poundage present thanks to Eve. She could never shed it. But she knew for Giovanni he believed it to be the first signs of her pregnancy.
“Do you feel the baby yet?” he asked in an awestruck voice.
“No. Giovanni, we won’t feel the baby kick for several months.”
He nodded that he understood. The moment passed. He continued with his massage of her thighs and legs and then both arms. As desperately as she wanted him to touch her intimately, this w
as far more satisfying than she could imagine. And when he began the massage all over her again, she slipped into contentment, bliss.
*****
Players called it ‘Scopa’. It was an Italian forty-deck card game often played by the men when they gathered at Carlo’s. And Scopa was an excitable event. Shouting matches and playful foul language banter between the gamers was a must. At Carlo’s, a few men have been known to go for their guns when the lively exchange devolved into ego bruising. That evening, the drinking and smoking of marijuana in celebration of the early payouts from their Don, charged the air with celebration. When Lorenzo entered, barely a man in the room noticed. Except for Carlo. No one came and left his villa without his awareness. He sat off in his chair, a large black recliner made from the finest Italian leather, in the corner of the room. He took a long drag of something he hand rolled, and his dark eyes glittered like those of a cobra tracking Lorenzo from the moment he entered the door.
Lorenzo overlooked him. He wasn’t there for a social call. Carmine informed him that Cheno delivered the envelope to Melanzana. A young hood that was only good for odds and ends because his quick temper almost always got him into fistfights and knifings. Carlo had a thing for hotheads and considered Cheno, Carmine, and a few others worthy of his mentoring. If the night was filled with card games and gambling, Cheno had to be there to prove himself to the other bosses. Among the men gathered, Cheno was absent.