by Frankie Love
His mouth comes down against mine and I can’t even return the passionate kiss. Instead, I become a mess of moans and whimpers as his mouth descends on mine, his tongue slipping into my mouth and exploring every wet part of it.
Matteo joins me on the bed, his naked body covering mine. For the first time, our bodies make contact in the most intimate way possible, and I arch my back for him, so desperate to have him closer. He takes my wrists and pins them above my head, and I grab onto the bedframe.
“Keep them there,” he orders me, and I nod, feeling delirious. I don’t know if I can obey that order. I’m too desperate to explore every inch of his skin with my fingertips.
His mouth descends my neck, down to my breasts and stomach. My back is arched in an almost impossible curve, so desperate to bring his mouth closer to my skin. “Please,” I beg him. “Don’t… don’t torture me.”
For it is as much torture as it is pleasure, the way he coasts along my skin with his lips, always steering clear of the parts of my body that are screaming for his touch the most.
Finally, fucking finally, his lips suck my nipple into his mouth and I hiss as he bites down. I can feel how wet I am, and I blush, knowing he’s about to find out sooner or later as well. And that moment is coming, as his hand wanders between my legs, slapping my thighs apart.
“Spread,” he orders me, and I moan, following his order. His fingers travel along the inside of my thighs, from the knees almost to my center, but not quite. I’m squirming, needing him touching my wetness, but he won’t give it to me.
“Matteo…” I breathe, feeling frustrated. But he bites down on my nipple again instead, harder this time, and I throw my head back in ecstasy. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
Finally, his fingers touch my wetness, the wet folds of my pussy. I moan. “I… I won’t be able to go much longer,” I breathe heavily.
He grabs me by the waist and presses his body dangerously close to mine, and I shake all over. “You cum when I tell you to,” he growls at me. “Not a moment sooner. Do you understand?”
My eyes are wide and glazed over as I look up at him. I nod silently, begging with my expression for him to go on. And mercifully, he does.
He holds me in place by grabbing on to my waist, and gets between my legs. They wrap around his waist instinctively, and I whisper for him to go on. Taking his thickness in one hand, he positions his cock at my entrance. I’m scared, but I still beg him to push inside.
Matteo looks up at me one last time, his eyes asking me if I’m sure. Instead of answering, I break the rules, my arms goes down and I guide him inside me. He exhales in shock and pleasure and his tip pushes inside me. Intense pain takes ahold of my body, sharp and stinging. My breath catches in my throat and a tear spills from my eyes, but then Matteo’s hands are on my face, and he’s looking at me, and I feel his love, his devotion, everything he feels for me.
And it’s so beautiful I want to cry.
We wait like that until my body adjusts to the intrusion, until my whimpers turn into moans. And then he starts moving, thrusting ever so slowly, stretching me.
“Fuck,” I whimper. My back arches again. I need him closer. Deeper. Harder. “Fuck. More. Please more.”
I can tell he’s holding back, and he grits his teeth as he starts pushing inside me. Every thrust of his hips is an effort, because I can tell he wants to go so much harder. But he holds back as much as he can, until my begging becomes too much. And then he really starts fucking me.
Deep thrusts, hitting a spot inside me I didn’t even know was there. He doesn’t take his eyes from mine as he fucks me, and I look at him, feeling mesmerized. I pushed him away for so long… For so long I was without this closeness, without feeling him inside me. I feel bereft for everything I’ve missed out on because of my own stupidity.
“Does it hurt?” he asks me softly.
I close my eyes for a second and nod slowly. “It’s good…”
And he groans, as if those words were too much for him. And he goes harder. I can feel him growing thicker, throbbing in my pussy, and I know I did that. It’s enough to push me over the edge. I feel myself moaning louder, my breaths coming in faster, needing his release.
“Bianca,” he breathes into my hair. “Don’t cum without me, princess…”
My breath hitches in my throat and I hold it, as if I’m holding the door closed on the feelings that are banging on the other side, so desperate to get out. A long, sensual moan escapes my lips and I open my cloudy eyes.
“I love you,” I tell him.
Matteo kisses me, a soft touch of his lips against mine, his tongue touching the tip of mine. “I’ve always loved you,” he tells me, and the door becomes harder to keep closed, so much harder. “Cum for me now…”
The last straw is feeling his cock throb inside me, and that pushes me over the edge. His fingers coil around my hair and he pumps fast. A groan escapes him, and I know he’s going to cum just like me.
And finally, I focus on the storm inside me. It feels as if something’s ripping me apart, and putting me together at the same time. I let go, and for the first time, it doesn’t scare me to fall to pieces.
We come together. His hands in my hair, mine scratching his back. With that moment, our fates are sealed. I am his, and he is mine, and that will never change. I belong to him completely now.
One final thrust, one final look, and he finishes with a groan. I’m kissing him even though I feel like I’m about to pass out. Long licks with our tongues, moaning against each other’s lips. He bites down on my bottom lip and I moan as I feel his cock throb inside me.
“So beautiful when you let go,” he tells me. “So stunning when you give up control.”
16
Matteo
We wake up together, entwined in each other’s arms. I relish the moment when she’s still asleep, breathing deeply in my arms. My fingers trace her cheekbones gently as I remember the night we just spent together.
Bianca is fucking perfect, right down to the parts of her that make me want to scream. And now I know I’ll never be able to let go.
She wakes up moments after me, and I watch realization dawning on her as she opens her eyes. She remembers her father passing first, and I see the tears gathering in her eyes as she locks them on mine. Then, what we did together last night. That puts a spark in her eyes, and I fucking love it. I’m going to enjoy looking for that spark for the rest of my goddamn life.
“Are you okay?” I ask her softly. She nods, cuddling up closer. I feel so fucking relieved. Part of me honestly belived she would push me away again… but after last night, how could she possibly do that?
I wrap her up in a blanket and pull her into my lap. She straddles me and her hair envelops us in a silky curtain as we kiss. Her pussy is warm against me, but I know she’s sore, so I don’t push for more. My arms wrap around her waist and I kiss her long and deep.
“Thank you,” she whispers in my ear. “For last night...”
I have my own doubts about what happened. Yes, it was beautiful, but the timing wasn’t right, or at least so I thought. Now that she sits in my lap though, I understand how badly she needed to have me inside her. And I understand. I’m grateful she gave me that part of herself at a time when she was the most vulnerable.
“Do you want to get some breakfast?” I ask her, and she nods. I leave her in the bed after leaving a fleeting kiss on her lips, and get dressed. I head out of the room and order the cook in her house to bring her breakfast in bed. Then, I head to the garden outside to get a breath of fresh air. I need to clear my head, as desperate as I am to be back with her.
I’ve never felt like this. Never, with all the women I’ve been with, have I felt such a desperate need to have a woman. I’m realizing she’s it for me – the end point, the one that will change everything. Someone I’ve been searching for my entire life, and was afraid of for as long as I can remember.
Except letting go has never felt this beautiful. I was
wrong about love. I thought it was the sign of a weak man. Now I understand it is the sign of a great one.
On my way back into her bedroom, I cut a perfect pink rose from a bush in the garden with my pocket knife. I hand it to her once I’m back in her bedroom, and her pretty eyes light up. “For my princess,” I tell her. “It doesn’t match your beauty.”
She smiles and kisses me, and I live for the moment when her lips connect with mine. All mine.
The food arrives, and we sit in the bed surrounded by croissants, pastry, eggs and freshly squeezed orange juice. Bianca giggles as I feed it to her bite by bite, and I am grateful for the small distraction from the cruel reality of our current situation.
Once we’re done, the female assistant from last night comes into the room. She blushes when she sees how comfortable we are with one another, but she doesn’t comment on it. Smart woman.
She explains what will happen with the funeral, and we both calm down Bianca as she cries. She makes my girl sign some papers before expressing her condolences and finally leaving the room. I hold Bianca, stroking her hair, until she calms down a little.
“I’m sorry about your father,” I tell her, and I mean it. In the past few weeks, I’d grown to like Da Costa. No, we never got particularly close, but we understood how we were both important in Bianca’s life, and respected each other’s roles. “I will make sure his memory is never forgotten.”
“Thank you,” she says. She looks up into my eyes and I see a silent question in her eyes. But she’s too afraid to ask me…
“What is it, Bianca?” I stoke her hair, my thumb rubbing her reddened cheeks. “You can tell me anything, princess. Just go ahead.”
“I…” She bites her bottom lip, a sight to fucking behold. “I want to find my brother.”
I consider her request. Of course, she’s talking about the little boy I was supposed to kill. In the past few weeks, I think my father and Da Costa buried their hatchet. I’m pretty certain the boy is safe now. “I have his location,” I tell her reluctantly.
Her eyes widen, and I half expect her to start hitting me again, just like last night.
“Why?” she asks instead. “Why didn’t you tell my father?”
Time for the moment of truth. “I spoke to his doctors, Bianca,” I say with a heavy heart. “That trip would’ve killed him. It was too dangerous… I wanted you to have as much time with your father as possible. I knew you wouldn’t get that had I told him about the address.”
She stares at me for a long time. It seems as if she’s deciding whether she should strike me or accept what I’ve just told her. Finally, she nods, and I see she understands. For that, I am thankful.
“I want to go see him,” she says, sounding determined. I nod right away – this is what I’ve been expecting all along. My plan was never to keep their family apart, but instead ensure Da Costa stayed alive for as long as possible.
Being his only daughter, I understand Bianca will become heir to a vast mafia family. And I know it will be difficult for her. But I’m here to stand by her side and give her everything she wants and needs.
“We can go,” I promise her. “I’ll plan everything. Pack. Summer clothes.”
“Where do they live?” she asks me curiously. I can tell there’s a million other questions she wants to ask me, but she’s holding back for now at least.
I smile at her. “Palermo.”
“Palermo?” Bianca looks confused. “I haven’t heard of that yet,” she admits, making me grin like a fool. “Where is it? Arizona?”
“Sicily, princess.”
The flight is long, but at least it’s comfortable. My father lets us borrow his private jet for the journey, and we leave the Da Costa’s in the capable hands of the assistant, Carole, whom Bianca has become quite close with.
Seeing Sicily has always been a dream of mine. My father and Da Costa both grew up here, and I know seeing the island in person means a lot to Bianca as well.
She sleeps with her head on my shoulder for most of the plane ride, and I carry her out once we land. We’re staying in a luxury hotel, so every need of ours will be met and taken care of. All organized by my father. I am still wary of him trying to make amends, but so far, Bianca has been gracious and accepting of all his efforts.
As soon as we disembark the plane, we’re hit by the hot weather, the sun beating down on our skin. I take Bianca’s arm and guide her to the car waiting for us. She looks beautiful in a floral dress with a corset top and a flared skirt. And she’s finally all mine.
The drive to the hotel is mere minutes, and I can tell by her posture and behavior Bianca’s anxious to go see the boy right away. I have a crumpled piece of paper with the address in my hand, and her fingers shake as I hand it to her.
“Do you know what’s there?” she asks, and I shrug.
“Not sure. But we can use the car GPS to get there. Just put in the address.” I squeeze her hand gently, trying to reassure her. “Don’t worry, princess. I’m sure it’s all going to be alright.”
She nods and I lead her to the car as soon as we’ve unpacked our bags. We put in the address, and a guard takes over the wheel. I sit with Bianca in the back, and we admire the beautiful city through the tinted windows of the car.
“It’s so beautiful here,” she says.
“First time?” I ask her, and she nods. “Me too. We should come back.”
“Maybe for our honeymoon,” Bianca suggests with a wicked grin, but as soon as she looks at me, she flushes deeply. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that…”
In a split second, I’m on top of her. “Didn’t mean it like what?” I want to know, breathing down her neck. She moans under my touch. “I will marry you, Bianca Da Costa.”
Her body responds to mine in ways her mouth never will. I am so fucking tempted to get that damn dress off her, but before I can start working the buttons, the car’s already come to a stop in front of a large brick building.
We file out of the car along with the guards, who keep a respectful distance from us. I put my hand on the small of Bianca’s back and lead her into the house. There’s children everywhere, and a big sign that reads ‘L’Orfanotrofio’. I think I realize what it means before Bianca does.
A screaming woman in a nun’s outfit shoos some children out of her way, and approaches us with a tired expression. “Si?” she asks.
“We are here to see a little boy,” Bianca tells her in Italian. I’m not sure the woman speaks English. I can feel Bianca’s body shaking lightly under my fingertips.
“Who?” the nun wants to know.
“I… I don’t know his name.” Bianca looks at me with defeat. I smile at her reassuringly and grin at the nun. She mellows as soon as she sees me.
“His last name might be Da Costa,” I tell her in Italian. “But his mother’s last name was something else. Is this an orphanage?”
“Yes,” she nods, crossing herself and saying her lord’s name. “We have children of all Palermo here. They attend school and live here until they are eighteen. How old is the boy you are looking for?”
Bianca looks at me for help, and I reply smoothly. “Nine, give or take a few years.”
I pull up his pictures on my phone and show the nun. Her friendly expression changes in a second, and she says a quick prayer again.
“Cristiano,” she says softly. “That is Cristiano.”
“Yes,” Bianca replies enthusiastically. “Can we see him?”
The nun looks at us for a long time before nodding. She turns around and walks in a different direction, and we both fall into step behind her. I must admit, curiosity is getting the better of me, too.
We walk through playroom upon playroom, all in this beautiful house, but there is no denying that the place has seen better days. The pain is peeling off the walls, and I’d rather not imagine how cold it gets here during winters, as it’s chilly and damp even now. I don’t express my worries to Bianca. She’s too excited, and I don’t want to hurt her.
Finally, we ascend a rickety wooden staircase until we’ve arrived in a tiny bedroom. It’s not even a room, really, more of a spare closet with a bed stuck in it. A small boy is sitting on the edge of the bed, drawing in a notebook. He’s the boy from the pictures, and I feel Bianca’s hand tighten around mine.
“We had to move him up here,” the nun explains with no regard for the child, who is now watching us curiously. “Troublemaker, this one. Always fought with the other children.” She gives Bianca and me a curious look. “Who are you, anyway?”
Bianca’s eyes are glue to the little boy as she speaks. “I’m his older sister.”
The boy gets up from the bed and comes to stand in front of us. He is a handsome child with deep, dark and troubled eyes. I wonder how he ended up in here, and how difficult his life has been compared to Bianca’s and mine.
“You are American?” he asks in shaky English, and Bianca kneels down next to him.
“Yes.” She opens up his palm and puts a photograph in there. Her father when he was younger. “This is my dad. Yours, too. Have you seen him before?”
The boy looks at the photo curiously, concentrating on the image before his eyes. “This man,” he says, pointing at Da Costa. “He is… daddy?”
“Yes.” Bianca has tears in her eyes as she looks up at me with a blissful smile. I already know she’s made up her mind. Whatever it takes, she’ll want to take her little brother home with us. “Have you seen him before?”
The boy shakes his head no. “Mama die,” he says. “I live here now mama is gone.”
“Would you like to come live with me?” Bianca asks him. The boy looks at her for a long moment before nodding solemnly. The tears start to fall from Bianca’s eyes as she embraces him. So easy, this whole thing. Almost too easy.
As my girl engages in conversation with the nun, I steal glances at the boy. There’s something in him, darkness that’s threatening to take him over. I only hope we’ve come early enough to stop that from happening. I know Bianca would never forgive herself if something happened to this boy.