by Leah Holt
My tongue dragged over my lips, eager to taste her sweet bud. Running my hand over her mound, I palmed her heat. Ivy moaned, her hips rocking back and lifting her pussy into the air.
Spreading her ass with both hands, I ran the tip of my tongue from her clit to her puckered hole. Her juice coated my tongue in liquid bliss, turning my cock rigid.
“You taste so good, Ivy.” Flicking her swelling button, I lapped her in. Lick after lick, I massaged her pussy. Each breath filled my chest with intoxicating need to be deep inside her.
Digging my fingers into her hips, I pulled her to her knees. Freeing my cock, I stroked my length, teasing her entrance with the tip of my tongue.
My balls had already pulled tight, my stomach twirling and tingling, ready to feel her wrap around me.
“Mm,” Ivy groaned, squeezing her fingers tighter around the headboard, her knuckles popping to white as she pressed herself back. “I need to feel you, Dante.”
I can't lie, watching her body fold, hearing her say that she needs me. . .
It did something to me. My cock surged with life, throbbing and eager to satisfy her wish.
Lifting to my knees, I spread her ass, pressing my tip against her pussy. She was soaked, glistening in wet diamonds. I couldn't hold back anymore.
Slamming into her, I felt her body shiver. Goosebumps surged over her skin, her eyes snapped shut, a long satisfying moan expelled from her lips.
And as I made love to the one woman who had finally tore down my wall, stealing a part of me that I never gave to anyone else, I knew. . .
Ivy was more than a strong soul searching for freedom.
One day, she would be my wife.
Seven
Ivy
I could hear Dante's footsteps in the kitchen downstairs. The sun seeped in behind the hideous blinds that had once been used to keep the captive souls from seeing the world.
Or maybe they were there to keep the world from seeing the prisoners inside.
Either way it didn't matter.
This was home for the time being, this was safety until Remo was gone. I couldn't wait for the day Dante and I could move about without having to look over our shoulders every second of every day.
For all the prayers and wishes I had mumbled quietly to myself while I was locked inside, I never expected I'd be outside those walls and still searching for freedom.
All in due time. There's a light at the end of the tunnel.
I could finally see it, and that felt good. The thought made my cheeks warm, setting my mind at ease, and giving me the sense there was an end to this horrible nightmare.
The cupboards opened and shut with a violent crash. Heavy feet thudded around, walking in so many different directions I was starting to get dizzy.
What the hell is he doing?
His feet worked their way from room to room, door after door closing hard and layered in anger. Dante was probably just as hungry as I was.
But there was barely any food in the house when we were here two months ago, I highly doubted there would be any now. There was no one to stock it, no one to run to the store and pick up even the most minute amount of sustenance.
Neither of us could show our face around town; not in a store, not in a restaurant, not on the street. We were targets with giant red bulls-eyes on our backs.
The fact Dante made it to the funeral and back unharmed was a blessing to me. Even him being there had put himself at risk for retaliation and we both knew it.
I didn't want to believe him, I didn't want to acknowledge the fact that despite who he was, someone could be hiding out there waiting for us.
There was always the chance that Remo could have tried to use that as an opportunity to rid the world of Dante just like he had done to his father. After playing the scenarios in my head over and over, I knew it was better that I had stayed back and didn't go.
Dante was right, he just wanted to protect me.
With me tucked away, safety was in his favor. Remo would need him to get to me, without Dante alive, he'd never find what he was truly after.
It was smart on Dante's part to keep me hidden. I was the golden trophy that Remo wanted to set up high on his mantle.
But I wasn't the virgin anymore, I wasn't the purity he yearned for, or the untouched body he wanted to conquer.
In the back of my mind, deep inside the tangled web of thoughts, I wanted to believe that once he learned all of that was gone, he'd want nothing to do with me. It was a foolish and naive idea, but having hope was something I could cling to.
Never give up on hope.
My stomach growled, rumbling in emptiness.
I really hope he's trying to scavenge up some breakfast.
It was strange. Déja vu had coated my brain, bringing me back to the first morning I was there. When Dante strolled in holding a blended plate of items he threw together and I was confined to the room.
Holding my arms out, I looked them over, wiggling my feet and listening for that distinctive chime.
There won't be any more chains, Ivy.
Not now, not ever again.
Giggling quietly, I pulled back the blanket and headed for the bathroom. I knew it shouldn't have been funny in any way to check my body for such sinful jewelry. It should have made me sick, it should have made me angry.
But instead it made me laugh. Shit, I have a sick sense of humor.
As the hunger pain dissipated, a cramp took hold of my lower belly. Gripping my stomach, I closed my eyes and hoped it was the feeling I expected it to be.
Stepping into the bathroom, I rubbed my stomach. I was a week late for my period; which with everything that had happened, shouldn't have been a big surprise. The stress I was under was enough to make it disappear completely and send me into early menopause, stealing away my fertility.
After finishing my business, my monthly reminder of youth was nowhere in sight. The cramps had subsided, my heart thudding heavily at the idea of being pregnant.
What if? No, I can't be.
Could I?
I couldn't remember if I had last month or not. It came and went, sometimes late, sometimes early. When I was at Remo's, it had a mind of its own—but it always showed up.
A nervous jitter cascaded around my body, but it felt like more of an excitement than a depressive weight smothering my lungs.
Maybe the dark side of my personality saw it as a fuck you to Remo, a fuck you to the man who wanted what I had chosen to give away to another.
Or maybe it was the idea of having a family again, a hint of what I was torn from. The single notion I could create the love for another that I longed to have, it made me smile. I wanted to feel a life inside me, I yearned to share the same love I was taught to have. But nothing could replace what I lost.
And still I wanted it back in some form, I wanted to share myself with a life I created.
The timing might not fit the lives we were living, but Dante and I weren't cautious. Which was both stupid and invigorating in the same breath.
We both knew that we were playing with a loaded gun. Pun intended. We didn't use protection or even try the good old fashioned pullout method.
Both of us just let the moment happen, giving in to the need.
There was always the chance I could get pregnant, that his seed could chisel its way through and plant itself inside me.
But I also didn't think either of us really cared.
At least I knew I didn't care. But Dante hadn't even mentioned being careful, he never tried to stop himself from coming inside me. We were both adults, we knew the risk, even if neither of us said it.
My life had been confined to a single home, to a man who I didn't want, to a life I never asked for. When Dante stormed in, stealing me away and claiming my heart. . .
Well, I guess the idea of having his child wasn't a fear or a nightmare like most young women my age might view it.
It was a blessing, it was cementing our love together and freeing me completely from
the past I couldn't escape.
A child meant we would always be connected no matter where life took us. That was something no one could take from us regardless of what happened.
I'm not pregnant. I'll get it any day now.
Stress or no stress, it's always come at some point.
Holding the sink with both hands, I let my head fall to my chest as I sighed.
If I am pregnant, then everything right now would be worth it to give our child a real life.
I needed to grasp something to solidify and rationalize what we came here to do. And our baby would deserve a good life, a free life.
It would deserve to grow up running around a yard and playing out in the open. It deserved to chase fireflies at night and bury their toes in the sand, free of fear.
If things kept going the way they were now, our child would grow up never experiencing the sun on its face, or wind in its hair.
It wouldn't be fair to the baby for Dante and myself to bring it into the world under those conditions.
We're doing the right thing, I won't doubt that.
I couldn't fault myself for thinking too hard about what we were doing. Fuck, we were about to kill a man. Deserving or not, that didn't mean I didn't have to reiterate it to myself at times.
My feet patted across the floor as I skirted around the trouble spots in the wood. That was a habit I knew I was going to have to try and break. It was ingrained in my muscles to walk lightly, to dance across the floor like air.
That was no way to live.
If I wanted normal, I had to create normal. There was no better time to start then now.
Forcing my heel into the wood for my last two steps, I climbed back into the bed and tugged the covers up high. I laid there smiling, feeling empowered with my ability to choose, and the freedom to even know I didn't have to creep around.
This is home, right now it's my home.
The footsteps started to ascend up the stairs, their thumps less pronounced and audible.
“Did you find anything good?” I said loudly, curling up deeper into the blankets.
There was no response, the footsteps stopped short, every creak went mute.
Rolling over, I rested my head on my hands. “Did you find anything to eat? I'm starving.”
Still nothing.
What the hell is he doing?
If he thinks he's going to be funny and scare the shit out of me, he's wrong.
“I know you're on the stairs!” I yelled. “Quit fucking around!”
A blackness painted my muscles, stiffening my veins and turning them to ice. “Hello?” Pressing myself up higher, I hugged the covers. “Enough, stop being an ass!”
I could hear breathing, but the air was still voiceless. The footsteps started back up, coming faster and stronger.
Maybe he just has a mouthful and can't talk.
Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling that tried to take hold, I settled back into the bed. I knew he was either just screwing with me or had food stuffed in his face. But that thought wasn't helping to calm my body.
It's your gut.
Don't ignore your gut.
My mind was a torrent of mixed emotions. I promised myself I would always listen to that knot in my stomach. If it ever came again, I wouldn't ignore it. There was regret in not having trusted it when I should have.
It was back, gripping my insides, scratching and clawing away to force me to open my eyes.
But I chose not to listen to the twisting knots in my stomach, making me feel sick, or the room around me fading away just so I could focus on what I was about to face.
I don't need that here.
I'm safe in this house.
I tried to convince myself that nothing was about to happen, that Dante was going to come walking through that door laughing at me. I felt my chest start to tighten as the air turned to molasses, making it hard to breathe.
The first number popped into my head, the automatic system that had been tattooed into my mind to help me settle down started to roll on its own.
Counting, I held a hand to my chest and tried to convince the oxygen around me to flow in smoothly.
Don't do this. There's no reason for it, just stop.
The door was partially closed, making the hallway invisible. But as the feet crept closer, that feeling inside my stomach wouldn't go away. My belly was clenched tight, my ribs burning to just feel one cool breath.
“Stop fucking around, I don't like it.” Straining my voice, my words were barely audible between the loud swallows of emptiness.
The door began to swing open slowly, creaking at the hinges. My heart froze up, stopping altogether and sending a sharp pain like hot lightning around my muscles.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my eyes bulging out as the numbers began to speed up.
He didn't speak, he just stood with a crooked frown that I wanted to cut off his face.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I asked again, winding my fingers tight into the blanket.
I had thought that this place was a lost tomb, concealed from the world and resting in its own private oasis.
And in my warped and childish selfishness, I thought that nobody else would ever come here. I wanted to think that we could maybe make this our home when everything was all over.
But I didn't know we weren't actually alone. . .
Eight
Dante
My hands grazed the wood lightly, but fierce. I was back, the sinner of all sins had returned to take back what was deserved and deny what was demanded.
Scanning around over my shoulder, I didn't see anything or anyone that seemed out of place. I kept my eyes open at all times, not once letting my guard down. Remo could try and have me followed, he probably had eyes and ears any place he could stick them.
Even while driving, I found myself watching the cars behind me to see if I was being tailed and eyeing the people on the streets to see if they looked at me as I drove by.
I didn't want any surprises, not a single fucking one.
The entire situation was fucked up. My family had always been in charge, we were the ones to look out for. There was a complete role reversal, but not for long.
I was anxious, miserable, ready to end this fucking thing once and for all. Ivy was right, I couldn't do it alone. I also knew I couldn't do this with her.
I didn't want to take this from her, but she was far too precious to me to even consider putting her in danger. And that's what this was.
This was going to come down to life or death. That wasn't a choice I wanted her to have to make. I knew she wanted Remo gone after everything he put her through, fuck, she deserved it.
But choosing to take someone's life, that wasn't easy.
My past gave me the ability to handle things others couldn't. I could turn it on and shut it off, but Ivy. . . I wasn't sure if she knew what she was getting into. Fuck, she outright told me she didn't wish death on Tony even after he attacked her.
What would happen if she was the one who had to take down Remo?
Would she. . . No, the question is could she?
Taking a life, it didn't matter how or why, just the act itself was enough to fuck with your head. She was already broken, learning to pick those pieces up again, and figuring out how to put her shredded life back together.
Remo, he was my job.
It was what I was good at, and not one part of what I was going to do to him would alter how I felt, what I thought, or who I was.
And why?
Because I was a Pisani.
That in itself was enough to brand me for life as a monster. With everything I'd already done, it was half expected from just my name, nobody would be surprised if I took one more.
The door swung open, cool air slashed my face as I turned back to the entrance. “Holy fucking shit, I never expected to see you here.” Vince held the door in his palm, stepping to the side to let me in. “Where the hell have you been man?”
“Away.” Taking one last look over my shoulder, I walked inside. “You busy, am I interrupting anything?” Flicking my eyes to the couch, a half-naked woman was briskly standing and pulling her shirt over her head.
I didn't know her, which was good, but that didn't mean she didn't recognize me.
Everyone knows who you are.
“No, no, she was just leaving.” Vince nodded his head at her, raising his brows up with a gentle jerk and sending her out the door.
The woman fluffed her hair, shooting him an angry glare. Snatching her purse off the end table, she stormed past us, giving him one last crooked eye.
Vince huffed under his breath, shaking his head. “Women, if looks could kill, right?” Chuckling, he shut the door and walked towards the kitchen of his small cabin-sized home. Pulling open the fridge, he asked, “Want one?” Holding out a beer, he took a second one for himself.
Seriously?
No I don't want a fucking drink at the crack of dawn.
Arching a brow, I said, “It's nine in the morning.” Following him into the kitchen, I slid into the chair at his counter. I felt on edge, my nerves were fucking shot.
But that didn't mean I wanted to cover up my pain with booze. It's no surprise people bury their memories differently. I chose to erase them, shoving them down into a vault I created deep inside.
Vince, well. . . He took to drinking his away.
“You know what they say. . .” Vince twisted the cap, tossing it onto the counter and stalking back.
“I don't, what do they say?” Watching him closely, I could see how much of a fucking mess he had become.
The white shirt he had on was speckled in yellow stains, his hair was all frizzy and knotted, deep gray hollows highlighted the brims of his eyes. He looked nothing like the man I'd left behind.
Obviously he'd let go of what our business demanded; a sharp, mean appearance, well groomed and professional.
This was the bottom of the barrel. It looked like he had thrown himself off a tall cliff, only to get up and keep going.