by Dani René
Angel grabbed one of my feet and squeezed, still smiling. “You can do whatever you want.”
I gasped. “Can I taste you like I tasted Sal?”
During much arguing in Italian, by Sal and Angel, I waited in my bedroom. Once they finally stopped, and it sounded like they had gone to bed, I snuck out. I was desperate for my plastic cup that Sal had in the ‘dishwasher.’ Creeping down the hallway, I heard a sound I had never heard. The curious child in me passed by the kitchen and had me following the beautiful noise.
On the other end of the huge living room with the glass walls facing the serene mountains, Angel was sitting on a little stool in front of a black shiny grand piano, his hands moving up and down the keyboard, face focused. With soft lighting, I watched his body move to the music he was creating. He was alluring and intoxicating. My feet carried me to the sight and sounds like a drug calling to an addict.
Angel didn’t notice me right away, but when he did and saw what I was wearing, he stopped playing.
Quietly, I pled, “Please don’t stop.”
“Please stop wearing his undershirt.”
Without delay and in one swipe, I removed Sal’s shirt, which had become my nightie, and dropped it to the floor. Naked, I demanded, “Play.”
Angel’s mouth gaped, but his hands found the keys and began to move. So did I. Toward the beautiful sound. I laid my hands on the black wood, yearning for the vibrations. When my bare belly touched the side and felt the music, my whole body bloomed with envy. I wanted to feel the magic all over, in my cells, like I was feeling it in my spirit. Maybe it was the wine, but I had no restraint. I slowly climbed on top of the piano and laid on my back, basking in the beautiful sound and feelings they brought out in me.
As Angel kept playing the lovely melody, my eyes slid shut, and I surrendered to the utopia happening inside me. My arms lifted over my head to reach for the maestro soothing my soul. When his face leaned into my hands, I felt high because of the music rushing through me while I touched its creator.
I thought of Sal and how he told me about body orgasms, and I was sure I was having one. It felt that uplifting—like soaring through valleys I’d never seen. And for once, I was carrying no fear, for I had my angel to guide the way.
He kept playing as I rolled over, needing to see the one strumming the chords in my heart. “Angel.” I pulled my body forward until my face was close to his. “Please.” I opened my eyes that felt lazy, happily so. “Let me taste you.” I cupped the face that brought me solace. “It would mean so much to me.”
As if entranced, Angel leaned forward, his hands playing the piano by touch alone, and pressed strong lips to mine.
Suddenly, the piano no longer had my full attention. It belonged to the man that made me instantly ache. He didn’t taste like wine. He didn’t taste like anything I had ever experienced. But I now knew it was all I would ever want.
My eyes slid shut, just like the first time I had tasted chocolate ice cream. I wanted to dive into the bowl Sal had filled, wanted to have more. I couldn’t even stop licking the spoon because of the mind-blowing flavor caressing my tongue.
But, after such a kiss, I was positive Angel would be even more desirable. “Angel, lick me.”
A melody caressed my belly through the piano, and as Angel’s lips opened, they caressed my soul. His soft, wet tongue licked at my lips before sliding into my mouth. My whole body burst in celebration, causing me to moan inside his mouth.
I wasn’t sure what spurred this man to react, but his lips got hungrier and his tongue deeper, the piano louder. Our breaths battled, as did our lips…
Then, without warning, the song drifted to an end, right after his mouth slowly pulled away from mine.
Eyes still closed, my head fell forward. I had just flown. Angel set me on a flight I would treasure, always. “You are my wings, Angel.”
When he didn’t reply or kiss me again, my eyes drifted open, only to see… he was gone.
Sitting on a bench swing on the back porch, I held my plastic cup of water and watched the sunrise. Sal came outside and, after laying a blanket over my naked body, sat next to me.
He complained, “I hate that you are so accustomed to the cold.”
I leaned into him, happy he had placed his arm around my shoulders. “Being able to adapt is better than suffering, right?”
He kissed the top of my head. “Such a fast learner.”
After a moment more of the same thoughts that had kept me up all night, I asked, “Sal, why would Angel not want me to wear your shirt?”
He chuckled. “As I said, your ‘wings’ have been claimed.”
“Meaning?”
“He doesn’t want to share you.”
I leaned my head against his shoulder. “Being shared is all I’ve ever known.”
“Well, Angelo is different. He cares for you. Deeply.”
“Then why did he leave me twice yesterday?”
Sal blew out air and let his head fall back against the swing. “Truth?”
“Why would I want a lie?”
He chuckled again, lifting his head to watch the sunrise. “Good question.” His hand squeezed my shoulder before he told me, “You are a Giordano. Your mother’s blood makes you very special in my and Angel’s world—our line of work. We are not of your bloodline.”
Not my bloodline… He could be a lover!
Sal continued, “Neither of us would ever be permitted to ever be, uh… with you.”
“With me?”
“A boyfriend or husband prospect.”
Prospect… For some reason, that word triggered a response in me. And a flashback. “Fuck her good, Prospect—"
“What’s wrong?” asked Sal.
I blinked, my chest tightening. “I’m, uh, not sure.”
My mind suddenly heard loud noises… “Engines.”
“Like the car?”
My eyes slammed shut as I felt many hands on me. “Harder Prospect!”—
“Angel!” yelled Sal.
My mouth tried to word… “Pro… spect.”
“What happened?” yelled Angel, his shoes pounding onto the back porch.
Sal sounded so worried. “I-I don’t know!”
I was sucked back into the memory… “Move, you worthless shit!” Different hands grabbed me. “Like this!”— I screamed out in pain!
“Scarlett!”
When my eyes opened, I was now standing, my hands over my head as if I were tied again, my heart pounding. Gasping for air, I numbly peered down when I heard my plastic cup rolling across the outside tile.
Angel was in front of me. “Can you see me?”
Leather vests… “Angel?”
“Right here.” He reached up and held my hands, even though the restraint was only in my imagination—memory, putting us so close, I instantly felt some ease. “Right in front of you.”
But then my mind snapped back to the memory. Vrooooom. Vrooooom… My eyes snapped shut, wanting the flashbacks to end, yet needing to express what I was seeing. “T-Two tired cars.”
“Two tired—W-What?” Angel aggressively cupped my face, then sternly demanded, “Scarlett, look at me.”
As my arms came down, I felt faint. “Scar. My name is Scar.”
More memories haunted me. “Scar, I’m gonna fuck you until you—” My legs felt weak. “The Prospect.”
Angel pulled me to him. “Shh. No more prospects.” The way he said it was as if he understood more of what I was saying than I did. “You’re safe now. No one will touch you again.” Then, he growled Italian words to Sal. The only ones I could understand were steel stallions.
Sal, sounding just as angry, tapped on his phone while adding to the conversation in Italian.
Between strained breaths, I said, “Please don’t shut me out of conversations.”
Angel guided me back to the swing and sat me down, tucking me into his side. “I’m sorry. We just didn’t want to alarm you, but we are now understanding more of your p
ast.”
Sal squatted in front of me, his hands holding my knees. “Scar, I think you have hidden memories.”
“Is that possible?”
He ran fingers through his lighter hair. “Yes, unfortunately.”
My lungs started to seize again. “I wish I had a different life.”
Angel’s warm arms tightened around me. “Shh. Focus on something else until it is easier for you to breathe.”
Sal quietly said, “I will fill her cup,” and walked away.
“Easier to breathe?” I asked Angel. “Like what?” I sniffled.
“Something that has made you happy.”
That was easy. I had very few times to choose from. And most were all recent. I let my mind wander to Angel playing the piano and… our kiss. Quickly, I found myself melting to his side.
He was pleased. “That’s better. Whatever you are thinking about, keep doing so.”
Even though I was so upset, this memory actually brought me so much happiness, I smiled. “I will never forget it.”
Sal returned with my water and asked, “What won’t you forget?”
I sighed. “What Angel tasted like.”
“Is that so?” Lifting a brow, Sal delivered a sinister smile to Angel. “Anything you wish to share?”
My head tilted. “I thought Angel doesn’t want to share me.”
Angel’s jaw dropped, right before he returned a glare to Sal.
That evening, in the living room, Angel tried to explain that, because of my family in Italy, my marriage would be arranged to prosper my grandfather’s legacy. Yes, a man whose poor decisions had my mother kidnapped and me born into slavery, now had control over the biggest decisions of my life.
“No,” I growled.
“But,” argued Angel, “it is how it is done.”
“Then I’m not going to Italy.”
“Scarlett, be reasonable,” pled Angel.
“Stop calling me that! I am Scar!”
“But Scar is a name they called you.”
“It is all I’ve known for twenty years!”
He raised his hands, something he did often to calm me. “Okay. Okay… That name may be something familiar to you, but it reminds me of what I saw the day we found you. Is it possible we compromise?”
I snarled, “I don’t even know what that means!”
Now it was Sal, behind the kitchen island, silently gesturing for me to breathe and calm myself right before he poured cooked noodles into a strainer. He knew how much I loved his homemade alfredo.
Angel said, “If you stay calm, I will explain.” He waited until I agreed to listen. “Okay. Thank you. A compromise is like a trade. A way to ‘meet in the middle’.” He took a step toward me and waited.
Frustrated, but too curious to not be willing to learn, I took a step toward him.
When his hands cupped my face, I instantly settled, sighing at the sensation. His touch was like a whisper of the heavens he swore he did not come from.
Angel stared deep… “The very first time I saw these magnificent eyes, they reminded me of the galaxy where the stars hang in the sky. Endless and mesmerizing. I still see you this way, a limitless being who is learning her freedom.”
His presence and words made my heart race. “Angel—”
His thumb caressed my lips. “I don’t belong to heaven, but will fight to belong to a star.”
Rhymes from the stories my mother had read me caught in my breath. Angel was trying to tell me something. Scar… Star… A compromise.
I swallowed. “That is… a good trade.”
His brutally serious face always softened when I made him smile.
We stood there, staring at each other.
His stomach began to move as he fought for his breath.
It was happening to me, too. “You want to taste me again?” I was full of pure joy.
Angel, hungrier than I’d ever witnessed him, had us face to face in the blink of an eye. Italian words danced across my face as he whispered them.
“W-What did you just say?”
His eyes closed as if he were fighting for control. “Nothing.”
From the kitchen, Sal piped in, “He said he wants to ravage you.” Angel quickly glared over his shoulder in warning, but Sal only shrugged. “Hey, don’t look at me like that. I only make her want to drink wine. Speaking of,” he glanced about, “where is my glass?”
Hopeful, I asked Angel, “Is ravage good?”
He released me. “No.” And turned away.
Sal fake-coughed. “Liar.”
Why would Angel lie to me?
Fighting emotions that brought even more confusion to my damaged heart, I asked, “Why? Why won’t you touch me like that?”
Walking away from me, Angel grumbled, “Like what?”
“The movie.”
“Because you do not know what you are asking of me.”
A wicked laugh escaped my now raging soul. “I am very aware of what being fucked by a man feels like.”
That made Angel angry. He was back in my space. “See? You don’t know. I wouldn’t fuck you. I would worship you.”
From around Angel’s thick bicep, I peeked at Sal to silently ask if being worshipped was a good thing. Drinking his wine, he gave me a thumbs up.
That was all I needed to know. I lifted my chin to Angel. “Then worship me.”
“No.” Angel turned away from me again.
“Why not?”
“I already explained. You will be someone else’s.”
“I already explained to you that I have not been taken from one captivity only to be placed in another!”
He turned and pointed at me. “You will go where I tell you to go.”
“Angelo,” warned Sal.
Angel faced him and yelled something in Italian. In response, Sal’s hand was waving through the air as he yelled back.
As beautiful as the language was to me, I still became angry from being locked out of the conversation, yet again. I had learned a few words but could not keep up with them both so angry and speaking impossibly fast. “Speak English!”
Sal dipped his chin to me while saying, “Angelo, she does not see you as merely someone to have sex with.”
Angel’s back to me made it impossible to miss his shoulders cringing.
That made my chest feel sharp pains. The sharp pains made me furious. Immediately.
At the time, I didn’t comprehend how I related pain to being trapped, but that was my poison. I rushed to the piano and slammed my hands down on the ivory keys. “Here! You kissed me here!”
“Yes!” cheered a pleased Sal, wine glass high in the air. “Yes, Italian woman! Show me your fight!”
Every chance that man had, he always reminded me I had roots beyond the captivity I associated with everything.
I slammed my hands down again, the piano crying out for mercy. “I am not broken!”
Sal bellowed out more Italian words that sounded to be full of pride and answered prayers.
Angel, out of breath, rushed to me. “I believe you. I do. But you have been through so much. Your past—”
“Then give me something worth holding on to in my future.”
“I—” His eyes slammed shut. “I can’t.”
“You can!” I grabbed his head and forced him to kiss me.
“Claim your man!” cheered Sal.
Angel pulled his lips from mine. Placing our foreheads together, he softly spoke, “Your grandfather—”
“Is nothing to me.”
“Is your family.”
Knowing I was gaining ground with Angel, I decided to take advantage. “Okay. Then let us compromise.”
A grand smile crossed Angel’s lips as laughter echoed from the kitchen. Sal, so pleased, stated, “Damn, she learns quick.”
Angel beamed, so proud of me. “Okay, Star, what is the trade?”
I took a deep breath… “I’ll go back to Italy if you help me fly.”
With his brows furrowed
together, Sal fake-coughed again, “She means sex.”
“Oh.” Releasing me, Angel stepped back.
I grabbed his hands, so strong I felt his essence through my whole body. “Please let me feel those happy tears.”
He shook his head. “Star, there is no guarantee you will like it. Plus, how could I ask you to want another male body after what they did to you? How could you even trust me in a bed?”
Pulling his hands to my face, I pleaded, “How can you not trust me to know what I need or want?” That made his spine stiffen, so I nodded. “Yes, you keep telling me to think for myself, but when I do, you tell me I am wrong.” He hissed, trying to lean away from me, but I held on. Through a desperate whisper, I promised, “I trust you.”
After a long moment, he respectfully spoke, “What an honor to hear such words from you. Thank you. But if I did anything wrong, in a bedroom, to you—Not that I would ever hurt you, but what if, mentally, something I do triggers you? What if I cause more harm than good?” Not pulling from my hands holding him to my cheeks, his thumbs ran across my skin. “That would cause me more pain than you can understand.”
“Ah, shit,” mumbled Sal from the kitchen.
Angel peered over his shoulder. “You understand me now?”
Sal’s head hung forward, his hands bracing on the kitchen counter. “Yeah, I understand now. I hadn’t thought of that.”
And there was my no. No wings for Star. Forever will she be scarred.
My bottom lip trembled, but I kept my head high. “I would never want you in pain.”
Adoration poured from him to me.
We stood there, staring at each other…
Until… “Wait.” Sal released a menacing chuckle. “Sal may have a solution.” We both looked to Sal, who was smug as he held up a spaghetti noodle, his eyebrows dancing. When neither of us caught his meaning, he flung the noodle at Angel. “You be the man without hands.”
Chapter Six
The Linked One
There is possibly nothing sexier than a hungry—deadly—mafia—Italian—man, tied to your bed. There is possibly nothing more freeing than not being the one restrained. Every choice, every movement was mine to decide.