But it was. Near the end of 2008, I fell pregnant at thirty. I must’ve forgotten to take the contraceptive pill, although I didn’t remember doing so. Regardless, Salvatore was horrified, since he believed I was going to miscarry again. Because of it, he started fussing around me to the point that I had to shout at him to go to work. I instantly regretted it, because he looked like I’d slapped him. I had to kiss him and apologize, because when Salvatore gave me that puppy dog face, I always felt terrible.
But unlike my other pregnancies, I passed all the miscarriage and premature labor milestones. Still, as thirty-five weeks neared, I became paranoid that I would be having another stillborn, so I refused to get out of bed, other than to go to the toilet or shower.
Then the contractions started. I was rushed to a private hospital, since our family doctor wanted me to have the best. The Santini rarely went to hospitals, but when they did, they took a whole army with them. All the nurses looked terrified when the soldati swarmed the hospital, only the doctors, who Cesare knew, having poker faces. At that point, I didn’t really care about the medical staff. All I cared about was giving birth to a healthy child.
It turned out to be a quick delivery, five hours at the most. It hurt, but not as much as I’d anticipated, especially since I was so small. I thought I’d be screaming to the heavens in agony, but I was mostly silent throughout it. I didn’t even need gas or an epidural. But it wasn’t until I was cradling my healthy baby boy in my arms that I could rejoice. He had brown hair like his father, which surprised me, since my other angels had been bald. I ran my hand over the soft fluff, staring at him in awe.
“He wants milk,” the doctor said, making me look up. The man was in his fifties and had a lovely smile, his soft gray eyes caring. “Look at your baby’s mouth. He’s sucking. He wants to feed. I’ll give you some privacy.” He went to leave.
“What do I do?” I called out to him, wishing my mother was here. She was sick in bed with gastro problems, far too unwell to risk seeing a newborn baby.
He glanced over his shoulder. “Put him to the breast. If you have difficulty, buzz for a nurse.” He disappeared out of the room. Just before he closed the door, I spotted Salvatore’s bodyguards talking in the hallway. They seemed to be having a disagreement. I smiled, wondering whether it was a lovers’ tiff.
Salvatore took Piero out of my arms, our son named after my father. I slipped my gown down, revealing my naked breasts. Salvatore handed him back, helping me cradle Piero to a nipple. Our tiny son turned his face towards it, making sucking motions with his mouth, but was unable to latch on. I eased my nipple towards his mouth, attempting to get him to take it. After a few minutes of trying, he finally did; the feeling of breastfeeding surreal.
“You are so perfect,” Salvatore said. “You both are.”
I looked up at him. He had the proudest look on his face.
“You’re a papà,” I said.
He smiled. “And you’re a mamma.”
I laughed and leaned my head against him. He started stroking my hair, murmuring how beautiful our baby was. I was so happy. All my miscarriages and stillborns weren’t forgotten, but the wounds had finally healed over, only leaving the scars behind. Our little boy had mended my broken heart. For the rest of the day, no matter how exhausted I felt, I never lost my smile.
Though, three months later my smile was replaced with tears, a tragic accident splitting our household apart.
Three Months Later
We were happy one moment
Mourning the next
A tragic accident shattered four young lives
One was crippled
Another widowed
A third went to Heaven
And the last
Fell into his own personal hell
For once, Piero slept through the whole night. Therefore, I was feeling like a normal human being for the first time since giving birth, which was lucky because the house was louder than usual. One of Salvatore’s younger brothers had returned from a trip to Ibiza. Silvio was twenty-three and the party boy of the family, even more so than the twins. He could go out every night of the week and still not think he was partying hard enough. So, as soon as he walked through the front door, he dropped his luggage in the lounge and yelled, “Where’s the next party?!”
I glanced over my shoulder at him. I was sitting on the couch, watching my favorite soap opera. Silvio was dressed in shorts and a muscle shirt, with a dark tan from his trip. He was a cross between his mother and father in looks, his eyes an unusual mix of blue and violet. Though, he was nothing like them in personality. He was the most fun-loving of the family. He was also the most hedonistic of the brothers; often overindulging in anything he could get his hands on, especially alcohol.
The twins entered through the back door, both of them hollering that they had a gig that night. They had gotten a job at a local nightclub, where they sung and performed covers on stage.
Silvio’s face lit up. “Does that mean I get free booze?”
The twins laughed, one saying yes, the other no. Bella, Paola and Luciano entered next. Silvio grabbed Luciano and yelled, “You’re coming too!” The twins helped push Luciano out the back door, all of them laughing, no doubt heading for the studio to get ready.
Paola shook her head, not looking happy as the brothers dragged her husband away. She was a beautiful woman, with long black hair and an athlete’s body. She was also incredibly tall, only three inches shorter than Luciano, who was six foot three. They’d met through Bella, who was Paola’s best friend. And since she was from a mafia family, Luciano’s parents were happy for him to marry her.
Paola slumped down next to me, moaning, “How come the boys have all the fun, while we’re left looking after the kids?”
Bella sat on the armrest next to her. “I agree; it’s totally unfair.”
“You don’t have any children, Bella.”
“I meant about partying. The guys go out until the early hours of the morning, while we’re stuck at home.”
“What’s stopping you from going with them?”
“The company. When the twins aren’t performing they’re usually hooking up, while Silvio and Luciano would prefer to drink each other under the table than dance with me.”
“I love dancing.”
“But you won’t come with me.”
Paola smiled. “Maybe I can.” She turned to me. “Are you able to babysit Giorgio?”
“Sorry, I can’t,” I said. “I plan on spending some alone time with Salvatore while Piero’s sleeping.”
Grinning, Paola nudged me. “And we both know what ‘alone time’ means. You’re going to climb Salvatore’s beanstalk.”
“Paola!” Bella yelled. “That’s my brother!”
Paola started laughing at Bella’s disgusted expression. She pushed to her feet and grabbed Bella’s hand. “Let’s just go ask your mother. I’m sure she’ll babysit Giorgio.” Telling me to inform the boys not to leave without them, Paola dragged Bella up the staircase.
A few minutes later, the four brothers reappeared through the back door. Luciano split off from the others and ran up the staircase, probably going to see his wife.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Paola and Bella want to go partying with you guys.”
Silvio smiled wide. “The more the merrier, and where’s Alessandro?”
“Probably in the gym.”
Silvio opened his mouth wide, no doubt intending on shouting for Alessandro. He had a bad habit of yelling instead of going to a room to get someone. One of the twins covered his mouth, snapping, “Not Alessandro.”
Silvio pushed Dominic’s hand away. “Why?”
“The last time Vinnie and I went out with him he stole our dates. There was one for each of us, but the selfish stronzo decided he wanted all of them, and laid on the charm. The troie all left with him, leaving me and Vinnie with no pussy or ride home. So, he can piss off.”
Silvio laughed, then took off for the front door,
yelling at the twins to follow him. Seconds later, Luciano came down the staircase with Paola and Bella, all of them smiling wide. The women were dressed in little black numbers, their figures incredible. Luciano took Paola’s hand and raced for the front door, yelling, “Silvio, wait!” Bella followed them out, finally giving me peace and quiet.
Salvatore emerged from the office passageway. “What’s all the yelling about?” he said, slumping into the seat next to me.
“Silvio’s home.”
“I didn’t think he was getting back until tomorrow.”
“Well, he’s here and has talked a few of the others into partying with him.”
“Already?”
“You know what he’s like.”
“He needs to slow down before he burns out.” He grimaced. “And how come I wasn’t invited?”
I laughed. “You would’ve said no, like Ricardo and Brando.”
“I’m more fun than those two meatheads.”
“You’re a lot of fun...” Smiling, I leaned towards his ear, “in bed.”
He grinned. “Is Piero still sleeping?”
I lifted up the baby monitor. “Sounds like it.”
“Then let’s have a party for two.” He yanked me to my feet.
Wanting to tease him, I pulled free and sat back down. “I’m watching TV.”
Salvatore gave me his disappointed puppy dog look. “You’d rather watch a crappy soap than have,” his eyes moved around the room, probably checking that no one had entered, “sex with me?”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Sì, and it’s not crappy.”
“Sex is better than TV?”
I smiled. “It is, but...”
“But what?”
“I’m feeling a bit tired from changing so many diapers. Maybe if you helped me out once in a while I might not feel so tired and be more inclined to help you out.”
He scowled. “You have got to be kidding?”
“Nope. I want to see how many diapers I can get you to change in exchange for sex.”
“You love sex with me, so none.”
“I do, but…”
“Stop saying but. And I don’t need to change Piero’s diapers; a servant can do it.”
“He’s our son.”
“And they’re our servants.”
“Then there’s no sex.”
“Is that so?”
I nodded.
He sat down on the couch and pulled me onto his lap.
“Salvatore!”
He kissed my neck, giving my ear a nibble too.
I jerked my head to the side. “Not in the lounge, someone could walk in.”
He ran his lips over my neck, making me shiver. “You sure you don’t want to be nicer to me, because I can be very nice to you.” His hand crept up my skirt.
I clamped my hand down on it. “Only if you change a diaper.”
“You’ll have to make it worth my time, then.”
“What do you want?”
“For you to swallow.”
I glanced over my shoulder, relieved that no one was there. “Keep your voice down,” I hissed, “you know I won’t do that.”
He grabbed my breasts. “Then, I’ll tie you up in Brando’s whipping room instead.” He tweaked my nipples.
I smacked his hands. “Stop that now.”
He gave my neck another nip. “Answer me or I’ll put my hand up your skirt again.”
“Someone could walk in.”
“That’ll be your fault for not agreeing, so what is it, you swallowing or me tying you up?”
“I’m not swallowing.”
He grabbed me and slung me over his shoulder as he pushed to his feet.
I yelled out, “What are you doing? Put me down!”
He swiped up the baby monitor and walked around the couch. “Getting my payment for changing the nappy.”
“You haven’t changed it yet!”
“I demand payment before I do the job.”
“Okay, just put me down.”
Laughing, he smacked my ass. “No.” Ignoring my indignant complaints, he headed down the passage that led to the gym, entering it a few seconds later.
My cheeks flared as I spotted Alessandro. Salvatore’s twenty-two-year-old brother stopped lifting weights and looked across at us with a large smirk. He was wearing shorts and nothing else, highlighting his sculptured physique. Sweat was dripping off his heavily tattooed body, making him glisten under the lights.
“Salvatore,” I growled, humiliated, “put me down.”
“No.” He stopped in front of Brando’s whipping room and keyed in the code. The door clicked open.
“How do you know the code?”
“My father gave it to me, just in case he’s not here when Brando needs help.”
He carried me into the room and switched on the light. He locked the door behind us and lowered me onto the bed, placing the baby monitor on a shelf. Chains and ropes hung from the walls. There were also some hanging from the ceiling and a row of whips lining the far wall, along with cuffs and other BDSM apparatus. Brando had recently gotten the room made so his dominatrices could come to him.
“This is seriously wrong on so many levels,” I said.
“You don’t know the half of it. Brando’s truly messed in the head.”
I rose to my feet. “We shouldn’t be in here. If he catches—”
“He won’t. He’s doing a job in Rome.”
I headed for the chains on the walls, running a hand down them. “I can’t believe he allows people to chain and whip him.” I turned to Salvatore. “Those scars on his back are horrendous.”
Salvatore walked towards me. “He told me getting whipped sends him to nirvana,” he said, backing me against the wall.
“You’re not whipping me.”
“I’d prefer to put you over my lap and spank you instead.” He smiled. “Maybe with one of those paddles,” he said, pointing to them.
“No way.”
“Then with my hand.”
“Not happening.” I shoved at his chest. “So, back up, BDSM wannabe.”
He smirked. “Okay, then give me a lap dance.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“When I negotiate a deal I’m very serious. I want one lap dance in exchange for changing one diaper.”
“Three diapers.”
“Two.”
I extended my hand. “Deal.”
He shook it with a smirk. “Nice negotiating with you, Signora Santini.” He let go and walked over to the stereo, flipping through Brando’s music collection. “Perfetto!” He pulled out a CD and slipped it into the stereo. Grabbing a chair, he walked back to the center of the room and sat down on it. “Start the music when you’re ready, Rosa.”
I went to the stereo and switched it on. Tina Turner’s voice came through the speakers, making me laugh. “Private Dancer?” I said turning around to face him.
“For two diapers, you’ll be my private dancer.”
Smiling, I walked over to him slowly, accentuating each stride. “What shall I take off first?”
“No talking, only dancing, or it’ll drop to one diaper.”
I laughed.
“Hurry up,” he said, waving a hand. “I don’t see any dancing.”
I started swaying my hips, running my hands over my breasts. His eyes moved to them as I flicked open the buttons on my blouse. As I undid the last one, I turned around and sat on his lap, rubbing my culo over his already hardening cock. He reached around me, placing a hand on my pussy.
I smacked it and got up. “No touching or the dance stops. Rules of the private dancer.”
“Tease,” he muttered.
“You bet I am.” I slipped off my blouse, letting it fall to the floor. He licked his lips, making my body heat up. Unzipping my skirt, I turned around and shimmied it down, bending over so my ass was right in front of his lap. I looked over my shoulder to see his reaction. He had his hands raised just above my ass, looking like h
e was going to grab it. His eyes flicked to me. He quickly lowered his hands, getting a “Good boy,” in return.
I turned to face him, now only dressed in my bra and panties. I climbed onto his lap and started gyrating against his cock, which was trying to burst free from his pants. He groaned and lifted his hands.
“Lower them,” I said.
He did, looking incredibly sexy. His eyelids were hooded while his mouth was parted, his breathing getting heavy. We hadn’t had much sex since Piero was born, and right now, he looked like he could come at any second.
I lowered my mouth to his, stopping just short of kissing him. He moved his head forward, brushing his lips against mine.
I jerked my head back. “No touching.” Smiling at his irritated look, I pushed off his lap and started gyrating to the music, unclipping the back of my bra. His eyes instantly shot to my breasts as I dropped the bra to the floor. I turned around and took hold of my panties. I bent over, teasing them down to my ankles.
He sighed, “You’re killing me, Rosa.”
I stepped out of the panties and turned back to him, draping them over his head. Grinning wide, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock, running his hand up and down it.
“No touching,” I said.
“Only of you.”
I shook my head. “Let go of your cock.”
“Make me.”
I pried his fingers back and lowered myself onto his shaft. Salvatore groaned loudly as his cockhead penetrated my pussy. He placed his hands on my ass.
I pulled away from him, causing him to yell out: “What are you doing?! Get back here.”
“You touched me.”
“I don’t care, so sit on my cock.”
“Lap dances don’t involve touching or sex,” I said, walking over to the wall where the handcuffs were.
“Depends upon which dancer you get.”
I spun around. “How would you know?”
“I went to a few bachelor parties that had them.”
I Love You, Salvatore Page 12