The way he’s looking at me shows me how much he wants to devour me. Truthfully, I want him to, so much. We haven’t been together in months, and I can’t hide it any longer. These hormones have been making me insanely . . . famished. I’ve never really had much of a sexual desire before him, because, well . . . Every sexual encounter I had was never on my terms. But now, I just want him. I need him so badly.
“You have no idea just how hot that was. I love it when you stand up for yourself. To see that fire burning behind your eyes is priceless.”
Part of me wants to respond, but I don’t. Instead, I move my hand from the side of his face and
wrap my arms around his neck. I stand up on my tippy toes, meeting my lips with his. Nothing about this kiss is sweet. In every aspect, it’s barbaric, and I think it’s what we both need. He and I have always had sexual chemistry and now we’re at the point where we’ll find out if this will lead into something greater.
Like I told him, I’m going to make up my own mind on whether or not I want to marry him. It won’t be his mother making the decision for me. Plus, we have to discover if we have more than a physical connection. I hope that there is an emotional one behind all of this lust and chemistry, but we won’t know quite yet.
His hands slide under my cardigan sweater, slowly inching down my arms until it hits the floor. Enzo’s wearing a plain white tee shirt and jeans with his cut, per usual. He’s a creature of habit, the only change being the color of his shirt. Over the past few weeks, I’ve been freezing, so I’m constantly wearing cardigans over my cami’s. When I’m not freezing, I’m warm, so being able to take the sweater off is easy.
I glide my hands under his cut and take it off slowly, but don’t let it hit the floor. I take it in my grasp and set it on the small table next to us. Enzo explained to me a long time ago that the cut should be respected, and I will honor that. “You have no idea just how beautiful you are.” He whispers out in a raspy tone, holding my hair in his grasp. He runs his fingers through it, staring at my snow white locks before meeting his eyes with my own. “You’re a vision, a precious . . .”
“If you call me a Russian Doll, I will smack you.” I firmly tell him. I don’t view it as a derogatory term, but I don’t want to be compared with the rest. I believe I’m different, and in a way, I want to be.
“I was going to say mystical creature, but maybe I’ll keep my compliments to myself.”
I scoff out a laugh, meeting my lips back with his own. Enzo puts his hand under my camisole, pulling up until we break our kiss to rid me of it, leaving me in my bra and jegging pants. Within a minute, both of us are stripped completely, bared to one another.
He dips down and sucks my nipple into his mouth. He’s done this before, but never have I been this sensitive. It feels like electric bolts are coursing through my entire body. I want to squirm and shake, but I don’t. He looks up at me, surely checking to make sure I’m okay and I pull his head further against my breasts, encouraging him to continue.
“Oh,” I moan out, resting my head on the wall next to us. His tongue twirls around my nipple, and he bites down every now and again. “It feels so good.” I confess, running my hands over his head. Most of his hair is gone and he’s sporting a buzz cut now.
He dips two fingers inside me, feeling my wetness, pulling out and pumping back in. After a minute, he gets down to a rhythm: suck, pump, bite. Over and over again he drives me absolutely insane, my body, reveling in what he’s doing.
“Lorenzo! Get your butt down here before I pull you down by the ear!” I hear a woman yell, in a very hostile tone.
He pulls his mouth away from my breast, and responds back, “Give me a few minutes!” Instead of returning to my nipple, he dips his head down and settles on my clit. Pulling back my labia, he exposes my clit and runs his tongue back and forth over it. I thought my nipples were sensitive, but this is something else entirely. I squirm against him as he continues, thrusting his fingers inside of me while he teases my clit.
“Oh, fuck!” I hiss out in a whisper. Enzo increases his speed as I start to tighten up. His fingers are moving so quickly that I can clearly hear his fingers slide into my wetness, and just like that. I’m coming for him.
“Yes!” He grumbles out, moving his tongue from my clit to my entrance. As fast as I’m coming, he’s licking me dry. He runs his hands against the sides of my legs before he tears his mouth away from my pussy.
“We’d better leave for dinner, before she gets too mad.” Enzo snickers as he stands up. He takes my hand, and leads me towards the door.
“Uh, I think we should be clothed.” I say, stopping. I look at the both of us, and we’re as naked as the day we were born.
He lets out a loud laugh, “You’re right. Let’s get dressed first and then go down.” The two of us grab our clothes off the floor and get dressed quickly before heading down to dinner. I have a feeling that this is going to be unlike any dinner, I’ve ever had before.
14
“We’ve got to live, no matter how many skies have fallen.”
-D. H. Lawrence
Ksenia
Walking out of the bedroom door makes me feel like we’re walking into a war zone. I don’t know much of what to expect, but I do know that I should expect the unexpected. It only makes sense to do so. We make our way down the hallway, and I take the opportunity to really look at the photos that line the walls. When we were making our way up, I was exhausted and couldn’t bear to focus on anything except getting a shower, and into bed.
My eyes focus on the photographs of multiple people. You can tell they’re related because they all have the same features. Tan, dark haired with dark eyes. It’s ironic that Enzo is the lightest one. I’m the pale one in my family, and he must be the pale one in his.
I see a couple, with an older boy, two younger boys, and a little girl. Focusing in on the older one, I can tell its Enzo. His hair is full, and quite long. I never would’ve thought he’d be the type to have long hair like this, but I see he made interesting choices back then.
I stop in my tracks and point to the man. “Is this your . . .” I can’t think of the right word. I know the man isn’t his father, but there is a word Enzo kept using.
Enzo looks at the picture and answers immediately, “That’s my step-father, Stefano.”
I furrow my brows and scrunch up my nose. I don’t understand what the word step means. “Why is he called step? Do you step on him?”
Enzo chuckles lowly. My English may be getting better, but every now and again there is a word that I struggle with. This is one of those times. “No, sweetie. Step is used as a form to fill in. He’s my step-father because he’s stepping into my biological father’s role, in a way. Does that make sense?”
I nod, “Yes, it does. So . . . Why do you call your family, your half?”
“Half-siblings.” Enzo corrects me and I nod again.
“Yes, I don’t understand this term.”
“They are half my blood, on my mother’s side. We don’t share the same father, so they are my half-brothers and half-sister. Like Mariana is to you.” I remember the term half being used before, but never really understood it until this moment. I don’t like the term. I think it’s a way of being derogatory towards your family members.
“They are your family. I don’t like the word ‘half’ it makes them seem less than. . . Regardless, they are your brothers and sister.”
“You’re right.” He mutters lowly, speaking a little louder as he continues. “I never really thought about it that much, but you’re right.” Enzo smiles, walking down the hallway and reaching the top of the stairs. He links his arm with mine and walks with me as we descend. I can clearly hear the laughter of many people, a man speaking above everyone else. Once we reach the bottom, Enzo turns to the left and we walk inside a massive living room. I swear I just saw another one on the right . . . but then again, this place is massive.
The decor is aged, but shows that it’s the best
of the best. Golds, browns and oranges grace the space in deep, rusty colors. There’s even some sort of fringe type material hanging off the couch. A man stands behind the couch, overlooking the few who sit on it. He has black hair with gray streaks running through, and holds a glass of a dark red wine in his hand. “Ah! Lorenzo. It has been a long time.”
As I look closely, I can see that this is Stefano. He’s aged quite a bit since that photo was taken, almost looking like an entirely different man. “Stefano, it surely has. This is my girlfriend, Ksenia.” Enzo tells Stefano, but I believe he’s making a general statement to the rest of the room. Carla is on one end of the couch with a baby sitting in her lap. It’s cute as can be, probably around two years old by the looks of it. Next to her is another woman, she’s drop dead gorgeous. Caramel tan skin with black hair and she’s wearing a deep blue dress that just . . . well, she simply looks like a fashion model.
Beside the woman in the blue dress is a man, his left hand rests on her knee and from the looks of it, I assume they must be married. This one looks just like Stefano. Beside him is another man, and lastly, I see a woman sitting in the chair across from him.
“Welcome to our home, Sen-ya, our figlia.” He says my name slowly and it causes me to giggle. I don’t think he knows that I understand him, but I do. “My apologies, I’m not used to pronouncing a name as exotic as yours.”
“I’m sure, it’ll get easier. Say it quickly and it will flow. You should have seen him at first.” I look up to Enzo, who is shaking his head. “Besides, Italian is much more difficult.”
Stefano tilts his head to the side, trying to hide a smirk, but ultimately fails. “How would you know if it is difficult? I assume you speak English and Russian.”
“And Italian.” I point out.
The woman, who I presume is Enzo’s mother let’s out a gasp. “Parli la nostra lingua?” She asks if I speak their language, and I nod, responding back in English.
“Yes.”
“Well, I wasn’t expecting that.” The way she says it comes off a little snide, like she’s aggravated.
“Allow me to introduce you to our family. This is my second eldest, Salvatore and his wife, Aria.” He points to the man who looks like his mini-me, and the woman in the blue dress. “This little button here is our first grandchild, and their daughter, Sorina. You’ve already met Carla from what I understand, and this is my youngest son, Gianni. And this, impeccable creature is Marta, my wife.”
“It is nice to meet you all.” I say to the group of them, meaning every word behind it. I’m still a bit nervous, feeling like there is something sitting on my chest.
Aria looks at me, her hand, glancing down to my hand. “Where is her ring, Lorenzo? Your mother said the two of you were engaged. . . You didn’t. How could you not buy her a ring?” Her eyes are kind, but yet she chastises him.
I correct her immediately, “Actually, we are not engaged. I believe someone misspoke.” I don’t care about making his mother annoyed. She will not pressure me to act a certain way, or make any decisions I haven’t thought through.
“Come, let’s sit . . . and drink before anyone gets hurt.” Stefano speaks loudly, but mutters the last bit under his breath. His eyes catch mine, so I know that he realizes I heard him. No matter, I’ve been through worse, so I know I will survive anything that comes my way tonight.
15
When things change inside you, things change around you.
-Self-Love Quotes
Ksenia
We all take our seats in the dining room, which is located directly off of the living area. I’m kind of wondering if they have a second dining room on the other side as well, but I won’t ask. Enzo and I sit across from his brother, Salvatore and his wife, Aria. Stefano is on my right at the head of the table, and Marta is all the way across on the other side. Carla and Gianni sit on both sides of her. Meanwhile, little Sorina is in a high chair next to her grandfather.
“Victoria, we’re ready to be served.” Stefano calls out, and a moment later I see a woman and what looks to be a kitchen staff walk through a set of doors. They have metal covers over the food and bring a plate out to each and every one of us, setting them down on our place mats. I don’t know why I thought that this dinner would be low key, but I should’ve known better. Of course it would be extravagant.
“So, would you mind telling us how you learned Italian?” Marta asks me, and I do mind. It’s part of my past, and not part that I like to remember, nor discuss.
“I was in Italy for a couple of years. I’m a quick learner, I suppose.” I keep my answer short and sweet, with the hopes that she won’t dig for any more information. I should know better though. This is an Italian woman after all.
Her tone has peaked interest. “Oh, what were you doing in Italy?” The staff takes off the plates to reveal some sort of fish pasta meal. I normally hate fish, but this baby loves fish. I’m making sure to not eat too much of it, per the doctor’s instructions. But whenever I smell it, I can’t help but salivate.
I glance over to Enzo, trying to show him my discomfort at his mother’s question. Even he doesn’t know about my time in Italy. Then again, I never really chose to go over the more grueling parts of my past. “I was there for work.” I keep it vague, and I see Enzo understands the path that I’m going down. It registers in his mind what work means . . . and shows him just how much I don’t want to continue the conversation.
“How is Sorina doing?” Enzo interrupts, looking to Aria. “She seems to have come a long way from a baby in the NICU.”
Aria beams, showing me those kind eyes of hers again. “She’s come a long way. Sal and I are very lucky. It could’ve been so much worse.”
Enzo turns to me, “Little Sorina was born pre-maturely and had a rough go of it. But you would never know that now.”
“Nope, would never have a clue. Premature children always seem to be the strongest ones in my experience.” I tell Aria, staring down at her daughter. The little girl has gorgeous beaming blue eyes.
“What experience would that be?” Stefano asks, taking a sip of his wine. I hear the clinking of silverware against the plates as people continue to eat.
I’m too deep into it now, and let something slip that I shouldn’t have. “This isn’t my first pregnancy. I have a daughter. She was born prematurely, just like Sorina.”
“Were you married?” Marta asks, judgement evident through her tone. I turn to look at her and shake my head from side to side.
“No, I was not.”
She curses under her breath. “That poor child. Lorenzo, do you see the type of woman she is? She will damn her child eternally if you two are not married.”
“I will not damn my child whatsoever.” I speak up, not allowing her to speak like I don’t exist. I’m right here in the room with her, and I can tell that she’s the type of woman who thinks she’s right all the time.
“Obviously, you have. Where is your daughter now? She isn’t with you, so where is she?” I want to scream at her, to yell and let all of my rage out because this woman has no idea what happened. She doesn’t know that my life wasn’t my own until a few years ago. She has no idea that I was a slave, used, abused and tortured in whatever ways men would deem fit. Katya didn’t know the things that Sergei was doing right under her tongue. She really has no idea. I don’t even know if I would ever have the courage to tell her what happened. I fear that she would hate me for not telling her. Worst of all, she might even grow to resent me.
I don’t know if I’ll ever tell Katya, but I know that regardless, I have to tell Enzo everything – even if I don’t want to.
“Leave Ksenia be, mother.” Enzo growls, looking to his father. I will call him father because I refuse to add step into it. He gives him a pleading look, almost asking her to stop her digging. “Silence her. This is none of concern.”
Stefano laughs, “You of all people know I can’t silence your mother even if I wanted to. She will do whatever she wants, regardless
if I approve or not. I will make it known I do not think Ksenia’s past is any of our business, Marta.”
“I didn’t ask for your permission.” She snaps out, “But I asked the girl a question and I expect an answer.”
“Do you really want my answer?” I try not to allow my emotions get the best of me, but they will. Being pregnant means that I feel things so much worse now. “Do you want to know all the grimy details?” I ask, tears welling behind my eyes. “I will give them to you. So, I ask, do you truly want to know? Are you ready for my truth, Marta?”
Marta stares, not responding in the least bit. I look down at my hands and see that I’m shaking violently, not even noticing I’ve been doing so. Enzo places his hand on my shoulder, whispering. “Ksenia, it’s okay. You don’t have to say anything, relax.”
“No, I’m going to, because your mother thinks I’m some damned woman who can’t keep her legs shut. It’s obvious she thinks I’m nothing but a whore. I mean, look at her face. Look at her!” I sob out. At this point, I can’t control any of it. The heat rising in my chest, the way I feel like I’m being suffocated. It’s all too much. I meet my eyes again with Marta, “Here is my ugly truth. Ten years ago, I was raped by my sister’s husband. I was carted off to Italy to stay with the DiGiovanni family and I was forced to leave by myself. I had no option, because my sister couldn’t know about any of it. I was told that if I said a word my daughter’s throat would be slit. So, I will ask again, were you ready for that?”
“Oh my God. You were the girl.” Stefan mutters lowly. I redirect my attention to him. “You were the pregnant guest they had when I went to visit the famiglia.”
Retribution: Skulls Renegade MC Book #10 Page 6