Becoming the Street Boss: A Zanetti Famiglia Novel

by Faiman, Hayley

  I agree to his words, but know that in a few weeks I’ll be begging him for another bottle, maybe two. He shakes his head as he reaches into his coat jacket and before I leave the food table, I have the bottle neatly tucked into my small purse.

  Making my way with two heaping plates of food, I sink down in the chair next to Massimo. I don’t pay attention to who we’re sitting with until I lift my head and my gaze meets Lenora’s.

  She’s holding her new baby, the toddler that she has sitting in the seat next to her. My heart clenches at the sight as the toddler moves and Arlo takes the seat before lifting the child into his lap.

  “Pippa, how are you?” Lenora asks, her voice wary as her eyes search mine.

  Dipping my chin, I feel like a giant cunt. I’ve been ignoring her for almost a year. This woman who spent countless hours away from her family to keep me company and I can’t even give her a call back, not even when I went back to work for her husband.

  Lenora smiles softly, then shakes her head. “Don’t worry about it, water under the bridge?”

  Nodding, I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yeah,” I breathe.

  “Lunch next week?” she asks as her gaze flicks from me to Massimo and then back to me. My eyes shift to my uneaten food before I lift them up to meet hers.

  “Okay.”

  Her smile widens, showing me her pretty smile as her eyes practically dance in front of me. “Good. I’ve missed you,” she admits softly.

  Lifting my hand, I reach across the table and she doesn’t make me wait. As is her nature, her hand immediately finds mine. “Me too, Lenora.”

  The rest of the evening we don’t mention my absence from the group again. Instead, it’s just like old times, as if the past five years hasn’t happened.

  Eventually, the girls and the men are separated and I find myself surrounded by these women that I respect, that I even love—that I look up to.

  We drink, but not too heavily. My tolerance is so high these days that after my fifth glass of wine, I’m not even buzzed. Massimo slinks up to my side, his hand sliding around my hip, his fingers gripping me there.

  Turning my head to the side, I tilt it back to look up at him.

  “Ready?” he asks, his one word, it holds more meaning than I think I could ever convey in a simple word.

  Gulping, I nod my head. “Yeah, I’m ready,” I whisper.

  Without another word, the two of us leave the party. There’s a car waiting for us outside and we slip into the back seat. Sitting next to me, in silence, he takes my hand in his, gripping my fingers tightly as the driver moves the car toward home.

  “We’re here,” the driver says.

  “Grazi,” Massimo murmurs as he reaches for the handle.

  Together, hand-in-hand, we make our way toward the front door of our home. A home that we shared together for less than a week. A home that I have completely made over. A home that could possibly be a new beginning or the beginning of the end.

  My heart hammers against my chest at the possibilities. I don’t know what’s going to happen once we cross that threshold, I’ve been thinking, dreaming and dreading this moment for five years.

  Inhaling a deep breath, I let it out on an exhale, staying one step behind my husband, a man who is practically a stranger, I cross the threshold into whatever will be.

  MASSIMO

  I feel like a stranger in my own home. Like a guest. Nothing looks the same as it did five years ago. The furniture is different, completely changed, as is the color of the walls. I don’t recognize anything in the living room or kitchen and I wonder what else has changed.

  “Between the wives and Rosana, we changed everything slowly,” Pippa offers as her explanation of what’s happened.

  Nodding slowly, I turn to face her. My eyes rake up and down her body, taking her in completely.

  The house, the decorations, they aren’t the only things that have changed. Pippa has changed as well, she is almost gaunt, her hair longer and duller, her blue eyes not quite as bright as I remembered.

  “Seems you’ve changed everything, no?”

  Pippa closes her eyes for a moment, then slowly opens them again. She shrugs a shoulder as she licks her lips, then tilts her head to the side, her eyes roaming over me before stopping on my face.

  “Five years, Massimo. Not the same twenty-year-old girl I once was. Just like you’re not the same man you once were either.”

  Shaking my head from side-to-side, I take a step toward her, then another until I’m so close that our bodies are almost touching. Reaching out, I extend my index finger, touching the side of her mouth before I trace her kissable lips.

  “Are you going to hold it against me? The sins of my past?”

  Pippa licks her lips, her tongue touching the pad of my finger. “Do you have a lot of those for me to hold against you?” she breathes.

  I grunt, slipping my other arm around her waist before I pull her against me. The hand against her mouth shifts to twist in the back of her hair. Tugging her head back, I look into her eyes, still not as bright as they once were, but no less beautiful—no less mine.

  “We all do, dolcezza. I cannot change what’s happened, the way I’ve spoken to you or not spoken to you, but I’m here now. Let’s start again, yeah?”

  Her eyes widen as her lips part. She struggles against my grip, but I keep her close to me, refusing to let her go.

  “Start again?” she hisses. “How? How do we do that? You’ve hurt me in ways that I never dreamed possible. You’ve drawn me in, you’ve pushed me away, you’ve acted as though you gave a shit, then you’ve said cruel things to me. You asked me for a divorce.”

  “I know,” I say with a sharp nod.

  Her eyes well with tears. “How do we move past all of that?”

  Releasing my grip on her hair, I cup her jaw, then use the pad of my thumb to wipe her falling tears away from her cheek.

  “We just do, dolcezza. I’m out. You’re mine and that’s just the way it is. You can accept it or fight me on it, but the outcome will be the same no matter what you do.”

  She tries to pull away from me, again, and yet again, I don’t let her. I shake my head, my eyes focused on hers as I continue to gently wipe her tears away.

  “You’re angry. I am too. We can’t continue to live in that anger, we’ll just be goddamn miserable.”

  She snorts. “I like how I need to get over things when you’re ready to move on. But when you’re not, when you live in your moods, I have to just accept it,” she grinds out.

  My lips twitch and my chin jerks down as I dip my head, shifting it to the side as I touch my lips to hers. I taste the wine from earlier mixed with the saltiness of her tears. It should be a turnoff, my wife crying in my arms, but it’s not.

  Sliding my hand from its place against her lower back, I gently grab a handful of her ass. It’s smaller but no less appealing.

  Gripping the fabric of her dress, I hitch it up to her waist. I groan at the feel of her soft bare skin when my hand finds its way to her ass again.

  Slipping my tongue inside of her mouth, I taste all of her. My cock strains against the zipper of my pants. It’s not just because I haven’t been laid in five years, but also because I’ve been thinking of fucking no one but my wife for five years and I’ve missed all of her.

  I’m missed every goddamn inch of her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  PIPPA

  I want him inside of my body like I’ve never wanted anything before. It’s not just a desire, it’s a downright need. I ache like I’ve never ached before.

  The past five years I’ve needed to release the tension my body held. I’ve used several different toys to do just that, but I’ve never felt an overwhelming desire quite like this.

  “Massimo,” I whisper against his lips.

  He grunts then releases me as he takes a step backward, his breathing coming out in quick pants. Lifting my gaze to meet his, I lick my swollen lips as I watch him, wishing that his
hands were still on me.

  “Massimo?”

  He shakes his head. “I can’t, not in here,” he rumbles.

  Looking over my shoulder, then around the rest of the room, I eventually shift my gaze back to meet his.

  “Why not in here?”

  “The first time should be in a bed, should be better,” he grumbles through gritted teeth as if he’s in pain.

  My eyes flick down to his bulging pants, then my lips twitch into a smile as I shift my eyes back up to meet his. “Are you trying to be romantic?” I ask.

  He shrugs a shoulder. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

  Without another word, I turn from him, my skirt still around my waist. I walk toward the staircase, making my way directly to our bedroom and don’t look behind me to see if he’s following—I know that he is.

  My anger has started to slowly disappear, I don’t know if it’s because he’s right here in front of me, his attention on me and nowhere else. His eyes almost pleading for me to accept his words of moving on as an apology for every harsh word and action over the past five years.

  Reaching down to the hem of my dress, I pull it over my head, tossing it to the side. I hear Massimo’s grunt behind me as I kick off my high heels. Reaching behind me, I unhook my bra before I toss it to the side.

  Reaching for my panties, I gasp when I feel Massimo’s body heat behind me. His hand slips around my waist and his palm presses against my belly. His other hand reaches for the side of my panties and with little effort, he tugs on them breaking the string at the side before they fall to the floor.

  Letting my head drop back against his shoulder, I tremble in his arms. The hand that tore my panties slides down to cup my center, while the other one at my belly glides up the center of my chest and wraps around the front of my throat.

  Touching my lips to the underside of his jaw, I slip my tongue out and taste him. I feel his chest rumble against my back as his fingers slide through my folds. Widening my legs, shamelessly, I jerk my hips against his touch.

  I need so much.

  I need more.

  I need everything.

  Massimo thankfully gives me exactly what I crave. He slips two fingers inside of me, his palm cupping me, applying pressure against my clit. I’m unable to control my movements. Shifting my hips, I moan at the sensation of his fingers inside of me and his palm against my clit—sensational.

  “Please,” I breathe against his jaw.

  He grunts, his chest rumbling behind me again. “Always, dolcezza. This… always. You never have to ask. It is always yours.”

  I whimper when he removes his hands from me, I’m so close, moments from shattering in his arms. Massimo spins me around, his hands wrapping around my waist before he picks me up and without a word, tosses me as if I weigh less than a feather onto the bed.

  “Spread,” he demands.

  “Massimo—”

  He shakes his head, effectively cutting off my words.

  I’m not sure what I was going to say to him, anyway, maybe something like please take it slow? I smirk, knowing that trying to give him any order or request would fall on deaf ears. Massimo does what Massimo wants to do.

  I watch as he sheds his clothes and every square inch of his body is revealed to me. Five years in prison has been very good to my husband. He’s bulkier than he was before he left, his body defined with muscle on top of muscle, but he’s not so big that he’s intimidating, he’s just… so nice.

  I lick my lips at the sight, my eyes dragging down until I reach his hard length. That seems bigger too, even though I’m sure that it’s not. It’s just been that long since I’ve seen him in person.

  My thighs spread on their own. My heels planting into the mattress, my knees bent. I open myself for my husband. Willingly, ready, and waiting for him to take me the way I’ve been dreaming about for five long years.

  MASSIMO

  My wife.

  Someone that I thought I could live without. A woman that I now realize I could never survive without, I need her, in my life and in my bed. I could fuck anyone, but I’ve never found anyone that I’ve wanted to keep beside me until I met her and even after five years away, that has not changed.

  “You’re too skinny,” I point out as I climb onto the bed.

  Her lips twitch. “You’ve said that before. I drink too much and like to take painkillers, too.”

  I snort. “That shit’ll kill you, dolcezza. I’ll get you some good smoke, yeah?”

  She hums as I move between her thighs, spreading my knees to widen her legs, wrapping one of my hands around the back of her neck, the other gripping her hip.

  Dipping my head, I touch my mouth to hers, licking her bottom lip before I press my forehead against her own. Aligning my cock with her center, I lift my head to look into her eyes.

  I can tell that she’s high on her painkillers. I shake my head, cursing to myself that she’s hooked on that shit. Sliding my hand to her waist, I feel the scarred skin beneath my grip. Without a second thought, I slam inside of her, needing to feel her and remind myself that she is alive and safe in my arms—in my bed.

  Pippa’s breath hitches as her head falls back. I growl, feeling like a teenage boy fucking his first whore. I’m seconds from blowing my load, but I can’t. She has to get there.

  Lowering my head, I touch my lips to the center of her throat. “Touch yourself, my beautiful girl,” I whisper against her skin.

  She doesn’t hesitate, her hand moves between her legs and I groan as soon as I feel her fingers brush against my pelvis. Pulling out of her, I sink back inside slowly. My movements aren’t as hurried as my body craves them to be.

  This isn’t just about me, isn’t about my satisfaction only, this is about Pippa. This is about trying to apologize the only way that I know how. This is about showing her that I’m here with her. I’m going to try and stay right here with her too. I’m here for us.

  Unable to hold back, my movements speed up, my fingers gripping the back of her hair and her waist. She lets out a moan as her hips begin to jerk beneath me. I can feel her climbing, straddling the edge of coherency and pure bliss.

  “Come for me, dolcezza. You’re so tight, so wet, I know you’re close. Let me feel you, my beautiful girl,” I murmur against her throat.

  She bucks against me, her cunt fluttering around me. I lose all control. My fingers grip her waist and hair tighter, so fucking tight that I’m worried I may hurt her and also, not giving a shit if I do.

  Slamming my hips against her body, I fuck her hard. I let out a growl through gritted teeth as I fuck my wife. She cries out, her hand flying out from between us, her fingers curling around my shoulder as I lose the last ounce of control that I was holding on to.

  Burying myself deep inside of her, I lift my head, my face lifting to the ceiling and I roar with my release. My entire body trembles, it fucking shakes as I come inside of my wife for the first time in five goddamn years.

  When my body has finally calmed down, when I come back to my senses, I tilt my head down to look into Pippa’s eyes. Her head is lifted to look up at me, those dull blue eyes, they’re a little brighter than they were only moments ago.

  Lowering my head, I touch my mouth to hers. “The best I ever had, dolcezza. Been thinking of you, of this cunt for five years,” I rasp against her lips.

  Her body stiffens and she tries to push away from me at my words, but I don’t allow her to. Lifting my face, I frown as I look down into her eyes.

  “What’s this, then?”

  “You’ve been thinking of just my cunt? I waited for you for five years and all you thought about was my cunt?”

  I blink. Then I start to laugh, my cock slipping from that delicious cunt. Rolling onto my back, I grab her as she attempts to struggle away from me. Wrapping my arms around her, pulling her against my side, I don’t allow her to stomp off.

  “You’re an asshole,” she snaps.

  Tilting my chin down at her, I smirk. �
��I am. But I wasn’t being one just now.”

  “Oh no?”

  Shaking my head, I touch my mouth to the center of her furrowed brows. “I wasn’t. I missed all of you, Pippa. Granted, we don’t truly know one another that well still. Which is mostly my fault, not yours. But what we knew about one another on our wedding night, was how well our bodies liked each other’s. So, yes, I missed this part of you—of us.”

  Her hand slides up the center of my torso, stopping just in the middle of my chest as she pushes up slightly. “I missed your body, too,” she admits as her cheeks turn pink. “Especially your tongue.”

  Pressing my lips together, I try not to burst out laughing. It’s sweet. So fucking sweet. Cupping her cheek with one of my hands, I dip my chin and touch my mouth to hers. I taste the wine and the sweetness that is just Pippa.

  “I was a fool, dolcezza. A complete fucking fool. I’m here now, for you and with you.”

  She licks her lips, her tongue touching my own lips as she lets out a short exhale. “You were right.”

  “About?”

  “Moving on. We need to,” she breathes, then pulls her head away from mine to look down into my face. “I’m not perfect. I’m not the girl that I was five years ago. But I want you to get to know the woman that I am now. I want this to work between us. I want a family and I want a husband who falls madly in love with me.”

  “Love,” I mutter.

  She didn’t hear me or maybe she doesn’t remember. I confessed my love to her. I still love her, it hasn’t changed, but maybe I’m just too fucking proud to say it again?

  She smirks, shrugging her shoulder as her blue eyes search mine. “It may take me a while, but Massimo, you will fall in love with me. I will make your eyes smile. It has always been a goal of mine.”

  “Yeah?”

  Pippa nods, her teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “Wanna know what my goal was when we married?”

  Her eyes widen and I can tell that she’s a bit nervous to hear this. “It was to make you laugh like you did with your friends in the café, uninhibitedly. I did it once, in prison when you came to visit me, before I fucked up over and over.”