Morally Blasphemous (Morally Questionable Book 2)

by Veronica Lancet

  His knees hit the bed, his body coming towards me. Instinctively I wet my lips, and taking his hand I place it on my chest, over my heart. I want him to feel what I feel, this need that builds and builds. The way he's utterly and completely engraved himself in my soul.

  My back may be forever ruined with the remnants of that night, the initials of the man who made me fear the darkness. But my very being is imprinted by the man in front of me, the one who made me rediscover the light. The one who made me hope again.

  My fingers brush against his stubble, and this might be the first time I've seen Marcello less than perfectly groomed. Maybe he had just as much as a hard time as I did?

  He turns my palm over, kissing the center before fitting it over his cheek and closing his eyes.

  "It's over... It's finally over." He whispers, nuzzling my hand.

  "What is it?" I ask, but he just shakes his head.

  "Sometimes I can't believe you're here." He gives a sad smile.

  "Me neither." I draw him closer, my dress still a barrier between us. I look up in his eyes, trying to memorize his features, the way his eyes light up when they gaze upon me.

  "When I'm with you, I feel like I can be a good man. Someone worthy of you." His words are a mixture of pain and reverence, his thumb tracing my cheekbone.

  "You are. You are." I repeat, seeking his lips with mine.

  They say it takes only a moment to fall in love. But I can't possibly choose just one moment. If there's anything like predestination, then I think this is it, because everything led me to here and now. Every moment in his presence sparked a little flame inside of me until it reached the size of an inferno.

  But that's just the thing. I'd gladly burn for him.

  His other hand glides up my leg, taking the hem of my dress with it, until he's tugging it off me. I'm left in a simple white bra and a pair of cotton underwear. I know he's already seen me before, but I can't help the heat traveling up my face as Marcello leans back and stares at me, his eyes travelling all over my body.

  "Stop it." I playfully swat him, embarrassed to be his focal point. Almost instinctively, I cross my arms and turn my head to the side.

  "Lina, don't hide from me." Softly, he disentangles my arms, his lips laying a kiss in the middle of my chest, right between my breasts.

  "You're the loveliest thing I've ever seen. If I could sear this image in my mind forever, I would." I feel his breath on my skin as he speaks, and then he slowly moves upward, towards my neck, his touch tickling and delighting me at the same time.

  "You too," I add shyly. "You're really handsome, that is." I say the only thing I can think of. It's like my brain short circuited from his proximity.

  His chest rumbles with laughter, his mouth coming to my ear. He nibbles the area before taking the lobe between his lips. "I'm happy you think so."

  Reaching under me, he unclasps my bra and slides it off my arms, all the while whispering soothing words in my ear. My eyes close and I enjoy the feel of his skin on top of mine. My underwear soon follows.

  Spurned by an urgency I'd never felt before, I tug at his belt, seeking to get even closer to him. He helps me unzip his pants and I use my feet to pull them down. When he's finally as naked as I am, I wrap my legs around him, wanting that part of him to touch me where I need him the most.

  "Not yet, love." His hand sneaks between our bodies, touching me, feeling how much he affects me. "You're not ready." He says, and my brows furrow at his words.

  "I'm ready, so ready. Please." How can he not see how ready I am, want dripping from my very being?

  He chuckles and shakes his head, giving me a quick kiss before lowering himself between my legs.

  I just want him inside! My mind is screaming, but as his tongue makes contact with my flesh, I can't be mad anymore.

  I fall back onto the mattress, eyes wild, legs on his shoulders and hands in his hair.

  He's killing me.

  My breathing picks up, my body responding to every touch.

  "Marcello," I gasp, that elusive feeling nearing ever so slightly.

  My thighs clench, tightening around his head. His hands on my butt draw me closer, his movements increasing, his tongue wringing every bit of pleasure from my body.

  Until it all collapses.

  "Lord!" I moan out loud, feeling my body go limp.

  Marcello places a kiss on my belly, taking a moment to lay his head on my stomach.

  Remembering the stretch marks from my pregnancy, I try to move him, but he stops me.

  "Don't." His voice is tender and filled with emotion. His palm rests on the worst scar, and he traces it in an awed manner.

  "It's not pretty." I stop his hand, laying mine on top of his.

  "It is." He drops another kiss on the marred skin. "Because it gave life. Never be ashamed of it, Lina."

  His words floor me, and I have to blink twice to get rid of the moisture forming in my lashes.

  "You gave up everything to have a beautiful baby girl when others wouldn't. This is your badge of honor, Lina."

  "Thank you." My voice is hoarse. This is the first time anyone's acknowledged my sacrifices for Claudia. The first time anyone's seen them as anything but disgraceful.

  "You have no idea how much that means to me." I caress his forehead, hoping to convey to him everything I'm feeling.

  He moves up my body and his mouth envelops mine in a sizzling kiss. All other thoughts promptly disappear from my mind as I succumb to the sensation.

  He settles between my legs, slowly entering me. My arms go around his back, holding onto him as he gently rocks into me. He worships my body with every touch, every stroke, and I can only stare into his eyes, taking in his intensity.

  It's too much!

  "Faster, please!" I moan, feeling a pressure build inside of me. Marcello increases his pace, his length retreating and then entering me again, stretching me, and making me gasp with pleasure.

  It's almost there!

  I clench around him, and all the nerves in my body prickle with awareness. The intensity is too much, and tears start rolling down my face. It's only a few seconds later that he joins me, and I feel him emptying himself inside of me.

  "God, Lina." He groans, his forehead resting on my shoulder. He raises his head just a fraction, noting my tears.

  "Fuck! Did I hurt you? Are you ok?" He tries to move but I keep on holding onto him.

  "No, you didn't hurt me. It was just... too much. Too much feeling." I confess, biting my lip. His eyebrows crease in confusion.

  "You're sure?" He asks again.

  "Yes, everything was perfect." My hands glide across his back, and I'm once more reminded of the horrific sight I'd seen.

  We settle in bed and he drapes the sheet on top of me. We sit in silence for a while, and I make the courage to ask.

  "What happened to your back?"

  "You saw." He slowly says. I turn around to face him. His expression is tight, and he's looking anywhere but at me.

  "Who did that to you?" His shoulders slump at my question. He shouldn't feel embarrassed about it. Not knowing it's something I can understand very well.

  "I..." He pauses, taking a deep breath. "I'll tell you someday." He finally says, not meeting my eyes.

  Someday. Why is it always someday with him? Before I can control myself, I blurt out.

  "Like the woman you loved?" I don't even recognize my voice. Is this what jealousy feels like? Because it's making me want to neutralize that unknown woman.

  Marcello's eyes meet mine. "Lina..." His pleading tone suggests he wants me to drop the subject, but I need to know.

  "Can't you tell me? I want to know who I'm competing against. Is she still in your life?" But what I want to ask the most is, do you still love her?

  "It's in the past."

  "Marcello," I start, trying to find my words. "I think we should just lay everything on the table."

  "What do you mean?" He frowns.

  I take a deep breath.
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  "I'm in love with you. I love you and I need to know if there's still someone in your life..." His eyes widen, and he's looking at me as if he's seen a ghost.

  "You... love me?" He repeats in disbelief.

  I nod. "Of course I do. I think I've been falling in love with you from the very beginning. That's why... I want to know if there's a place for me in your heart." Now that the truth is out, I don't know if I should rejoice or weep. He's just staring at me.

  "Say that again." He whispers.

  "I love you?" He pulls me into his arms, an embrace so deep he's almost crushing me.

  "You love me." He's still repeating the words, slowly rocking with me.

  "Marcello?" I ask after a while. His head is buried in the crook of my neck, and I hear a slight sob.

  "Marcello." I say again.

  "There isn't anyone else." He finally speaks against my skin. "There was never anyone else."

  "But... that woman..."

  "It's always been you."

  Chapter Twenty-four

  "IT'S ALWAYS BEEN YOU." I tell her, knowing she might not look at me the same when she knows. "I've only ever loved one woman—you."

  "What do you mean?" Her arms push at my shoulders and I let her put the distance between us. "How's that possible..." She shakes her head. "You don't have to lie to me, Marcello."

  "I'm not lying. Not about this. I fell in love with you ten years ago."

  "Ten years ago... But... How?"

  "I first saw you at one of your father's banquets. You were in the garden, trying to sneak in." I can picture the exact moment I'd first seen her. So beautiful, so pure. "I wanted to marry you back then too." I confess.

  "I don't understand. We've never met before, I'm sure of it." A deep crease forms between her brows as she tries and fails to remember me.

  "I looked a mess, but we did meet. Just outside your house." I proceed to tell her the encounter that even now, a decade later, is still imprinted in my mind. The moment she had me, utterly and irrevocably—whether she wanted me or not.

  I've been hers since that moment.

  AGE TWENTY-ONE,

  THE PAIN IS RIPPING THROUGH my insides. My hand is clutching at my wound, trying to stop the bleeding. I know I'm not likely to die from this, but that doesn't mean it's any less painful.

  I hang my head low as I keep on walking, the hood draped over my face helping to cover the damage father had inflicted.

  I wonder if I even look human anymore.

  Both my eyes are incredibly swollen, with one eyelid completely busted. That leaves only one good eye I can actually see through. My cheek is radiating with pain, and I guess it could be fractured. I shouldn't even think about my nose because it took most of the direct hits.

  The knife wound had been a surprise, or as much of a surprise as it could be coming from father. I hadn't expected he would go for an out of commission type of punishment, but I really went far this time.

  Farther than before.

  I'd stood up to father, and I'd firmly told him I wouldn't be joining him on his weekly bordello visits, nor would I engage in any type of licentious behavior.

  My reasoning had been pretty simple. I just need to get my act together so I can be worthy of Catalina.

  I was sure Rocco knew about father's activities, and implicitly mine, and that meant he would never agree to give me his daughter's hand in marriage. There is one thing among made men that is frowned upon, and that is frequenting bordellos – not that it would matter to father. But for any other self-respecting capo, it wouldn't be acceptable to have his daughter married to a philanderer who could embarrass her and implicitly his name.

  While Rocco himself is no saint, his tastes run more towards kept women rather than paid women, even though the difference is very slight and it could be argued that it's the same thing.

  But when you consider father's proclivities... I don't think there's any man out there who would willingly give his daughter in marriage to someone associated with such debauchery.

  And so I'd had my work cut out for me. It's not as if it's a hardship for me to give that up, given that I've never enjoyed it. But if I'm being honest, more than anything, I want to do it for Catalina.

  I want to be worthy in her eyes. Someone who she wouldn't be embarrassed of... someone she might learn to love...

  And so I find myself wandering close to the Agosti home.

  Father hadn't been pleased when I'd refused to go with him week after week until he'd finally had enough. He'd said he was just teaching me a lesson. That my actions were reflecting on him and that I made him seem weak.

  He'd had his soldiers hold me down, while he'd hammered my face with his fists. It hadn't been enough that I'd nearly passed out from the pain, so he'd completed the punishment with a knife wound.

  I groan at the slicing pain. He'd stabbed me right between my ribs, knowing the perfect position to not damage any vital organs but to maximize the pain.

  When I'd gotten out, I hadn't really been thinking straight. I'd been too focused on the physical pain to think lucidly. I'd started walking, meandering.

  And now here I am...

  I think deep down I must have hoped to catch a glimpse of Catalina. It certainly would dull the ache.

  I don't dare go to the front of the house, though. That would mean asking for another beating, and I think I've had enough for today.

  Feeling a little dizzy, likely from the blood loss, I walk a little more towards the back of the house. The big fence surrounding it ensures I cannot step inside – not that I'd want to in my state.

  I spot a small corner in the nook of the fence. I can see the back garden of the house from that angle. It's good enough for me as I prop myself down, breathing harshly. I shift a little, trying to find a position that will not send more sharp pains in my side.

  Anyone passing by would assume I'm a homeless man. With my dirty clothes and my blazer soaked with blood, I would too. I pull my hood even further down my face, and close my eyes, drifting off to sleep. Maybe I'll even dream of her...

  I don't know how long it's been, but at some point I feel something poking at my shoulder. I'm startled awake, my first reaction to decide between fight or flight. I lift my head a little, and I squint my good eye, trying to adjust to the light.

  Fuck!

  Everything is so blurry. I hope there is no permanent damage.

  "Are you ok?" A sweet voice asks, and I slowly turn around.

  It's her.

  Catalina.

  She's on the other side of the fence, but because the pickets are not close together, she can fit her hand through the space. Enough to touch me...

  "I..." I'm speechless as I take her in. I have to ask myself if it's my brain conjuring her, or if she's actually real.

  "You're hurt!" She gasps when she sees the state of my face. I lower my head in shame.

  What was in my mind to come here?

  With great difficulty, I stand up to leave, not wanting to see pity in her eyes.

  "Wait, please! Don't go." She says, her voice so magnetic I'm stuck on the spot.

  I turn to her.

  She's wearing a yellow dress. So bright...

  "Do you need anything?" She asks, her eyebrows drawn up in worry.

  I shake my head a little.

  "Please, just... wait here. Wait for me." She pauses for my reply, and as I give her a nod, she dashes towards the house.

  I'm rooted on the spot, trying to figure out if she's a dream or not.

  But then she's back.

  "You didn't leave." She huffs, breathing hard. "Can you come closer?" She motions me towards the fence with her hand, and like a faithful servant, I obey.

  "Here." She says and sneaks a small bag through the space in the fence.

  I hold out my hand to take it, intentionally brushing my fingers against hers.

  "Oh," She seems surprised, but doesn't move back.

  I look inside the bag and find a sandwich, some fruit, a
nd a small bottle of water.

  I immediately snap my head towards her.

  "Why?" I croak, my voice husky from the pain.

  "You need to take care of yourself." She smiles, a gentle smile that touches my very core.

  "Thank you..." I say, still in awe that she'd do this for me – for a stranger.

  I don't think anyone's ever given me anything.

  I look back at the contents of the bag, and I feel wetness coming out from my good eye. I sniffle a sob.

  "Thank you." I whisper again.

  "You don't have to thank me. Anyone would do the same."

  No one's ever done the same. Not to me...

  "Can you come closer?" She says and takes out a white cloth.

  "What's that?"

  "You need to clean your wounds, make sure they don't get infected." She explains and beckons me even closer.

  I stick my face through the pickets, and she touches the cloth to my skin, softly moving it around and cleaning my wounds. She applies a little disinfectant, and I jump back a couple of times when it stings me.

  She giggles.

  I stare at her in reverence.

  No one's ever cared about my wounds before – and I've had my fair share.

  I don't know what prompts me, but I stop her hand as she's about to reach for my eye. I bring it to my lips and lay a chaste kiss on her knuckles.

  "Thank you." I don't care how many times I say it, or how this makes me look. But I'm grateful to her in a way that I'd never thought possible.

  She blushes, but she doesn't remove her hand.

  We sit like that for a while before she tells me she has to go. But before she does, she asks me something that shocks me to the core.

  "Will you come again?"

  I don't answer, and she doesn't ask again.

  But for the next couple of days I faithfully show up at the same time, in the same spot. She brings me medicine and food, and we keep each other company, talking about banalities.

  She has no idea who I am, or what she means to me.