by Sienna Mynx
“Yes! Yes!” she cheered. A woman who could take his cock and own it.
“Mmmmm!” he groaned. He shuddered through a hard climatic release and was disappointed. He certainly wanted to take it further, but few women gave him the freedom to ride that wave without begging for mercy. Kyra had abandoned the safe word and claimed him as her own. Together they collapsed on the mattress. Renaldo eased out of her and she hissed over the separation. He padded across the carpeted floor to the bathroom. He removed the condom and flushed it down the toilet. He washed his hands in the sink and then he found a washcloth, lathered it and cleaned his dick. After rinsing the washcloth and lathering it again he returned to the room to clean his woman, to care for her. If it were his home he’d change the sheets so they could avoid the wet spots and she’d lay with him in comfort. His compulsive tendencies were a direct result of his rigid upbringing in the orphanage. A nunnery funded by the charity of the Catholic Church taught him routine and discipline as a kid. The Battaglias taught him how to turn that discipline toward brotherhood. He had come a long way since those days. But not much had changed. He still owned nothing, not even his son. Left to his wife’s mother to raise when his young wife died in childbirth, he existed with few pleasures. He called her mom because she too was the closest thing he had to family. Kyra was new territory.
“Mmm,” she moaned. He lifted Kyra and turned her on the bed. She was limp with exhaustion. He feared he’d hurt her by the way she shivered. But the satisfied smile on her face said different.
“Breakfast?” he whispered in her ear. “I want to feed you. Take care of you.” With Kyra his English improved. He spoke it every chance he could.
“Yes, feed me. I’m starving,” she smiled.
Renaldo drew the sheet up around her. He picked up the phone and called housekeeping for fresh towels and linens. Then he ordered everything on the breakfast menu. She could choose her delight.
When he returned to the room Kyra was wide-awake. She sat up against the pillows grinning at him. He paused at how young and vulnerable she looked without makeup and clothing. He had the urge to check her identification to make sure she was indeed twenty-three. Her bangs were matted to her damp forehead and her chin length bob was tangled and messy. But her breasts were remarkable.
He loved her skin. Nipples. How beautiful her body was against his. Traditionally he wanted a Sicilian woman to be the mother of his kids. His first wife was his soul. But she died too young. Now he was a part time father. He’d been looking for a mother for his son at every turn. Kyra was not what he envisioned, but he couldn’t help but think of the possibilities.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she chuckled. “All you do is stare at me.”
“Does it offend?” he asked.
“Come here,” she extended her hand. Renaldo went to the bed. He removed his robe and neatly folded it on the edge of the bed before joining her. Kyra scooted in close to him. “I’m so excited. An interview with Catalina Battaglia is going to change my life. I can’t thank you enough.”
“Do you wish to move, from New York?” he asked.
“Sure, I do. I can live anywhere. My family… well they don’t think I’m doing the right thing. So they aren’t close with me anymore,” she said with a hint of sadness.
“Because they wish you to be doctor? Not a shoe maker?” he asked.
“Yes. They wish it,” she replied. “I wish something else.”
“What do you believe?”
“About what?” she asked.
“About… marriage… kids?” he asked.
She stilled. She glanced up at him. “I’m only twenty-three!” she laughed.
He nodded. “Many women marry younger,” he said.
“True. I want a family. Five kids. A husband, and a great big house with two, no four closets of shoes,” she giggled. “But I won’t start working on that until I’m twenty-seven or eight. I have my career goals first.”
Her reply stung. He held back from telling her so. Of course he’d just met her. And it was ridiculous to think she felt anything for him so soon. But a woman who appreciated the values he did, it was a greater turn-on than one who would just share his bed. He looked down at Kyra. She cozied up to him. Her hand eased down his chest and went to his cock to stroke him with soft pulls. He may be strong, and all man, but even he couldn’t get his dick to rise again so soon after what she put him through.
“Family is important, Kyra. You should try to work hard on your problems with your parents. Never give up.”
She stopped her touching. She glanced up at him. “I will. What’s wrong?”
He smiled. “I want you to be happy, shoe maker.”
“I am. Right now,” she said.
He kissed her forehead. “And the man who gives you five babies, and closets for shoes, if he ever fails on his job—”
The bell rang at the door. He hesitated. He wanted to finish his thought. Tell her if any man fails her he’d be there. All she had to do was ask. But she stared up at him with those round brown eyes of hers and he couldn’t make that vow. He didn’t want any man to give her babies, and protect her dreams. He wished to be that man.
The bell rang to the suite again. “Breakfast,” he said. He eased from her and reached for his robe.
Kyra watched him go. She drew her legs up and wrapped her arms around them both. She pressed her smile into the top of her knees. What she really needed to do was to get home and prepare for her big day tomorrow. Rehearse with Jamie. But being with Renaldo was too nice to turn away from.
Renaldo wheeled in one cart and the wait staff wheeled in four others. Kyra leaned forward and straightened her legs out. Five carts were brought in and surrounded the bed. The staff began to lift the dome covers to reveal waffles, pancakes, fruit, breakfast meat, omelets of all kinds, potatoes and egg scrambles, cheese sandwiches, juice, coffee and milk. Renaldo signed the receipt and walked the servers out. Kyra lowered her sheet and crawled to one plate but couldn’t decide which she wanted.
“Oh my gosh!” she exclaimed when he returned to the room. “All of this for me?”
“I didn’t know what you prefer,” he said. He found an opening between breakfast carts and climbed on the bed. He grabbed some fruit on a plate and scooted backward.
“Mmm! Yummy! I haven’t eaten this good since I left home!” she groaned. She cut him a sideways look. “Oh, don’t think I can’t cook. My mama trained me well. Just don’t feel the need to with it being just me.”
He smiled at her.
Kyra stopped stuffing her mouth She chewed and swallowed.
“So are you and your son’s mother… ah, close?”
“Close?” he frowned.
“I mean do you still hook up, date, get together,” Kyra asked and tried to be casual about it.
“She’s dead. She was my wife and she died very young.” Renaldo replied. “We were both very young, only seventeen.”
Kyra stopped chewing. “For real? Wow.”
Renaldo gave a half smile. “Yes it happened for real. Her mother was a widow and as kind to me as her daughter. We married and lived with her. She became my mother.”
“I’m sorry. How did your wife die?”
“Birth. She died during childbirth,” Renaldo said. “Complications. Rare.”
Kyra dropped her face on his shoulder. “That’s so sad.”
“It’s life. We are born dying. Some of us sooner than others,” he replied.
Kyra continued to eat. She reflected on his words as she chose an omelet and potatoes next. Renaldo ate from her plate when she encouraged him to do so. “Ever been to the MET?” she asked.
He blinked at her. She didn’t want the day to end. Even knowing all she needed to do before her interview tomorrow. “It’s the Metropolitan Museum here in New York, I’m thinking after we finish eating we get dressed and go. Let me show you some of New York as a thank you.”
“There are other ways to thank me,” he smiled.
Kyra was already swelling up with fuel overload from all the good treats he had delivered. She managed to sample everything. She hated to waste food, but there was no way she could swallow any more.
“Are we done?” he asked.
“Yeah. I can’t eat another bite.” She burped and looked away with shame. Renaldo laughed. He took care to clean their mess. He wheeled their carts out one by one. Kyra escaped to the bathroom. When she peed it stung a bit. Sex with Renaldo was an adventure. Her body ached sweetly in remembrance. Wiping and flushing she checked her image in the mirror. Her makeup had all but smeared away over the white pillows. And how could she possibly fix her hair to go out in public. Kyra shook her head.
They’d have to go to her place so she could change.
She turned to the shower and turned it on. The suite had a fancier shower than most hotel rooms. The glass door opened to a tiled stall fit for three. Kyra loved the way the steam rose and washed over her as she lathered and scrubbed away the night. Just as she neared finishing she heard Renaldo. He was in the bathroom with her. She wiped her hand across the glass and saw he was naked. The shower door opened. Kyra stepped back toward the warm spray and the current soaked her backside.
“What took you so long?” she asked.
He took her hand and pulled her over. Their gazes locked. She felt as if the shower had become smaller, there was no room for anyone but them. He was so handsome. She loved his taut features and muscular form. She ran her hands up his broad shoulders and rubbed her nipples against his chest. Her mouth tilted up to his. A rumbling growl worked its way up her throat when his lips parted to capture hers. His tongue pushed past her lips. It invaded, thrust, swept in and out with mastery. In pursuit of passion she was pushed up against the tiled wall and the flex of muscle against her chest, belly, and thighs crushing down on her felt so sweet.
Kyra groaned.
“Kyra,” he breathed as his mouth left hers and lips brushed the column of her neck. “Let me have you, just once,” he pleaded.
“Okay,” she said against all other instinct. Her heart skipped a beat. Pregnancy wasn’t a concern because she was on the pill. However, she’d never in her life had unprotected sex. Why choose him? Why choose now? It should be for her husband she reasoned, and then her sensible thoughts melted away as he gripped her ass by both cheeks and she parted her legs to wrap high around his waist. Her body was pushed up against the steamy slickness covering the tiled wall.
“Mmm, yes,” he breathed as he angled and thrust raw steel into her already sex beaten vagina. Kyra gripped his shoulders and her eyes squeezed shut tightly. She felt little difference because the invasion was an achingly sweet expansion below. But soon she appreciated the beauty and bliss found in their joining. Renaldo began to move in and out of her with slow cautious thrusts. He too savored the feeling. His continual thrusting gave her more and more of him. And soon all was lost. Thick and hard slams forced guttural gasps from her lungs.
Her breathing went shallow, chopped down after each upward thrust. Oh how she could see herself in love with this big, powerful man. He dwarfed her in everything. Including sex. Her legs could barely wrap around his waist and her ankles could barely reach to connect. Inside of her every ridge of his veined dick was felt deeply. Her tender walls were rubbed with relentless friction. His in and out motion made the sheathed sensation tenfold. Her head smacked against the wall and her mouth stretched with a silent cry for mercy. Her vocal chords couldn’t summon the sound.
It was too much. The safe word? What was it? She couldn’t remember. She didn’t want to remember.
Too powerful.
The orgasm built in her from the sheer overwhelming takedown of all her defenses. Tears leaked from her eyes and she held tighter to him. Renaldo kept grooving, he kept loving her, kept showering her face and neck with kisses that each meant something. He made a promise to her body and soul. At the height of her climax she gave a strangled scream of release with her nails anchored deep enough to draw blood from his skin.
Scalding spurts of his essence jetted up into her in a continual stream. Gradually she came back to her senses. She dropped her face on his shoulder and shuddered. He grunted and shook, continuing to explode deep inside of her.
“I think I’m in love,” she joked.
He stiffened. She felt his entire body go stiff. Kyra lifted her head and he looked her in the eye. With him pinned inside of her the words had meaning she didn’t intend. She swallowed hard. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean it literally. I was… it felt nice,” she smiled.
He kissed her. “I understand, cara,” he said and slowly released her. “Love from a woman like you has to be earned. As it should be.”
She didn’t know if he was discouraged or disinterested. But the words he spoke were so poetic she could say nothing in return. Renaldo rarely showed her any emotion other than the times his defenses were down during sex. What was his life like? Day to day was her hired gun, the soldier to a Mafia boss, as attentive and caring with others as he was with her?
“Why did you… did we… do this without protection?” she asked. She traced her finger over the eight-inch scar along his back. It was some kind of knife wound, or maybe from a surgical procedure. “Why did you want to?”
“I apologize. I… I only… I shouldn’t have asked,” he said lathering his hands and then covering his face. He washed and scrubbed his entire head before stepping into the spray of the shower and beginning on the rest of his body. Kyra stood there watching him, silent. Pleasure still rippled through her. She held herself through the aftershocks.
“Maybe when I… if I get the job at Mirabella’s in Paris we can see each other from time to time? Maybe? Or who knows I could get a job in Italy. You never know.”
He glanced back at her from over his shoulder. Kyra walked over to him. “This is good, sex, and what we have… I like it,” she smiled. “Maybe we could get to know each other better?”
He chuckled. “Maybe.” He turned and looked her over. “Can I see where you live?”
“Sure… well,” she chewed on her bottom lip. “I need to change and stuff. And we can do some sightseeing. But…”
He pulled her to him. She held his waist. “Thing is, I’m not a clean freak like you.”
“Freak?” he frowned. “You think I’m strange?”
She giggled. “No. It’s a figure of speech.” She rose on her toes and kissed him. “You wash my back and I’ll wash yours. Then I’ll take you home to meet Jamie.”
He kissed her brow. “I’d like that.”
Later –
“There, that one is my building!” she pointed.
The car came to an abrupt stop. Renaldo spun the wheel to make a U-turn in the street. Kyra laughed. “Your driving is crazy, man!”
He winked at her and found an empty spot to parallel park the vehicle against the curb. The car’s fit was snug. He turned off the engine. It was near thirty degrees and almost noon. He glanced at the building. “You stay here alone?” he asked.
“Yep. Jamie is my best friend. She lives upstairs.” Kyra smiled. “Ah, I need to tell you about Jamie.”
Renaldo looked at her curiously. “What is it?”
“Well… I love her. And I want you to respect her. If you don’t we can’t be friends,” Kyra informed him.
His brows lowered with concern. “I don’t understand. I would not disrespect anyone close to you.”
She smiled. “Jamie is transsexual.”
He blinked at her as if he didn’t understand the term. She didn’t know what the translation was in Italian to explain. So she tried another approach. “She’s a man who dresses as a woman.”
His brows shot up. Surprise registered on his face. It was 1993 and things were changing in New York. But across the world people like Jamie were treated with scorn. She didn’t know what her strict disciplined Catholic lover would think. She held her breat
h and waited.
“It is his choice to be that way?” he asked.
“Well… she would say she was born in the wrong skin. It’s not a choice. It’s who she is.”
“Ah, I see.” He glanced back out the window. “I’ve seen them before. Men in dresses.” He glanced over at Kyra. “You like these people?”
“I love Jamie. I love people for who they are,” Kyra said.
“I understand. I will respect your friend,” he smiled. He leaned in and kissed her nose. “You are a strange woman, Kyra. Different. My shoe maker. Of course your friends… would be different too.”
Kyra hugged his neck. She kissed his cheek. His aftershave smelled like heaven. She could sniff him all day. “Come on, let’s go.”
When she opened her door he grabbed her hand. He shook his head no. “Oh, I forgot. Sorry,” Kyra released the door handle.
Renaldo got out of the car. He walked around and opened the door for her. It was one of the things he insisted on whenever they passed through a door. He led and opened it for her. He extended his gloved hand to her and she stepped out of the car like a princess. Renaldo closed the door and dropped his arm around her shoulder.
Together they started up the sidewalk.
“Kyra! Kyra!”
She heard her name and her head turned. Cezar walked fast up the sidewalk to catch up to them. Shocked, Kyra wasn’t sure what to say or do. Renaldo at her side he observed the man and she knew he recognized him. She prayed he didn’t.
“What is it?” Kyra asked. “What do you want?”
“Can we talk?” Cezar looked Renaldo over, one step and then two, and he breached her personal space. Kyra stepped back and collided with Renaldo’s unmovable form. The scowl on Cezar’s face deepened. It contorted with rage. “I’d like to speak with my girlfriend alone.”
“No! I’m not your damn girlfriend, you psycho! I told you to go away!” Kyra stepped from the protective side of Renaldo and stood between the men. “If you don’t stop harassing me I will call the police. I mean it, Cezar!”
