Sabato: The Cross

by Mj Fields

  She is lost in thought, but when I watch her cup her breasts, I am no longer able to hold back. I walk quickly over to her as I pull the condom from my pocket and hold it in my mouth. I quickly unbutton my white shirt and shrug it off. I unbuckle my pants and then the zipper. I allow them to fall to the floor as I roll the condom over my cock.

  I look up and she is watching me. “Bend.”

  She does and I decide I will take it easy on her tonight, because she is ill. I rub my cock up and down her already slick entrance. “Do you want my cock, Melyssa?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say please.”

  I push just inside of her.

  “Please,” she whimpers.

  “How does it feel?”

  “Hard. I want you, please.”

  She braces for impact and I feed her just a little more.

  “Yes,” she moans.

  “How bad do you want me?”

  “So bad,” she begs. “I want you so, so bad.”

  I push in a little more and I can already feel her pussy clench. “I’m gonna fuck you nice tonight, like I should have the first time.” I push in further. “Tell me Melyssa, why should I have been informed about how special this pussy was?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I am ready to bust her in half, but I hold back.

  “Whose cock was the first inside this tight little pussy?”

  “Oh, God.”

  “Try again,” I hold her hips still.

  “Yours. Your cock was in me.”

  “No one else’s?”

  “No one!” I slam into her.

  I am all sensation, high on the fact that I was her first.

  “Whose pussy is this?” I slam into her, again and again.

  “Yours!” she cries out. “Just yours.”

  “Whose cock is inside you?”

  “Sabato,” she screams out, as I ram it in again. “Oh yes!”

  “What do you want me to do to this pussy?”

  “Fuck me!” she cries, as I fill her again.

  I run my thumb down around my cock, getting it wet from her juices and then I push against her ass. “Who is going to fuck this first?”

  “You!” She whimpers as I apply more pressure.

  “I’m not going to fuck it tonight, but when I say I’m going to, you’re going to let me, because I own your firsts. I own your body. Do you understand that?”

  “Yes,” she cries. “Yes, yes, oh yes!”

  With that, she crumbles around me.

  I don’t try to hold back. I come and I come hard.

  *.*.*

  When she is asleep, I get up, make my way to the foyer and open the closet door. I pull out her handbag and look inside for her phone. I take it and walk to the fourth bedroom, the room I have decided will work as my office and her study. I look around and am pleased that everything is as it should be. I open the drawer to her desk and pull out her docking station and set it up. Her phone will be charged in the morning. From what I have learned, she talks to her parents once a week. I wonder if that’s normal.

  As I pass through the living area, I hope that she likes it and immediately feel regretful that I wonder. She is a complex creature and little by little I am seeing more and more of her. Not just her body. Before, I was sure that along with the defined sexual need and awareness she exuded, her body was what drew me to her. Now I think I was mistaken.

  She is not unlike Luciana was, in her youthful and far too innocent ways, but she didn’t come off that way at first. Trickery. Back then, I was so angry that I was so easily manipulated by her. Now I know it wasn’t manipulation. She truly didn’t know what she was asking for.

  Melyssa is very childlike in her ideals and manners, as I have come to find out. What I didn’t expect was that I would be so wildly attracted to the freedom she has in acting that way. Tonight with her friends, she showed a carefree and fun-loving side of her, yet she was still adamant that she wanted me. Cared for me. Even stuck up for me.

  I feel guilty that I want this and I feel even more guilt because I am selfishly accepting this kindness from a young woman who doesn’t deserve my darkness clouding her life. I am the son of an evil man and the son of a saint. Both are now dead, because of me and yet here I am. Still living, still cursing those around me.

  I stare at my phone, waiting for it to charge enough to receive and make a call. It shouldn’t be long before I know what lies ahead. While waiting, I wake the computer from sleep and Google search this Elsa from Arendelle, hoping that she can shed some more light on the complex creature lying in my bed.

  To say I am shocked is an understatement. It’s a fucking cartoon. From what little I know about Walt Disney, I am sure he would roll in his cartoon-like grave at what Melyssa said last night in that cab. And what the fuck is that song? Five million views on YouTube? How have I never heard of this before now?

  Lost in amusement, I laugh out loud.

  But as fate has it, that amusement is taken quickly by the message that appears on my screen.

  I am outside your building. Buzz me in… N. D’Angelo.

  *.*.*

  I open the door and he isn’t alone, just like Zandor said. He is with another cop. Surprisingly, Zandor is behind him.

  “Come in gentlemen, but please try to keep it down. My wife is sleeping.”

  I lead them in through the kitchen to the family room and the lights come up. I watch them look around at the walls that are adorned with pictures of Melyssa. Their eyes fix on the painting of her on the cross.

  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?” I say, as I sit and motion for them to do the same.

  It makes them all uncomfortable and I like that.

  “We have some questions about the night your father was killed,” Detective D’Angelo says, taking out a voice recorder and a pen and paper.

  “Where were you?”

  “I was there.” I don’t say anything more.

  “When you left, was he alive?”

  “When I shot in the air, attempting to get away, it was hard to tell. I was forced to run, because I was being shot at.”

  “Was he alive?”

  “I assume yes, I heard him say something like, ‘Forget him, get me out of here.’ I did look back and saw he was impaled by shards of glass.” I try to hide the fact that I am pleased by the memory. By Zandor’s look, I’m not sure I pull it off. Oh, well.

  “Do you know what that looks like to us?”

  “I really don’t give a shit. To me, it looks like you lost officers due to the fact that you underestimated the devil himself. I warned you that he couldn’t be caged. You got cocky, thought that you Americans could handle a man who was born of hate and bred to think he has to answer to no one, not even God himself. So please humor me and tell me what it looks like to you, Detective D’Angelo? Feel free to follow it up with a ‘thank you’ to me for accidentally taking care of a situation that you and an army of men failed to take care of.”

  “Sabato,” Zandor warns.

  “No. Those men died because you didn’t listen to me. Let’s get right to the point, shall we? Did I kill Salvatore Efisto? Yes. I caused glass to rain down on his soulless body. I caused his death. I have no remorse and would do it again if need be.”

  “He died the same way your mother died, in an explosion when you were seven years old.”

  I feel my hands tremble. “He did.”

  “Do you think he was behind—”

  “I was seven years old, Detective. I had no idea what was going on in his sick and twisted mind.”

  “If you’re not here to arrest my husband, I am going to have to ask you to leave.” I look up and Melyssa is tightening the robe from the bathroom around her waist.

  “I can handle this. Go back to bed.” I stand up, but she comes closer and sits down.

  “No. This is our first day as a married couple. Unless they are going to falsely arrest a man for self-defense, they need to leave.”

  “Melyss
a, Detective D’Angelo is just trying to close a case,” Zandor says, in a gentle tone.

  “Your visa expires in just a few weeks. Will you be heading back to Sicily then?” D’Angelo asks.

  “I am pretty sure I am staying right here.”

  The detective stands, Zandor and he walk out and I follow them.

  “If you have any more questions, feel free to contact me.” I say, as they walk out the door.

  “There are surveillance cameras in your club.”

  “Feel free to watch the tapes.”

  Zandor looks at me. “You good?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you, Zandor.”

  As soon as the door closes behind him, I look back. Melyssa is carrying the painting of her on the cross. She growls at me when she walks by.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “To hide this!”

  “I happen to love that painting.”

  “Pervert!” She tries to hide a laugh.

  “How does the saying go, isn’t that the ‘pot calling the kettle black,’ Melyssa of Arendelle?”

  “Don’t you—”

  I am in front of her, snatching the painting. “Just, Let it Go.”

  She shakes her head. “The next time my husband invites NJPD over, could he let me know?”

  “Next time my wife decides to get so intoxicated that she tells a New York City cab driver a naughty little tale, do you think she could just keep her mouth shut when asked?”

  “I don’t care to talk about that again.”

  “Oh,” I laugh. “We certainly will be.”

  I hang the picture back where it belongs.

  “Is it to your liking, Princess Elsa?” I take a pseudo bow.

  “Do you think you’ll get arrested?” Melyssa is no longer playful. She is concerned. Fucking whiplash.

  “No, I don’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay.” she reaches out for my hand. “Now show me—”

  “Arendelle?”

  “Okay, that’s quite enough of that business.”

  “My wife is a conundrum of naughty and nice. Innocent, yet has such sexually corrupt desires. She likes to be spanked for pleasure, yet names her pussy after a—”

  “You are one lucky man.” She pulls on my hand. “Now, give me a tour.”

  “Demanding little pazza,” he murmurs under his breath.

  “Speak English, please.”

  “You’ll learn.” He yanks my hand. “We’re in the entry. To our right,” he walks as fast as he talks, “The pantry and kitchen. Through here, the den.”

  “Family room.” I pause when he looks at me like I’m crazy. “For the interview.”

  “Of course. Now through here, the living room and dining room.”

  I pause to look around. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It’s no cabin in the woods, but it should suffice. Back this way is the fourth bedroom, but I have it set up as an office, for you and me.”

  Sabato points but doesn’t let me go in. He keeps moving. “Foyer again, bedrooms three and two and then back to the master suite.” He lets go of my hand. “Now, if you prefer not to share a room, there is another set up that—”

  “Not negotiable.”

  “Right.” He looks like he may smile, but he doesn’t. “Your clothes are in the closet we passed by when we walked in here. All of your things can be delivered, so there is no need to go back there.”

  I nod and he sighs and it’s sexy.

  “I’m exhausted. I get ‘pissy’ when I haven’t slept in a few days, so I really would like you to climb in bed and go to sleep, so I can do the same.”

  I climb in and he is right behind me. “Sabato?”

  “Yes?” He plumps his pillow.

  “Are you okay? I mean, are you sure you’ll be okay?”

  “I’m not in jail. If they had anything, I would be. This apartment is very secure, so yes, I am honestly better than I have been in a very, very long time. Just tired.”

  My heart melts a little bit more for him. “Good.”

  When he lies back, I look at him. “Do you need to be fucked before you go to sleep?”

  “No.”

  I am almost offended, almost.

  “Good, then lay down and promise me I won’t wake up and find you gone.”

  “I will be here. Where else would I be?”

  “Good.” I lie back. “Sabato?”

  “Yes, Melyssa?” He yawns.

  “Promise me, when I wake up, you won’t act like you did this morning.”

  “Things are not the same as they were this morning. They have changed. I have a piece of paper saying you’re my wife.”

  “Do you trust me?”

  It takes him a minute and another yawn, before he responds.

  “More than I have anyone in a very long time.”

  “I want it to be more than anyone, ever.” I yawn in response to his.

  “Goodnight, wife.”

  “Goodnight, husband.”

  *.*.*

  When I wake, he has a hand loosely tangled in my hair. I wonder if that’s how he planned to stop me if, I had tried to escape. It should freak me out, but nothing does anymore.

  I say my affirmations for the first time in a long time, before getting out of bed.

  They are different today than ever before:

  I will make him smile. I will let him see me—the real me, every facet, every flaw. I will not drink. I silently scold myself for that one. I will be a blessing to someone who, in the strangest of occurrences, has blessed me by making me feel like I may be crazy. But it’s okay. I’m crazy for him.

  I pull away from his hand and his grip doesn’t tighten. His nearly silent snores tell me he is in a very deep sleep. I won’t wake him. I slide like a snake off the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom, where I close the door very quietly and look around. Everything in this place is so elegant and I cannot wait to explore. I will try my best to wait for him to do so, but I can’t promise anything.

  After a very long shower with water pressure that could rival the massage in Ft. Lauderdale with my girls, I finally pull myself out of it.

  I wrap myself in the exquisite softness of the plushest white towels I have ever felt and wrap my hair in a smaller version. When I walk out of the bathroom, he is still asleep. His hand is now griping the pillow my head was on as he lies on his back, with his other hand covering his eyes. He is covered with a sheet, but only enough to cover his manhood and...even that is visibly plumping up the sheet. His chest is, gawww, his abs are hell yes, that V is lickable and I am …wet.

  My mouth is watering and Elsa is eagerly stretching in her little slutty bikini, flag in each hand, just egging me on.

  I defeat temptation and walk away, toward the closet where my belongings are promised to be.

  When I open the door, the light automatically comes on and it makes me giggle inside. I can see myself opening and shutting the door repeatedly, just to see that happen. And then I finally see the closet. It’s huge and organized by color and I am pretty sure these are not my clothes—well, maybe a third of them but, not all of them. I see his things on one side and mine on the other. The room is divided by shelves. The upper part is drawers and the lower is shoes. Shoes. Lots of shoes. Holy hell.

  I open a drawer and as I suspected, the panties are all matched perfectly with bras. One drawer is all white, there is another with all black and one with red. For you Elsa, I laugh, then scold myself. One more drawer is for other colors and I am smiling so wide now, my face hurts. He must have joined the ’panty of the month’ club and got the first year in advance.

  I grab red, because I am feeling awfully naughty today and decide it’s allowed because I am married to the man who is naked in my bed. I shake my imaginary fist at hell and Elsa flips it the bird. We high five and then I do a little dance that starts with dropping the towel and shaking my ass and ends with a very loud clearing of the throat.


  I freeze, knowing that I am not imagining things.

  “Good morning, Melyssa.”

  “Good morning, Sabato,” I say as I shimmy my panties up to cover my ass.

  I quickly put my bra over my arms and clip it in the front. He has yet to say anything else, so I break the silence. “Hungry?”

  “Famished,” he growls.

  “Great, I’ll make you breakfast in that big, nice kitchen of ours.”

  I go to grab a shirt and suddenly he is standing in front of me, naked and erect.

  “Yours.” He nudges me with his cock.

  “Mine?” I nod. “But I want to feed my man first. So, if you’ll excuse me—”

  “I like pussy for breakfast.” He lifts me up and I grab hold of him as he walks us out the door.

  “Just like that, huh?” I joke as I scratch my nails up his neck and into his sexy, messy hair.

  “Just like that.” He reaches up and unhooks my hands, then drops me on the edge of the bed and pushes me back. “Don’t move, or I swear I’ll tie you up.”

  “Don’t you threaten me with a good time.” I laugh, as he yanks my red, lacy panties down.

  “Well, look here,” he says and then licks my bare flesh.

  “Wedding gift,” I gasp, as my hands fist in his hair.

  “Mmm.” His mouth vibrates against my skin and I clasp my knees tightly around his face. He pulls away and looks up at me sternly. “No. Moving.”

  “How is that even poss—” He stands and grabs me up, walks to the door and down the hall to one of the bedrooms.

  When he opens the door, I see the St. Andrews cross against the bare wall. I know it’s supposed to be a threat. But it’s not, not at all. He sets me down and I make my way to the cross.

  “Face front or back?”

  He doesn’t answer so I look back at him. He looks totally lost, like he just realized Christmas is cancelled, forever.

  “This is supposed to...intimidate.”

  “Is it?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Look, I got the ring now, so I am gonna just roll with the punches, Sabato. I’m not going to pretend anymore. I am who I am, right?” I shrug and he stares at me. “I don’t have to hide from you, not like I have everyone else.”