by Sienna Mynx
And then he went for it. Mirabella’s mouth stretched and she deepened their kiss. Together they went to the bed, clawing at each other’s clothes, wanting to feel their naked bodies pressed against each other. Giovanni unbuttoned her jeans. He snatched them off her legs. She helped by kicking them off. He took his time removing her panties and uncovering her sex. She kept her pubic hair mowed to a landing strip just the way he liked. He removed what was left of his clothes and joined her. She parted her thighs, and Giovanni placed them both on his shoulders.
The lips of her vagina spread for him. He slid his tongue deep between the folds. He used his fingers to fondle her the way she craved. And like his woman, she responded to his touch. He licked her again, teased her, before he dove from her clit to her pussy hole for a taste of her salty cream. Mirabella arched up off the bed. She gasped as her thighs fell off his shoulder to drop and spread wide for him. He put a hand on her stomach to press down, because she gyrated up against his mouth at an increasing speed.
He sucked her clit once more, and inserted two fingers. Her bottom lifted off the mattress. The taste of her, smell of her, all of her was pure heaven to him. She came for him. He made sure she did so in his mouth before pulling himself up over her. She was right. He had held back, laid in bed at night with blue balls and a clenched gut to keep from holding her as he wanted to. But he owed her peace. He wanted her well. He’d prove to her that nothing and no one could ever change his feelings for her.
Giovanni palmed both cheeks of her ass before he eased inside of her. She drew her legs up and bent her knees to hook them around his waist. He pushed deep and came down on top of her. The feel of her hands on his back, and her soft thighs pressed against his sides, was all he needed. He thrust into her with slow mounting eagerness. Their breathing was evenly matched. All he felt was wet pussy drawing him deeper and deeper. Nearly mindless, he thrust into her with full throttle. He missed her. He needed her. He worshiped her. He thrust harder and faster until the pressure of not having his wife for close to two months exploded in his balls and he released. Long after coming he continued to stroke in and out of her pussy with his face buried in her neck.
Dazed and confused he needed several long minutes to recover. Mirabella clung to him. When he lifted his face he found her crying. But she wasn’t in pain as he first suspected. She looked up at him. “Don’t ever leave me, Gio. Ever. You’re everything to me.”
“I’ll never let you go, Bella. They’ll never get to you again,” he promised.
**
Santo tossed the remote to his television aside. He rubbed his eyes. Day after day it was the same bullshit. He would go crazy soon, he feared. He glanced to the door. For weeks the polizia questioned him. And the moment he was well enough to be moved they took him into protective custody. He hadn’t given them shit. But the fucking inspector wanted la Camorra to think he did. It was a mind-fuck and Santo was the bait.
After weeks of isolation he was moved again, under guard, in a small villa in a remote are of Napoli. No matter what the police offered, he would not live or die with the scornful tag of pentito by testifying against his clan. Giovanni would never appreciate his final act of loyalty. But his silence guaranteed his sons and ex-wife would not be sacrificed.
He needed to stretch his legs. He stood and bent his back. He walked out to the front of the villa. Two officers were seated in front, one sat by the door in a sofa chair with an Uzi propped up to the left of him. The other stretched out on the sofa. They were on constant rotation. After midnight another two arrived.
Santo went to the kitchen and then the fridge. He reached in and found a beer. He glanced to the television show and then looked away. Shaking his head he walked back inside the room and slammed the door. He sat on the edge of his bed. His gaze was fixed outside of the window. What man waited for death? He couldn’t last much longer.
After a deep swallow Santo stood and walked over to the window. For the first time in days he saw a vehicle other than the one owned by the officers. It was parked on the street. He stared at the empty car and a plan began to form. He stared at it and waited to see if someone would come for it.
“I don’t understand, Domi? Why don’t we just go inside and kill him?” Umberto asked.
Dominic sat in the car with the young enforcer. He tapped his fingers on the side of the windowsill. He waited. “We don’t go in because those two officers will have to be put down to get to him. And Giovanni wants this done clean. No attention can be cast toward our family now.”
“And the car? Why leave the car sitting there?”
Dominic sighed. Must he explain everything? He glanced to Umberto who looked at him, eager to understand and learn. The men who worked for them were getting younger and younger. Dominic wasn’t sure if that was such a good thing.
“Santo has been to prison twice. I was wrong about his loyalties to Gio. But I was right about his not wanting to be a pentito. He could have easily given us up by now. He hasn’t. He’s a prisoner again. What does a prisoner want more than anything?” Dominci asked.
“To escape?” Umberto asked.
“To escape. Bravo. We give him a chance to run, and Santo will run. When he does we will be there.”
“So we wait?”
Dominic lowered his seat. He set this gun in his lap. Giovanni wanted his loyalty and a show of strength. Lorenzo said he didn’t have the stomach for this work. Most times when a hit was pulled off, Dominic was summoned to be the cooler head, not the executioner. Franco was the first man he’d ever killed. He’d prove to his brothers how far he’d go to protect the family. And then find a way to dig them out of the drug trafficking shit they’d dragged their family into.
Palermo, Sicilia –
Ignazio accepted the package. He nodded to his man and started down the hall. It only had Armando’s first name on it, and was delivered by a courier. He strolled down the hall to his boss’s office. He knocked. Armando was on the phone. He signaled for him to come inside. He took a seat and waited. Armando ended his call. “What do you need?”
“Something came for you. Delivered by a hand courier.” Ignazio tossed the package on the desk. Armando looked at it and frowned.
“You’re my mailman now?” he asked.
“I need to talk to you. The boys are wondering when we plan to extend our business? Since we are now friends with la Camorra,” Ignazio asked. “They are moving volume through the Campania. We should be in on this, Armando.”
“So you think you know what’s best for my business?”
“No. I think Giovanni owes la cosa nostra his gratitude. We should only remind him.” Ignazio gave a sly smile.
“Leave me,” Armando answered.
Ignazio stood and walked out. Armando reclined in his chair. He had not spoken to Giovanni since seeing him at the dinner after the boxer’s funeral. He planned to give it time before reaching out. Of course he wanted his father’s legacy under his control. And with Giovanni distracted he could have picked at the bones of his weakened men. Taken the spoils. Convinced him to sign over the inheritance. Be rid of Lorenzo’s constant meddling into his affairs.
Armando glanced to the picture of his father in the silver frame on his desk. He made a tent of his fingers and stared into his Papa’s dark eyes. The Mancinis were never rash. His father constantly beat into him the value of patience over his enemies and his friends. Armando would have his legacy restored. There, however, was a new prize he wanted. His gaze swiveled to the phone. He thought of Catalina in her tight black mini dress and high heels. She was fucking beautiful, the way the wind caressed her long brown hair, and the sun seemed to radiate off of her skin. She kept looking over at him. She thought he didn’t notice. And when he caught her staring, he could sense her curiosity even though it was covered behind the dark lenses of his sunglasses. He smiled. He reached for the phone. Maybe he should call her and check in.
Armando lowered his hand. It would be foolish to push too hard on princess. Her
uncles and brother, who she intended to marry, would not let him close. Not yet. Time. What was needed was a little more time.
He glanced to the envelope and picked it up. It felt hard. He frowned. He unsealed it and reached inside. A cassette recorder dropped out. Armando found that interesting. There was no note. He picked up the little cassette player. Laughter started the conversation. It sounded like two men. He listened and heard Lorenzo Battaglia and the Calderone runt talking. Armando reclined in his chair and soon understood the nature of the conversation. A deal was being made for the life of Tomosino Battaglia.
Napoli Italy –
Santo sat up in bed. He checked his watch. If he waited until after midnight his plan would be too risky. Still he had no idea how long the car would remain parked on the road. His watch said it was closer to ten. He turned on the bed and went to the window. The car he’d been watching from his window hadn’t moved. He stared at it. Santo walked out of the room and to the kitchen. Both of the officers were there, but one was sleep and the other staring blankly at the television set. He got a beer from the fridge.
“Turning in for the night,” he mumbled to the officer through his wired jaw.
The man didn’t bother to look up at him. He walked back into the room and closed the door. He locked it. Santo set the beer aside and went to the dresser. He got his wallet and cigarettes. He then made his escape through the window. It wasn’t the biggest of windows but he could get through. He dropped to his feet. He dusted his hands. There was no one on the street. The windows on the villa across from them were dark. The night was silent. He didn’t run or try to look suspicious. He walked to the car and tried the door. He half expected to find it locked. To his surprise the door was open. He eased inside and closed the door softly. The plan was to head south to Portici. He’d catch a ferry out of Italy and try to reach Sicilia. He had cousins that could help him escape to Spain. Santo popped out the steering column panel and wired the car. The ignition started. He threw the car into gear and sped out on to the street.
The speed limit was ignored. At any moment the officer could check on him and all of the police officials in the Campania would swoop down on him. He dropped the visor and looked at his face. The scaring was severe. The wiring to his jaw and mouth connected and hooked around his ear. He looked like a monster. There was little hope he’d blend in.
Santo took the back roads. He drove out of the city and toward the rural area. He considered finding another car and leaving this one behind. But he was in Tacchi territory. He wouldn’t risk it. When he turned off the next road he drove up to a traffic light. Santo reached for a cigarette. He lit it while he waited for the light to change. A car pulled up on his driver’s side. He glanced over with the cigarette hanging from his lips. It only took a second for him to recognize the man behind the gun. Dominic pulled the trigger. Santo was dead before the light changed.
**
Mirabella turned over to her side. She stared at her beloved husband. The sheets covered them, but his chest and arms were not. He was so handsome when he slept. He faced her, and lay on his side. She touched his face. When she did his eyes opened. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said. She lied. She wanted to wake him. And be with him. Make love to him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded. “Guess what?”
“Dica?” he answered.
“We’re going to have another baby in the family,” she smiled.
Giovanni’s brows lowered with concern. She chuckled. “Not me. My sister. She should be telling Lorenzo tonight. He’s going to be a father.”
“That’ll make my cousin very happy,” Giovanni touched her hair. He traced his finger over her cheek. “Hopefully it will be a boy. The twins would love a cousin to play with.”
“Or a girl, for Eve. She’s so lonely sometimes,” Mirabella smiled. “And we have a wedding in a month. Two! Kyra and Renaldo, Dominic and Catalina. So much to do. I’m excited,” she smiled.
“Me too, Bella,” he said.
She kissed him. “I learned a lot about myself, Gio. There are so many things I want to tell you. About my past.”
“Whenever you’re ready, Bella. Right now just let me love you,” he said.
She came closer. She eased her arm around his waist. She pressed her face to his chest. “Yes. Love me, Gio. From now until forever.”
“Always.”
The End.
About the Author
Sienna Mynx is your naughty-author of Contemporary, and Historical Multicultural Romance. Her dramatic tales of forbidden love are for readers that love the bad boys but desire to be the women to tame them. Variety is the spice of life, and each Sienna Mynx tale reflects the diversity that continues to remain colorblind. Sienna currently has 30 published books, as an indie author under her publishing company The Divas Pen LLC. A current resident of Georgia, Sienna Mynx has emerged into the e-publishing scene with spicy uncompromising tales of decadence.
The Battaglia Mafia Series features the following books:
Destino – Battaglia Book I
Ti Amo – Battaglia Book II
La Sposa – Battaglia Book III
La Famiglia – Battaglia Book IV
Rallenti – Battaglia Novella
Amore – Battaglia Book V
To learn more about the Battaglia Series, future releases and projects currently underway please visit Sienna Mynx at The Divas Pen
( http://thedivaspen.com )
