I Love You, Salvatore

by Marita A. Hansen

  He grabbed my arm. “Don’t even think about it.”

  I pulled free. “You should report her to the police. What she did to you was sexual assault.”

  “They can’t get involved, my famiglia’s mafia.” He breathed out. “Though, I did tell my father. Do you want to know what he said?”

  “What?”

  “That I should’ve fucked her. I told him I hated her. He replied that he hated my mother, yet it didn’t stop him from…” he screwed up his face, the ‘fucking her’ not needing to be said.

  “That’s horrible.”

  “I lost my cool when he said that, totally went off at him. My mother may not be the easiest person to get along with, but what he said was way out of line.”

  “Is that why he hit you? Because you stood up for your mom?”

  “No, he did it because I refused to marry Selena. By that stage, we were full-out yelling at each other.” He walked over to the bench and sat down, resting his head in his hands. “He says I have to marry her when I’m twenty. I don’t know how I’m going to get out of this.”

  I sat down next to him and took hold of one of his hands, pulling it away from his head. “That’s three years away. You have plenty of time to change his mind.”

  “Doubt it. Once he says something’s going to happen, it happens.”

  I squeezed his hand. “Then maybe Selena will change her mind. It’s obvious you can’t stand her, so hopefully she’ll grow a brain and move on. She might even find someone who’s stupid enough to like her, while we can continue seeing each other.”

  “We’ll have to sneak around so my parents don’t find out.”

  “Like Romeo and Juliet.”

  He snorted. “I hope not, they die in the end.”

  “Oh, Salvatore, oh Salvatore, where for art though, Salvatore?”

  He snorted again, this time a smile breaking through. “You’re terrible at jokes.”

  “Sì, plus I’m too short to be Juliet, while you’re much too tall for Romeo.”

  His smile widened. “I love you.”

  I placed a hand on my heart. “Oh, how nauseating.”

  “You troia!” He grabbed me, tickling me until I was begging for him to stop. He finally did, his face turning serious once more. “No matter what, I’m not giving you up. We just have to be extra careful not to get caught.”

  “What about Selena’s big mouth?”

  “She won’t talk. She’s too scared of Brando.”

  “Your brother is a worry.”

  “Sì. My guess is he’ll either end up in jail or dead.”

  “With Brando, that’s a distinct possibility.”

  He grimaced.

  I elbowed him. “Cheer up; maybe he’ll end up becoming a priest.”

  He smiled. “A satanic one.”

  I laughed. “And his first sacrifice can be Selena.”

  “I doubt that troia’s a virgin. The way she was grabbing me—”

  I cut him off, “If you say another word about her, I’ll hunt her down and kill her with my bare hands.”

  He smirked. “My heroine.”

  “You bet I am.” I leaned forward and kissed him, knowing he was worth fighting for.

  1996

  For the time being, Selena backed off

  Allowing us to move forward in our relationship

  Our love growing stronger by the day

  Salvatore managed to talk his bodyguards into not telling his father about us still being together. Or more accurately, he bribed them, using information to keep them silent. He’d caught one of them giving the other a blowjob, both of his bodyguards married men. We carried on seeing each other whenever we could, as well as using the radio at night. A week before my eighteenth birthday, my brother found my radio and took it to his school. He went to a different high school from me, due to his learning difficulties. The radio ended up being stolen, ruining our only means of communication at night, since I couldn’t call Salvatore on the family phone because it wasn’t portable. So, I was absolutely delighted when he gave me a cell phone on my birthday. That night I called him on it, excited to hear his voice so clearly.

  “Did you have a good night, Rosa?” he asked.

  I started telling him about my birthday dinner with my mother, nonna, and brother, wishing instead I had spent it with him. It wasn’t as though I didn’t love my family. I did. I was just getting sick of hiding our relationship. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do much about it, since my mother and grandmother still thought Salvatore’s family was evil incarnate.

  “I wish I could’ve been there,” he said, making me stop talking.

  “Me too.”

  “I wish I was in your room right now.”

  I giggled.

  “I wish I was in your bed,” he added.

  I giggled again, feeling embarrassed by his words.

  He continued, his voice getting lower each time. “I wish I was making love to you.”

  I went silent. Lately, I’d been thinking more and more about sex, something we still hadn’t done. Though, he would ask every so often, which always embarrassed me.

  “What are you wearing?” he asked.

  “My nightie.”

  “Take it off.”

  “Salvatore, I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I just—”

  “Can. So take it off.”

  I remained silent.

  “Please, Rosa. I want to imagine you naked on the other end.”

  “Um…” I breathed out, a thrill racing through me. “Okay. Just let me put the phone down for a moment.”

  “I’ll get undressed too. Ricardo’s away.”

  I gripped onto the phone, his words sending an image of him stripping into my head. I bit my bottom lip, my figa now throbbing at the thought of Salvatore naked.

  Muffled sounds came over the line, making me imagine him undressing. He would be pulling his shirt over his head, revealing his wide shoulders and delicious stomach. Next, he would push down his pants and underwear... I quickly put down the phone and yanked off my nightie, then snatched up the phone, saying, “Done.”

  His voice came over the line again. “Are you completely naked?”

  “No, I have my panties on.”

  “What color are they?”

  “You’re dirty,” I giggled.

  “Color?”

  “White, with pink flowers.”

  His voice went really deep. “Take them off.”

  “What if I say no?” I said, smiling wide.

  “Then I will hang up. Do you want me to hang up?”

  “No.”

  “There you go, you said no. That’s over now, so take your panties off.”

  I put the phone down and slipped them off, quickly picking up the phone again. “Done.”

  “Now the question is: are you a true strawberry-blonde?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Does the carpet match the drapes?”

  I burst out laughing. “Of course it does.”

  He groaned. “Dio mio, I’d give my right testicle to see that.”

  I sniggered. “I’d rather you keep it, because I want to see your balls one of these days.”

  “Oh, Rosa, you’re killing me.”

  I laughed. “Are you completely naked?”

  “Completely. Now, lie back on the bed and run your hand over your tits.”

  I lay down and moved my left hand over my breasts.

  “Tweak your nipples.”

  I did. “You have to touch yourself too,” I said, blushing.

  “I already am. Guess what my hand’s on?”

  I giggled.

  “I’ve never heard you giggle so much, Rosa. Am I embarrassing you?”

  “Sì.”

  “I’m not embarrassed, I’m horny.” He moaned.

  I sat up. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m lying on my bed, running my hand up my cock. By the way, it’s a big cock.”

  I bit
my lip, imagining him doing it.

  “I wish it was your hand wrapped around it,” he groaned. “No, I wish I was making love to you.”

  “Dio,” I breathed out, my body heating all over.

  “Touch your figa for me, tell me how wet you are.”

  I lay back down and lowered my hand to my pussy, feeling like I was doing something wrong, but unable to stop myself.

  “Are you wet?” he asked.

  “Sì,” I breathed out, rubbing myself. I closed my eyes, bringing up a picture of him. I’d seen him with his shirt off before, and always drooled over his abs. He was heavily into sports and good at anything he put his hand to. He played in the school basketball team and did pole vaulting, the last one the most amazing to watch, his muscles always pulling tight as he soared through the air.

  “Are you touching your figa for me?”

  “Sì,” I said, imagining his hand running up his cock again. I’d only ever touched the outside of his pants, but it had felt big.

  He groaned over the line, confirming what he was doing. I wondered whether his muscles pulled tight as he did it. All of a sudden I imagined myself licking up his cock, the thought coming out of nowhere.

  “What are you thinking?” he asked.

  I stopped touching myself, not sure if I should say it.

  “Rosa, tell me what you’re thinking.”

  “I was imagining licking your cock.”

  He groaned louder. “You almost made me come saying that.”

  I smiled. “Really?”

  “Sì. It’s because I want you so bad. By the way, I can hear your heavy breathing. It’s sexy.”

  “You’re sexy too.”

  “You bet I am. Now, I want you to do something for me. Push your finger inside your figa.”

  “No, Salvatore.”

  “Then imagine me doing it, no, imagine me licking you, running my tongue up your wet figa. I bet you taste so beautifully sweet.”

  “Oh, Dio, Salvatore.”

  “I bet your tits taste good too. I want to suck on them so bad.”

  I breathed out, wanting that too.

  “But I want to feel my cock inside of you even more. I’ve dreamed of fucking you, of pumping your beautiful figa, filling you with my cum.”

  “Dio!” I turned over and pushed my hand against my pussy hard.

  “You like what I’m saying, don’t you?”

  “Sì.”

  “You’d like it better if you were here with me, because I’d be making you moan even louder. Your legs would be over my shoulders as my cock moves in and out of you,” he growled, “fucking you hard, because I won’t be able to hold back.” He went quiet for a second, then gasped, “Oh, fuck…”

  A groan followed, making me realize he was coming. I imagined his cum shooting over his body, painting his abs and chest. The thought set me off. I dropped the phone and pushed my face into my pillow, muffling my cry as I came.

  After I’d finished, I turned over and grabbed the phone. I placed it to my ear, hearing Salvatore calling my name.

  “I’m here,” I said, still breathless from the orgasm.

  “Dio, that was great,” he said. “You made me come. Did you come too?”

  “Sì.”

  “Oh, Rosa, I wish I could’ve seen that.”

  “I wish I could’ve seen you too.”

  “Really?”

  “Sì.”

  “Then we should arrange it. What are you doing on Friday night?”

  “Um…” I said, now nervous. “I was going to spend it with you, remember? We were going to see Scream.”

  “I’d rather make you scream in bed. I can rent a hotel room for a couple of hours.”

  “You can’t, we can’t,” I said, now worried.

  “Why not? You said you want to see me naked.”

  “We can’t have sex.”

  “Okay, then we can kiss and touch each other’s naked bodies instead, sort of like tonight, just with us doing it for each other.”

  “They won’t let me in a hotel, I look too young.”

  “You’re eighteen.”

  “And not married. What will people think?”

  “You shouldn’t worry about what people think.”

  “You do. You worry about what your famiglia think about me.”

  He went silent.

  “Salvatore?”

  He let out a grunt. “I’m not ashamed of you, if that’s what you’re thinking. My parents will just stop me from seeing you.”

  “How are we ever going to get married if they don’t approve of me?”

  “You want to marry me?”

  I went quiet, not meaning to let it slip out.

  “I want to marry you too,” he said.

  I sat up straighter, not believing he was saying that. “You do?”

  “Sì. I love you so much, Rosa. Morirei per te.”

  “I’d die for you too.”

  2014

  Someone was dragging me across the floor. I couldn’t open my eyes, I couldn’t do anything. I had no control over my body. I wondered whether I was dead. It scared me because I couldn’t see God, only darkness. I wasn’t particularly religious, but at the back of my mind I still believed there was a Heaven waiting for me. I’d been a good person. I would often let people with fewer groceries go in front of me, or I would hold open a door for someone. I was also nice to people and rarely caused arguments. So, why didn’t I see Heaven? Although, in all truth, I was leaving heaven, my husband’s arms the closest thing to nirvana. It made me want to beg God to give me another chance at life, because no matter what, Heaven would be Hell without Salvatore.

  The person stopped dragging me. They started muttering, “Do it,” which told me it was a woman. Then she went silent. She muttered it again, then grunted, sounding annoyed with herself. A second later, I realized it was the Black Viper who’d warned us about the bombs. The Vipers were female assassins and spies, although this one claimed she was sent in to protect us.

  She resumed dragging me across the floor. A few seconds later, a gentle breeze brushed against my skin, telling me I was outside.

  One of my brother-in-laws yelled out, “Where did you go with her?”

  “She started coughing so I dragged her into the kitchen,” the woman said. “I gave her a drink, but she passed out again.”

  Her lies frightened me. Was she the one who’d planted the bombs, pretending it was the poor servant who’d done it? But she’d told us to get out of the house, something I’d ignored in my panic to save my son. Still, her deceit concerned me, making me worry she could be tricking my family. I willed myself to open my mouth, but couldn’t speak no matter how hard I tried.

  My brother-in-law picked me up. Sergio was the husband of one of Salvatore’s sisters. He was a sweet-natured man with curly brown hair and dark eyes, someone who didn’t belong in the mafia. He started walking with me cradled in his arms. I wished it was Salvatore’s arms wrapped around me, holding me tight to his chest. I needed my husband now more than ever. I wanted to hear him tell me everything was going to be all right, that I would pull through. I was terrified I wasn’t ever going to see him or our children again. I was also terrified of the woman’s lies, scared she could hurt my family. I screamed in my head, begging God to give me back my voice.

  And to spare my life.

  Part 2

  The Middle Years

  1998

  Even though it was our first time making love

  Salvatore was skilled at sex

  Something I never thought to question

  Salvatore kissed me. His breath was hot, but his touch was hotter, those big hands of his now cupping my breasts. We were in the back seat of his bodyguards’ car, parked behind the mountain range that overlooked Devil’s Pass. Salvatore had bribed his bodyguards into lending him their work car, still using their literal cock-up to our advantage. It was his twentieth birthday, and we’d been going out together in secret ever since his father said he had
to marry Selena. His parents were still insisting that the arranged marriage was happening, which had been stressing the both of us out lately, even more so since the wedding date was only three months away.

  His right hand moved lower, creeping under my dress. Pulling away from his kiss, I stamped my hand down on his, stopping it from moving closer to my panties.

  “Salvatore, no!”

  He moved his lips to my neck. “Why not?”

  I breathed out, willing myself to stay strong. But his soft lips and warm breath against my skin made it hard to speak let alone think. I moved away from him. “No, Salvatore.”

  He moved his face in front of mine. He was so handsome, his features regal looking, and those eyes of his ... so beautiful, his baby blues always capturing me. Just looking into them showed me everything he was thinking, and right now, they were filled with a mixture of love and lust, his need stark.

  My willpower started to crumble, especially as the corners of his mouth turned down. There was something else in his eyes, a sort of desperation, which I’d never seen before. I had turned down all his attempts of going all the way, telling him we couldn’t have full sex until we got married. I’d done it in the hope that he would propose. I knew it was unrealistic, since he was meant to marry Selena—

  “Marry me,” he said.

  Only breath left my lips, his words stealing away any possible answer.

  He took hold of my face. “Please, Rosa, will you marry me?”

  I nodded, unable to speak. He’d mentioned his desire to marry me more than once, but had never actually proposed.

  A smile lit up his face, making his eyes sparkle. But I didn’t smile back, knowing our wishes meant nothing to his parents.

  “I want to marry you more than anything in the world,” I said, finally finding my voice, “but you know we can’t.”

  His smile dropped. “But you accepted—”

  I cut him off, “I know, but you’re supposed to marry Selena in a few months.”

  He pushed away from me, his normally sweet face now angry. “I told you I’m not marrying her. Why can’t you be happy with my word?”

  I touched his cheek. “Because of this,” I said, running a finger over the fading bruise on his face. He’d told his father again that the marriage wasn’t going to happen, and yet again his father had hit him. “Your father—”