Renata Vitali

by Huntington, Parker S.

  My cock glided across her soft palm. She wrapped her hands around my erection, and I thrust into her fist. Fucking it. My tongue mimicked the movement of my cock in her mouth. Reaching a hand between us, I pinched her nipples through her bra, so hard they pebbled in an instant.

  She cried out into my mouth, and I swallowed her ecstasy. Her hands tore at my shirt until it ripped off. She used her legs to push my sweats and boxers briefs halfway down my legs. So fucking eager.

  I leaned back, pulled her pants and underwear off her in one quick movement, and leaned forward again to place an openmouthed kiss between her legs. She cried out when I slid two fingers inside her. She was so, so wet, it dripped down my fingers, and they entered her with ease.

  I curled my fingers until her wetness coated them. I pulled them out, tore her shirt in two, and snapped her bra in half. Her bare breasts sprang out, bouncing as the bra snapped. So full and round, I wanted to sink my teeth in them.

  Instead, I slid my fingers inside her again—so deep, she arched her back off the bed. I gathered her wetness, slid my fingers out, and spread it around her nipples. My mouth latched onto the pebbled bud, and I sucked off the wetness. Flicking my tongue against it, I bit down.

  She jerked her hips forward, and her pussy glided against my erection. My cock slipped past her lips, the head of it entering her. She was so tight, she sucked me in. I wanted to thrust forward, hard and fast, but I stilled.

  My eyes closed, and I grit out, “Condom. Nightstand.”

  She surprised me by shaking her head. “Can we…?”

  “Are you on the pill?”

  “IUD. And I’m clean.”

  I nodded and slid inside her without another word. The urge to move deep and fast gripped me, but I kept my movements slow and measured in case she was inexperienced. Hooking her leg around me, she pushed me forward until I sank completely into her.

  That was all I needed to pick up the pace. Her arms rested beside her head as I moved in and out of her. I grabbed one of her hands, holding it as I pushed inside her as deep as I could. She was so tight. I wanted to come inside her, then take her all over again.

  My free hand explored her body. Pinched her nipples. Rubbed slow circles around her clit. Squeezed her hips. Gripped her waist, and pushed her harder onto my cock. I reached between us, gathered her wetness from her clit, and dipped my thumb into her mouth, so she could taste for herself how good she tasted. I could do this all day long. I could live inside her.

  She came with her lips wrapped around my thumb. Her moans nipped my skin and shot straight to my cock. I pulled my thumb out of her mouth and pressed a kiss to her lips as I flipped us, so she sat on top of me. Gripping her hips on both sides, I picked up the pace from slow lovemaking to downright fucking.

  As I drove into her, faster and faster, angling for her G-spot, her walls clenched around me, and my climax followed. I came inside her, her walls gripping me tightly. My eyes closed for a moment, and I took the time to appreciate this moment.

  My father was falling, I was rising, and I had the girl of my dreams with me. I felt her lean forward and press her forehead against mine. My eyes stayed shut, and I breathed her in. Vanilla. Strawberry. That goddamned shampoo of hers mixed with the heady scent of sex. I could breathe her in all day.

  “Day, I lov—” She cut herself off, but I knew what she’d been about to say.

  Hell, I felt it, too.

  For the first time ever, I felt liberated enough to feel this way.

  I cupped her face and waited until she opened her eyes and stared into mine. “I’m in love with you.”

  “We’re young.”

  “I know what I want.”

  “Me?”

  A smile tipped my lips. “Yes, you.”

  She shook my head. “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m a Vitali.”

  And I was a De Luca. Would that always haunt me? No. I would dethrone my father, and I would make De Luca a name to be proud of.

  I sat up, lifting her with me. “Pretty soon, my father will no longer have a throne, and there will be nothing in our way.”

  “Promise?”

  “Always.”

  This lust-filled fog dowsed me, but I knew what I felt. I loved her. I fucking loved her. “I’m lucky you’re here.” I closed my eyes and relaxed, my guard the furthest down it had ever been. “I’m lucky they intervened.”

  “What?” She widened the gap between us, and her brows pressed together. “Who intervened? I was sent here,” she ground out. “By my father.”

  Oh, shit.

  I sobered up quickly. The fog washed away like rain pouring down on a dirty car. Never once had I spilled about The Benefactor notes to anyone but Cris. Except now, and I didn’t even know why or who sent her here.

  Her eyes punished me, threatened consequences if I didn’t tell her the truth. I took her in before relenting, because yes, I wanted her to trust me. “Your dad didn’t send you here.”

  That was all I knew. That she was sent here for a reason and not by her dad. I was telling her the truth, and I needed her to trust me.

  She shook her head, her face resolute. “Yes, he did. I was there when he told me I had to come here.” She seemed furious. Absolutely pissed. While I understood that I’d broken her trust, I also understood that she loved me. There had to be something else bugging her.

  “Knight—”

  Her eyes darted to the side, focused on the nightstand, and returned to me. “Tell me everything you know.”

  “I can’t.”

  I didn’t know anything, and she didn’t believe me. Trust took so long to build, yet it slipped away so quickly, I couldn’t catch it.

  Her throat bobbed. “You’re a liar.”

  “Princess, ple—”

  “You’re just like the rest of your family. Just like your dad.”

  My eyes flashed before I reminded myself she was just angry. She didn’t mean it. This would tide over.

  I caressed Ren’s face. “You’re mad. That’s oka—”

  She pushed me until I laid flat on my back with her hovering on top. “And you betrayed me. Know this…” She raised her knee, so it pressed painfully against my cock, her chest pressed against mine and lips brushing against my ear as she spoke. “If ever I am gifted the opportunity to betray you, I’ll take it. If life hands me the chance to destroy you, I will. Today. Tomorrow. Ten years from now. I will always want revenge. And you will never stop looking over your shoulder.”

  Then, she fled.

  She left Devils Ridge.

  She left me.

  I could never hurt him enough to make his betrayal stop hurting. And it hurts, in every part of my body.

  Veronica Roth, Insurgent

  Five Years Later

  “You don’t smile. It’s kind of creepy.” Cris sends a clown smile my way to make his point. Gone is his laid back, surfer vibe, replaced by a bespoke suit, sharp haircut, and fifty-thousand-dollar Cartier watch.

  When I took over the De Luca syndicate, I didn’t just make him my advisor. I made him my under boss—my second-in-command—too. One of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

  “Smiling is for children and clowns. Overrated.”

  He slides a document to my desk and takes a seat in the leather chair across from me. “Your old man’s been checked into a nursing home. Kind of cruel, considering he’s, like, late forties, and everyone else is on their deathbed.”

  “That’s the point. Does he have a roommate?”

  “The worst.”

  I figure this is worse than prison or death to Angelo. There’s nothing he hates more than the elderly, visits from happy grandchildren, and living without luxury.

  Check, check, and check.

  “And the other thing I asked for?”

  Cris averts his eyes and takes in the office, like he isn’t in here all the damn time. “No.”

  “No?”

  “No, they haven’t found her. Th
e girl’s gone. Ghosted.” He hesitates, and I know I won’t like what he has to say. “Maybe you should stop trying to find her.”

  “Or maybe I should try harder.”

  When Ren left my room five years ago, I didn’t think she’d leave Devils Ridge entirely. She dropped off the grid, like only a Vitali could get away with. No matter how hard I’ve tried to find her since, I haven’t been able to.

  “Some would construe this as creepy.”

  He’s right, of course.

  We both know it.

  I have everything I’ve always said I wanted. Angelo has been dethroned. I’ve dumped him into a nursing home far before his time. I run the De Luca family, everyone is happy, and we’ve been thriving. The Benefactor has disappeared. No more cigars. No more messages. No more instructions.

  Everything is good.

  I should be happy.

  But I’m not.

  Because Ren’s not here to enjoy it with me.

  “I just—”

  “You’re my best friend, Damian. I’m the only person in the position to tell you this. Let her go. She left you. She left Devils Ridge. She left the mafia. She doesn’t want this life, and that’s her choice.”

  “There’s more to it. There has to be.”

  She wouldn’t have just left because I kept the fact that her dad hadn’t sent her here a secret. It was a breach of trust, yes, but it shouldn’t have been a relationship ender. Not for us.

  “Remember when my dad was sent to jail, and you told me to let him go. That he’s dead weight?”

  “This isn’t the same.” I look to the side and stare at a picture frame on the wall. A quote.

  When the wrong people leave your life,

  the right things start happening.

  Cris got me this when I took over the De Luca syndicate. I thought it referred to Angelo, but now I have to wonder if he meant it for Renata.

  He follows my line of sight. “Isn’t it, though? You’re still transfixed on her, and you can’t be happy until you let her go. So, please, just let her go, man. How long is it gonna take? Five more years? Fifty?”

  Try never.

  I trace the camel bone case on my desk, a relic of the past. “Your advice is noted.”

  He nods his head, stands, and leaves with a parting message. “Let her go.”

  And he’s right.

  I should.

  The bell rings, and my students file out, running past one another.

  “Walk, don’t run!” I shout out to them. No use. It’s still chaos.

  Sally, one of the other second grade teachers, pokes her head in the doorway. “Some of the teachers and I are headed out for drinks tonight. Would you like to go?”

  I shake my head. “I’m headed for my mom’s for the weekend.”

  “Are you sure? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you out.”

  That’s because I don’t go out. I teach. Stay home. Grade papers. Read a book. Eat takeout. Take baths. Pop out a glass of wine. Go to bed. Wake up. Then, do it all again the next day.

  I smile at her. It’s forced, but I doubt she knows that. “Sorry, Sally. My mom’s been begging for a girl’s weekend.”

  “Well, you work too hard. You’ve worked here two years, and I haven’t seen you take a break once. That’s not healthy.”

  “I appreciate the concern, but I’ll be fine.”

  Her eyes look uncertain. Maybe she sees past my bullshit, but she says nothing. The people in small town Connecticut keep to themselves. They’re not the type to ask invasive questions or give me a hard time. That’s good when you’re trying to lay low.

  The drive from Connecticut to my mom’s is short. Her majordomo Gaspard greets me with a smile and leads me to the library, where Maman sits at her chessboard. She’s staring at the pieces when I take a seat across from her.

  “Hello, darling.”

  “Hey, Maman. Did you—”

  “Get your pictures? Yes, my love. You have a problem.” She hands me an envelope, which I take without a word. “This is the last time.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts,’ Renata. Either you move on or you go back, but you must choose or I will make the choice for you.”

  “Fine.” If she won’t help me, I can find a way to do it myself. “How have you been getting these pictures?” I slide the images out of the envelope and stare at them.

  Classic surveillance photos.

  I grab a close-up shot. Damian is stepping out of a car. He looks so angry at the world, and I wonder why no one else notices. It’s almost enough to make me want to save him. Almost.

  “I have a friend.”

  “In De Luca territory?”

  “You can’t ask about Vitali things. You gave up that right.” Her patient smile does little to soothe me, especially because she can’t even begin to understand why I left the mafia. “Either you’re out of the mafia or you’re not, Renata. I pulled a lot of strings to get you out.”

  My eyes shutter closed. I left because this world embodies everything I hate. The fractured childhood. Being alone all the time. Letting Angelo De Luca and his stupid picture of Ludovico De Luca run me out of Devils Ridge.

  I open my eyes and meet her gaze. “And I thank you for that.”

  Any other Vitali wife wouldn’t have the power, but Maman makes friends everywhere she goes. She’s friends with the wives of every powerful Vitali man, and Papà is so afraid Maman will leave him that he’ll listen to her—to an extent.

  “Then, truly thank me for that by moving on. Do what’s right for you, Renata. You can move on, look to the future, thrive in your teaching job. I know you love learning and education. You should be happy.”

  “I am.”

  I’m not.

  She sees past my lies, her eyes so understanding. “You’re not. That’s okay. He’s your first love, Renata. First loves will always be the one you compare everyone else to. They’ll live in your heart every day, and no matter how much you think you’ve moved on, they’ll always have that special piece of you. For you, it’s every time you step into a library and remember the memories you two shared in them. It’s whenever you hear Texas in the news, and you wonder what he’s doing right now. It’s a million little triggers. It’s a million little things. And if it were just one thing, you could bury it. But you can’t bury a million little things, Renata. There’s only so much space in the world.”

  “How do you know this? How do you know that’s how I feel?”

  “If you don’t feel that way, he was never your first love in the first place.” She reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “I love you, Renata. I want what’s best for you. You either need to go back to him or move on. This in-between state isn’t healthy.”

  We both lied to each other. How can we trust each other again? It’s not like trust comes with a free refill. My biggest fear is going to Damian and being told he doesn’t want me anymore. That fear seizes me up every time I think of flying to Texas and begging him to believe I’m not just another person who disappointed him.

  Don’t be weak.

  You’re a Vitali.

  Vitalis don’t feel fear.

  I repeat Papà’s mantra twice in my head before I tell Maman, “I can’t go back to him.”

  She releases my hand. “Then, move on.”

  It’s not that easy, I want to tell her, but I bite my tongue. I don’t want to hear her replies. I don’t want to confront her logic.

  Instead, I gather the courage to tell Maman, “When I was in Devils Ridge, Damian said I was sent there.”

  I told her nearly everything that happened in Devils Ridge—falling in love with Damian, fending off Angelo, and faking a fight to flee after finding the picture of Ludovico De Luca in Damian’s room. But I never went into the specifics of the fight. Too painful.

  Her brows draw together. “You were. We’ve been over this. Your father sent you there. He forbade me from visiting or contacting you.”

  I shake my head. “But
why did you listen?”

  Her remorse slithers across the table and into my heart. Making Maman feel guilty is like finding a stray dog and leaving him in a ditch. You just don’t do it.

  She dips her head and eyes one of the chess pieces between us. “I thought if I listened, he’d cut your trip short and let you come home to me.”—He didn’t.—“One of many regrets of mine.”

  “But Damian mentioned I was sent there. He implied it wasn’t by Papà. I—” I take in her eyes. They’re on the verge of tears, and I know if I push, she’ll cry. One of many reasons I’ve never pushed. I take in a deep breath, then expel as much of the past as I can. “I’m sorry I brought this up. I know it upsets you.”

  “Oh, baby.” She stands, rounds the small table, kneels in front of me, and grabs both of my hands, making me feel like I’m a kid again. “I love you, Renata. I worry for you. You have to stop asking for Damiano De Luca. You have to let him go.”

  “I will,” I lie, because I’d rather break Maman’s trust than admit to her that there’s no letting go.

  Loving Damian is trench warfare. It’s digging deep, then clawing your way out. But sometimes, you have to accept that there’s no way out.

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  Chloe, I miss you every day. I try to put this feeling—this gut-ripping, bereft existence—into words. I can’t. There are no words. Every second is spent missing you. Every minute is spent wondering what we’d be doing, how happy we’d be if you were here. No matter the time that passes, I’ll always miss you. I’ll always love you.

  Rose, Bauer—you two troublemakers. Thank you for keeping me company; for being two tail-wagging, sloppy kisses-giving, insanely adorable puppies; for loving me without conditions. I love you both back.

  L, I guess you’re cool. (;