by S. W. Frank
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“Well I’ll be damned.” Selange mumbled when she emerged from the bathroom after changing into a sexy costume and found Alfonzo snoring.
The outfit she wore was only one of many she packed to make him drool. The only spittle occurring tonight would be from his mouth to the pillow. She sighed, went around the room blowing out scented candles before climbing into bed. She’d try again in the morning. She slid beside her husband, put her head on his chest and within minutes went to dreamland.
Flapping trees and the pap pap pap sounds woke Alfonzo first. Groggy and slightly hung-over he craned his neck to see rain striking the glass patio doors. The weather canceled his plan to go yachting with his wife. He yawned and when his mind was clear he realized he slept in his clothes.
Stunned he sat up quickly and looked around. “Coño, did I fall asleep?”
Selange lay beside him in a fetal position with her ass poked out. He did a double-take when he saw what she wore. She had these gold nipple covers on, a tiny G-string thingy and an Egyptian headdress. He chuckled and rose from the bed to shower which didn’t take long because his mind was on food and sex.
He checked in with Estefan. “Everything alright?”
The bodyguard must’ve risen early because he looked clean-shaven and refreshed. “Sí senor Diaz.”
Alfonzo smelled coffee. “You made coffee?”
“Yes, I thought you might need it today.”
“You thought right.” Alfonzo replied and entered the rustic kitchen adjacent to the sitting room. He removed a cup from the cupboard and poured himself a caffeine eye-opener. After two long sips, he said, “Ah, that’s good. Mucho gracias!”
Estefan nodded, “I will check around outside, sí?”
“No problem.” Alfonzo said. He took another gulp of coffee before gathering breakfast for Senorita Sleepyhead.
He carried the tray to the room and placed it on the nightstand and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched her sleep, decided he’d let her rest until he finished his exercise, but she woke up before he left the bed.
“Morning.” She said, slowly sitting up.
Alfonzo’s eyes raked her over and he tried not to laugh. Her crown sat lopsided in her tousled hair. One of her nipple covers made a getaway and she looked like a hung-over college student playing dress-up. “Buenos dias nena.”
She rubbed her eyes, “You fell asleep.”
“I apologize. I had a long day.”
“I know.”
He pointed at the food nearby. “I brought you something to eat.”
“That’s nice, but I planned to cook for you,” she answered and received a smile in return.
Alfonzo tried not to laugh at her appearance but he couldn’t stifle the chuckle. He reached for the miniature areola shield lying near her pillow to examine it. “Is this edible?”
She giggled. “Everything I’m wearing is edible.”
He tapped her headgear. “And this?”
“No, this was for the effect.”
Masculine long lashes shadowed his blue eyes taking in the string around her waist. “You do look edible.”
“Oh my surprise was going to be a whopper.”
He became attentive, “Yeah. Tell me what you had in mind.”
She reached for the orange juice holding her finger up and drank half the glass, “Ummm…I’ll show you.” She took the nipple cover from his hand, licked it and stuck it on again and set the crown straight before getting out of bed. She told him to lie down. He removed his shorts and got comfortable. She might want to demonstrate and he took away any impediments.
Selange relit the candles, locked the door, closed the curtains and hurried to a wicker basket she hid on the shelf in the closet. He was watching her with a smirk and she winked and then cleared her throat and said, “Okay, this is a role play. You’re the King and I’m your sex slave.”
A sharp eyebrow ascended, “Really?”
“Um-hum.”
“What’s in the basket?”
“Honey, oils and your favorite, chocolate.”
He nodded. “Alright chica. I’ll play.” He pointed at his sexy slave and gestured for her to come forward.
Selange obeyed with her eyes downcast to the floor, “Yes my King.”
When she bowed he snickered quietly. She had really taken on the part, hadn’t she? “Rise. Rub honey on my dick and suck it off.”
“Yes my King.”
Hot damn, he loved this!
She came to the bed with her wicker basket and removed her bottle of honey and a wooden spatula to spread it evenly on his staff. It was sticky and heavy, but he liked it. His body became heat the moment she set aside her thingies and climbed on the bed, lowered her head and those lips attached.
Shit…damn…whoa!
Honey clung to his engorged flesh. She suckled and licked from the base to the crown, so slow and firm his breathing became shallow. Her tongue flicked and circled his head and he lifted his ass off the bed. “Okay chica, the King wants to eat,” he said in a rushed breath and then flexed forward to bring her down on the bed. He wanted to give her pleasure and the edible barrier is where he began. He bent over her now and lowered his head. When his lips sought her out she cried in joy in response to how quickly the gelatin underwear dissolved in his mouth. He devoured it like a beast and the fruity ones covering her nipples before rolling them over and she was back on top. He was the King and he gave the orders, isn’t that what she said?
Drunk with power he took advantage of his willing slave, especially when she eagerly obeyed his every command. “Ride me nena and when you’re done, we do this shit again!”
“Yes my King.”
****
Shanda heard the howling wind. The house actually shook and poor Gee began barking like a hound from hell. How Giuseppe snored in the racket is anybody’s guess. She pushed his heavy arm to set herself free and eased out of bed. Hurriedly she brushed her teeth, took a record breaking shower because if the water pipes burst at least she wouldn’t stink. She dressed in equal haste, peered out her bedroom door and saw Giuseppe’s flunkies wide awake walking around. When she emerged from the room they looked at her like she’d killed their boss and one even went inside her room to check without asking permission. She ignored the robotic fools and whistled for Gee. She fed her dog and made something to eat and didn’t offer them a damn thing because neither one said good morning, with their rude asses.
Um hum, she sat at the table eating breakfast and watching their uncomfortable faces until the guy in a brown shirt asked, “Excusi, can you make breakfast, we are hungry?”
Shanda stared at him. Obviously, he’d been misinformed. He was not a welcome guest, but an intruder in her house. She finished her orange juice without answering, collected her dishes and put them in the dishwasher, skipped right on past and said, “Help yourself, you have hands.”
Somebody upstairs must not have liked that because the roof squeaked, the wind the cried in chorus and no shit, the transformer blew. She heard the loud explosion and saw the sparks flash across the window outside. She high-tailed it to the bedroom and shook Giuseppe. “Wake-up!”
One eye opened, “What is it donna?”
“There’s a tropical storm coming…hurry…get up and put on some damn clothes!” She shouted at the naked man in her bed.
He leisurely stretched his long limbs peering at her frightened face with amusement, “A pit-bull and his ferocious master afraid of wind and rain, tsk, tsk, tsk.”
“Stop playing,
this is serious. We have to go to the cellar.”
Giuseppe sat forward. He pat the space beside him, “Come, sit.”
Shanda’s ears were like radars sucking in the torrential rains pounding the roof. The wind’s eerie squeals were screaming witches in her mind flying overhead on their brooms. She crawled close to Giuseppe without rebuttal.
“When I was a boy, I was afraid of lightning. My father said to me that nature sends reminders of its strength to arrogant people who believe they have power. He said, storms, earthquakes and other natural occurrences are meant to teach humility to men. Do you believe this?”
Shanda shook her head, “No, I don’t. You’re far from humble, in fact you’re arrogant.”
“Then what do you believe bella?”
“Not that.”
“Then present another theory. What will you tell your son when he fears what is natural?”
“I’ll give him a hug and tell him it’s okay to be afraid, but he’s safe in mommy’s arms.”
Giuseppe put his arms around Shanda for comfort. “You are safe.”
She leaned her head on his shoulder. “This weather is scary.”
“There are storms in New York.”
“Not like this…trust me.”
“Tropical storms occur more frequently in warm climates near the oceans. Perhaps you should have thought on this more.”
“Wow thanks.”
He chuckled. She smelled nice. “Kiss me.”
“What?”
His eyes were on her mouth. “Your lip is trembling.”
Shanda realized he wasn’t lying, but would kissing him kill the anxiety? “No.”
He held her chin and kissed her, anyway. She tried pulling back but couldn’t. His mouth was a seal, his tongue a pleasurable weapon certain of her surrender. Her body cheated. The damn thing told her secret, pressing itself against his skin like a beggar.
The tempest outside was weak compared to the storm raging in her flesh. He had begun undressing her and she encouraged him by saying his name.
“Yes, tell me, you like.” He mumbled in her mouth.
“I like.”
Giuseppe placed her down to strip away what remained, rubbing and kissing her tenderly. His touch was the gentlest caresses because he did not want to be rough. Her body glowed; the sight of her nude and another of nature’s power humbled him. The child in her womb would know he loved it, through touch. His mouth suckled her swollen breasts, loving their taste, enjoying her hands rubbing his waist. He carefully avoided her enlarged stomach, taking great care not to crush her with his body.
Shanda felt awkward. Her stomach was in the way, but Giuseppe appeared to have more experience in pregnant love-making and whispered Italian endearments she didn’t understand, yet the sexy way in which he spoke relaxed her completely.
He tried to prolong taking and failed. He went to his knees on the bed and brought her buttocks over his thighs. His strong hands supported her spine as he gently eased upward sending her arching backward in ecstasy simply from the tip of his dick touching her lower lips. When he surged further his head lowered to one of her succulent breasts loving the way the juices flowed across his staff and the tightness. Her hands were in his hair, frantic pleas demanded he kiss her and he did. She expanded wider when he applied pressure with his forearm to the base of her spine until she clutched him around the neck breathing hard. Her face rested there, the pleasure he brought while taking had her kissing at his neck. He moved with firm loving strokes closing his eyes at the wonderful sensation. It was indescribable and exhilarating and he wanted to stay in there.
Stroke after stroke he found pleasure and heard his name in spurts. Shanda’s mouth sucked his throat each time he surged into sexual heaven. This elicited immense pleasure. “Bella...never deny me this pleasure.”
“Oh…oh…oh…” She grunted under the penile persuasion she tried not to want.
“Give and I will give... whatever it is you want I will give to feel heaven.”
She clawed at his shoulders as he bowed her backward. The fluffy pillows caught her. He spread her legs wider and each penetration of Giuseppe’s staff drew more gasps it felt so good. “Giuseppe…”
“Say yes to me donna.”
“Oh…oh…oh…”
He rocked the bed with his swiveling pelvis thrusts, tongued her throat, blazed wet kisses across her breasts and lathed each nipple as he rocked inside of her, matching the storms violent symphony. He wanted her in his bed every night. But, he wanted a willing bedmate. The runaway daughter of the polizei he thought about during nights he fucked others did not relent. Rejection is an emotion which was foreign to Giuseppe.
Her half closed eyes opened as she climaxed. His release occurred with such intensity he gripped the edge of the bed and growled under the force. He refused to withdraw from heaven. If they were stuck here until the storm passed, he would forgo food and feed off her body. Except his carnal plan went astray when a rush of fluid covered him and her eyes widened in panic. He retracted and looked down. “How far along are you?”
“Twenty nine…no…thirty-three weeks. I’m in the third trimester.”
Giuseppe thought of Amelda. She was forty weeks, not twenty nine or thirty odd. This was too soon. She could not go into labor now.
Shanda felt an unbelievable pressure to her lower back and cervix. Her hand went instinctively to the base of her belly. She saw Giuseppe’s fearful eyes. Ha, so he experienced fear after-all. The pressure came with pain and she did breathing exercises keeping an eye on Giuseppe who appeared in shock. He stood up and his mouth opened in shock.
Shanda asked, “Giuseppe…are you okay?”
“No, I mean yes, cazzo what am I saying…I do not know.”
Shanda used a firm voice. He had to focus. The baby was coming early, he or she wanted out immediately. “Get a towel and wet it and bring it here.”
He rushed to do as told and returned with a soaking wet towel. He held it high and it dripped like a broken faucet on her carpeted floor. “I have the towel.”
“Give it to me.” She said taking it from his hands and cleaned between her thighs. She glanced at Giuseppe. His eyes were wide with terror. “Giuseppe come on get it together, I’m going to need your help.”
“I will call the physician.”
“Giuseppe…relax…think for a second. It’s a storm and the baby is coming. We have to do this. I need your help. Can you do that?”
He nodded.
Shanda moaned and bent her knees. He saw the infant’s skull pushing its way out with each growl from Shanda. Part of the cranium slowly protruded from where his dick recently visited. Each widening of her vagina assisted to set the infant free. But, this was only the top of the head and there was far more to release. Giuseppe became light-headed. He had not eaten. His legs did a wobble and then buckled beneath him. The large naked unafraid man dropped to the floor with a loud thud.
Shanda rolled her eyes and groaned, “You have to be fucking kidding!”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Nico strolled across the grass to the fleet of shiny black cars to talk with Matteo who had the unfortunate task of loading Amelda’s many bags in the trunk of the car. He appeared fully recovered, although gunshot wounds do not only mar the skin, they penetrate muscle and bone. Psychological scars are the hardest to heal. In their family business, risk of death is inherent to who they are. They were men with similar philosophical views, level temperaments and distinct styles. Matteo dressed in suits. His hair remained impeccable. He had an easy-going nature like Vincent which women considered charming
. Besides his occasional gambling, he possessed no other vices.
Matteo closed the trunk and Nico stepped forward to shake his hand. “It was good to see you Matteo. Again, congratulations on the bambino.”
“Grazie Nico, I see you are expecting a parcel soon as well.”
Nico nodded, “Yes. Looking forward to it.”
Matteo checked his watch. “The women have no sense of time. I need to be in Catania tomorrow.”
“How’s business going?”
“Buono.”
“So, nothing has happened since my exile?”
Matteo’s white teeth gleamed as his mouth stretched wide, “Exile, hardly. You are free to go as you please, you’re lovely wife on the other-hand simply must avoid the United States.” Matteo crossed his arms, “Is there something specific you want to know?”
“Are there any problems with the families?”
“There are always problems among family, but to answer your question, we had a minor issue with the subcontractor in the waste management company. Schifani and Sons were ordered to pay riparazione for failing to fulfill their obligations. It is resolved and business continues.”
Nico heard the news about the public trash burning in protest to the mob’s association in what many deem as a government obligation. Political prostitute Josef Timpico seized the opportunity. His campaign slogan read, ‘Honest Businesses and Hard Workers Need an Honest Leader.’
Giuseppe frowned, “Keep a watch on Schifani’s employees to make sure they’re getting the jobs done. Giuseppe cannot afford more bad publicity.”
“This is being done, but I will make an unexpected visit this week.”
“Stay alert on this Matteo.”
“Sí.” Matteo affirmed and presented a question he meant to ask last night. “What is this business with Vincent’s son?”
“I don’t know. That’s what I’m going to find out today.”
Matteo’s head teetered back and forth. He often found blood family to bring the greatest troubles. “You are the person to deal with it. Take care he is not using your guilt to further a cause.”
Nico had considered this and even if it were the case, he wasn’t easily duped. “Yeah.”
The boisterous voices of the last stragglers were heard as they emerged from the house. Teenagers ran to the waiting cars, shouting good-byes.
