Page 69 of Mafia King
I thrust for each word and toy with her endlessly. As soon as I see her getting close, I demand she speak again.
“Yes,” she replies breathlessly.
I can go all night, watching her will drain away into desperate submission. I press harder against her nub. “What do you want?”
“To come.”
“Italiano,” I demand. “Say it perfectly.”
I want her to fuck it up as much as I want her to get it right.
“Scopami di brutto, mio Re.”
“Good girl,” I say, and I mean it. She is good. Better than good. “You will now have the longest orgasm ever had by anyone.”
Deep as I can go inside her, I circle her clit harder and faster, until the dark world locked within her bursts open. She is silent and explosive all at once. Full and glorious. When her body slowly folds in on itself and expands again, I know she’s at the height of her pleasure, and I release into her, erasing every doubt I’ve ever had about this woman.
As I roll off her, I let myself believe the problem is solved. She’ll be how she’s supposed to be. She’ll do what’s expected of her and no more, and at the same time, I’m aware this is a lie. I have not taken her completely. I will never quiet her doubts. And I fear she will never fully turn into a wife.
18
VIOLETTA
The night he gave me the longest orgasm ever in the history of the universe, I fell asleep so hard I broke my ability to open my eyes before ten in the morning. I just lie there in a state of half-dream, with the sun bursting behind my eyelids, letting the all-rightness warm me from the inside out.
He fucked me again the next morning. During the day, I speak to Gia. Her father told her things had changed, but not what.
“Do you think the‘mbasciatais off?” Gia asks. I can’t read how she feels about it one way or the other.
“What if it is?”
She pauses.
“I want to be married,” she says, then breathes through another long pause. “But… no offense… not like this.”
“No offense taken.”
The call ends with a relieved sigh on my side.
For three more days, the sheets remain crisp and white, and I can’t avoid it anymore. Lord knows I’m going to give birth before Santino notices I haven’t had my period. First, I want confirmation. I have to pee on a stick today.
As I get out of bed, the house rumbles with the echoes of Santino’s voice from downstairs. There are pauses but not replies. He must be on the phone. We’re going to have to put some rugs down, because sound bounces around this house like a ping-pong ball and the floors can be rough on tender young knees.
Before I say anything about the floors or putting a fence around the pool, I have to make sure there will be a baby in the house.
“Hey,” I say with a kiss, joining Santino in the kitchen, freshly showered.
“Buon pomeriggio.” He snaps an empty cup from the row on the counter.
“It’s not afternoon yet.”
He pours me coffee, serving me. I try not to make a big deal of it, even when he puts in sugar so I don’t have to.
Does he know my period is late?
“Grazie,” I say. Why is he even home? It’s not Sunday, the only day he spends the morning in the house.
“Do you have plans today?”
