Battaglia Mafia: La Famiglia Part 8

"Yes I am, thank you very much. Plus you mentioned it earlier remember?"

"I did. Why did you pretend to not know?" he asked.

"To keep you on your toes. Besides you also mentioned making love under the stars. I figured we'd go somewhere to make that happen instead of the lumpy sand on the beach. You know I'm not as limber as I once was."

"Let me worry about how limber you can be. Come." He pulled her behind him with her hand in his. And he was careful of his pace. He'd learned to shorten his stride and choose his steps where she could follow him. They walked out of the east side of the villa. There was an open trail that went downward toward the gates of the property. He could see his men in the distance. He could hear the sea in the wind and the sea birds as they sailed across a sunset sky. He glanced back at her. She smiled with bright enthusiasm glittering in her eyes.

"This end of the beach is private. You want to take walks? Bring Evie out here, you can. I have men covering it," Giovanni boasted. He glanced back at his man posted. Maybe he'd bring in a few more of the men to ensure the beach stayed cleansed of Mancini vermin.

"This place is beautiful," she said.

He slowed so she could walk at his side. Once they pa.s.sed Renaldo they started left. He felt her hesitation. "Problemo?"

"I thought we were going to-"

He stopped. She looked out of the clearing to what was before them.

"This is my surprise, Bella."

A wooden square shaped house with a flat roof. It stood three feet off the sand by the aid of wooden posts. The front of the beach house had a wide plank, which stretched out to the lapping waters of the sh.o.r.e.

"It's a beach villa?" she asked.

"My father and Rocco built it when they were kids. There are other smaller villas closer to Villa Mare Blu where the men will sleep. But this is the only one sitting on the edge of the sea. They used it as a fis.h.i.+ng house. Lorenzo and I renovated it years ago. It's my escape."

"So it's abandoned?" she asked.

"Nothing we own is abandoned. It's ours for the night. I'll take you there next," he replied.

"Next?"

"Let's walk on the beach. Are you up for it?" he asked.

"Sure," she said.

They strolled for a moment before he pointed out to the ocean. "Look." The sun was a huge orange globe. She'd noticed it before. However, it now slowly neared the edge of the sea. Light faded from the sky. Darkness descended on them fast. The remaining light streaked across the heavens with vibrant colors of magenta and purple. Its reflection s.h.i.+mmered across the rolling waves of the ocean. The sun eased into the water and the day was extinguished.

"Wow. That is something. It's really beautiful," she said.

They continued to walk in the sand, feet sinking with each step. When they got as close to the waves to rush in over their feet he stepped behind her and held her belly with one hand while squeezing her breast with the other. The round cus.h.i.+on of her thick a.s.s brushed up against his groin. He buried his face in her hair and inhaled her scent. He felt his arousal quicken over the touch and smell of her. He knew to reign in that urgent l.u.s.t. "I'd come here with my mother and watch the sun set when I was a young boy."

"She liked this beach?" Mira asked. She moved his hand down from her breast so they both could hold her belly. Immediately he felt one or both of his son's kick. They stilled when he applied a little pressure like good babies. Mira relaxed into his frame. Sometimes at night he'd experience a little b.u.mp or tap to his back as she slept with her belly pressed into him. He'd turn over and touch her. Make her comfortable. He'd whisper to his sons to give her a break. And they always did. He relaxed and gave in to his deepest feelings for her.

I love this woman. A lifetime of bulls.h.i.+t and finally I have what I never wanted since the loss of my sweet mama. The purest love. What if I had never met her? What if our fathers hadn't commited their sins? I'd give it all up for her, for my children, without hesistation.

"Tell me about your mother. Why she liked this beach," she asked and his thoughts blew away with the sea wind. He was with her again. Focused on the moment and not the emotion. He had to firm his voice when he spoke to keep from her how enticed by emotion he was to be weak.

"My mother had two things in life that gave her happiness, her children and her faith. Here she believed she was closer to G.o.d." His hands slipped from her belly to her hips.

The sun was gone. There was barely light left in the sky. Giovanni took her hand and together they started toward the private beach villa. He helped her climb the five steps before he reached in his pocket to dig out the key. She waited patiently as he unlocked the door made of weathered wood, and he pushed it open with a loud creak that echoed their arrival.

"Aspetti un momento," Giovanni told her to wait. He entered first, which was customary.

Mira peeked inside as he went about turning on lights and checking the rooms. He wore a gun tucked to the back of his pants but he never removed it. She guessed the pre-search of the place was to make sure it was set to his liking.

"Avanti, Bella," he called out from somewhere inside to tell her to come in.

The sweet smell of rosemary greeted her when she entered. The fragrance accompanied the polis.h.i.+ng the beach cabin had undergone. Its mix made her light headed. She tried not to inhale deeply. The walls, floors, all were dark wood. The furnis.h.i.+ngs were simple. Most of the chairs were made of wicker with large cranberry red pillows for sitting.

"It's nice. I like it," she said.

"The door, it's the bedroom." He tilted his chin toward it. She knew his meaning. She walked over and pushed it open wider. The bed made her gasp with surprise. It wasn't high off the floor, which meant she would need help lowering to it and rising from it, but it was huge. It consumed the majority of the s.p.a.ce in the room. A sheer white drape covered it from all corners. It hung like that of a tent from an iron chandelier with five pointed hooks. Disbelief and wonder seared through her. On the nightstands placed on either side of the bed sat lanterns. The tall flames flickered behind the murky casing. It's luminance provided a very romantic, golden candle glow. Giovanni walked over to the left. He waited for her to look his way before he pulled aside the curtain to reveal a wall of gla.s.s that gave an expansive view of the sea. He flipped on the outside light and Mira stepped forward. Giovanni released the latch to the center of the gla.s.s and she soon realized it wasn't a window but a door. He had to slide the left pane over to the far left, and the right gla.s.s pane to the right. In doing so the night air, and Mediterranean warmth custom to Sicily poured in.

All the beauty of this beach villa had coalesced into the serenity the scene before her brought. Mira walked out to the open deck and stopped before a long wicker lounge chair. It was huge enough for three to recline in. It too was cus.h.i.+oned with the same plush cranberry red pillows as the ones inside the beach house.

"I love it," she said and her gaze lifted to the stars. So many stars crowded the sky. She felt as if she were trapped in a planetarium under a dome view of celestial majesty. Mira had never seen a night so perfect. Her hand rested on the swell of her belly and she could feel her sons settle inside of her. She had a name for this beach house, for their special place.

"We should call this place Serenity."

Giovanni dimmed the outside light on the deck so the stars and sea could be seen with even more clarity.

"I like that name," Giovanni said.

She stood there with the wind in her hair, and closed her eyes.

"This is our place. No one can come here but you and me," Giovanni said.

"And Carmella? Did you share this place with her?" Mira asked.

To see his Bella jealous was a new experience. It never dawned on him that she would ever consider any other woman a rival. She was his wife. It went against everything he believed in, to forsake their vows, to be with a woman other than his wife. So he dealt with the situation. He sent Carmella away the moment he realized the reason for Mira's att.i.tude change. What he shared with Carmella happened when they were kids and ended badly-thanks to Armando Mancini. He hadn't touched her since they were teens. Though he knew the rumors that reached all the way to Sorrento said differently.

"Carmella has never shared a bed with me in Villa Mare Blu or Melanzana. I won't lie to you, Bella. This place has seen a lot of my bad days. It wasn't built for 'serenity'."

"I understand, but she lives here," Mira said. "In Villa Mare Blu? By your request. Before me, she... was here to take care of you when you visited?"

"Ask the question you mean," he replied.

"You already know what I mean, Giovanni," she replied.

"I wouldn't disrespect you, or our marriage by bringing you around another woman I desired."

Mira stared at him with those round brown eyes he lost his soul to. A slow wry smile tipped the corner of her mouth and she nodded her head in agreement. At last the woman was completely rea.s.sured. Great! He tired of the matter and wouldn't discuss it further. Giovanni stepped back and his gaze swept her once more. He had made a good decision to bring her here, to give them this privacy. And that summer dress made her radiant. It tied at the back of her neck. The design of the dress kept the fabric cradling her b.r.e.a.s.t.s from drifting loose. So he decided to start there. Undressing her was always for his pleasure and his privilege.

"Vegna qui," he extended his hand and told her to come to him. She did. They faced each other. He needed to be inside of her. To have her soft thighs wrapped around him while he plunged every inch of his love into her sweet tightness. He needed to hear her call his name and swear at him when their loving became too much. Out of all the changes his Bella endured in her pregnancy her s.e.xual desires had increased.

When he reached behind her neck Mira leaned in to brush a kiss over his collarbone. She rested her face on his chest. Time and s.p.a.ce faded. They were simply husband and wife now. Her face lifted. Her gaze held his as he slowly untied the dress. The front bodice fell away to reveal her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "I'm silly for being paranoid about her, huh? I just-"

He kissed her.

"Enough of that s.h.i.+t. She's gone. I don't want to discuss it anymore," he said.

"Okay." She rose on her toes and wrapped her arms around his neck. Love plucked his heart and his brief irritation with questions about Carmella subsided. She brushed her plump lips over his and they kissed. Her breath seeped into his mouth, sliding along a sigh. With a mastered tease she enticed his tongue to explore deeper. He sealed her mouth with his and stroked his tongue inside. The kiss felt surprisingly gentle. Ravishment of his Bella would be reserved for later in the evening. She tickled the roof of his mouth with the tip of her tongue. Her submission sent the pit of his stomach into a swirl. Giovanni worked the dress from her body and each layered piece drifted to her feet. There he stood in bare feet, and she naked with her sandy feet.

s.e.x had evolved into a careful exploration of good and better experiences between them. Bella's favorite was the leapfrog position, a name she gave it. Often she lowered to her knees with his help, and rested her elbows on the edge of the bed while he f.u.c.ked her on his knees from behind. Strange as it was he had to agree he liked the rhythm and pace. There were several other positions. But his favorite is where they would start tonight.

He led her inside.

She began to unb.u.t.ton his s.h.i.+rt.

"The wall, Bella," he whispered in her ear. He'd keep her pinned there for the rest of the night. She glanced back at the wall and then at him. Her hands stopped fiddling with the b.u.t.tons. She placed them to her curvy hips. He looked at the line of her body and his gaze lingered on the beautiful perfection that was her b.r.e.a.s.t.s.

"The wall huh? We did that one the other day. And you bit me on the back of my shoulder."

"I always bite you," he pinched her nipple.

"What if I had another position in mind?" she stepped closer.

The wall position had her facing it with her hands pressed flat and legs spread. Though it required they remain on their feet through the act of s.e.x she was fully open to him and able to move her a.s.s to match his thrusts.

"It's my night after all," she reminded him.

"Is that so?"

Mira glanced back at the wall once more. When his pants were off the wait would be over. Bella should make up her mind quick. And she did. She walked around him to yank the throw blanket from the bed. Giovanni kicked off his pants. Mira wrapped the blanket around her shoulders and walked over to the light switch that illuminated the deck. The moonlight was bright enough. She tossed a challenging look back over her shoulder at him and then strolled out of the room to the deck that faced the sea. The temperature was warm enough for an adventure but cool enough for the blanket. "You know what I like," she said, and pointed to the chair.

Giovanni's smile deepened. He sat down upon the large wicker deck chair with the long plush pillows that extended his legs. He reached up to help her ease on to his lap. She gazed down at him with that soft dreamy look on her face that spoke to her innocence. Not in the literal sense. She was innocent to deception, manipulation; to the ways women often controlled their husbands. Their life was all about mutual love. And though she grew every day, and her temperament s.h.i.+fted with the wind, she always made time to please him. Make him feel honored to be her husband.

Bella accepted his help. She did so with a determined crease to her brow. Giovanni adjusted the blanket around her shoulders to cover her backside from the elements of the night. The moonlight reflected all around them. Mira rose on her knees with a hand braced to his shoulder for support. She fisted his erection. He gasped at how tight her hold was. He didn't complain. The determined set to her jaw and sideways bite of her tongue as she angled him looked so cute. Giovanni swallowed a smile; afterall his wife was not doing this for amus.e.m.e.nt. And when the delicious tingles. .h.i.t the head of his c.o.c.k as it brushed the damp folds of her p.u.s.s.y, he was reminded of that fact.

Without warning she sank on his d.i.c.k and his mind went blank. All urgent sensation skyrocketed through his pelvis and seized the breath in his lungs. He lost all sensibility. Her c.u.n.t clinched around his shaft. Intense pleasure s.h.i.+vered down his spine. Thanks to the semi-recline of the deck chair and the st.u.r.dy wood it was made from, the balance and comfort was there. Her belly rested against his chest. Her thick nipples pointed at his mouth. He licked the circ.u.mference of one and then teased it into his mouth as he desperately tried to hold back a premature climax.

"Mmm, so good, baby," she stroked the back of his head and moved up and down on his d.i.c.k. "You like that?"

"Yes... move that p.u.s.s.y," he groaned.

He gripped her hip and aided her rhythm. She had a mercilessly wet tightness that enslaved him. He clenched his jaw as pure ecstasy spasms rocked through his pelvis and gripped him by the b.a.l.l.s. She rode him with a front to back and then up and down lap dance. Tension spiraled through his loins and it felt so good. He released her nipple to lick the sweat between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. He buried his face between. He'd c.u.m all over them if he had her in bed. They'd move the s.e.x play there next.

"You feel so good, honey," Mira panted hard. It felt as if her lungs couldn't capture enough air to keep her heart beating. The blanket slipped from her shoulders and gathered to her hips. Every muscle in her v.a.g.i.n.a ached, and she twisted her hips to decrease the coiled knot of tension low in her pelvis. Giovanni gripped her by both b.u.t.tocks. He helped with the frequency of her rise and fall on his d.i.c.k. It felt like raw steel slammed up into her core. The cool ocean breeze washed over her feverish spine. But nothing could cool the friction of his pistoning c.o.c.k ramming up in her with increased velocity. "f.u.c.k! Oh f.u.c.k!" Mira gasped. She gripped the top of the chair for support.

A mistake.

When Giovanni was this caught up in their lovemaking, shoving her tender b.r.e.a.s.t.s in his face guaranteed painful consequences. And he went for them. She lowered her face and kissed his creased brow prompting him to suck and kiss her b.r.e.a.s.t.s harder. The sharp nips and sucks had her jerking and wheezing. The solid ridge of his p.e.n.i.s pushed further up into her. "Yes, baby," she encouraged him. "Oh yes!"

He released a m.u.f.fled groan, continuing to suck on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Giovanni pumped his d.i.c.k up into her and rolled his hips to deliver each measured strike with precision. His powerful body, strong hands, and muscular chest forced her to take his c.o.c.k the way he intended. Rapture devoured her gut.

"Gio, baby, please slow down!" she cried out.

He didn't slow the pace, and despite her plea neither could she. With each drive of his hips she felt her control shatter. She knew he was trying to prolong their pleasure before he came apart, but her bottom maneuvers increased and he lost the battle.

"f.u.c.k yes!" he roared, after he released her breast.

He gripped both sides of her hips and raised her a fraction, holding her above. He then thrust upward in a slightly different angle and Mira's p.u.s.s.y spasms sent a seizure that strangled the breath from her lungs. Mira gasped. Her head dropped back. From his protective embrace he f.u.c.ked her in a cherished way and nothing compared to the shared bliss of their joined release. A trillion stars gleamed as they'd done through the millennia. Wet heat exploded from her p.u.s.s.y and his glide in and out of her as he climaxed, spreading joy and pleasure all the way to her brain. She felt her mind melt. She felt her muscles go rigid. She felt herself drift and disappear.

* B *

"Quando? What time did he land?"

Armando stared across his desk at his capu, a short, long nosed fellow with a wicked scar on his chin, he was one of his most loyal enforcers. He went by the name of Mario. Often when you expected him to f.u.c.k up he didn't. And when you counted on Mario to deliver on the simplest tasks, he fumbled.

"Around noon today. He's returned to Villa Mare Blu. He and that wife of his."

If Giovanni came for a holiday it didn't explain the disrespect. Men in his world knew it was customary to reach out to the Mancinis when travelling or visiting their region of Sicilia. The thin truce between the Battaglias and Mancinis held strong because of common courtesy. Nearly six months ago Giovanni arrived for a visit and Armando's father was sick with rage afterwards. But no explanation of the reasons for the visit was shared with Armando. He closed his hand into a tight fist.

"Giovanni has about four of his top men with him. We believe-"

"The arrogant son-of-a-b.i.t.c.h is never unprepared. You don't know what he has." Armando spat the words with distaste. "Stay on top of the Battaglias' movements."

Mario nodded. There was no time for Armando to unleash his frustration. In fact he really had little time for Giovanni. He was deeply troubled by the one request his father was adamant he fulfill. Armando left his office and bounded up the stairs to his father's room. The Mancini estate had been in his family for nearly four hundred years. It had burned down in the 1920s and was rebuilt to a grand state. No matter how big and empty the villa was, Armando loved, protected, and lorded over it. Family and tradition were the bedrock of his devotion.

The hall was empty, dark, silent. He walked toward the room with a photo envelope in his hand. At the door he paused. It took him four long months to dig up the information his father needed. And still he was no closer to understanding the reasons why. He wanted answers.

Armando knocked.

"Avanti. Come in," rasped the elder Mancini.

Armando entered to find his father sitting on the side of the bed. The old man stared out at the gardens beyond his room window. The dinner that was served in his room sat cooling on the tray. He'd heard from his aunts that his father wasn't eating.

"What do you have for me, boy?" Mancini asked, without looking over to acknowledge him.

"Shouldn't you be on your oxygen, Papa?" Armando replied.

Mancini turned his cold glare toward him. Armando felt his courage shrivel under that withering stare. His father in his younger days could be cruel and punis.h.i.+ng for the slightest infraction. Even now one look of disappointment from him and Armando felt like a six year old boy hiding in his room afraid of Mancini's belt. Throughout Marsuvio Mancini's illness he had moments of strength that reminded all of them that he was still Don of Palermo.

"What do you have for me?" Mancini asked again.

"I need answers, Papa. This has gone on far enough. I-" Armando cleared his throat. "Isabella is in Hong Kong. My sources say she's been there for two months. She's set to travel back to Sicily soon. I believe."

"Hong Kong." His father repeated the word slow as if trying to process the meaning.

"My question, Papa. You've asked me... You've put a hit on your own daughter. My sister."

Mancini gave a cruel, wicked smile. It was as if the accusation filled his father with pride instead of shame. "That puttana is not your sister or my daughter. And she will rot in a desecrated grave before I am dead."

"Why? You raised her, and she raised me when you went off to America and left me with Mama. She-"

"To h.e.l.l with the wh.o.r.e! She's dead I say!" his father coughed, hacked, wheezed. He grabbed the oxygen mask and put it up to his mouth. Armando tossed the folder to the bed and hurried to turn up the dial on the tank that was out of his father's reach. The release of more air to fill his father's weak lungs stopped the coughing attack. Mancini nodded that he felt better. His father was the strongest man Armando had ever known. Even in his weakened state he believed in his father's strength.

Mancini reached for the folder. Armando watched him curiously and then spoke. "You wanted photos of the black woman Lorenzo has been with. We found them. I had a man take pictures of them in St. Tropez and it was expensive, Papa. Lorenzo Battaglia has been very hard to keep up with."