Avarice (11 page)

Giuseppe’s hunger was on full display when he rolled her over, growled in frustration and pushed her knees up for an in depth penetration. His full lips clamped her breasts, sucking so damn hard on her nipples she cursed. But, he merely alternated as he filled her so much she became thick glue and clung to his rod. Thick and slick he massaged her inner tunnel with such fervor she
held on to his shoulders pleased he’d obliged her craving and mad that she probably might come back for seconds like Ari’s greedy damn kids.

The room spun and she realized he’d hoisted her up and was turning to press her spine against the pillows. In a cry of desire she clutched and clawed the massive arms holding her legs like a wishbone while making her pay with pussy a debt she never owed. Every cry from her mouth was his name; every claw to his body was for every bitch to see. Maybe, I should forgive him came to mind but then again good sex can make someone forget a lot. This gorgeous Don wasn’t the monogamous type; he couldn’t change and she wasn’t going to force him to. That’s something he had to want, but right now what she needed from him was simple.

Sex.

The moment he withdrew and his head lowered to lick her clean, Shanda’s fingers were in his hair, holding on and making sounds as if she were giving birth.

Damn…damn…damn…is all she could think every time he made her cum before his dick went to work again!

***

Shanda awakened in Giuseppe’s bed. Daylight had come and caught her in a lie. She might have hid from shame if she gave a damn about what anyone might think about her staying all night with her ex. But, she didn’t and frankly it wasn’t anybody’s business.

She stretched before rolling out of bed to shower. She found some of her clothes had not been removed from the closet, which signified quite a bit. Giuseppe expected her back. The arrogant man actually believed she’d return.

She slipped on a loose dress. In the process of bending to get shoes, Giuseppe’s voice said, “Buongiorno,” at her back.

“Good morning,” she replied as she slipped her feet into the comfortable shoes she often used to take Carlo for strolls when he was an infant. Giuseppe was fully clothed, handsome as usual,
larger in stature or maybe she’d shrunk. No the flat shoes were responsible she quickly figured out.

“I have made breakfast.”

Shanda laughed. Oh, who was he fooling? “Sure you did big guy.”

“I cook, at times.”

“All right, let’s see what you burned.”

Giuseppe smiled when she walked by, saw the tray on the bed and the gasp of surprise from his donna warmed his soul. “Do you still laugh?”

Shanda lifted the fork, tasted the eggs and then bit into the sweet sausage. “Um, good. Oh my God, all this time I didn’t know you could cook!”

He walked behind her, rubbed her shoulder and then took her in his arms. “Bella, I miss you and Carlo. You are mi famiglia, this is your home.”

Shanda swallowed the remnants of the beef. “Giuseppe I can’t. We won’t work. I don’t want to be angry at you anymore. I don’t want our children to hear us argue. You and I are better lovers when we’re apart.”

Giuseppe blinked with those long male eyelashes inherited from his father. A sigh escaped his sexy mouth. “Then I will accept this until you conclude that you are wrong.” The eyes suddenly glowed. “Better lovers apart. Hmm…I may like this arrangement.” He kissed her mouth and then hurried her to eat. “I will take you to your other home on my way to the aeropuerto.”

“You’re leaving?”

Giuseppe smirked at her disappointment. This better lover’s apart would not last long. “Sí, but I will come back soon to collect my money from you.”

“You can hold your breath on that. I told you already I’m not shelling out a dime.”

Another kiss and a moan from her lips proved she would willingly pay with pleasure instead of cash. 

CHAPTER TWELVE

The Christmas tree reached to the ceiling. The Diaz’ had gone all out. The baubles dangling from the pines were antiques and this year they added new ones which represented a new beginning. When Anita plugged in the lights they twinkled and the twins jumped around in excitement. Selange hugged Sal since he was closest as she admired the beautiful spruce tree.

“Is dad okay?” he asked.

“Yes, he’ll be fine,” she answered. Alfonzo had contracted pneumonia. The week he spent in the hospital had been hard on the kids. Alfonzo didn’t want the family to know how sick he’d gotten and made her swear not to tell a soul. “I don’t want everybody hovering over me babe. I’m just too tired to deal with their crap,” he said.

Reluctantly, she agreed. But today he’d come home and the medication had him sleeping a lot. Thank goodness for Anita…thank goodness because she was exhausted. She sat every night at that hospital and came home before the children awoke. He told her to go home but she couldn’t because she was afraid to sleep alone. She had this horrible fear that if she left she’d receive an earth shattering phone call of some kind. No, she could not leave, her heart wouldn’t allow it.

Maria entered with a tray of cookies shaped like Christmas trees. In five more days, the family would gather to share gifts. By then she prayed Alfonzo was well enough to come downstairs.

A Christmas song played in festive celebration but it was Allie who danced to the music that served as the evening entertainment. Of course, Angelina wanted to join her sister and as most children who idolize their sibling imitated her every move. Selange’s weary eyes were sparkly hazel pride. Such fun they were having except in her heart she was sad.

Anita tapped her on the shoulder. “Get sleep. I have the children,” she said when Selange inadvertently dozed off.

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Go ahead ma, we’re fine. I’ll help Anita,” Sal interjected. He didn’t tell anyone Uncle had called to say he was coming. Sal worried about his dad and didn’t believe he was alright. He looked sick and his mom had an anxious expression. Not to mention he wasn’t stupid, people die from pneumonia all the time. Yeah, they let his dad out of the hospital but they shouldn’t have until he was up and walking. He slept all day and that can’t be good. Sal frowned as his mother climbed the stairs. He didn’t want anything to happen to his parents. Some of his friends complained about their folks but he couldn’t. His mom and dad were awesome.

Allie told him what happened in Africa. Some man hit their mom and shot the bodyguards. He was furious that someone had hit his mother and he wasn’t there to do anything about it. As usual his mom tried to protect him from the bad stuff, but he’d seen the bruise. She had hugged him, treating him like a kid when he wasn’t. His dad and Uncle handled the problem but still he didn’t like feeling helpless all the time.

He never said much but he swore when he got older and anybody touched his family he’d hurt them…really bad!

***

Days of aches, coughs and cooped up in a hospital bed with worried children constantly calling is how Alfonzo had spent the week. He’d spoken to Giuseppe, his mom and Tony but only his wife, Anita, the kids and the Capo Bastone were aware of his illness. Spreading the news wasn’t wise, weak moments are when vultures pick at eyes and projecting strength is always better than a display of frailty.

He was home now with weak limbs and a several pounds lighter. He spoke to Tony; he was flying in the day after to give his decision.  Nico had to come out the field. Retirement isn’t what he was doing, just delegating more responsibility to others. Besides, Alfonzo had come to the conclusion he had to share more of the responsibility or he’d die early. He required Nico’s presence at meetings when he or Giuseppe couldn’t attend. Nico was a goddamn Giacanti and far more than an enforcer; he was a Consigliere as well.

Not to mention when Selange questioned him about Bianca and Nico, he decided he had to pull the plug on their relationship. As soon as Nico got back, he’d have a talk with his ass, because if Selange picked up on the affair someone else would and that left the door open for more headaches. His eyes closed of their own volition.

What kind of medication was this?

While in slumber’s palette the feel of hands was upon his skin. The soft caress across marred flesh could only belong to his wife. He wondered if she read each wound which told his story or understood they were his battle hymns. Each scar was a tear dried and sealed by flesh. Each a reminder of how he escaped death. Then the hand went limp; a sudden drop of tired woman into a place he’d earlier been. His eyes opened; slowly he lay on his back to hold her close to his chest.

Man, how the hell do you explain love so real you cry inside because it’s so strong it hurts? He inhaled the scent of her hair, stroked her arm and kissed her head in gratitude for always holding their family down. Soldier is a woman whose weapon is love battling turmoil that visits family at times. Illness, broken bones, kissing boo-boos and standing beside their men is what women soldiers did at home. Ah, give me a female soldati any day, Alfonzo exhaled. Their weapons are more effective than mortar or shells. Selange’s artillery healed; not killed.

Soldier.

Mother.

Lover.

Selange
.

A familiar sensation caused him to scoff, damn; any physical contact with his woman prompted a hard-on. He didn’t want to wake her and took hold of himself trying to soothe the dude. It’s difficult trying to put a dick to sleep when lying beside a sexy wife. He must’ve cursed aloud because Selange’s hand slid along the slope of his chest and then went across his stomach.

The unconscious action brought a low groan and he held tighter to his shaft as it began pulsing. Nah, sorry, he thought. Sleep sex is better than jerking off. He turned on his side with Selange lips on his chest. He inserted a leg between hers; grateful she was pantiless beneath her camisole. He embraced her to pull her slightly forward and with accuracy pushed within her and held there. His hand held her neck, as the throbbing pleasure took over. Damn, even in sleep she was moist and snug. Where strength came from, he wasn’t sure but it must’ve been the stored reserves because he came alive inside her wetness. Electrical stimulation, shit that’s what happened because now he had rolled on top, kissing her throat, lifting the flimsy material and then she awakened.

A weary smile was the greeting initially but then hard squeezes on his shaft were notification she was good to go. Well, that and her verbal response, “Ummm, oh honey thank you very much.”

“Mucho gracias nena.”

Then she kissed his neck. He didn’t want to breathe in her face or give her any lingering germs from his human Petrie Dish of a tongue, but she started a goddamn blaze when she stretched her neck to kiss his mouth. She was determined to contract his germs and he pulled back. “Babe…ummm…no.”

She bowed forward eagerly, rubbing his ass and his torso hovered above her chest with stiff arms locked in place. “Roll over,” she commanded.

The smile broadened when she twisted with him as he went on his back. The chica rode him hard and suctioned in his seminal fluid like a pussy drunk.

“Shit…babe!” he cursed when she reversed her body to form a sixty-nine.

“I wonder if my pussy can catch a cold if I suck you down here.” Then she put her mouth around the tip of his penis and the feast began.

Alfonzo her thighs, tongued her clit, sucked honey and mango flesh as she worked her mouth up and down his staff letting her tongue slide like a stripper on a pole until his ejaculate was a geyser of cum.

Nourishment is what he received in mass doses from her vaginal liquid supplements. He drank from her lips in acceptance of her carnal offerings. After they each had their fill, slept claimed them. Rest was another form of rejuvenation.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Sergio rolled over in bed. Music played in the background. He must have forgotten to turn off the stereo and the singing crept in to shorten his sleep. His mouth hung open spilling a line of drool that had attached to his face. He wiped his cheek and mouth. His eyes opened in the darkened room to see the illuminated numbers on the clock which read 12:02 a.m.

He sat up rubbing his hand down his hairless chest which glistened with sweat. The conversation with Lucia came to mind. “I am pregnant Sergio,” she told him a few days ago.

He’d taken Alfonzo’s advice a while back and stepped to Matteo and the dude wasn’t pleased. He warned Sergio. “Hurt my sister and I will not be forgiving.”

Sergio grimaced, he was torn. On the one hand he really dug Lucia but on the flip side having a baby this early in their relationship added a pressure he couldn’t handle. He hadn’t spoken to Lucia in days, not because he was mad or anything but it’d taken that long for reality to sink in. Matteo would have his ass on a platter if he didn’t marry Lucia. He had old-fashioned values, which Sergio gauged by the way he spoke about honor and duty. Last night he called his sister and told her he was having a kid. Tanya was congratulatory and probably more excited about the prospect of becoming an aunt than he was about being father. Being a father wasn’t the problem, he just didn’t know if what he felt for Lucia was love or lust. He cared about her a lot, more than any woman he’d been with but things were moving so fast his head was swimming.

He stood, stretched and then shuffled out the door for an early morning breakfast. His feet stopped the moment he came around the corridor. Seated in the living room, flanked by a pair of brolic henchmen was Matteo.

“You are a very deep sleeper,” Matteo said as he uncrossed his legs and then rose.

Sergio’s stomach churned. Damn, how did Matteo get pass security? He chucked the question in the trash, it was stupid. “I was tired.”

Matteo smoothed his sleeves. His eyes traveled from the quality material to Sergio. “I have spoken with my sister; apparently you have not taken her calls.”

Sergio rocked from side to side. The nervousness got the best of him. “I’ve had a lot going on. I planned to call her today.”

Matteo frowned. “She has told me she is having a bambino and you did not take the news well, is that true?”

“Nah, I’m alright.”

Matteo walked forward to study Sergio’s face. He saw the lie. “My mother is a devout Catholic in many respects. On the topic of children she believes a couple should be married. Our family has gone through many difficult times with the loss of my father. I do not intend for her to endure further heartache.” He wrapped his fingers around Sergio’s neck and began to squeeze. “You will marry Lucia immediately, capisce?”

Sergio’s nostrils flared.  He choked out an answer, “I’m not marrying anybody unless I’m good and ready.”

The men with Matteo scurried over and halted at his side. The pressure to Sergio’s neck relaxed when Matteo withdrew his hand. He smirked as Sergio rubbed his neck. Matteo nodded and a fist bounced Sergio’s body off the wall. Matteo waited for him to stand upright. “Is that your position?”

“I make my own decisions you sonovabitch!”

A fist struck Sergio in the face and he fell sideways to the carpet.

“Is that your position?” Matteo asked again as Sergio stood with shaky legs.

“Whatever decision I make is between me and Lucia, not you.”

Maybe, he shouldn’t have spoken. The second the words flew out his mouth another strike landed right in his stomach and it felt like dejá vu all over again.

First
Chip.

Then
Giuseppe.

And now
Matteo.

Who next the boogie man?

Matteo stared at the fallen youth. “A lovely Christmas present would be news of a wedding. Anything less will bring out my black suit.”

Sergio rest his head against the wall as the men stepped over his legs to exit. He ran his tongue over his teeth to ensure they were all there and they were. After a few minutes of, “Damn this sucks.” He stood on wobbly legs to get his phone. He hated to wake Alfonzo but that sonovabitch Matteo lost his mind. When the cell rang and on the second buzzing he heard Giuseppe’s voice bellow, “You call for mio fratello at this hour?”

Sergio stomped his bare foot. Damn, Alfonzo must have redirected his calls. “Um…”

“Speak Sergio…did you receive a visit from Matteo, eh?”

“Yes.”

“Ho and you cry to Alfonzo like a bambino, yes?”

“You know what Giuseppe; I didn’t call to speak to you. I didn’t even know you had your ass in Puerto Rico. Put Alfonzo on the phone!”

“I cannot, he is asleep. Buona notte Sergio. Cry and when you are finished, grow balls and speak to me of your troubles. You may visit at my brother’s home when you do, capisce?”

“Oh shut the fuck up Giuseppe, I’m sick of your bullshit!”

The silence which followed was thick and frightening. Maybe, he should’ve held that comment in, Sergio then considered but it was too late, the words were blurted out without thinking.

Giuseppe’s bass rumbled the phone. “Open the door when I arrive. If you do not I will find you and snap your neck!”

The phone went dead and Sergio punched the wall. “Shit, not again!”

In less than twenty minutes there was an impatient pounding at the door and Sergio knew Giuseppe was still pissed. He wondered why the doorman kept letting everybody in. Hell, they probably gave him a stare and dared him to stop them. Sergio thought about Alfonzo’s words before he inhaled, turned the doorknob and let the sonovabitch in.

Massive muscles, bare shoulders and clad in only pajama bottoms is how Giuseppe had come. He hadn’t bothered with a shirt or shoes, so incensed at Sergio’s remark he’d leaped out of
bed and summoned one of Alfonzo’s drivers to bring him to his cousin’s upscale apartment in downtown Bayamón.

When the door swung open he seized Sergio by the throat and thrust him against the wall causing it to rattle. At Giuseppe’s back was only a picture on the wall outside the hall. He didn’t need an army to deal with Sergio, in fact, his son Carlo could probably whip Sergio’s ass with his thumb. His face hovered above the belligerent younger man as he snorted like an enraged bull. “Vaffanculo, eh you smart mouth punk?”

Sergio grappled with Giuseppe’s wrist attempting to loosen the hold but found resistance. “Let go!” he gurgled.

Giuseppe slapped Sergio’s bruised face several times before releasing the vice that had begun to cause oxygen deprivation. “You fail to match your bold words. Matteo beats you and whimper like a frightened kitten. You are pitiful!”

Sergio rubbed his throat, his jaw worked angrily from side to side. His eyes glowered at Giuseppe’s smug look. “What the fuck was I supposed to do, shoot Matteo and the other guys with guns?”

“Does Matteo have one bruise?”

Sergio rolled his eyes. “Like I said, he had these guys with him and…”

A scoff sounded. “Ah, it is evident by the long reply he does not.”

Sergio sucked his teeth. “No, he doesn’t because I didn’t fight the man.  I wasn’t trying to get shot in the head. I know when I’m outnumbered.”

There was a sympathetic expression from Giuseppe as he stared at Vincent’s son. No wonder Nico chose to train Tony. Sergio was not equipped to be an enforcer. There are many men who fear harm, thus do nothing when set upon. The ways of the Giacanti was fight to the death, fight and show no fear. Never submit and be willing to die for a cause. Family, self-preservation and respect are such grounds. Giuseppe walked away from the youth, found his kitchen and peered inside the fridge and took out a beer. He popped the can, guzzled the frothy liquid down and then slammed the aluminum to the counter crushing it like an accordion with a pound of his fist. “You shame your father…you shame me…you shame yourself Sergio and I am sick of it!” he scowled when Sergio appeared at the entry.