Chapter 16 #3
His orgasm was quieter, more in control as he grunted through the shocks, but the multiple volleys of cum that covered his chest were just as forceful as mine.
“Fuck,” he heaved, his voice husky. He nosed against my cheek, then down to my chin when he sought my gaze.
“I’m glad that I waited seven years, Jude.
No other man could’ve made these moments so incredible.
And I’m not talking only about the sex.”
“I know,” I said, feeling the deep connection with Ethan every bit as he had.
“No one else for me either.” I didn’t know what was ahead of me.
And as Ethan mentioned, I didn’t trust either my mother or Father Matthew not to try and catch me engaging in what they’d consider a sin.
Not that anything I did would cause me to grovel and go back to the church.
Especially not when I was in the arms of a man who admitted that he was falling for me and I was going to protect our bourgeoning relationship with all I had.
Rolling away from him, I stood up and held out my hand. “Let me take you into the shower and wash you like a caring Dom, even though you ran the show in bed. We’ll need to talk about that because you have me confused about the whole dominant/submissive dynamic.”
“We’ll talk, but for now I’m taking you up on your offer to have your hands all over me so we can crawl back under the covers and cuddle until we fall asleep.”
Ethan took my outstretched hand and I led him into the bathroom.
Glancing over my shoulder, I said, “I’ll make it worthwhile.
Then when you drift off, you’ll be thinking about us.
” I knew that I would and thought with a warm feeling that I was looking forward to meeting his surrogate parents.
What they thought of me was going to influence my future with Ethan no matter how much he disagreed.
Sunday arrived with the speed of a race car, but I felt prepared. I’d bought two bottles of Nero d’Avola, a red wine named after Avola in the far south of Sicily, to honor both Ethan and Mamma’s roots.
“Jude, what a lovely gesture,” Mamma said, a bottle in each hand. “Ethan must’ve told you that we’re both from southern Sicily.”
“He did,” I said. “I’ve never been, but he talks about his homeland with such fondness.”
“Here,” Mamma said to me. She pushed a bottle back at him and hooked his arm in hers. “Come in the kitchen with me while the men visit.”
“Mamma,” Ethan suggested, “Maybe Jude would rather—”
“Of course he wouldn’t. Would you Jude?”
I was completely perplexed. “Babbo, do you want to sit in the kitchen with Mamma and listen to stories about me or do you want to watch baseball with me and Frank?”
I snorted. “I don’t know the first thing about baseball.” I darted my eyes to Frank. “No disrespect, Frank.”
“None taken,” Frank said. “Mamma loves to initiate new family members.”
Ethan pressed a kiss to my temple and then a peck on Mamma’s cheek. “Mamma, I like Jude. Don’t say anything that’s going to make him run for the hills.”
After Mamma seated me at the kitchen table, she asked, “Jude, what would you like to drink? I have juice, water, beer, and white wine opened. We’ll save yours for dinner.”
“Water would be fine, thank you.”
Mamma poured water from a pitcher in the refrigerator that had lemon and lime slices floating. She placed the glass in front of me and poured one for herself before sitting down.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“No, the lasagna has another fifteen minutes. I’ll put the bread under the broiler and then we’ll be ready to eat. Are you hungry?”
“Mmm,” I said. “I’ve been looking forward to today.”
“So,” Mamma began carefully, “he called you Babbo. Do you mind me asking what’s the significance?”
Shit, I did mind but I also didn’t want to piss her off.
I didn’t know what Ethan would want me to say so I told a half truth.
“No,” I said after a protracted pause. “You know that I’ve been a priest. So, when we first met Ethan addressed me as Father Jude.
As we got to know one another, he dropped the Jude and would call me father but as a…
nickname. And then it became more of an endearment after I quit.
But when I asked him to translate into Italian, well…
” I said, feeling the warmth of a blush blooming on my cheeks.
“Coming from Ethan with his accent, it sounded…”
“Romantic,” Mamma filled in.
“Yes,” I said holding her gaze.
“You’re in love with him, Jude,” she said as a statement.
“Oh no,” I said, too quickly. “We’ve only… met.”
I’d been fiddling with the edges of a bamboo runner that ran the length of the table. Mamma laid her hand on mine and stilled my fingers. “It’s all right to be scared. But if you are, he’s the best kind of man that you can get.”
“What do you mean by kind of man?”
“One who loves fiercely and completely if you’re given the chance to look beyond his fears,” Mamma said in explanation. “You make a good pair. You’ll hold each other up.”
I was just about to contradict her about me being scared when a woman who resembled Frank came in, followed by a woman with long blond hair tied back in a ponytail.
Her skin was flawless and her features delicate in stark contrast to who I assumed was Gabby, who was dark-haired with masculine vibes.
“Jude,” Gabby called from the archway and dashed toward me.
I jumped up just in time for Gabby to give me a tight hug. “And you’re Gabby, right? I see you in your father but there’s also a resemblance to your mother.”
“The Sicilian,” she chuckled. Then reaching for the woman with her, she said, “This is my wife, Belle.”
“Hello,” I said, still in a loose embrace before Belle spoke.
“Gabby, you might want to let him go,” she said with a hint of what was either jealousy or deference to me. “We’ve only met.”
“Oh, shit,” Gabby said and backed away. “Sorry, I’ve been so excited to meet you. Ethan’s been all googly eyed.”
“Gabby,” Ethan groused. “For f—” With a swift glance to Mamma, he amended his sentence. “For goodness’ sake, Mamma, do something with your daughter.”
“Nuh-uh,” Mamma said, shaking her index finger back and forth. “No longer within my purview. She’s Belle’s responsibility.”
“In another lifetime,” Belle sniffed.
Gabby gave her wife a warning glare, but Belle turned on her heel and walked out.
“Thanks, Ma,” Gabby said. “I have to go and make nice. You’d think she was the one with morning sickness.”
“Already? Seems early,” Mamma said to her daughter. “Do you want some chamomile tea?”
“I’ll make it,” I offered, desperately in need of something to do.
“Thanks,” Gabby said.
Ethan pushed Gabby out of the kitchen. “We’ll take the tea out to you when it’s done.”
“Sorry,” Ethan said to me. “Guess they’re still having problems.”
“No worries,” I said and filled the tea kettle that had been on the stovetop.
“Ethan, take out the lasagna so it can rest for a few minutes before I serve it.” Mamma asked as she began slicing a baguette, then buttering the pieces.
Ethan did as she asked and I smiled as he took in a lungful of the delicious aroma as he put the large rectangular baking dish on a cooling rack.
The water was boiling, and I stirred the tea bag in a mug that I plucked off from the rack on the counter.
Ethan handed me two packets of plant-based sugar substitute. When I was finished, he said, “Why don’t you take it into the dining room, I’ll help in here to bring out the food.”
I had the sense that Ethan wanted to talk privately with Mamma.
Belle’s rude behavior probably wasn’t appreciated in a home where everyone watched out for each other.
I wondered if Belle was upset with her wife about something or if she’d taken an instant disliking to me after Gabby hugged me.
Now I understood Ethan’s warning about Belle’s erratic behavior.
Inside the dining room Frank was standing behind the chair at the head of the table.
He gestured toward one for me and I mimicked his stance.
Belle and Gabby were grumbling at each other but finally took their places as Ethan carried in the lasagna and then went back for the bread.
The wine I’d brought was already on the table.
Mamma came in last with a large, wooden salad bowl.
“Ethan, please get Belle’s dinner.” Then to me she said, “Belle’s vegan and my lasagna is packed with beef and sausage meatballs.”
“Thank you,” Belle said to Mamma.
When Ethan returned, he set a casserole dish by Belle’s plate and then took the chair next to mine. Mamma went to the end of the table, facing her husband.
Frank scanned the table and then landed on me. “Jude, every Sunday is our weekly family dinner. Your man Ethan has been part of our family going on two and a half years and we couldn’t be happier that he wanted us to meet you. We don’t say a prayer,” Frank added apologetically.
“I don’t either, Frank,” I said. “I find there’s no meaning when it gets rote.”
“Ditto that,” Gabby said.
“Anyway,” Frank continued, “we all have to say one thing that we’re grateful for. I’ve already said mine. It’s having you here with us.”
Ethan was to the right of Frank. “I’m grateful that you always find it in your heart to welcome someone new into the family. Thank you.”
I was next so I took Ethan’s hand and held it to my heart. “I’m grateful for the day that a stranger to the parish walked into my confessional to introduce himself.”
Everyone tittered except Belle who said, “But you were still a priest.”
“Belle,” I said calmly, “Anyone is welcomed in the confessional. Saying more than that would be going against my oath for inviolability.”
“But I was referring to you, not Ethan,” Belle said.
Ethan squeezed my hand and when I looked at him for advice, he said, “Feel free to speak up for yourself, Jude.”
I felt thankful for that in itself. “Belle, I don’t know you well enough to have a conversation about my personal decisions.”