Chapter 9 Constantine
Constantine
I woke up bright and early like I did every morning, and Aurelia was already on her side, the big shirt she wore scrunched around her hips, her panties gone because she’d never put them back on after last night.
I was a man in his prime, and sex was better than coffee, so I slid inside from behind, my arm hooked around her thigh to hold it up for her as I thrust. She slowly woke up, her breathing deepening, her moans raspy because she was still half asleep.
I finished within a minute, because this was just a means to an end, and then I left her there and slipped out to head to the gym.
I did my workout, showered when I got back, and then headed into town to visit Rosticceria Da Cristina.
We had two locations, one that was only a takeaway spot, and the other that was also a sit-down restaurant.
I headed to that one, knowing the family would be there to prepare for the day.
I walked past the window and saw my mother and Aunt Chiara in the kitchen, preparing the rice that would be used for the arancini. Other members of the kitchen staff were there, preparing for the rush that would happen the second we opened.
The door was unlocked, so I let myself inside. “Need a hand?” I hadn’t spent as much time with them as I should have, but I had a distraction in my bed that very moment . . . and she was quite the distraction.
Mom looked up from her work on the table, and her eyes lit up at the sight of me like they always did when she saw me. “That’s my boy.”
I washed my hands in the sink, then gloved up before I joined them at the table, giving each of them a kiss on the cheek.
After working there as a kid, I knew exactly what to do to prepare the ingredients to be molded into a ball before it was fried, the rice, cheese, and vegetables warm on the inside, the surface crispy and strong enough to contain the contents.
“Haven’t seen you much, Con.” Aunt Chiara kept her eyes down on her work, and her tone was accusatory—like always.
My mother and her sister were two peas in a pod, and after losing both of their husbands, they were even closer.
The matriarchs of the family, the ones running the restaurants and hosting family dinners on the weekends.
I smirked as I rolled the balls of rice mixed with pistachio pesto and cheese together before piling them on the pan to be coated with the breadcrumbs. “Gotten sidetracked.”
“By?” my mother pressed.
Shit, they knew.
I ignored the question as I worked across the enormous table, other staff members working on the dough for the pizzas in the other kitchen. “You know how it goes.”
Aunt Chiara looked up from her work, giving that powerful stare that used to scare me as a boy. Like she could apply enough pressure to break a skull with just her eyes. All the while, she continued to work on the arancini . . . which made it all the more impressive. “Who’s the girl, Con?”
My smile widened. “Nothing gets past you two, huh?”
“It’s a small town,” Mom said. “And according to everyone in it, you’ve taken her everywhere.”
My eyes stayed down on my work, the smile still stretched across my mouth. “Well, like you just said, it’s small.” Now I felt both women staring at me, abandoning their work to give me that third degree.
I worked until the bowl was empty, and then I carried it to the sink so the dishwasher could take care of it later. I ripped off my gloves and tossed them in the trash.
They both stood there, demanding details in their lethal silence.
I chuckled. “If the restaurant goes under, the two of you can easily make a career of getting people to pay their debts with looks like that.”
“What’s her name?”
“Is she from Taormina?”
“She comes from a good family?”
“Does she go to church?”
They fired off a series of questions so fast I couldn’t answer them all even if I wanted to. “Her name is Aurelia, and that’s all I’m giving you.”
My mom continued to stare me down. “Umberto says she’s very beautiful.”
“Oh, she is.” I came back to the table and couldn’t contain my smile, not even in front of these two meddlers.
“First time we’ve heard about you and a girl, Con,” Aunt Chiara said.
I conducted my personal life in the privacy of Rome.
Taormina was a tiny place and everyone knew everyone, so it was impossible to have a private life.
So I was never seen with anyone in the village, and if I did meet someone at the bar, it was a onetime thing.
I kept my life private because I didn’t want my mother pestering me about settling down, and I also did it out of respect.
But with Aurelia . . . it all just happened.
“Son.” My mom changed her tone slightly, deepening it, a clear warning that one of those talks was coming. “You’re in your thirties now. Keep dragging your feet, and all the good women will be taken. Who will have your children then?”
I gave a slow nod to placate her. “Yes, Mother.”
“It’s time to settle down. Time to move back to Taormina. Be close to family. Have a son of your own.” She continued on and on, reminding me of the importance of family and God, that I’d lost my way from everything that mattered.
I was tired of hearing this speech every couple of months, but I held my tongue like the good son I was. “I will consider it, Mother. Thank you.”
“Invite her to dinner,” Aunt Chiara asked. “We want to see just how beautiful she is.”
“I’ll think about it.” Like I’d put Aurelia through that misery.
“So, this is serious?” Mom pressed, holding on to an invisible string of hope.
“That’s not what I said.”
“But you said you would think about it,” Aunt Chiara said. “Which means that it’s possible.”
I chuckled. “You guys should be detectives.” I stepped away and walked into the other room. My sister Beatrice was there with my cousin Antonio. She was talking about her kids, but she halted mid-sentence when I walked in the door.
“Con.” Her mouth melted into a smile that reminded me of my mother’s, just decades younger, cheeks fuller. She moved into me and gave me a hard hug. “What brings you here?”
“Wanted to help out.” I kissed her on the cheek before I greeted Antonio. “I haven’t seen you guys much this week.”
“That tends to happen when you get a girlfriend . . .” Beatrice wore that knowing smirk as she returned to the large bowl on the counter and measured the salt, pepper, and basil before tossing it all inside.
So the entire town knew.
My eyes shifted to Antonio, and he shrugged as he continued to roll the pizza dough on the counter.
“So, tell us about her.” Beatrice stirred the pot of hand-crushed tomatoes before she carried it to the stove and turned it on low so it could slowly come to a simmer.
I leaned against one of the counters, arms crossed over my chest. “I just got grilled by two hardcore detectives out there.”
“And we’re worse,” she said. “So fess up.”
“I never talk about the women in my life, so I’m not sure why you expect me to talk about one now.”
“Oh, come on.” My sister rolled her eyes. “You’ve never paraded anyone through Taormina where you know everyone will see you. So this is different, and you know it is.”
My gaze shifted back to Antonio.
He gave another shrug, telling me I was on my own.
I looked at my sister again, knowing I shouldn’t bother to fight it.
I had been caught red handed, and they would all continue to dig until they uncovered every piece of information and there was nothing left.
“I met Aurelia a couple days ago. I didn’t expect anything to come from it . . . but I like her.”
When I returned to the room, I found her on the back patio, lying in the lounger, reading on a device. She wore the bottom of a bright-blue bikini, but her top was missing, like she wanted to get sun directly on her tits.
I stared at her through the patio window, and that was all it took to make me hard.
The outdoor table held old dishes, like she’d ordered breakfast for herself in my absence.
I opened the door and stepped onto the patio, and she stirred at the sound of the door, sunglasses on the bridge of her nose. It was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky, perfect for the outdoor patio. “Hey.” I sat on the lounger beside her.
“Hey.” She hooked her sunglasses back over her head, and the bright playfulness in her eyes was magnetic.
Flirtatious and affectionate, she moved her hand over my arms, and then she leaned in and kissed me nice and slow—like she wanted me to fuck her right on that patio.
She slipped her hand underneath my shirt and up my chest before she brought it back down again, moving it over the front of my jeans to feel the outline of my rock-hard dick.
This woman.
She unzipped my jeans and popped them open so she could tug my boxers forward and let my dick come free. She dipped her head, her ass moving proudly into the air, and then she ate my dick like it was slathered in cream.
I dug my hand into her hair and reclined in the lounger, feeling the Sicilian sunshine and smelling the Mediterranean sea air. My dick was enveloped in her warm mouth and then sheathed in her throat.
I wanted her in my lap with her tits in my face, but getting my dick sucked on the patio was nice too. I lay back with my head propped on my arm and just enjoyed it, felt my breaths become shaky, felt every muscle in my core tighten because she gave the best head.
But then I wondered how wet she was, how tight.
I gripped her neck and I pulled her back, my dick slapping against my stomach when it left her pretty lips. I tugged her into me, telling her I wanted her in my lap, ass in my hands.
She climbed on top of me, pointed my length at her entrance, and then slid down . . . nice and slow.
I squeezed her cheeks in my hands before I guided her up and down, feeling her slickness coat me over and over, doing my best to be quiet because the walls that separated the patio from my neighbors’ were made of tile and not stone.
With her beautiful tits in my face, I watched her bounce on my length, watched her work to stay quiet as she fucked me, as she enjoyed every inch of this dick that was rock hard at just the sight of her.
We ended up in bed, our fucking too loud outside, and I took her on the foot of the bed before we finished in a frenzy, clinging to each other and moaning and panting, utterly fucking desperate.
Then we lay on the bed together, a trail of clothes from the open patio door to the bed, the sunshine coming in and reaching the hallway across the bedroom.
She didn’t ask me where I’d been. Her eyes looked heavy, like she was so relaxed she might fall asleep. Her makeup was already smeared from the workout we’d just done.
“Ready for lunch?”
She opened her eyes and looked at me, the sweat on her body already gone. Her nipples hardened like she was already cold in the air that came from the AC. “What did you have in mind?”
“Pizza.”
“Ooh, I love pizza.”
I took her to La Napoletana, a famous pizza spot far off the main path. The outdoor terrace was covered in white tables and chairs. Family friends ran the restaurant, so of course this would get back to my mother and aunt.
Like I gave a damn.
Humberto came to the table and greeted me warmly. “Your aunt told me you were back in town.”
“Here for a couple more days,” I said. “Humberto, this is—”
“Aurelia.” He wore a full smile as he turned his attention on her, taking her hand as if in a handshake but just holding it instead, looking into her beautiful face so he could repeat all the details back to the detectives. “Lovely to meet you.”
“You too,” she said with a somewhat awkward smile.
Humberto turned back to me and winked at me—right in front of Aurelia.
Very sly.
We finished our small talk, and I ordered our pizzas. When Humberto left and it was just the two of us at the table, the heaviness settled over both of us.
She looked at me but didn’t interrogate me. Didn’t strike like a viper—like some people that I knew.
“I was with my family this morning.” I decided to get ahead of it so she didn’t have to wonder.
“They’ve heard about you from people who have seen us together.
So, naturally, they were curious.” Curious wasn’t even the right word.
I’d thought my aunt Chiara was going to fight me for information in the middle of that kitchen.
“I know how that goes. If my mother were alive, she’d want all the details about this little fuck-cation.”
I grinned. “Fuck-cation?”
“Yep.” She said it unapologetically.
And I liked that. “Have you mentioned this to your friends?”
“No.” Her good mood slowly deflated like a balloon with a minuscule hole poked in the exterior.
“I haven’t even told them about Enzo. I just didn’t feel like getting into it yet.
I’m not ready to hear the I told you sos or feel their pity or talk about where I’m going to live next and all that bullshit. ”
I felt like an ass for bringing it up. “Well, this is the best fuck-cation I’ve ever had.
” I said something to make the conversation lighthearted once again.
To bring her back into the moment, not in the future or the past. I had never actually done this with anyone before.
I had flings and short-term situationships, but nothing like this.
It worked, because light slowly returned to her eyes.
“Me too. Well, it’s the only fuck-cation I’ve ever had, but if I ever have another one, I’m sure it’ll pale in comparison to this.
” She grabbed her can of soda and took a drink.
“I hope I’m not taking too much of your time.
I know you’re here to see your family, and I don’t want to get in the way of that. ”
“You aren’t. To be honest, I’m not just here to see them.”
“Then what else are you here for?” She took another drink of her soda.
When she’d asked me what I did for a living, I was intentionally vague. I didn’t want to share something that sensitive with a stranger, with a woman I wouldn’t ever see again. But that was days ago, and she was still here. “Work.”
“Oh.” When she got quiet, she showed her hand, that she suspected my occupation was serious.
She’d probably connected some of the dots, my strength and my wealth, the fact that I said very little about it.
She didn’t pry, either because she didn’t want to know more or she knew I didn’t want to share.
“I have something to take care of tonight. Not sure when I’ll be back.” That was why I’d taken her out to lunch, because I’d be unavailable for the evening. I didn’t want to invite her to my room just to be absent the entire day.
“It’s no problem.” She still didn’t ask. “The room service menu looks pretty phenomenal, so I’ll be just fine.” She tried to force some playfulness into her words, but it fell flat. It was clear she was nervous, but it wasn’t clear why.
Because she didn’t want to make me feel guilty for leaving her?
Or because she was scared?