Chapter 7
MADALINA
I hate that I’m sitting here in bed worrying that a man, who shows me no empathy, is not home yet. It’s been over twelve hours since Dario left, and I could tell that it was over something serious. He’s not answering his calls, nobody here seems to have any updates, and the fact I find myself concerned about him is beyond ridiculous.
I try to read, watch TV, and even speaking to Lorna on the phone doesn’t stop me from thinking of all the things that could be wrong. It reminds me of that night Nic didn’t come home three years ago, and how he’d lain under some old bridge, bleeding internally from the beating he’d taken.
Nic is always getting the shit taken out on him, our previous district was full of small-time gangsters who didn’t want to be managed. I’m hoping that my being married to Dario will change that, and the new district will be easier for him and my father to maintain.
What the hell is wrong with me? I hate the man, and I mean it. I really fucking hate him. He’s intolerable and unreasonable and the fact he knows how to pleasure a woman makes up for none of it.
I shouldn’t be worrying if he’s okay. I should be praying to God that he isn’t. At least that way all my troubles would be over. I’d much rather be his widow than his wife. So why is there a sinking feeling in my chest every time I think about him not coming home?
I slam my fist into my pillow making a dent for me to rest my head before I lie down, close my eyes, and try my best to get some sleep.
I stir awake when I hear music coming from downstairs, and when I see a white rose and a bottle of pills on the pillow beside me I pick them up and examine them. I don’t know how he managed to get them, or what changed his mind, but I assume they are a peace offering, and leaving them on the pillow, I pick up the rose and go in search of him.
I figure my best way to handle this is to be humble as I follow the music down the stairs, past the living room, and onto the corridor. I can’t imagine Dario admits to being wrong all that often, and I meant what I said at breakfast this morning. If this marriage is going to be bearable we both are going to have to make our sacrifices.
I find him in the room where the grand piano is, and I’m surprised to see that he’s the one playing it. I recognize the tune. I’m sure it’s something by Chopin, though I can’t recall which one. Music was never my strong point when I was at school.
I stand and watch him for a while, noting how he focuses on the keys, and how his bare shoulders tense as he moves his hands across them.
It seems Dario DeMarco puts his full effort into everything he does, and as I quietly creep up behind him I notice the blood-stained shirt that's on the floor and can’t help wondering who that blood belongs to.
There’s a sheen of sweat on his back and as I get close enough to look over his shoulders I see blood on one of the hands that are playing the tune so beautifully too. They eventually come to a stop and play the final chord, and when he goes to turn around I delicately place my hand on his shoulder.
“That was beautiful.” I smile at him, despite the look of anger he stares back at me with.
“My mother taught me to play before she…” He shakes his head as if he doesn’t want to think about the end of his sentence let alone say it, and I nod my head to let him know I understand.
“I was worried,” I admit, deciding that after receiving his gift, I should offer him something in return.
“There was no cause for concern.” He drops his head, refusing to make eye contact.
“I can see that.” Taking one of his hands in mine, I go to examine it for injury but he snatches it away from me.
“Don’t.” He shakes his head
“It’s fine, I’m not scared. Nic would always come home covered in bloo–”
“I don’t want you to touch it!” he snaps, looking up at me and almost seeming breathless as his dark eyes invade mine.
“Okay.” I nod my head and take my hand away.
“I came to thank you.” I decide to ignore the blood and show my appreciation as I hold the rose he left on my pillow up to my nose, and take in its scent. It smells fresh like it’s just been picked and I wonder if it came from the garden. “White roses, they represent friendship, right?” I smile as I take a seat on the piano stool beside him.
“They do.” He keeps his head down and keeps that serious look on his face .
“And is that what you want? To be my friend?” I smile to myself when I feel a glimmer of hope flutter in my chest.
“I figured it would be a good start,” he tells me, in that low, throaty growl that makes everything he says seem so desirable.
“It is a good start, ” I agree, deciding to let him know just how good when I slide my leg over his lap and straddle him.
“How soon will it take for the pills to work?” I ask, and when he reaches over my shoulder to get the crystal tumbler that's resting on top of the piano, I fear that he’s going to ignore my advances.
“The doctor says about a week.” I can tell from the look on his face that he’s not happy and once he’s taken a sip of his drink and placed it back, I show him how grateful I am when I place a kiss on his bearded jaw.
“Thank you,” I whisper, gasping in shock when he suddenly stands up, taking me with him, and making the piano keys clang as he places my ass on top of them. He keeps himself positioned between my legs, looking down my body as both his hands untie the waistband of my robe, then sliding it open he allows his fingers, including the bloody ones, to trail over my skin.
I don’t care if it’s wrong, or if they leave a mark. His touch, and how gentle it is tonight feels good. I tip my head back and allow myself to enjoy it while it lasts. Something cold touches my neck and when I open my eyes I see he has the glass in his hand pressed against me. The condensation from the ice coming through the glass leaves a trail on my skin and I hold my breath when he tilts it and allows some of the amber liquid to spill over me. His tongue quickly laps it up and it makes all my senses spike as he undoes his belt one-handed, and takes out his cock.
“Did you mean what you said?” he rasps, resting down the glass before taking a fist of my hair in one hand and sliding his cock through his palm with the other. “Were you really worried about me?” It almost sounds as if my answer could hurt him, and as I nod back at him, he seats me on his cock and pushes it gently inside me. I sigh in relief and pleasure at the same time as our eyes stay fixed on each other and I feel something shift between us. Something that I never imagined would be possible.
The disjointed sounds that the keys make as he moves my hips to meet his thrusts don’t distract us from the moment we’re sharing. The tug he makes on my hair is painful enough to provoke that thrill that comes with his pain, and within minutes I’m coming all over his piano as he watches me with his usual scrutiny and intent.
He picks up his pace, his thrusts becoming faster and harder and when I sense that he’s getting close, I start to panic. His actions tonight, despite the blood on his hands have far surpassed my expectations, I don’t want him to lose control and ruin it now.
“Are going to take this in your mouth, pretty girl?” he asks, gripping my hair and tugging my head to one side so I feel his breath on my neck. Pathetically, I like the way it sounds when he calls me that.
“You don’t want me to come in your pussy while it’s unprotected, so are you going to drop to your knees and show me your tongue?”
I nod my head as he pulls out of me and automatically sink to my knees.
“Stick out that tongue, show me where you want it.” He pulls himself through his fist hard as I open my mouth for him. “You’re so pretty when you're obedient. You want me to come for you?” he asks and I nod my head again because I really do.
“Good girl, stick it out far as you can.” He grips my hair tight and forces me closer, resting his cock on my tongue and tapping it with his thick, heavy tip.
“ Yes … fuck !” His body tenses as he releases his warm seed all over my tongue and coats the back of my throat. I swallow him down as he uses his hold on me to force his cock all the way inside my mouth, so I choke on it.
There's far more of his cum than I expected, and when it starts to leak from my lips, Dario pulls out of me and crouches in front of me. He smiles as he admires the tears streaming down my face that he caused by choking me. His thumb brushes them away before his fingers gather the cum that drips from my lips, and forces it back into my mouth. I don’t know what has this man so obsessed with having his cum stuffed inside me, but I embrace it as I suck his fingers.
He stares back at me as if I’ve confused him, and when he stands up and offers me his hand I smile as I take it.
“You should get yourself cleaned up.” I slide my thumb over his knuckles, realizing that they are split open and wondering again what happened tonight.
“Goodnight, Madalina.” He kisses my forehead before gesturing his eyes to the door for me to leave.