Chapter 19 Rosalia & Antonella
ROSALIA & ANTONELLA
PLAYLIST: CAN’T PRETEND – TOM ODELL
Rosalia
Ihave done many questionable things in my life, and I have never asked myself whether any of them were right or wrong. This here, I know it is wrong. It is wrong from here to heaven, to hell, and back.
It is wrong. It is reckless. It is the one mistake I have made in my life, and there is no way back.
“Rose,” she breathes out. She uses my short name for the first time. “I am sorry that I killed your son,” she whispers. My chest clenches. How dare she bring up—
“I am sorry that he tried to touch me, and I defended myself. I am sorry I took him from you. I did mean to kill him, but I did not mean to hurt you.”
Her words wander into my chest, and I feel.
I feel so much. A single tear fights its way over my cheek.
I wish to run. To outrun all the things I feel.
She took him. But she didn’t mean to hurt me.
And I cannot hate her anymore. I cannot hate, because all I do is feel.
Feelings that crush me. Feelings I buried in coldness, distance and pain.
“I do not know how to be gentle,” I whisper against her lips. The woman in my touch with those lips I long for. “I don’t know how to be gentle, because all I ever knew is pain.”
She smiles against my lips and brushes away the tear.
“You are right now,” she whispers. “That is where you start. And the rest? I can teach you—you just need to be willing to listen.”
She is so young, yet wiser than I am, despite all those years of age.
“Teach me,” I say and close my eyes. My chest tightens the moment the words come over my lips.
I retract slightly. A feeling I dislike spreads through me.
Asking someone so young for a lesson is something I never thought would happen.
I shift uncomfortably, and I feel the need to retract further.
Away. To hide. Because I feel less of a woman.
I am Rosalia Vittare.
I don’t hide.
I feel less because of her.
Her hand grasps mine.
Touch.
Her touch.
I look at our hands touching, up into her eyes.
She pulls me with her to the bed.
She sits on it, holding her chest.
Gasping slightly in pain.
“Are you—“
“Shhhh,” she says as she interrupts me. She lies down on the bed, with a pain-ridden face, but gesturing for me to lie down with her.
She lies on her back, and I lie down on my side, my head propped up on one elbow.
She puts my hand on her thigh.
“Caress,” she says, her head falls to the side. She watches me.
My hand does as told.
I caress over her thigh, slowly up and down, around it and up her inner thigh up to her sensible area. But I don’t touch it. I do what I was told to do.
Never did I believe this would happen.
But it does.
And I let it.
She grasps my jaw.
“Kiss me,” she says.
And I lean down with my elbow to kiss her.
A kiss that causes goosebumps to spread on my arms.
A kiss that could go on forever.
A kiss that I long for from the depths of my core.
My hand wanders from her thigh higher, up to her belly. I am close to grasping her when I remember she has been shot.
So I pull my hand back.
“Open my trousers,” she says.
I hesitate.
“Do it,” she says demandingly, and stops the kiss.
So I do it.
“Caress me,” she says as she looks in my eyes with a flicker of desire in hers.
I slide my hands into her trousers over her underwear. I grasp her through the fabric. She gasps.
“Caressing,” she says. “Not grasping.”
So I caress.
With two fingers. Softly.
She rolls her hips ever so slightly against my touch.
She puts her legs up and opens them slightly.
“More pressure,” she says, and one of her legs falls to the side onto me.
I take my entire hand and press it in a rolling movement over her folds and clit.
She closes her eyes.
“I’d tell you to kiss my body,” she says, rolling her hips in symbiosis with my movement.
A shudder runs through me.
“I tell you to nibble my neck,” she continues.
“Like that?” I ask and softly bite the spot above her collarbone, where the neck begins, up to her ear.
“Exactly like that,” she says and moans slightly.
The sound she makes stirs something in my core.
“I’d tell you to slap me, softly,” she says.
And I have to grin. Slapping is something I know.
So, I slap her cherry. Softer than I usually would.
Once.
She shudders, and a grunt escapes her.
“More,” she says.
And I slap her again.
And again.
A louder moan, and my core tingles.
“Make me come with your fingers,” she says.
I slip her underwear aside.
Touching her without the fabric—mhhhhm. I desire her.
I caress over her lips down there with slight pressure, before I circle around her clit with my middle and ring fingers. Slowly. This is not a race to the end. It is the exploration of a world I do not know exists.
“Enter me,” she says in a breath. I prop my head back on my elbow. I want to see her, watch her when I do.
I circle my fingers to her entrance.
“Tell me you really want this,” I say, and I do not know where these words come from. Never in my life have I asked for permission for anything.
“I want this,” she says. “I want you. And I want you to fuck me with your fingers.”
Roaring desire burns through my body, and my fingers enter her cave of lust. I cannot hold back.
She gasps, rolls her eyes back, and I am consumed by the sensation. I slide my finger in, slightly up and out.
Slowly.
Gentle, and yet demanding.
She grasps the sheets.
I have never seen anything sexier than this woman who moans, gasps and bears me her throat.
I don’t know what makes me do it, but when I open my mouth, words slip from it.
“I would kneel between your legs,” I say. “I would bend down and circle with my tongue around your clit while my fingers fuck you, again, and again and again.”
“Yes,” she breathes out.
So I slip my fingers out, kneel and pull off her trousers and underwear. I lean down and enter her again with my fingers, only now I dig my head into her.
My tongue finds her clit, and I circle around it. She tastes as extraordinary as the finest wine.
“Oh gods,” she says with a shivering voice as she grasps my head.
She rolls her hips once more, and then, a shudder trembles through her body, her core clenches around my fingers, and a deep moan rolls through her body.
I stop my tongue and kiss her instead, over her pubic area and from there to her inner thigh.
I push myself up and slide my finger out of her.
She looks at me with rose cheeks and glittering eyes. A grin on her face, softly biting her bottom lip.
And I cannot stop my mouth from tugging into a smile. I do not even know the last time I genuinely smiled. Not this year. Probably not this decade.
I frame this moment in my mind before I let myself fall onto my elbow next to her.
She turns her face to me, and before I realise what she does, she takes my hand and brings it up to her mouth. She opens it and sucks the fingers with her own juices in such a luscious way that my lips part from watching.
“See,” she says when she is done. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
I have nothing to answer, so instead, I kiss her.
A kiss that will be my death eventually, but it is also a kiss worth dying for.
Antonella
“What are you doing to me, Antonella Amato?” she whispers against my lips between two kisses.
“It’s Capo Antonella Amato,” I say with a grin. “And I will make you mine.”
Because I am not that ball of anxiety named Sophie anymore. I have been living in the future my entire life. Everything I have done, everything has been about the future. But I don’t care about the future anymore.
Since I became who I am now, Capo Antonella Amato, I am not scared of the future anymore, because I am too busy being in the now.
Because this moment right here, this is the only real thing I want to think about.
Because I love my life here. I blossom in doing what I do. And I burn for the woman in my touch.
Sophie would’ve never dared speak those words. Antonella does. Because Antonella is daring, and knows what she wants and who she is—and she takes it.
“You already own me,” she whispers against my lips. “I was yours the moment I stopped. The moment I shattered my own soul, because you were more important than all the power I wanted to take.”
My fingers caress the side of her face.
“We will be each other’s death,” I say as I brush through her hair.
“Let us burn the world before,” she says, and kisses me.
Not the world. But the patriarchy, I think to myself. Because I like this wonderful planet. And I will show her how beautiful it is.