Chapter 14 Maria
He was a source of infinite pleasure. With my eyes closed, I could feel his presence like that of a sun, his warmth all over me, his light drowning me in sexual ecstasy.
What had started in the living room quickly moved to the bedroom.
We lay on the enormous California King bed, its soft mattress making us sink within.
I lay between his legs as he lay between mine.
It felt right to do this. To please each other with our mouths.
I had his cock in mine, and was sucking on it slowly, taking my time.
He licked along my pussy, making me writhe with pleasure.
An hour ago, we had exhausted most ways in which two people can have sex. We’d cycled through every pose each of us knew. And after we’d orgasmed, we realized that we were not done with each other just yet.
We lay in the bed facing opposite sides, our limbs coiled together, gently cresting toward pleasure, reaching close to it, but stopping before we could cum again.
I lay on my stomach, propping a pillow under my pelvis so that he could enter me from behind.
I lay with my arms outstretched, my fingers squeezing the mattress and the sheets as he entered me from behind and went deep, his hands resting on my hips, his cock firmly throbbing against my walls.
I parted my legs even wider, allowing him to go deeper, and deeper.
He was madness. He was untamable. I loved him the way he was. And to think that I hadn’t said it out loud to him.
“Oh, Elio,” I said as he fucked me harder. “Elio, baby, I’m coming! I’m coming!”
He groaned behind me, and then went stiff and still, only his cock moving, pulsating wildly inside my pussy, coming inside for the second time that night. Needless to say, we’d christened the hell out of this place.
As we lay tired in each other’s arms, I sat up and looked at him, smelling of him, soaked in his sweat.
And then I said the words I’d been waiting to say.
I could no longer wait to say them. He was this handsome, powerful, muscular, intelligent man who had somehow come into my life and filled it with excitement, wonder, and thrill.
I loved him. There was no convincing me otherwise.
“I love you,” I said, kissing him on the lips. “I’ve been suspecting myself of falling in love with you for some time. But I can now safely say, Elio Romano, that you have swept me off my feet, made me swoon, and made a woman out of me.”
He ran his hand along my back, reached my ass, and then squeezed it, a brief glimmer of mischief on his face. “Thanks, but I just see you as a friend.”
I slapped him on the chest, bursting out laughing, resting my head on his chest.
“I love you so much, Maria,” he said, holding me close, holding me tight. “And I’d never lose you. I’ll make sure of that.”
He didn’t ask me, but I wanted to do it for him anyway. I made him breakfast: eggs Benedict, sausages, toasted bread, orange juice, and a cup of coffee. He had a long day of travel before he’d reach Seattle. And then he’d be working overtime until the sales would close.
“Aw, babe,” he said, kissing me on my forehead as he sat down beside me, both of us eating breakfast like an old married couple, and to think that it had only been two weeks since we’d known each other. “Thanks for this.”
“You sound worried,” I said, reaching for his hand.
“Can I be honest? I’m scared. The previous sale, the one that went through and effectively made me a millionaire, was a referential sale courtesy of our fathers.
Like that was our in. These new guys, the ones we’re pitching to, they don’t know us from Adam.
They’re Swedish businessmen who have come to Seattle to purchase these yachts.
Some kind of an elite adventure club. They want to take these yachts, sail them across to Europe—that whole thing.
If this sale goes through, we’ll be the name in town.
Anytime someone wants to buy a luxury yacht, they come to us.
If we don’t make this sale, then it was all a fluke.
That’s what I’m worried about. Also, I don’t even know how to speak Swedish.
I’m going to get this translator, and that makes it twice as difficult. ”
“What about the product? Is it good?”
“It’s Reinhold, the best yacht maker in the business.
But it’s also the fact that these billionaires, they’re not looking for the best in the business.
They’re looking for glamour, they’re looking for pomp, circumstance, flash over substance.
Now, to convince someone that these yachts are so durable that they’ll require little to no upkeep over the next decade, and that they’re your best bet in a storm—that’s kind of difficult to do so when they want flashy yachts for their dick measuring contests in Monaco. ”
“Well, you can start by telling them that,” I said, kissing him on the cheek.
“And you’ve got this. You’re going to make those sales.
Remember what I said? You’re coming up in the world.
You’re going to face challenges, yes, but you’re also going to win big.
That’s the thing with high risk, high reward.
You’re not alone, either. You’ve got your entire team. They’ll be there, won’t they?”
“Seeing as how every single one of them has put their money into buying Reinhold shares, yes, they’re all going to be there,” he said.
“My boyfriend, the luxury yacht salesman. I like that way more than you being the next don,” I said, laughing. He laughed, but then he became serious.
“My father started out as a salesman. Concrete. Building material. The mafia thing happened because that was how things were back then. You had to look out for your own. Racial tensions, class differences, Italians, Irish, Scandinavian people all trying to melt in the same melting pot. You know what happens when different metals with different melting points are put in the same melting pot? A fuck up. The mafias of that time were a consequence of that fuckup. But now, things are different. There’s no longer a need for crime syndicates to operate.
There’s more diversity, more strength to the people, more resources, and more transparency.
My father needs to understand that the time of the Mafiosos is going to come to an end sooner or later,” he said.
“And I think some part of him knows that. Why? Because he never gave up his business in the first place. He still does that. It’s just all this illegal shit he picked up along the way that’s going to be his downfall. ”
“Have you ever tried sitting down with him and having this talk?” I asked. “The few times I’ve talked to him, he was quite reasonable.”
“I’d rather not think about him on this important day,” he said, getting up. “I have a flight to catch.”
“Not yet you don’t,” I said, getting up and wrapping my arms around his neck. I gave him a hearty kiss, a long one, until I was sure that he was not worried anymore. “All right, now you can leave.”
He gave me another quick kiss, took his briefcase, and checked his reflection in the wall mirror. He was wearing an expensive blue suit, looking every bit like royalty. It was in the way he walked, the way he turned his head, the way he looked at you. The man was charisma personified.
“You get home safe,” I said.
“You stay home safe, all right?” he said, then gave me a quick kiss on the cheek as he left.
I locked up after him and watched him get into the Maybach. He left with his friends, their entire cavalcade moving out of the street and headed to LaGuardia.
I cleaned up after breakfast, washed the dishes, and then thought about relaxing in front of the TV. The loft’s living room was so vast it made you feel like you were living in a waiting area of an airport. All by yourself. There was something so decadently luxurious about that.
I sat down with my cup of coffee in front of the TV, browsing my phone, thinking about the little vacation we’d planned after he’d come back.
He said he’d take me to the best place he’d ever been to.
When I pestered him about what place it was, he finally caved and told me that Belize was lovely this time of the year.
I protested that I didn’t want to go to Belize just yet.
Belize was a honeymoon destination. We should try something else.
And in the end, we came to a mutual decision to visit the Bahamas. It had something to do with the fact that the Beach Boys’ “Kokomo” was playing in the background when we were planning our travel itinerary.
I was still reminiscing about that day and what fun it had been when there was a knock at the door. It must’ve been Elio. He must have forgotten something. I looked around, wondering if in the panic of it all, he’d left his briefcase, but it was not there.
I went to the door and looked through the keyhole.
My jaw dropped, and my stomach coiled painfully.
Now what was I going to do?
Outside, all by himself, looking furious, stood Don Franco Romano.
“Open up, Maria. I know you’re inside,” he said in a gritty voice from the other side.
What was the protocol for this kind of situation? It was Elio’s apartment, and he was not on speaking terms with his dad, and yet his dad stood outside. Was I supposed to let him inside?
“Let us not stand on ceremony,” he said.
I hazarded a look through the hole again, hoping that I’d mistaken him the first time.
But no, there he was, standing in all his splendor, wearing a gray suit, a fedora, and holding a cane.
He was alone. That was what made things suspicious for me.
A don, perhaps the most powerful don in New York, standing there without his security detail. Without his consigliere.
I breathed deep and opened the door.
“I’m afraid you’ve just missed him,” I said, standing between him and the loft. He didn’t even look inside. “He’s gone to Seattle.”