EROE

St. Andrews: A Sabato Origin Story

Ties of Steel Book 3 

By

MJ Fields

Copyright © MJ Fields 2015

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of MJ Fields, except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

1st Edition Published: March 2015

Published by MJ Fields

Cover Design by: K23 Designs

Cover Model: Bryant Wood

Photographer: Scott Hoover

Edits by: Veronica Park

Thank you for downloading/purchasing this eBook. This eBook and its contents are the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied, and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download/purchase their own copy. Thank you for your support.

*Disclaimer*

This book contains mature content not suitable for those under the age of 18. Involves strong language and sexual situations. All parties portrayed in sexual situations are adults over the age of 18.

All characters are fictional. Any similarities are purely coincidental.

Table of Content

Raining Glass

Ragusa

Syracuse, Italy

Eighteen

The Dance

So much For the Afterglow

Together

Coming soon

Tanti auguri a te
tanti auguri a te
tanti auguri a Sabato
tanti auguri a te

Raining Glass

Sicily

May 27th, 1993

(Age 7)

“Sabato, venire qui!” Mama laughs as I look up at  “The Death of the Adonis.” “Perché you always come back to this pittura every time?”

She kneels down next to me and takes my hand.

“Tell me, Sabato.” Her voice is soft, and she’s stopped laughing. “I want to understand.”

“The man is...bleeding.” I struggle to find the words. The English feels clumsy in my mouth. “The women and child... sono tristi.... The dogs, sono tristi, troppo.”

Mama doesn’t say anything for a long time then. She just stays beside me, holding my hand.

“Mama, do you think papa è triste, troppo? We been gone for a long time. Is he...do you think he misses us?”

It’s the first time I’ve asked about my father¸ since we left. At seven years old, I don’t understand a lot. But I understand that my father is not a good person.  I might not understand why, but I know that he makes Mama cry.

And I also know that when he finds us, he will make her cry again.

“Sabato, are you happy?”

“Yes, of course Mama.” I say, very fast, so she will know how much I mean it. “I am always happy when I’m with you.”

At that Mama smiles, and the whole world lights up. My Mama is a beautiful woman. Tall and thin, but also strong. Her long, dark hair looks just like la Santa Vergine.

“You are prettier than she is,” I tell her, pointing at the “Maestà.” Like the Holy Mother, my mother is almost as pretty as she is sad. I know their faces well, because we live so close to the Uffizi Gallery. It’s just down la strada from our little apartment.

But Mama doesn’t smile at my compliment—instead, she looks like she might cry. “You are such a sweet, sweet boy, Sababto. I am so proud of you.”

I smile, but I’m confused. My chest swells with pride, even as my heart squeezes. I don’t know what I did to make her proud of me. But whatever it is, I want to do it again. So I go back to The Adonis.

“Mama, do you like him?”

“If you like him, I do, too.”

We both stare at the naked man, lying dead with all the naked ladies around him.

“I think he was happy before he was hurt,” I tell her, softly.

“Why do you say that, my son?”

“Because I feel my smile on the inside when I make you happy. He has four women with him. He has two dogs, and an angel, Mama. I want four women, just like him.”

She laughs, but then she looks sad again. “I want you to have whatever makes you happy, son. One woman may be enough, I bet.”

I hold her hand a little tighter.

“You are enough for me, Mama.”

Another laugh, this one stronger. “You are my eroe, Sabato.” She takes off her necklace, holds it up and kisses it. “I would gladly go to the croce, for you.” She hugs me tight, and I feel that she is telling the truth. “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much too, Mama.”

The room shakes. The world around us explodes. My ears fall deaf.

Mama’s arms surround me, as my back hits the floor beneath us. I try to look up, but she tucks my head under her chest, as it begins raining glass.

I don’t know how long I lay still under Mama, holding my breath, until it stops. When I finally try to get up, my ears are still ringing, and Mama is frozen. I try to move her, but her head rolls to one side, and there’s blood running from her nose and mouth.

I close my eyes and cry, because Mama is hurt, and everything is all wrong. I am her eroe, her hero. I am supposed to be the one who saves her.

Just like the man in the picture.

***

I sit next to a policeman in the hotel down the road, watching as the sun sets. The building is still surrounded with fire trucks, ambulances, and police vehicles. They can’t save Mama, they tell me.  But to me, it seems like they don’t even try. When they ask for my name, I won’t answer them. They are strangers. I am not supposed to talk to strangers—especially strangers who won’t help my mama.

I hate them. I hate them, and no matter how many times they ask, I don’t tell them my name. I hate them, and wish glass would rain on them, and no one would help them. I hate them, and someday, when I am bigger, and stronger, I will make them pay.

I tell this to the policeman, but he only shakes his head and looks at me, like...sono tristi.

A woman walks in, and motions to the policeman. I hear her say Mama’s name. Then I hear my father’s name: Salvatore Efisto.

The way the policeman’s face screws up when he hears my father’s name makes me a little less sad. He looks afraid. Good, because I hate him.

He comes back to sit next to me.

“Son, is Salvatore Efisto really your father?”

I look up at him and scowl.

“Yes, and he is going to make you pay for not helping my mama.”

“No one could, son.” He puts his hand on my shoulder.

“Take your hand off me!”

“Son,” he says, again.

“I am not your son!”

He looks at me with more sadness. But I don’t care. Let him be sad. As for me, I will be angry, and I will have my revenge.

What seems like many hours later, my father walks in with an old woman and some men walking behind him. I remember the one named Benito.

He was kind to me, long ago. I remember that, too. I go to him, arms open, tears already swimming in my eyes. He will help me feel safe, I think. He will tell me it is going to be all right, that my father is here to help Mama. But when I reach Benito, he holds his hands up, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Not now.”

“But....” Tears escape to trickle down my face.

“Maria, get him out of here,” my father says. He doesn’t even look at me. The woman—Maria—I remember her, a little. She was my nanny, before. She holds her hand out for me to take. I don’t take it. I look at my father, wanting more than anything for him to be the one to comfort me.

But even more than that, I want him to be dead. I want to trade his life for Mama’s, and see her standing in his place. The moment I think it, my heart hurts.

She is really gone. I am alone in the world, with no one to care for me, except Father.

And he won’t even let his servants hug me.

RAGUSA

17

May 27th, 2003

I watch out the window of the Dean’s Office as father’s car pulls up to the front. A uniformed driver opens the back door, and my father steps out, with about as much attitude as I assume Christopher Columbus had setting foot on North America for the first time—as if laying claim to it, the way he always does with everything.

He’s dressed the same as always. Dark suit, wing tip shoes, impenetrable sunglasses covering his eyes. His dark hair is slicked back, impervious to the wind. He walks towards the door with a patented sureness—because, remember, he might as well own the place—even though I’m the one who’s called it ‘home’ for the past ten years.

I’m already in the hall waiting, when he rounds the corner. My heartbeat kicks up a notch as I wait for him to remove his sunglasses and put them in his pocket; slowly, deliberately, like a surgeon putting away his scalpel after gutting some poor asshole.

Never mind the fact that I’m the poor asshole here—and he hasn’t even started gutting yet.

As he approaches, I stand taller, milking every bit of my six foot frame, subconsciously showing off how much more muscular I am now than I was last year on my birthday, a year ago today.

He stops in front of me, and I brace myself for a sharp slap across the face. It’s always the first thing he does when he’s called here. It’s actually become kind of nostalgic for me—our own special father-son greeting.

“Did you do it?” He doesn’t step closer.

I nod, once. “Yes.”

His eyes narrow, nostrils flaring. Normally, this would intimidate me, maybe even bring on dark, stinky rings of pit sweat. But somehow, it doesn’t even bother me anymore.

He lets out a harsh, angry breath that grazes my face as he walks by me. Once he’s inside the office, he slams the door.

The old building’s walls are too thin to hold onto their secrets, though, so I settle myself back against the wall to listen.

“This is his tenth offense,” Dean Greco tells him. His voice comes out a bit stronger than last time and I almost laugh out loud.  Finally, the man’s balls must have dropped.

“This time, it was my vehicle he stole. And wrapped around a tree.”

My father’s tone sees the dean’s anxiety and raises zero fucks. “Then you will explain to the rest of the faculty that he was running an errand for you.”

I can hear a sound like air being let out of a tire, all high-pitched and wheezing. “But...but that was the excuse last year, the reason why your son borrowed,” Greco whines. “...my assistance vehicle.”

Translation: his golf cart, which he needs, for his morbid obesity.

“And no questions were asked. Were they?”

“It’s not going to fly this time, don’t you understand? People know who he is around here, and more importantly who his father is. It doesn’t matter that I have never accepted a dime offered by your... your organization—and I will not start now—but you must see that appearances....”

“Appearances? Who the hell do you think you are talking to?”

The rage I was expecting to fall on me suddenly unleashes full force on Dean Greco. I almost feel bad for him. Almost.

“I mean no disrespect, sir. But...I do want to point out that this...this kind of thing seems to happen every year on the same date. The day your wife—”

“You do not need to remind me of today’s significance. You know nothing. Nor is it any of your business to know.”

“I apologize. I am just saying that I’m not trying to be unsympathetic to your situation. I can imagine how difficult it was to lose your w—”

“Enough! Enough excuses. I’m a very busy man. Just give me a number, Dean. How much will it cost to make this go away?”

There’s a long moment of silence, during which I hold my breath, waiting to see if Greco will puff up or deflate.

Finally, inflation happens. “I’m sorry, Mr. Efisto. But there is no other way. Sabato is being expelled.”

“You cannot be serious. He has one year left!”

“It could be worse.” I can clearly imagine the weasely, passive-aggressive look on Greco’s face. “I could be pressing charges.”

“Are you threatening me?” My father’s laughter booms through the air, sharp and cold.

“Of course not, sir, I—”

“Oh, I hope you are ready to live with the choice you just made, Dean Greco. Because there will be no going back.” I hear the door open and scramble away from the wall before my father walks out.

He doesn’t even look in my direction, just heads for the exit. “Let’s go.”

“Now?” In spite of what I just heard, I feel shock. “But I need to pack.”

“Get in the car. We are leaving, right this—”

I take off, running toward the stairs. I’ve always been fast, but this time I also have familiarity with the terrain on my side. Once in my room, I grab a bag and start throwing only my most valuable possessions in it: my mama’s cross, the blood stained shirt I wore seventeen years ago, and the folder of artwork that held the memories of who I could have been, had I been the eroe she needed that day. I keep nothing else, because nothing else matters.

I walk down the stairs and right past the dean, who just stands there, eyeballing me like the useless prick he is. I raise my hand, drawing a finger across my throat in the international gesture of ‘you’re fucking dead, buddy.’ Then I wink, just for fun. His jaw drops, and the sudden fear in his eyes gives me great satisfaction.

Outside, I take the steps of the crumbling staircase two at a time. My father is pacing in front of the car, veins protruding out of his neck. When I come to stand in front of him, he finally raises his hand to strike me. I grab it, stopping its swing in midair.

“Do not ever hit me again.”

He looks surprised, which quickly morphs to angry. His other fist cocks back and sucker punches me before I can stop it.

I can taste salt and metal in my mouth, but I don’t flinch away. My blood boils. I want to kick him, slap him, or at the very least punch him back. Instead, I grit my teeth and say, “That is the last time that will happen.”

“Or what?” His voice is amused, his face incredulous.

I don’t answer him. I simply stare him down, directly into his eyes, with all the hatred I have in me. And I wait.

For the first time in my life, he is the first one to look away.

SYRACUSE, ITALY

May 26th 2004

I stand on a cliff overlooking the sea below.

It’s warmer here. That much I like. We drove straight from Ragusa, after I got kicked out at the last place. I’ve been here in Syracuse, attending St. Andrews of the Holy Cross, ever since.

Saint Andrew is said to have been bound to a cross and crucified. I feel like I too have been bound for years, waiting for the day this miserable existence of mine ends.

Father made it clear that I wasn’t to fuck up this time.

I really want to though, just to prove to him that I am exactly who he thinks I am.

I only exist in his world to ruin his day, screw with his schedule, and embarrass him. I serve no other purpose. Maybe that’s why I am so incredibly spectacular at it.

Once again I hold her cross in my hand, wondering what it will feel like to die. What it felt like, for her to die. I hate that I wasn’t big enough, strong enough to protect her back then. Well, I’m strong now. Strong as steel, with a will of iron. If glass rained down on me today, I’m sure I would live through it. If I was like I am now back then, I would have covered her body with mine and saved her. The two of us would have survived together.

Maybe then survival would have actually meant something...more. More than just breathing, eating, sleeping, living, fighting, hating.... Something worthwhile.

“Hello?” The voice is coming from behind me. I turn and see a girl. A beautiful girl. Long black hair in curls, almond shaped eyes, tan skin, rosy red lips...a body much like the ones I fantasize about when I get myself off.

I nod to her, and she comes up to stand beside me.

“I can’t believe you can stand up here without throwing up. It gives me butterflies.” She holds her hand over her stomach. The fabric of the shirt bunches up and tightens around her breasts.

I’m not used to being around women. They make me...uncomfortable. So instead of saying anything, I just stare at her.

“Oh! How rude of me,” she says after a long, awkward moment. “I’m Luciana.” I keep staring at her until she blushes, smiles. “Forgive me for saying this, but you are a beautiful man. I can’t help but stare.”

It’s funny; I’m just thinking the same thing about her. My eyes drift down her face, back to her breasts.

“I...excite you?”

A quick intake of her breath tells me that I’ve startled her. Or maybe even scared her. I’m not sure.

“I have to go.” She turns to leave, but I reach out and grab her elbow.

“Why does that make you uncomfortable?”

“Sabato—”

Immediately, my curiosity turns to suspicion. “How do you know my name?”

Her pretty face turns a deeper shade of pink.

“Um, well...I see you at Mass...sometimes. On Saturdays.”

I can’t help noticing her nipples pushing against the fabric of her white blouse.

“I want to taste them.” I blurt, reaching for her with my other hand.

She steps back, eyes wide, shaking her head. “You can’t!”

I’ve been around long enough to know a lie when I hear one. “You want me to touch you just as badly as I want to.”

“I’ve never,” she looks down, pulling her arm away. I let her.

“That’s too bad.”

I turn away, looking down at the water.

“Have you?” Her voice is soft, barely a whisper.

“I haven’t,” I admit. “But I have no doubt that when I do, I will excel.”

At that, she laughs.

I look up at her, curious at her reaction. “What’s so funny?”

“You’re a virgin?”

I’m not sure if she’s making fun of me, or simply asking a question.

“I have never experienced sex with a partner,” I clarify. “But I know how to get myself off.”

Her mouth falls open again, and she looks even more surprised than when I offered to taste her nipples. 

I don’t understand what her problem is. “Tell me you’ve never touched yourself, Luciana.”

“Of course I haven’t!” Her outrage is clearly for show.

“Let me show you.” I hold out my hand for her to take, knowing that if she does not take it, I will walk away.

But she does.

I lead her down around the rocks, hidden from view of any school buildings. Once we are safely out of sight, I turn toward her, bringing her hand to rest on my hard cock.

Luciana gasps, but she doesn’t take her hand away.

I meet her eyes with total sincerity. “See what you have done to me?”

“I’m…I’m….”

“You need to take care of this,” I tell her.

She bites her lip, playing innocent, but her nipples can’t lie. “I don’t understand.”

I unbutton my pants and let them fall away. I watch the way she stares at my cock like it’s the last piece of cake after a three-day fast. She licks her lips and I smile.

“With your hand or your mouth. Either way is fine.”

She doesn’t move fast enough for me, so I let my fingertips trail up to brush across one of the tight peaks in her blouse. She whimpers. Her face shows hesitation, mixed with desire.

“It aches there, doesn’t it?”

She doesn’t answer ‘yes,’ but she also doesn’t say no. So I cup her small, round tit in my hand, and gently pinch her nipple. She cries out, and tries to pull away. But I wrap my arm around her, holding her firmly in place.

“It feel good, doesn’t it? So why are you fighting it?”

I give her breast another little tweak.

“I, I....” She seems embarrassed, yet unable to come up with a reason. “You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

I don’t understand the look of expectation flickering in her eyes.

“Kissing is for lovers,” I tell her. She should know that much, at least.

She shakes her head, pulling away again. This time, I allow it.

“This is wrong,” she says. “This...this is so wrong, Sabato.”

“Why is it wrong?”

“Because, I’m not a whore.”

“I never said that you were.” I don’t understand what she’s talking about. All I know is that I want to touch her again. I need to touch her again.

Her cheeks are reddening again, but this time she looks angry, instead of embarrassed. “It’s just like a guy, to think that just because a girl likes him, that she wants to have sex with him. That she’s going to just let him do whatever he—”

“You said I was beautiful.”

She scoffs. “Yeah, well....So are the flowers in the chapel garden, but you don’t see me going all the way with them.”

“Luciana.” My voice is soft, but firm. “This doesn’t have to be about right and wrong. If it makes you feel good, then you should embrace it.”

I wrap my hand around myself, watching her face as her eyes flick to my rock hard erection.

“I am doing what I want, and it feels good. If you don’t approve, you can go.”

Luciana doesn’t leave, though. She stands, eyes riveted on my hand as I stroke myself.

“If you won’t leave,” I say, breathing more quickly now, “and you won’t touch me, then at least touch yourself.”

Eyelids fluttering, she meets my gaze.

“I...I don’t know how.”

“Do what I did, then. Pinch your nipples, squeeze your tiny little tits. Touch yourself, and pretend it is me. Let me watch you get yourself off.”

Slowly, clumsily, she does as I instructed, her eyes locked on mine the entire time. The blush on her cheeks grows, and she bites her lip again. I like when she does that. I stroke myself harder in response.

“How does it feel?”

“Good,” her voice comes out breathy, little more than a squeak, “but, wrong.”

Her eyes fall in shame, so I encourage her.

“I am imagining that my hand is yours, squeezing me.” I begin stroking faster with each word. “Imagine that it is my hand touching your beautiful breasts, Luciana, and do it again.”

“You think I’m beautiful?”

I smile. “Do you think I would want to touch you if you disgusted me?”

Her forehead creases. “So, I don’t disgust you.”

Her voice isn’t sweet, or breathy this time. I realize I have said the wrong thing.

“You make me hard, so obviously I think you are appealing.”

Now her look softens a bit. I keep going. “I wanted to touch you, so obviously I want to make you feel good.”

“So...you like me.”

I begin to feel exasperated. It’s becoming difficult to stay erect with all the expectations. Particularly since I don’t understand exactly what it is she wants from me.

“Look, Luciana. I want to touch you, and be touched by you.” I shove my cock in my pants and pull them back up, “but this is growing tiresome.”

“There are steps towards that, you know.” She moves toward me, reaching up to touch my face. “This touch feels good, too.”

I move away from her. “How many lips have touched yours?”

“A few,” she says, smiling. “I can show you how to—”

“Not interested.” I turn to walk away, and she follows.

“Not interested!?”

At the sound of her screech, I turn back to look at her. “You’re a tease,” I tell her.  “You are not pure, and yet you—”

“Not pure? Not PURE? You know what? Screw you!” With that, she storms off.

Annoyed and confused, I call out after her, “Apparently that’s the only thing you won’t do!”

Eighteen

May 27th 2004

I walk out of my last class, heading towards my car. Finally I have one of my own, thanks to father. I open the door, throw my bundle of books in the passenger seat, and push the button to bring the convertible top down.

Embracing my freedom, I pull my shirt over my head and throw it aside. I am going to start the car, rev the engine loudly in celebration, when someone opens the passenger side door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, as Luciana takes my books in her hands and plops down in their place.

“You make me crazy.” I don’t know where this is coming from, but I know I don’t have time for this.

“Look, Luciana....”

“No, you look.” Her face is red, jaw clenched.  “I know what you’re doing. Who you are. And you’re not going to do it again.”

I grip the steering wheel in frustration. “Will you get out?”

“Sabato Efisto, it’s your birthday.” She bends down, reaching into her bag.

I’m not sure why, but I really don’t want to know what she has in there. It can’t be anything good.

“I won’t say it again, Luciana.” I make my voice as dangerous as it can be. “Get out of my car, or you’ll be sorry.”

She straightens up, fixing me with a glare that reminds me of my Mama. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Something snaps inside me.

“Well, you fucking will be.”

I key the engine awake, then immediately throw the Ferrari in reverse. The tires spin as I back out of my spot. Luciana’s head whips forward, and her forehead almost hits the dashboard.

I don’t wait, just go straight into first gear and pull out of the parking lot, throwing stones in my wake.

She gasps in surprise, eyes wide, but I don’t care. I am so angry at her. How dare she get into my car without being invited? How dare she refuse to leave when I instructed? How dare she? Who does she think she is?

My grip on the wheel tightens as I skip second gear and go into third. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her hands shaking as they reach for her seat belt. Good. I’m glad she is nervous. She should be.

Today is not the day to push me. Today is not the day to make me feel trapped, or caged. Today, of all days, is my day to be free. Finally.

I slam on the brakes, skidding to a stop in the gravel on the shoulder of the road.

“Get out,” I snarl at her, breaking my promise. I said I wouldn’t tell her again, but well, she’s not a very good listener. And I’m not good at keeping my promises.

She holds her hands tightly together, but I can still see them tremble. It makes me happy. Joyful even, in some sick way. I press her harder, to see if I can scare her more. “Get. Out. Now.”

I reach across her body, ignoring the way she tenses at my nearness. I push the release button on her belt, then reach past her to shove the door open.

Her shaking hands reach out to wrap around my neck, linking together behind it as she presses herself against me.

“Please, don’t. Please, don’t make me leave you.”

“You better leave, while you still can.” I speak through gritted teeth, trying my hardest not to breathe in her sweet scent.

“I’m not afraid of you.” This time when she says it, her voice is stronger, more sure.

“You should be.”

I wrap my fingers in her hair and pull back sharply. Her head falls back against the seat, mouth slightly open. Her long, thin neck exposes itself, becoming my next target. Leaning down, I drag my lips across her skin, then bite down lightly on her flesh. My cock immediately hardens, to the point that is just past uncomfortable—but not yet painful. Somehow, her hand finds it, without being shown the way.

Shocked at the sudden change in her attitude, I pull back away and sit up.  Questioning, I look down at her, into her eyes. Eyes that now seem to accept me, want me, beg me for more.

“Kiss me,” she whispers. “Please.”

Gently, because it is almost too good to be true, I press my lips against hers.  Surprise strikes me again as her tongue seeks entry between my lips. I lose my breath for a moment, until the animalistic desire to control comes over me. With barely a fight, I overtake her tongue with mine, and lay claim to her sweet mouth.

She makes a sound, like the cooing of a dove. It is all the encouragement I need. Roughly, I grab her face, positioning her head to a better angle, allowing my tongue to gain further access.

She whimpers then and tries to pull away, but I refuse to let go. I can’t stop savoring her mouth. It isn’t until she strikes my chest with her hands that I force myself to let go and pull away.

We are both breathing hard, like we just ran for miles. Otherwise, there is silence in the car. Our eyes meet across the space, and neither of us say a single word.

I am the first to turn away, suddenly unable to keep my eyes on her. A feeling grips me, and I’m not sure if it is remorse, or sadness, or regret, or all of the above.

“I’m taking you back now,” I tell her.

“Please don’t.” I look at her, confused all over again. She doesn’t seem to know what she wants, either. “I don’t want to go back. I want to be here, with you.”

I shake my head. “You may be curious, and taste like sin itself, but inside you are a child. You don’t want me. You don’t even know what it is that you want.”

Her eyes drop to her lap, and now she is the one who looks sad. “I know that when I’m with you is the only time I really feel...anything.”

For a long time, I just look at her. There is something so fascinating about her, so infuriating. I am angry and intrigued, and aroused, and hungry for more. But today is not a day for deep, philosophical questions. And I am not a patient person.

“Tomorrow, I will fuck you.”

Though her face reddens, somehow she manages to look up, meeting my gaze with strength. “No,” she shakes her head. “Tomorrow, you will date me.”

“What?” I sputter, enraged all over again. “You can’t...you don’t make the rules. Especially not to a game that I didn’t want to play to begin with.”

Luciana straightens her shoulders, and her voice comes out even stronger now. “No matter what else you do, you will treat me like a lady.”

I laugh one short, derisive bark. “I will fuck you like a wh—”

I don’t see her hand coming, until it’s connecting with my face. The slap isn’t hard enough to hurt, but it echoes through the car. I sit, frozen in surprise, staring at her as my face throbs.

Her eyes burn into mine. Not with anger, but with triumph.

“You will love me first.”

With that, I put the car in reverse. A few minutes later, we pull up in front of the girls’ dormitory building.

“Goodnight, Luciana.” I honestly don’t know what else to say.

She sighs, rolling her shoulders. “I really don’t want to go.”

My patience snaps like a thread—what is left of it isn’t much. A few seconds longer, and I’m not sure what I will do. All I know is that it won’t be good. For either of us.

“Goodnight, Luciana!”

I shove her away from me, toward the door, as hard as I can. She opens it herself, reaching down to take her bag off the floor. My books slide to take its place as she stands. I’d forgotten they were in her lap.

Before closing the door behind her, she takes something out of the bag and drops it onto the passenger seat.

“Happy Birthday, Sabato.”

When I walk into my building, I am greeted the same way I have been all my life, with eyes to the ground. At my approach, my fellow classmates turn away, as if someone else is calling their attention, or as if I don’t even exist.

Suddenly, I am angrier than ever that Luciana upset my plans. I didn’t wreak havoc. Didn’t make it rain glass. All because of her.

I’m not sure what else to do but yell my frustration. “It’s my birthday!”

No one in the common room moves or says a word.

“Did you hear me?” I repeat myself, but louder this time. “It’s my fucking birthday!”

A kid steps up next to me, laying a hand on my shoulder, ignoring my murderous look. He’s relaxed and his attitude is laid back. Dark haired and thin, he looks familiar.

“Great day to find your voice.”

I stare him down, hoping he’ll get the message and take his hand away soon. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Your neighbor. I live in the room next to you?” When I don’t respond, he shrugs. “My name’s Thorello. Thorello Archangello. You can call me Thor.”

His last name sounds familiar to me, but I can’t place it. I shake my head. Either way, it’s ridiculous.

“Like the superhero?” I laugh, but not in a kind way.

“Something like that,” he smiles, and I don’t understand why. “Happy Birthday, man.”

“Yeah, whatever, man.” Shrugging his hand off, I turn to walk away.

“Hold up,” he says, following me.  “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

I look back, my mood going from curious to incredulous. Is he hitting on me? He nods over his shoulder, toward the door. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

I sneer at him. “I’m not into men. Especially not men with ridiculous names. Get away from me, before I kick your ass.”

“Whoa, whoa,” he holds up his hands. “Settle down there, Birthday Guy. I’m not trying to bang you, just want to show you something.”

At that point, I realize that I actually have nothing better to do with my time. So I shrug and follow him. We walk down the stairs and out the way I just came, toward the parking lot.

“I’ll drive.” I take my keys out of my pocket and hit the auto start.

“Ferrari F12 Berlinetta?” Thor sounds impressed. “Fucking beautiful ride, man. But yeah...no, I’m not riding with you.”

“Excuse me?” I can’t decide if I’m offended more for myself or the car.

He shakes his head. “Nah, man. We all know you wreck a car every year on your birthday.”

“Who told you this?” My hands tighten into fists.

Thor reaches into the pocket of his school-issued jacket, pulls out a flask and hands it to me.

“Chill out, Sabato. Everyone knows everyone’s business around here.”

After a moment of hesitation, I open the flask and take a drink.  After the burning sensation in my throat subsides, I hand it back.

“I don’t know everyone’s business.”

“Well, yeah. That’s because you don’t talk to anyone. So, let me tell you a little about me. My family lives in Florence.” He takes a drink, then hands me the flask again. “I am not much different than you. Actually, I’ve been expelled from a bunch of schools, probably for a lot less than you were. My father is not Salvatore Efisto, though. He’s a detective.”

He shoves the flask back in his jacket pocket, pulls out a joint instead, sparks it up and hands it to me. I’m not usually into that, but it’s my birthday, so I take a hit.

“Of course,” he says, casually. “He’s dead now. It’s actually kind of your father’s fault, too. But hey, what isn’t?”

I am so surprised, I choke on the smoke. Part of me thinks he is joking. But one look at his face, at his total lack of smile, tells me that part is wrong.

I step away from him, pulling fresh air into my lungs as I straighten to my full height.

“And now you’re going to take it out on me, is that it?”

I have never been in a fight, but I’m not afraid. In fact, I welcome it. My father has ruined so many lives, this was bound to happen eventually.

“Go on, here is your chance,” I spit at him, raising my hands. “Hit me!”

He mirrors my actions, and stands his ground. I’m six foot and he is just as tall. He’s thinner than I am, lanky. I have a trained body. Much more bulk. I can take him.

“You first!”

I’ve also never had someone my age look me in the eye, without showing any kind of fear. Somehow, I can’t bring myself to hit him. And after a few more seconds, I no longer want to. I wait for him to relax, and then I do the same.

For a few minutes, we just stand there, fists at our sides.

“So,” I gesture between us. “Was this what you wanted to show me? That my father ruins lives? Because, trust me. I already know.”

Thor doesn’t seem to know how to answer that. I wonder if this was his plan, to bring me out here and get his revenge on my father, through me. He shakes his head, slowly, then lets out a long, loud breath. In that moment, it’s clear that we both realize the truth: that none of what our fathers do—or did, in his case—should matter to us. At least, not as much as it does. To some small extent, he understands what it’s like.

“So, I guess we’re not mortal enemies. Alright then, town it is.” He turns away, gesturing for me to follow. “Come on. I’m driving.”

About an hour later, we’re sitting in a local dive bar, drinking their cheapest wine, when he taps my shoulder and nods toward the door. I look up to see a group of girls walking in, dressed in short skirts and heels.

“Shit.” Thor runs his fingers through his hair, looking excited. “She never comes out.”

I don’t ask who he means, because I don’t care. I’ve already seen something that is of much more interest to me.

“Is she coming over here?”

I continue to ignore him, eyes still locked on Luciana.

“Luciana Prova.” He whispers the name, because she’s come up to stand next to our table. His tone holds reverence.

“Hello, Thor.”  Without waiting for an invite, Luciana sits down across from me, next to him. Her tone is icy, as she nods in my direction. “Sabato.”

“Oh, so you guys know each other?”  Thor looks stunned.

“So, Sabato. Did you like my gift?” Also ignoring Thor, Luciana slowly removes her sweater and hangs it over the back of her chair. Her top is nearly see through, a blatant invitation to stare.

I am mesmerized by her tits, straining against her nearly see through tank top. When I catch her staring back at me, I remember she was talking. I shake my head, no.

“I told you everyone knows everyone around here, Efisto.” Thor leans over, obstructing my view. He’s trying to be subtle about it, but I catch him checking out Luciana’s tits from the corner of his eye.

I have no idea why it pisses me off, but it does. Very much. But Luciana doesn’t seem to care if either of us ogle her.

Thor clears his throat, oblivious to my building rage. “So, what about the dance on Friday night? Have you made up your mind yet?”

Eyes still locked on mine, Luciana raises one eyebrow.

“She’s going with me,” I say.

“What?” Thor looks surprised, and a little annoyed. “When did that happen?”

Smiling, Luciana doesn’t miss a beat. “Oh, well, Sabato asked me a few days ago—before you did. But...I wasn’t sure if I wanted to go.” She reaches across the table, takes my glass of wine and sips from it, then licks her lips.

Thor stares at us for a long moment, then something seems to dawn on him. “Wait...seriously?”

My eyes still hold hers. “Very.”

“Luciana, you really want this fucking guy in your life? You want someone—”

“You better watch it superhero.” I warn.

“Have a nice walk home Efisto,” he snaps at me as he stands. “You’re making a big mistake here, Luciana. You’re choosing the wrong guy. He’ll ruin you.”

I’d be a hell of a lot more pissed at Thor’s words if Luciana wasn’t looking at me the way she is. She wants me. She wants me, and not the dead cop’s kid.

Luciana shakes her head, then tilts back and downs the rest of my drink. I instantly forget what I was just talking about. The long, graceful line of her neck is like a slippery slope into madness.

She stands, holding her hand out to me, ignoring Thor completely as he huffs away. “Come on, let’s dance.”

She doesn’t have to ask again. I stand up and take her hand. She leads me onto the empty dance floor. I haven’t really danced much, but somehow I am not nervous at all.

“Do you have something to ask me?” Luciana stands close, facing me and reaches up to link her fingers behind my neck.

I know what she means, but until now I was just playing along to mess with Thor. “If I take you to the dance, you’re going to expect too much of me”

“Well....” She shrugs, and her breasts brush up against my chest. “If that’s how you feel, then maybe I’ll just go with Thor...or one of the countless other guys who have asked me.”

With a sexy little sigh, she starts to pull away.

I grip her hips tighter, keeping her close. “If I take you to the dance, you won’t even remember any of their names. Not after what I will do to you, after the dance.”

Instead of looking shocked, like I wanted, she only laughs. “If I accept your offer, you’re going to fall in love with me. And you’ll never be done with me, because I’m addictive. You’ll see.”

She’s playing me, I realize. Baiting me with vague promises and blatant challenges to my manhood. Well, she has no idea who she’s dealing with. I may still be a virgin, but I am far from naive.

“Why are you smiling like that?” Her eyebrows quirk up, and I smile even wider. She has no idea what kind of game she started.

Instead of answering her question, I lean down and kiss her. She moans lightly, pressing against me even harder. She thinks I’m following her rules, taking the steps she asked me to take.

But this is my game, now.

The Dance

Surprisingly, she sticks to her guns about these steps of hers. I have to dress ‘nice.’ I wear a gray suit and tie. She even sends me a package that has a red tie in it, with a note saying ‘wear me.’ I actually fucking wear it.

Then I pick her up at her dorm, and bring her flowers, like a gentleman.

She is dressed in a red dress that makes her golden tanned body look even more stunning. The dress exposes her shoulders and has no straps. It does not expose her tits, but hugs them. The skirt of the dress is shaped like a bell at the bottom. It hits above her knees, and—dio mio, how I love her knees. She is beaming, as she smells the flowers. She is happy, because of me. She smiles, twirls her hair in her finger and I feel happiness—true happiness—building up inside me. It has been years since I’ve felt like this.

As we walk out of the building, I hold her hand. I open the door to my car and shut it behind her. I do every damn thing I know a gentleman should do. She looks at me like I imagine the women in that painting from long ago looked at the Adonis before he died. Adoringly. 

I feel full and fed. I am happy and I have a hunger again—not only for life, but for more of her. All of her.

We hold hands as I speed down the windy road.

With one hand, I let go of the wheel and caress her knee. Her skin is soft, and I pull her leg towards me. She allows it. I rub my hand slowly up and down her inner thigh. Surprisingly, she allows that, too. With each upward sweep I gain skin and space to roam, until my fingers finally brush against silk. Her panties are soft and wet. I look at her, and her eyes are half-closed in rapture.

I pull to the side of the road, the exact spot we pulled over at the first time she was in my car. I get out, walk around and open her door. She turns in her seat and starts to stand.

I kneel on the ground in front of her, kissing her knees until she allows my lips to travel up her inner thigh.  My hands lightly skim her legs, pushing her dress higher and higher.

I bend down to lick across the silk and she cries out, steadying herself by grabbing my shoulders. I consider it an encore, and do it again.

I love how she smells. I love the hot taste of moisture on her panties. Her hips thrust forward and I push my tongue underneath the silky wet material as I pull it aside with my fingers.

I drag her panties down to her ankles, and she kicks them off.

“Lean back.”

She does as I ask. I grab her knees and pull them apart. I don’t hold back, don’t hesitate, even for a second—I’m afraid if I wait too long, she will tell me to stop. So I don’t give her the option. I devour her, one lick at a time, pushing my tongue deeper and deeper inside with each thrust. My face is covered in her scent, but it only makes me even hungrier. I suck at her and she cries out louder. So I do it again, and again, and again, until she is thrashing and holding onto my hair. I suck one last time and plunge my tongue into her. Her pussy clenches around it as her body shakes in orgasm.

Full of satisfaction, I lean back to look at her face. Her hair is disheveled, and her cheeks are red and slightly shiny. As much as I like her dressed up, beaming and smiling, I decide I love her when she is tumbled and sated.

We go to the dance next, and she doesn’t leave my side. The entire night, I hold her in my arms, imagining how she will look when I have fucked her thoroughly for the first time.

***

The next night, I catch her throwing rocks at my window.

“What are you doing?” I can’t tell what she’s wearing, but her feet are bare.

“I want you to...do that thing again,” she whispers, and I can almost hear her blushing in the dark.

I smile to myself, triumphant. “First, I need you to do something for me.”

Staring up at me, she nods eagerly. I run out of my room to the back door and sneak her up the stairs, into my dorm.

I lead her to the bed, then lay down next to her.  Letting my eyes roam over her greedily, I run my hand up under her shirt.

“No bra?”

Luciana bites her lip and shakes her head, no. Encouraged, I pull her shirt up to her neck and kiss her beautiful rosy red nipples. Then I nibble them gently. Her hips are grinding against me now, and I am painfully erect inside my pants. Every time her body tenses, I know I can easily make her come, but I won’t. Not yet. Not until she craves her orgasm so much, she will do anything to make me give it to her.

“Sabato, please.” She says it over and over. I love that I am making her beg for it. It helps me to ignore the pressure I feel to seek my own release.

“Patience,” I whisper. I bite down on one of her nipples, pulling it with my teeth.

She whimpers, and I let go, but only for a moment.

“They’re beautiful, so red, so hard.”

Her thighs clench together and she groans, like she’s in some kind of agony.

“What’s the matter, Luciana?” I taunt her. “Would you like to come, like you did last night?” With each word, I grind against her harder. “Would you like to soak my face with your juices? Would you like me to lick you so hard that you feel the friction of my tongue for days afterward?”

Breathlessly, frantically, she nods. 

But I only shake my head, no. I stop moving. “That is too bad. I won’t give you the satisfaction, because you give me no satisfaction. I want you to know what it feels like, every time I am with you. I burn with excitement but never explode into flame. I thirst for your taste, but you don’t even know what I taste like.”

“Sabato....” Her voice is pleading, desperate. But she can’t tell me what I want to hear. She can’t say the words I need: “Yes. Do it. Fuck me, Sabato.”

I reach underneath her and grip her ass, hard.

“Who is missing the steps now, Luciana? Who is using who? Am I just a toy to you?”

I can see some of the blind desire seep out of her eyes. She looks confused.

The anger I’ve been holding inside, buried under my desire, begins to take over. Release isn’t the only thing she’s been withholding from me. Virtue I can forgive, but teasing is unacceptable. If she doesn’t want me...doesn’t love me...why is she trying so hard to make me love her?

“Did you follow me to the cliffs that day, because you wanted to see my cock? Did you get into my car, without being asked, because you wanted to give me a present? The cross? I thought you were just following your hidden desires, but now I think I was wrong. Now, I think you wanted to fuck me in a different way. Tell me, Luciana. Is this just your way of feeling powerful, of living dangerously?”

“You’re hurting me,” she says.

I don’t realize how tightly I’m holding her. Angrier than ever, I let go of her and sit up, turning away.

“Get out.”

“Sabato.” She reaches out toward me.

“No, I mean it. Get out. Everyone either fears me or hates me in their own way, and I have come to live with that. But I am not a toy. Just because my father is not some senator or diplomat—or whatever it is your precious daddy does—it doesn’t make me your slave. Take your pleasure from me, but give it back. One-way orgasm is not a service I offer.”

“But...I’m in love with you.” I can hear the tears forming in her voice, but I don’t look at her. “I’ve watched you for a year, long before I knew who you were, and I had already fallen, even before I knew why we shouldn’t be together. I mean, our families...we’re both in a position to be watched and judged, all the time. My family has money too, Sabato. My father wants me to marry a businessman or banker. To him, reputation is everything. But that doesn’t mean...I’m not that kind of person. I would never....”

I shake my head and stand up. “Don’t.”

“Sabato, listen. I know what it feels like to....” She stops. “I mean, I don’t know exactly what you must have gone through when...but I do understand loss.”

I turn on her, hands balling into fists. “No one knows what I went through.”

“Everyone knows!” She crawls to the edge of the bed. “It was all over the news.”

She stands up and I think she is going to leave. “I am not teasing you Sabato. I just don’t know how to hold onto something—I mean, someone like you. You’re like a force of nature. People tell me you’re dangerous. But I can’t...I don’t want to stay away from you. And I don’t think you want to stay away from me.”

“Wait.” I stop her before she opens the door. “You’re expecting too much from me, Luciana.”

“No, I’m not. I see you. I see you, Sabato, even beneath the wall of tragedy you try to hide behind.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Sabato, you are. I just want to be there when it comes down, when you expose yourself, and finally let others see you the way I do.”

I am beyond frustrated with her. I hold my head in my hands, gripping my hair until it hurts, squeezing my brain.

“There’s nothing more to say, Luciana. You won’t take what I am offering. And I keep telling you that I can’t give you more.” I let go and glare at her, probably looking like a crazy person. “And you of all people should understand that, since you refuse to give me any real part of yourself. You say I hide behind my ‘walls of tragedy?’ Well, at least I don’t hide behind the cross, and my fear of letting go.”

I walk to the door and throw it open.

“Wait!” Tears run down her face, as slowly, she reaches up and starts taking her shirt off. “Am I beautiful to you?”

She’s crazy. She has to be. Shaking my head, I look over her soft smooth upper body and nod. I can’t lie. “Extremely. But I don’t just want to look at you, Luciana. I want—”

“I know.” Her pants are next. “I want you to touch me, too. With every part of you. But you have to promise me that you won’t touch anyone else. I couldn’t handle it.”

Never in my life would I have thought I’d be so tempted, to swear my life away. But I am. Suddenly, I want to promise myself to her, more than anything.

I lick my lips, eyes still glued to her naked form. “Will you...do you promise the same?”

Luciana smiles. “Always.”

She steps out of her pants and lets them drop to the floor. Her white lace underwear, brightly contrasted against her creamy, smooth tan make me ache everywhere. I ball my hands into fists to keep from ravaging her.

She turns her back to me, looking playfully over her shoulder as she slowly pushes her underpants down. When she turns back to me, her face is a challenge.

“Are you sure, Sabato? Will you still want me tomorrow?”

“And the next day,” I say, hastily undressing myself.

She lies down on my bed, watching me undress much less gracefully than she just did. Eager as I’ve ever been, I move to the foot of the bed, to stand looking down on the picture she paints.

“Bella.” I pull my shirt off, finally naked too. “Open for me. Let me see you.”

My order seems to bring back some of her shyness. “You already did, yesterday”

“No,” I shake my head, mouth watering.” Not in the light. I want to see you.”

Her knees fall open, gently. I can only hold back for a moment before climbing up on the bed to hover over her. I want to wait, but I can’t. It’s like gravity, pulling my body toward hers—and soon, into hers.

I grab my cock in my hand and stroke it up and down along her hot, pink slit.

“Please, be gentle,” she whimpers.

I push inside her slowly, watching her eyes widen as I feed her pussy an inch at a time.

“Is this good?”

“Pressure,” she gasps, finally releasing a breath. “Kiss me, please.”

I lean down and kiss her forehead, then her cheeks, then her lips. As I do, I reach between us to rub her clit. She moans. I pinch it between my fingers. She cries out in surprise, then smiles.

“I love how you make me feel, Sabato.”

I don’t tell her, because I’m afraid of what it means, but I’ve never felt anything as good as this.

I shake my head, fighting against the pleasure already building inside me. “This is going to hurt, but only for a moment. I promise. Are you ready?”

As soon as she opens her mouth to answer, I ram my cock inside her and kiss her hard at the same time. My tongue delves into her mouth, filling hers completely. She bites down, her entire body shaking.

I hold myself still, waiting for some of the tension to leave her body. As soon as her hips move, even slightly, I feel the pressure building and know I am going to come soon.

“Forgive me,” I groan, embarrassment stealing some of my pleasure. For some reason, I feel ashamed at not giving her more, better, even if it is our first time together. The words spill out of me, before I can stop them. “Luciana, I promise this will get better for you, mi amore. But right now, nothing compares to the feeling of being inside your pussy, of being inside you. Fuck...it’s—ah, dio mio!”

I hold her head to my chest, crushing her against me as I pump in and out, as my cum fills her.

I collapse on top of her. We are both trembling, panting. I feel her heart beating in unison with mine. I cradle her head in my hand as I bury my face in her hair. She smells different now. Still sweet, but she also smells of me.

I feel an overwhelming amount of emotion swelling in my chest. A sense of ownership, almost, and it scares me. The protectiveness I feel frightens me also. Along with those, there is the weight of responsibility, and that is a feeling I don’t welcome.

I immediately push myself off her, away from the bed. I step into my pants, grab my shirt and throw it over my head. I try not to look at her but I see her out of the corner of my eye. She hasn’t moved.

I pick her clothes up off the ground and set them on the bed next to her. Then I turn away, to the mirror. I pretend to fix my hair, until I can see her sitting up.

“Sabato?” Her voice quavers.

“I have somewhere I need to be.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, so you need to leave.”

“I—I what?”

“Look, I have to tell you, Luciana.” I turn and face her. “I’m not the guy you think I am.”

“I know who you are.” There is no question in her voice. But she is wrong.

“No, you don’t. The blood that courses through my veins is not the right—”

“Don’t you dare.” She stands up, pulling her shirt on as she comes towards me.

I hold my hand up. “Let’s just not do this, okay? Let’s skip the tragic break up between two young people who finally let passion take over. We fucked, Luciana. It was great. Now we’re done.”

She looks so hurt, and it kills me, but I tell myself I am saving her from a deeper pain. She’ll thank me, someday.

“Right.” She holds back a sob, turns it into a laugh. My gut twists painfully. Silently, she finishes dressing.

“So...thanks?”

She’s walking towards the door. “Oh, no. Thank you, Sabato.”

“Oh....” I hadn’t really meant it, when I thought she might thank me one day. “For what?”

I try to sound unaffected, but I am the opposite.

She shrugs. “I guess I should say thank you, on behalf of...whoever. You know. The next man I give myself to probably won’t have to work as hard to have me. Thank you for showing me I was saving something that wasn’t really worth saving at all.”

Not worth saving? That’s not what...I can’t believe she would think....

“Luciana, I—”

But before I can say anything else, she is gone. I am left cold and raging inside, but I deserve it. I deserve pain, anger, death, and destruction.

The one thing I do not deserve, is Luciana.

So Much for the Afterglow

I stare blindly out the window of my room, which I haven’t left in three days. To say that I am twisted up inside would be the greatest understatement of all time. The weather mirrors exactly what I feel. It has rained nonstop for the entire three days, and the world is now a cold, gray bucket of suck.

I haven’t slept...at all, really.

Now, I am waiting for the rain to clear so that I can go into town. I want alcohol. No, I need it. It’s the only thing that can give me a reprieve from the pain. And yet...I need that, too. The pain is the only thing that makes me feel. Pain is my fate, it seems. 

When I can’t withstand my fate any longer, I just need it to go the fuck away for a while. I crash down the back stairs and out the door to the parking lot, past Thor’s running vehicle. The windshield wipers are going like crazy and I see him hugging a girl, inside the car. As I get closer, I recognize the girl. Luciana’s words echo inside my head, the same way they have since she first said them to me.

The next man I give myself to probably won’t have to work as hard to have me.

My eyes are glued to the ground, fists balled tight as I pass the car. In that moment, I promise myself that I won’t look at her, not ever again. I am almost past when I hear Thor yell, “Sabato!”

I keep walking, but then I hear, “SABATO, you fucking pussy!”

Well, that sounds like an invitation to look. I turn and move toward him, blood boiling, my heart beating wildly. His hands form fists and he advances on me faster. My fist connects with his face just as one of his jabs into my side.

“NO!” I hear her scream, and suddenly she is beside me. “Leave him alone.”

Her hands are on my arm, but I easily pull away. I push Thor to the ground and land on top of him, putting fist to face, blow after blow, like a machine made for only one purpose.

Luciana is screaming, crying hysterically.

“Enough! Break it up!”

I look up and in the direction of the voice. Fuck, it’s Father Donnelly. I jump up and take a step back, holding my hands in the air.

“Are you two about finished?” Father Donnelly looks at Luciana, his white eyebrows like twin jet streams rocketing towards the sky. “I hope you realize, girl…this is your fault. Young ladies these days have no—”

“Watch the way you speak to her!” I snap at him, no longer fearing his wrath.

“Sabato, do not be disrespectful to me. I am charged with looking after the moral well-being of our students, as well as the discipline of—”

“Get in the fucking car, Luciana.” When I yell at her, she jumps.

“She’s with me now, Efisto.” Pulling himself up off the ground, Thor grabs her arm and yanks her toward him. “I’ll take her home now.”

He turns away, spitting a mouthful of blood on the ground.

“Luciana,” I call after them. “Make your choice now. You go with him, and I will never even look in your direction again. I promise you that. So, if that’s what you want, to never be with me again, go with him.”

I have drawn a line. Thor is now my enemy. If Luciana goes away with him now, so is she.

She looks at me over her shoulder as he drags her behind him. Tears are mixed with the rain on her face. Suddenly, I feel panic. I close my eyes and try to calm myself and I turn away. I unlock my car and get inside. My hands are shaking, and it takes me three tries before I start it up. As I reverse, I turn to look behind me. 

That’s when I see her running towards my car. In that moment, I find it very hard to breathe.

Thor is following her, his face desperate as he tries to warn her away from me. Hastily, I get out of the car, just in time to catch her as she jumps into my arms.

“Don’t you ever do that to me again,” she sobs, into my shoulder. “Do you hear me? Don’t you ever try to break my heart again.”

I want to promise her everything. I always did, even before, when I hurt her. Now, I realize that’s exactly why I did it. I wanted to promise her that I would love her, protect her, and never let her go. I wanted to be able to tell her that, but my fear was always stronger than desire. Until this moment.

Maybe the thing that changed was she chose me. She had other choices, other people who would love her. She had other places she could go, and even then, she chose me.

No one has ever chosen me, not like this. Not my father, not anyone in all these damn different schools, not even the fucking teachers when they’re asking a question in class. I’ve been ostracized, whispered about; dangerous. And still, Luciana chose me.

What is the only thing stronger than fear? As it turns out, hope. In this moment, I feel hope, for the first time. I can finally be whole. I can imagine a life where I can’t wait to wake up in the morning. A life where I can forget...everything but the moment I’m in.

“I won’t,” I say, pressing my face into her hair as hard as I can. “Fuck, Luciana, never again. I promise.”

“Don’t break another promise to me either.” With that, she cries harder, and holds me tighter.

“Be patient with me. Please.” My lips slide across her face, seeking her lips.

She pulls back, and that’s when I realize that Father Donnelly is still standing there, arms folded in disapproval just a few feet away from us. 

Luciana smiles. “Please, get us out of here.”

I glance at the priest weighing the mix of frustration and anger on his face. I know he can’t do shit to me. He knows it, too.

Thor is glaring at us from behind the wheel of his car, and I can tell he is waiting for her to change her mind. I despise him now, more than I ever did before.

“Kiss me,” I demand.

“Sabato....”

“Kiss me now, prove to me you love me.” I can’t tread lightly, here, or if I can then I won’t. Thor needs to see. They all need to see that she adores me, that she believes I can be something I desperately want to be: her eroe.

Even if the world doesn’t get it, the fact that she does...it will be enough.

I pull her against me, and my lips smash against hers. I force my tongue deep into her mouth. She only fights for a few seconds, and her heart isn’t in the fight. I open my eyes to make sure my display of ownership has an audience. I don’t pull away until I hear Thor’s car driving off, wheels peeling out on the wet pavement. Reluctantly I pull away, then turn and open the door for her.

I am in the drivers seat. I am in control, yet suddenly I don’t know what to do first. I have her now. I want to keep her. I want to touch her, love her, fuck her, and treasure her.

Her hand reaches out and rests on mine. I turn my hand over, lacing my fingers through hers.

“Talk to me,” she says. “Tell me what you want.”

“I just want you and me.”

“That’s all I want, too.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you already know that. I already….”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before, how much I wanted you. Not just how much I wanted you to want me. I was afraid of how you made me feel, Sabato. I was afraid because you made me feel...desperate.”

She leans over the console and rests her head on my shoulder. “I felt like I would never breathe again.”

I smile bitterly. “I wished I stopped altogether.”

“And now?”

“I want to be everything I can be for you and more,” I tell her, honestly, surprising myself. “So fucking much more.”

Her hand tightens around mine.

“I don’t want to bring you back here. I want to take you away from here, away from everything. I want it to be just you and I, Luciana, and fuck the rest of the world.

Surprising me even more, she smiles. “Okay, let’s go.”

***

The hotel is over an hour outside of town, secluded but nice. When we get into the room, Luciana starts acting nervous again. Her hands are shaking.

“Luciana.” I take both her hands in mine. “Are you still afraid of me?”

She shakes her head, no. 

“Why are you shaking?”

“I’m cold.”

I look at her wet clothes and then at mine, then I burst out laughing.

“Well, then. We should shower.”

“Together?” Her voice squeaks.

“Yes, together.” I take her hand and we go to the bathroom. Inside, I pull her in front of me and turn her to face the mirror. “Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Her face turns a darker shade of pink.

“I know how beautiful you make me feel when we’re alone.”

I immediately feel like an asshole for ever letting her think—even for a second—that she wasn’t.

“From now on, it won’t be just when we are alone. It’ll be every day, every minute, every second.”

Her eyes light up, meeting mine in the mirror. “Promise?”

I hold up my necklace—the one I put my mothers cross from her rosary on—and kiss it reverently. “I swear to Christ.”

After that, I kiss each of her now pink cheeks, then go to the shower and turn it on. I go back for Luciana, pulling my shirt off as I do. My pants are next, and I don’t like underwear, so that’s it.

I watch her eyes widen as they take me in, from my feet to my cock. Her eyes stay on it and she licks her lips. I harden even more than I did the first time she looked at me like that. Her eyes dart to mine and I know she knows I saw her looking. Her blush deepens.

“You like the way my body looks.” She doesn’t have to answer. I know she does. Even my female professors—some of which are nuns—often look at me with lust. Lust is second best to love, though, as I have learned.

“I like the way yours looks, too. Let me take off your clothes.”

“I can do it.” She grabs the hem of her shirt and lifts it, up over her head.

I lean back against the counter and take myself in my hand, slowly stroking up and down. She watches me as she unclips her bra. Her eyes get that hazy look in them. Desire, dio mio, how I love desire.

I stroke myself until she turns around.

“Can you unzip my skirt?”

When my finger touches her bare back, I see goose-bumps rise across her skin. It’s sexy as hell, and I am immediately hungry.

While unzipping her skirt, I adore her body with my lips, rousing more goose-bumps. Provoking more whimpers. Baiting more desire.

“I want to be inside you again, Luciana,” I murmur against her skin. “Do you want me to be inside you?”

I kiss my way down her soft, round ass.

She trembles and gasps as I slide my tongue between her legs from behind.

“Yes,” she gasps.

I kiss back up her body and turn her so she is facing me.

“I am going to fuck every in—”

“No. Make love to me, Sabato,” she whispers. “Show me you love me.”

I hadn’t said the words out loud in eleven years. But I have now heard them again. I have heard them come from the girl who has promised to give me everything.

But I don’t say them, not yet. Instead, I nod. “Lets begin.”

I lead her into the shower. There are two heads and several jets of hot water. I position her under one, and she moans as the hot water falls on her skin.

“Does that feel good Luciana?”

“Wonderful.” She pushes her hair back so the water flows over it.

I watch her face soften, and she seems comforted. I want to be the one who makes that look wash over her. I take the shampoo, squeeze it in my hands, and rub them together. I reach out and touch her head. She jumps a little and opens her eyes.

“I will wash you.”

She smiles and reaches for the shampoo and does the same thing. “Then I will wash you too.”

“No Luciana, I want you to enjoy my hands on you.”

“I want to do the same for you.” She tilts her head to the side and reaches for me.

I don’t like that she appears apprehensive. It bothers me that she is still wary of me. I don’t want her to fear me. I want her to love me.

“Okay, but then I get to adore your entire body with my hands, my mouth, my tongue, and my cock.”

“Adore?” A smile curls her lips. “I like that.”

Gently, I use my hands to wash her body, but I don’t spend too much time on the areas I crave the most: her tits, her lips, her ass. And I totally avoid her pussy, because as much as I want to show her I can spend as much time on the rest of her body and adore all of her, I am painfully erect.

My hand cups between her legs, and I slide a finger inside. Her mouth opens and her gasp of surprised pleasure tickles my face. Her hand finds my cock and I tense up.

“I want to feel every part of you.” I push my finger deeper inside her silky, hot folds.

One of her hands grab my shoulder and the other squeezes me, hard.

“Oh, god.”

While she grows accustomed to my touch, she strokes me with one hand and keeps herself in place with the other. I respond by pushing another finger inside her, until she can’t hold on anymore.

Both hands are on my shoulders now, to keep from falling as I twist my fingers and push them in and out of her. Slowly, at first, then quicker and harder. Her sounds of excitement fuel my need. But I don’t just want her to moan and gasp. I want her to scream my name, so I fuck her pussy with my fingers, as hard as I would with my cock. Her moans grow louder, her hips begin to gyrate, and within moments I hear my name echoing against the shower walls. So do the neighbors, I am sure of it.

Her head falls against my shoulder as her body shudders in orgasm.

I pull my fingers out and rub them against my lips. She is a taste I will always crave.

I reach behind her and turn off the water. Then I help squeeze the excess water out of her hair before lifting her by the ass.

“Wrap your legs around me,” I hiss as my cock settles between her legs. I reach down and align us, seeking the connection I crave most.

Luciana’s eyes once again hold fear. “Sabato, please don’t....”

“Don’t what?” I am immediately on guard.

“Don’t make me leave this time. After, I mean. Please, don’t break your promise”

“I wont, not ever again.” I lay my lips against hers. Our breaths are heavy and heady. Our tongues touch at the same moment I ram my cock deep inside her tight, wet pussy.

“Love me,” she cries out. “Oh, yes! Please!”

I push her back against the shower wall, and slowly pull out, and push back in even more slowly. Her pleasure-filled coos are almost as heart warming to me as when the words ‘I love you’ spill from them.

“Ah. She loves me.” I push inside and pull out, thinking: Luciana loves me. I thrust in and out, again and again.

“Luciana, I love you,” I say, as my cock twitches inside her and fills her with my cum.

Finally, finally.

Together

We lay in bed for countless hours, just touching, exploring, loving one another. I find myself smiling—really smiling, the kind you feel everywhere. I am happy, for real, for the first time in as long as I can remember.

Luciana makes me truly happy.

I order room service, because both of us are starving. We sit at the suite’s dining table and feed each other, grapes, olives, strawberries, cheese. I have never felt more loved, adored, or wanted.  We are both exhausted. Yet we cannot stop touching each other.

I lift her up and carry her to our bed. Our bed. I want it to be ours for longer than a weekend. I want to feel this way forever.

“Let’s never leave here.” I say, as I slide in next to her.

She laughs and rolls to her side, resting her knee across my legs. I reach down, cup her ass and pull her tighter to me as my finger rubs up and down the crack of her ass. When I stop and apply a little pressure to her hole, she stops laughing. A look of surprise crosses her face.

It makes me laugh, that after all these hours entwined in each others arms, bodies, she would deny me anything. I know she won’t deny me forever. So I press harder.

She shakes her head and reaches behind her, grabbing my hand. “No.”

“Did you just tell me ‘no’?” I say, in bogus shock.

“I don’t think I’m into...that.”

“No shocker action?” I laugh. By her reaction, I know she doesn’t have a clue what I am talking about. I free my hand and grab her again. I reach down and roughly shove two fingers inside her, “Two in the pink, and one in the—”

“Don’t you dare!” She squirms away.

I allow it. I like her to think she has a little power in the bedroom, although we both know she doesn’t.

“Someday, you’ll beg for it.” I swat her round little ass as she crosses the bed.

She looks back at me and her cheeks are flush again. Desire quickly turns to shame. I try to figure out why two such opposite emotions would ever coincide. But I can’t, and the thought soon passes because I am instantly hard and desperate to bury myself inside her again.

I spring up and capture her hips in my hands, dragging her back across the bed. She is on all fours and I’m on my knees behind her. I rub her pussy until she is wetter than ever.

“I love how wet you are for me, Luciana. I love that your desire for me is as uncontrollable as mine is for you.”

“Sabato....” She moans my name as I rub my cock against her slick pussy. “I Love—”

“I know.” I say, as I thrust into her over and over.

I can’t stop. I can’t stop loving her this way, and I never want to. I want to come, but I want to hear my name, feel the quiver, the contractions of her orgasm. I am possessed by her, for her, in her.

I hold her hips in my hands, watching my cock rock into her until her energy is spent and her head falls limp on the bed. I watch her jolt forward every time I push in, and hold her hips tight each time she breathes out, as I pull back.

Finally, I come. I come so hard I see stars. So hard that my convulsing inside her forces her to come again, writhing helplessly beneath me.

We lay winded and worn, and we fall asleep just like that.

***

“Get up!” I jump at his voice and try to focus my eyes to the light now flooding our darkened retreat. “Get up now!”

“Father?” I rub my eyes for better focus. I know it’s him, he’s come to ruin this moment for me. Just like he’s done with every other moment in my life.

I stare up at him as his eyes nearly penetrate Luciana’s naked form and cover her immediately.

“Get out,” I tell him, as a fierce protectiveness ravages me.

“You dare speak to me that—”

“You dare break into my room and invade my privacy!” I jump out of bed, not caring that I’m naked.

“My money affords this lifestyle for you,” he scoffs. “Privacy means nothing.”

“You can take your money and shove it up your ass!”

“Sabato,” the quiver in Luciana’s voice makes me stop and turn to her. “Please.”

“Please, what?” I have no idea why she looks so afraid. “Get him out of here?”

“He’s...your father.” The last word is a whisper, and I know it’s not what she means.

“Ah, so you’ve finally found one who knows the meaning of respect.” My father laughs malevolently.

“You never earned my respect!” I look back at my Luciana, who now—oddly—seems to be on his side. “He has not earned my respect!”

“He’s your father,” she whispers again.

“He’s never been anyone’s father, least of all mine!” My emotions are out of control, and I can’t stop them, even if I wanted to.

“I might as well be an orphan, since I only ever had the one parent who gave a shit!”

“He lost her too, Sabato.” Luciana speaks in a nervous whisper, that doesn’t even sound like her voice.

But I don’t have time to figure out why she’s acting so strangely. At this point, I’m ready to kill him with my bare hands. But his face is different. He almost seems...affected.

It is quiet for a moment, and finally my father looks away. “Her parents are looking for her.”

“How do they know where she is?”

“A boy saw you leave the school, and he called them. You’re both lucky I walked in here, and they did not.”

“Thor,” I hissed running my hands through my hair, “I am going to kill him the next time I see him.”

My father’s laugh mixes with Luciana’s words: “You wouldn’t do that, Sabato.”

My father looks pleased that I want to kill someone. Genuinely pleased with me. I won’t admit it, but it feels good.

Somehow, I don’t want to know what kind of look is in Luciana’s eyes.

“I will follow you back to the school,” my father says as he walks toward the door.

~

Luciana cries through almost an hour of our drive home. I want her to stop, but I don’t know how to make it better. I’m not even sure what is wrong.

“Talk to me. Luciana.”

“They’re going to hate me.” She sobs into her hands. “I’m a total disappointment. They’ll make me leave school...they won’t ever let me see you again. I love you, Sabato, but I don’t want—”

“I won’t let that happen.” My voice comes out harsher than I mean it to.

“How can you stop it? What are you going to do? Kill them?” She laughs nervously, a tight, hysterical burst.

My answer is absolute calm by comparison. “If that’s what you want, then yes.”

Her jaw drops, and she stops crying. “Of course not!”

I nod. “Okay. Then I will tell them we plan to get married, after graduation. That I am insane with love for you, and that you feel the same. I will also tell them that nothing can stop it, because we are both of legal age.”

Luciana bites her lip. “I really...I just wish.... I want them to love you, Sabato, as much as I love you. No matter what, they’re my family. I’ll always love them, and want them in my life.”

I try to imagine what it might feel like to be a part of something like that. To have people in my life who would still love me, even if they didn’t support my choices. But the very concept is foreign to me.

“Do you...love them more than me?” I know asking makes me sound like a jealous asshole, but I can’t help it.

She pauses, chewing on her lip, for several moments. “Much differently than the way I love you.” She squeezes my hand. “I think you might even love your father, in your own way. Just as he loves you, in his own way.”

I snort, loudly. “He doesn’t love me. He never has. But I don’t care about him anymore, because I have you.”

She doesn’t answer, but she does let go of my hand.

“I have you, Luciana....Right?”

To her, I know I must seem so desperate for her love, almost pathetic. In reality, that’s exactly what I am.

At that moment, a car swerves in front of me, and I have to brake hard to keep from running into the back of it. I swear a black streak through gritted teeth, but my reflexes are good, and we avoid incident. After another moment of road rage on my part, I force myself to take a deep breath and calm down. I pull over to the side of the road, and put the car in park. Luciana looks away from me, out the window, toward the sea.

“Do you remember that first time, by the water?”

I nod, even though I know she can’t see me. My hands are shaking, and my heart is pounding. I take a deep breath, and try to focus on her words.

“I said you were beautiful, but I never really told you what I meant. I’d been watching you for a whole year, so beautiful, but always alone. At first, I remember thinking, ‘I wish I could be like him, not needing anyone, or caring what anyone thinks.’ You were like...some hero in a fairy tale. So strong and brave, but also aloof, unattainable.” Her hand finds mine again, fingers lacing together. “Now, you’ve become so much more to me than that little girl’s fantasy could ever be. I don’t just want to be a part of your life, I want to share all of it. The good and the bad, everything. Even the things you’re most ashamed of. Please. I know you still hurt inside, after what happened, but if you let me...if you let me, I promise to fill your heart so full with love, that there is no more room in it for hate.”

I want to laugh, because what she said sounds so ridiculous, but tears prickle at the corners of my eyes instead.

“Is that...is that truly what you want, Luciana? You want me to let it go? Forget about all the terrible shit that happened, and just...what? Be happy?”

She pretends not to notice my sarcasm. Or maybe she’s not pretending. She smiles, nodding.

“It’s my deepest desire.”

Her smile cuts through me like a knife, severing those angry red ties that hold me to my hate. In that moment, I feel lighter, more free than I ever have.

“Well.” I clear my throat, to get rid of a sudden thickness, “then how can I possibly deny you?”

“You can’t,” she says, matter-of-factly, “because you love me.”

“I know,” I tell her, and I do. There’s nothing in the world I know more.

I turn to her, pulling her to me by our linked hands. I never want to let go of her again. She is not just the woman I love, but also the one thing I’ve been searching for my entire life: Luciana is my family now. My real family.

Our eyes meet, and gravity takes over. We lean together, lips poised for a tender kiss. I can feel her breath against my skin, her slight gasp of suspense.

That’s when the second car comes.

Or maybe it’s the same one from before, I don’t know. Because I don’t actually see it. But Luciana does, and her gasp turns into a scream, a single heartbeat before the car rams into us.

A sickening crunch, and a lurch, and suddenly we’re flying through the air. I can see the sky, gray and molten, wrestling with the sea. Then they’re too close, and I can’t tell them apart anymore.

I don’t remember hitting the water. Just that gray sky-sea combination, then darkness. The last thing I remember hearing is Luciana, screaming my name. Then nothing.

The last thing I remember feeling, is hope. Then fear. Then despair.

Then, nothing.

### The End ###

Coming April 5th, 2015

SABATO

(Unedited and subject to change)

Chapter one

Nobody’s Eroe

May 27th

(Age 27)

I prowl around the club in Florence. I need a release. Something warm to tease, taunt, titillate, tame, and tear up. It is not only the lifestyle I portray, it is truly who I am. It has never been my MO to waste time chatting up some romance novel junkie, saying all the things I know she wants to hear to get laid.

That is why I came here. It’s not one of my places. I won’t lose the respect of my girls, or my clients.

Tonight, I seek strange.

I’ve come to exactly the right kind of place. I know this because I planned it. I plan everything. I take in the leather clad wait staff with piercings and tattoos—some of whom are holding whips—this is a no-last-name kind of scene. All fetishes are welcome here. My eye catches on a tall redhead with a nose ring that’s chained to her nipple ring—totally exposed, for all to see.

Make that welcome, wet, and waiting.

Nothing good happens on today’s date. Hell, nothing good ever happens these days, aside from orgasms and creating desire. If not for causing the slow buildup to release, and the inevitable double-edged climax, I would feel nothing. But then, usually I like feeling nothing. For too many years, I felt too much. Rage, sadness, jealousy, obsession¸ more rage...it was fucking exhausting, caring that much.

Nowadays, I’m a shark, coldly calculating without allowing anything to touch me on a personal level. Ironically, this seems to make me irresistible to the opposite sex. It also makes me notice things that most people are too nervous, too excited, too full of desire, or scared to notice.

In one corner of the club, there’s a man . He is tall, dark hair, dark eyes. He’s physically appealing but his facial expression gives him away as a first-timer to the BDSM scene. The way his eyes flit from side to side, it’s as if he’s trying to figure out how he got here, and what the hell is going on. I follow his gaze, more slowly and casually, expecting someone who works here to greet him, at least help the poor bastard feel welcome. But no one does.

As a businessman, it bothers me. But as an anonymous club patron—which I am tonight, I remind myself—I could give less of a fuck.

I saunter over to the bar, sit down, and order a drink. Manhattan, with rye whiskey—the only kind of Manhattan that counts. When my drink is in my hand, I turn and continue scouting the crowd for talent. 

The majority have not picked their poison yet, and the ones who have are clearly all about being dominated. It seems like the place is crawling with prey, but not so many hunters. Good, I like those odds.

The ‘out of his scene’ guy comes up to the bar and sits right next to me. He orders a glass of wine, cheap wine. I almost snort into my drink. Rookie move. Feeling generous, I turn to him and offer my hand. “I’m Sabato, how are you?”

Immediately, his shoulders go up. “Dude, I like pussy. Okay? I’m not sure what the fuck about me screams I’m willing to swing that way, but—”

“It’s definitely the clothes.”

“Excuse me?”  His attitude is one I am not accustomed to. But then, after all, this is not one of my usual haunts.

I decide to cut the guy a break, since he’s obviously clueless. “Look around the room.” I gesture vaguely with my drink. “Tell me, what do you see?”

He shakes his head, looking confused. “Pussy.” He snorts, shooting me a glare. “And a bunch of guys who want to tag my ass.”

My patience is very quickly running out. “And what else?”

He shakes his head again, more loosely this time. The wine must be getting to him already. What a light weight.

“Honestly man, I feel like any second, half of these guys are gonna bust out doing the fucking YMCA. I mean....” He gestures agitatedly around the room. “You got the cowboys, the cops, the gay bikers—fuck, we’re just missing the Indians in here.”

I almost want to laugh, because he is right. “And if they see you checking them out, wearing...what you’re wearing...how do you think they will approach you?”

He shrugs, looking offended again. I signal the bartender to bring him another wine, before he really gets his skirt in a twist. 

“What the hell is wrong with my clothes?”

“Nothing,” I tell him. “If you’re going to a different kind of club.” I gesture to his shiny, black silk shirt. “I mean, you have on your dancing shoes,” I can’t hold back a mocking smirk, “that match your cute little dancing shirt.”

“Fuck you, dude.” His eyebrows push together, and he stares at me for a few seconds like he’s seriously thinking about kicking my ass. Then, slowly, he smiles, shakes his head and holds his hand out for me to shake. “Zandor Steel.”

 I take his hand and shake it. I like a man who doesn’t take himself too seriously.

“So, what brings you here tonight, Zandor?”

He shrugs. “Just thought I’d wander in. I’m not from around here, so....”

My eyes widen in mock surprise. “Really?”

“Fuck you twice,” he laughs.

“Yeah, see,” I make a tsk-ing noise, “you can’t say that kind of thing in here, or one of these guys will take you up on it.”

“Oh,” he nods. “Good point. I meant ‘Go fuck yourself, twice.”

I find myself laughing, too, in spite of what day it is. It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten how refreshing it is to have people tell you to fuck off to your face. Eyes narrowing thoughtfully, I take out my phone and send a quick, subtle text to have this Zandor Steel looked into.

When I look up I see him staring at me, appraising me with a certain shark-like look to him. My shoulders straighten. I shouldn’t have let my guard down so easily.

“I don’t know if I should be taking your advice, bro,” he says. “Doesn’t look like you’re any closer to slaying poon tonight than I am.”

I like the ease of this conversation, but I don’t like the innuendo. I nod to a petite platinum blonde woman who sits across the room, waiting for notice.  In a blink she is at my side. I nod toward the floor, and she drops to her knees in front of me, ready to service my every wish—in the middle of the club—if I ask.

“Well, fuck,” Zandor says, eyes wide. “My bad. You want to be my Yoda man, I will be your Padawan. Gladly. Just show me how to use the Force like that.”

I have no idea what he’s talking about, but he looks like he expects me to. I shrug. Shake my head.

The look on his face is incredulous. “Star Wars?”

“Let me guess,” I say, taking another sip of my drink. “It’s an American thing.”

“Actually, it’s kind of the most epic movie series of all...you know what, never mind.” He nods “Carry on, oh wise one.”

I gesture down to the petite blonde. “What is your flavor?”

“My thing is pussy,” he repeats, like that is helpful. “Warm, willing pussy, in all varieties.”

I sigh with impatience. “No, Zandor. You’re in a bondage club. I mean, what is your scene? What fetish are you into? Are you a top, a bottom, a group player? Dominance is not for everyone, no matter how....” I gesture vaguely at his physique. “Physically suited for it, they may appear to be. Perhaps you yearn to submit. If that is the case, I can recommend some very talented dommes in the area.”

Zandor Steel looks at me like I am deranged in some way—even though he is the one with the porn star name, who is wearing a ‘fuck me, daddy’ shirt.

“Bro, I just like to fuck and not have the chick so enchanted or fucking needy that she pulls out the old sexual harassment card, trying to teach me some fucking lesson. I’m not into really fucked up. I’ll spank an ass and play with some toys.””

“So, no blood play? Animal transformation? Figging?”

“Fuck no.” He looks vaguely nauseated at the thought—even though, I would bet good money he doesn’t know what any of those things mean. “That’s sick.”

“It’s not about mental health or sickness,” I tell him, more patiently than I should. “It’s about control. Losing it, and feeling free. Or maybe taking it, for the first time in your life. Every day, in all aspects of our lives, control is what we seek. Yet most people have no idea how to control themselves, and they don’t try. They are slaves to their urges, instead of the other way around.”

A feeling prods me then, something similar to guilt. What right do I have to be preaching to this stranger about self-control? After all, what am I doing here tonight?

But Zandor seems to consider—genuinely consider—what I’ve told him. “Not sure if you’re being a dick, or sincere, but as I said before,” he points to the blonde at my feet, who is still silently, patiently waiting, “I want something simple. Meat and potatoes. I want ass that goes away satisfied when I’m done and doesn’t sit outside my door banging on it, begging for cock.”

I can’t help but laugh at the visual image he’s created. “Begging is also a very big part of this scene, my friend. I wonder if you wouldn’t be more comfortable at a nice trucker bar. I hear there is one down by the gas station, near the freeway.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he says, rolling his eyes. “At least there, no one would have a chance at knowing who I was. Ever since my family came into some money, that shit has seriously fucked up my game. There’s no such thing as ‘anonymous’ or ‘no strings attached’ anymore. Now, they’re telling me I need to ‘lay low?’ That ain’t gonna happen. So, like I said, teach away.”

I’m intrigued by his story, and want to know more. New money is like blood in the water for a shark like me. But I’m also starting to like this guy, in spite of myself. So I indulge him, for the moment, and play mentor.

“You have to keep feelings out of it,” I look down at the blonde, finally giving her the attention she craves. She is a textbook sub, willing to wait as long as it takes—because waiting for approval only makes her wetter. I point her to Zandor, and she crawls over, instantly transferring her attention—and adoration—on him. “The only thing you ask of her is obedience, until the game is done. Sexual obedience. Release must be earned, and given like a gift. It cannot be taken.”

Zandor slowly smiles, staring at the blonde’s tits. “I definitely like control.”

I nod to the redhead with the nose-to-nipple piercings, and she walks over to stand before me.

“Is Cindy to your liking, Sir?”

“She’s hot,” Zandor says. “So, yeah. I’d like to show her a good time.”

“No,” I correct him. “You want to take pleasure from her. In return, if she does exactly as you instruct, she will be rewarded.”

I look down at the girl. “Present yourself.”

She does as I say, without question. Whether they know my name or not at this place, it doesn’t matter. They obviously know enough to tell a Dom when they see one.

Leaning back on her heels, Cindy widens her legs slightly, clasping her hands behind her back. The position causes her breasts to jut out, pressing her nipples out against the sheer fabric of her costume.

“You see how she is dressed?” I ask Zandor. “She is wearing lace, not leather. She will be a good partner for your first time. But make sure you agree to the rules, between the two of you, before anything happens. Her presentation shows her desires. She wants to be treated like a lady, but she needs for you to be in control. Like you, she is not so very experienced.”

“What?” Zandor looks at me skeptically. “What do you mean? How can you possibly know that?”

I gesture for the blonde to leave us. “Go over there and wait for your master to claim you, Cindy.”

Immediately, she goes back to where she was sitting before, across the room.

“Everything is in the rules,” I tell him. “It’s part of the world we live in, part of the scene. That is the kind of woman who wants a stranger to spank her and fuck her, but still wants the illusion of romance. She needs someone who wants to dominate her full time, and take care of her. If she asked for my opinion, I would have told her to go somewhere else. This is a place for temporary engagements. Whereas this one,” I point to the redhead, who is smiling at me with open invitation.  “Is a submissive of opportunity. She wants to lose control, for an hour...a weekend. But she is experienced enough to be comfortable in the scene, which tells me that she will be looking for something...special. A singular experience she can tuck away and revisit later, in her private moments.”

My eyes burn into hers, and my explanation takes a turn into something else. Something meant only for her and I. “She is looking for an eye-opening, stinging slap that will drive her over the edge at exactly the right moment. She wants a man who will fuck her, mind and body, like pleasure is her only purpose in the world. And when she’s screaming and begging for release, I will pull it out of her reach, at the last possible second. Because, more than anything, she wants the exhilarating feeling of being wildly...totally...helplessly...out of control.”

By the time I am finished with my description, the redhead is almost panting with desire. I have no doubt that underneath her leather harness, she is dripping with need, ready and waiting for my cock to penetrate her. For my body to conquer hers, completely. I glance over my shoulder, toward the entrance to the private lounge area. I raise an eyebrow. She nods, eagerly.

“Damn,” Zandor says.

I turn toward him with a start. I’d almost forgotten he was there.

“So...can I go fuck Cindy now?”

I nod, because I am done mentoring for the evening. I have my target now, and nothing else matters but the slow burn, the build, and the eventual quench.

“Of course. Just remember that control is a responsibility, not a right. It can be taken away, just as easily as it is given.”

“Understood.”

Satisfied that I have done my part, I turn my attention back to the redhead. 

“Go to the cross and wait for me.” I get up and slowly remove my jacket, folding it neatly over one arm. “It was nice meeting you, Zandor Steel.”

With a nod, I leave him to his fun. I circle the bar and go into one of the side rooms, where a Saint Andrew’s Cross waits in the center of a dimly lit room. The redhead is there, on her knees, already assuming ‘the Position.’

“Get undressed.” I close the door behind me—but not all the way, in case there are any voyeurs who would like to peek in—and hang up my jacket. By the time I turn around, the redhead has taken off her scant leather thong, and is kneeling naked in front of the cross.

She is shaved bare, of course, and I can already see for myself what my words have done to her. She is glistening already, and I have yet to touch her.

Behind me, I can hear whispers, and I don’t have to turn to know a small crowd of watchers has gathered outside. It’s not unusual for me, because I have a reputation, one I am proud of. 

“Tell me your name,” I command, not ask, the naked redhead.

“Cherry,” she says. Of course it is. I smile. “Well, Cherry, tonight you may call me Sir.”

“Yes, sir.” Chest heaving, nipples hard, Cherry waits breathlessly in a pool of desire.

Slowly, I unbutton the cuffs on my shirt. Now is my time, and I plan to savor it. Nothing else matters now, but the burn, and the quench, and the rebuild.

When the sun comes up tomorrow, I will rise from the ashes, and do it all over again.

***

Many hours later, as I am finally leaving the club, I find Zandor waiting for me in the parking lot. I am physically exhausted, and too burnt out to deal with his questions at the moment. I pretend not to see him.

“Wait up, Cross!”

At the odd name, I stop.

“Sabato,” I correct him.

“Fuck, man,” he says, ignoring my response. “Shit, that was intense!”

“Intensity is the point,” I say, too spent to fully explain. “You can’t have combustion without fire, and fire burns.”

“Sure, man.” He follows me to my car. “Whatever gets you off. I’m just not sure it’s my scene.”

I stop, feeling personally offended by Zandor’s ignorance for the first time since I met him.

“It’s not about what gets me off. It’s about what gets her off.” I glare at him, as he continues to miss the point. “If you’re so obsessed with your own pleasure, taking all for yourself and giving nothing back, then you’re right. Bondage is probably not your scene.”

Zandor only shrugs. “Just dipping my toe in but I can assure you I have always gotten the chick I’m banging off. Just dipping my toes in and hell yes I like how that shit feels. Hey, I’m starving. I’m gonna go grab something to eat. You wanna come?”

I shake my head. “I’m not hungry.”

“After all that,” he says, raising his eyebrows, “you’re not hungry?”

“No.” I turn to walk away. Of course he watched. So did a lot of people at the club. I put on a good show.

“Shit dude, just wanted to show some appreciation.” He backs off, turns in the opposite direction.

I reach into my pocket for my keys, and grab my phone while I’m at it. There’s a message from my man Franky:

Zandor Steel is a known associate of Benito DeLuca.

Right. Fucking great. I don’t have time for another minion of my father’s, meeting me by ‘accident,’ pretending to be my friend...it’s like the saying goes, something about not being paranoid if everyone really does want to fuck you over.

“Listen,” I say, my voice low, but still loud enough to carry across the empty lot. “I don’t know what the game is this time, but you call Benito and you tell him that if my father wants to know what I’m up to, he can fucking come down here and tell me himself. At least that way, I’ll get a good, close look at his ugly face before I bash it in.”

“Whoa.” Zandor stops in his tracks, standing frozen for a moment, before turning to look at me. “Wait, what? What the fuck do you mean, your father? How do you know Ben—”

Suddenly, comprehension dawns, like a lightning bolt across his face. “Oh. Ohhh.”

Now I am the one who is confused, all over again. “What do you mean, ‘Oh?’ Are you climaxing, or do you really mean to pretend that you didn’t know whose son I was?”

Zandor shakes his head. “No man, it didn’t—I mean, now that you mention it, I guess I should have, since, well...the name...but yeah. Sorry. Guess I had one, like five, too many drinks before I went in there.” He holds up his hands, once again backing away. “I should have realized, but no, you’re right. I thought you seemed cool, but...yeah, we probably shouldn’t mess around with family chemistry like that. Talk about combustion. Damn.”

Somehow, I can’t let it go. “What do you think I am, some kind of moron?” I gesture with my phone. “You work for Benito, and you want me to believe this was an honest coincidence?”

“Wait, work for Benny?” Zandor laughs. “Oh, hell no. That guy’s a fucking dick!”

Eyes narrowed I size him up, trying to figure out if he’s telling all—or just part—of the truth. True, everyone knows Benito is an asshole. But if you worked for him, you’d know that better than anyone else.

“And what do you think of my father?”

“Shit, man. Nothing. I think nothing. He’s the leader of the fucking Cosa Nostra.” He makes a loud snorting sound. “I’m all for head in bed, but I piss him off, and I’ll wake up cuddling half of a fucking horse. I’m not sure what your beef with him is, but I’d rather not get involved.”

He starts to walk away, and it’s like I can feel the rest of the night stretching out in front of me, endless and empty. Even if he is lying, how bad of an idea could it be to find out more? Besides, he’s right. I am a little hungry, after spending so much time and energy on Cherry.

“Hey, Steel....Wait!”

***

Tonight, I invited Zandor to my club, Privato Desedario, in Milan.

After wrestling with my paranoia and my past, I’ve decided to get over his ties with Benito. I like Zandor. He seems like one of those Lost Boys in that story my Mama used to read for me when I was young. All he wants in life is to have fun, and experience new things. He doesn’t need my money, he doesn’t want a job, and as an added bonus: he doesn’t like Benito.

“Ciao,” I answer my phone when Zandor calls.

“Listen bro,” he says. “You spoke English to me the other night, which means I now have expectations. So don’t fuck it up.”

I laugh, glad that he’s once again comfortable telling me off.

“Fine, but don’t show up here with expectations, and for god’s sake, leave those dancing shoes at home.”

I try to joke back, but I’m not very good at friendly banter. Or having friends. I think I’m pulling it off. So far, at least.

“Listen. I’m not gonna make it tonight, and I’m not gonna pull any punches and say some shit like, ‘I have my period’ or ‘I need to wash my hair,’ and I hope you don’t take this personally, but...  I have a family I need to protect. I’m not comfortable with the idea that some Tony Soprano type is gonna get pissed cause I have a bigger dick and take it out on the people I care about.”

Well, shit. I guess I was paranoid for a reason. “I see.”

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. After doing some more research into his family, it makes sense. A lot of money, a lot of publicity, and twice as many fist fights. It sounded like my childhood, but a lot more fun.

“Sorry, Sabato, but I had to put it out there.”

“Forget it.” My voice comes out sharper than I meant. “Like you said, it isn’t personal. It’s business. In this town, it all comes down to business, in the end.”

“Shit,” he says, and it sounds like he’s laughing. “You think the Mafia is bad, you otta take on Momma Joe.”

“Nice knowing you, Steel.” I start to lower the phone away from my ear.

“Actually, fuck that. You’re right. You know what? Business is business, and this isn’t about that. Like I already told you, I’m not looking to get involved in that side of things.”

“So?”

“So maybe,” he sighs. “Maybe we just don’t talk about it. Maybe we just act like...I don’t know. Friends?”

“Friends.” I don’t know what to say to that. “Friends who do what?”

“I don’t know,” he says. I start to wonder if maybe he doesn’t have a lot of those, either. “I’m heading back to the US soon. They need me. But first I would love to tour the scene for a week or so, you in?”

***

“What do you mean, ‘you’re taking a vacation?’”

My father looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

“You started seven clubs in seven years. I gave you the money to start them, and they’re just finally starting to pay off. And now you wanna walk away?”

“No,” I repeat, as calmly as I can. “It’s like I said. I’m taking a vacation. The clubs have paid for themselves, father. They aren’t rented, or in any danger of going under. You gave me a loan, no different than you would for anyone else who was willing to agree to your ridiculous—and illegal—terms.”

He opens his mouth to interrupt, but I jab my finger in his face.

“And I paid it back, along with the forty percent interest you charged me. You’re controlling interest is zero. My businesses are legit. You have no say in what I do now.”

“That’s what you think,” he snaps. “You’re my son. You will do whatever I need you to do, and nothing else, without my permission.”

“Well, I wasn’t asking permission.” I turn my back on him. “Besides, the only thing you ever ‘need me for’ is a place to launder money, so the police don’t—””

He grabs my shoulder, spinning me back to face him. “You had better watch yourself, boy!”

I get up in his face, refusing to back down, or fully lose my temper. “And  you better remember that your threats mean less than shit to a man who doesn’t value his next breath, or fear losing it. You have the combinations to my safes, so use them. I have people to manage my clubs and surveillance cameras making sure they don’t fuck up their jobs. You’re the only one, other than me, who knows where the cameras are and how to skirt around them. You’ll be just fine. I’m sure you’ve done it before.”

I turn back around, and this time, he doesn’t stop me. I zip my suitcase and pick it up, preparing to leave. My father’s face is incredulous, more surprised than if I had slapped him. It is not often I see defeat in his eyes, but over the past seven years I have given him very little to be disappointed in me about. I might even have made him proud, if he and I were both different men. But in all that time, I have never let him think, even for one second that I looked up to him. Now that I have shown how little I respect him, the illusion is over. I don’t fear him. I never have.

I don’t love him, either. I never did. And I never will.

‘He is your father,’ a girl—a girl I loved—said to me once. “He loves you, in his way.”

I shake my head, turning away from my father, and the memory of her. I don’t like to think of her, even less than I like to think about my mama. I let them both down, long ago, when it mattered most. But together, they taught me who I really was: a giver of pleasure, or pain, but never happiness. Never love. I will never again pretend to be anyone’s eroe, or lover, or son. Not for their benefit, and certainly not for mine.

For that lesson, I suppose I should be grateful.

***

After a week on the Shore, I am more relaxed than ever before.

But of course, it doesn’t last.

I return having met a man who I can actually call my friend. Zandor is very different from me, and from what he says so is his family. I like that. In the Steel family, there is no competition, no judgment, nothing but a good time. Zandor Steel is like a constant, one-man party. Hard to keep up with at times, but always entertaining.

Back home, I find less of a party, more of a militarized zone. I have returned to an angry father—no surprise there—and employees who are much more skittish than when I left them. Some of the girls, the ones I found in bad situations, seem to have reverted to the way they were before—jaded and scared. I felt a responsibility to help them before, and now that someone has undone my work, I am furious. If it is my father’s doing, I decide I will be the one to make him pay.

~Get it April 5th~

How to Tie The St. Andrews Knot

-The wide end of the tie should be on your right side and the other end on your left. The tie should be inside out.

- Cross the narrow end over the other end. (Now three regions)

- Bring the wide end over the narrow end. (Left and right region)

- Bring the wide end under the knot from the right to the left region.

-        Bring the wide end over the center.

-        Bring the wide end underneath the tie knot from right to left.

-        Bring the wide end under the narrow part of the tie from left region to center.

-        Bring the wide end down and pass the loop in front. Make sure the knot is tightened.

-        Use one hand to pull the narrow end down and use the other hand to move the knot up until it reaches the center of the collar.

~ Speak Italian Like Sabato~

Eroe  -   Hero

venire qui   -   You must come here?

Perché – Why is that?

Pittura  -   Picture

sono tristi, troppo   -   Are sad, too

papa è triste, troppo   -   Papa is sad, too

la Santa Vergine   -   The Holy Virgin

mi amore   -   My love

ah, dio mio  - Oh Lord

Maestà   -   Majesty

la strada   -   The road

croe   -   Cross

sono triste   -   I am sad

About the Author

MJ FIELDS

MJ Fields's love of writing was in full swing by age eight. Together with her cousins, she wrote a newsletter and sold it to family members. She self-published her first New Adult romance in January 2013. Today, she has completed five self-published series, The Love series, The Wrapped series, The Burning Souls series, The Men of Steel series and The Ties of Steel series. The Norfolk series has two title self-published so far.

MJ is a USA Today bestselling author and former small business owner, who recently closed the business so she could write full time.

MJ lives in central New York, surrounded by family and friends. Her house is full of pets, friends, and noise ninety percent of the time, and she would have it no other way.

MEN OF STEEL SERIES

FOREVER STEEL

JASE

JASE & CARLY

CYRUS

ZANDOR

XAVIER

Forever Family

And

Family

TIES OF STEEL SERIES

ABE

DOMINIC

SABTATO

The LRHA Legacy Series

A collection of series that follow the Links, Ross, Abraham, and Hines families through several generation.

Each series can be a standalone but is so much deeper read in order.

The Love Series

Blue Love

New Love

Sad Love

True Love

The Wrapped series

Wrapped in Silk

Wrapped in Armor

Wrapped Always and Forever

Burning Souls Series

Stained

Merged

Forged

And the latest releases

Love You Anyways

And Love Notes

Ava links story will be coming out in summer 2015

The Norfolk Series

Irons

Irons 2

Irons 3

Connect with MJ Fields

Email – mjfieldsbooks@gmail.com

Website – www.mjfieldsbooks.com

Facebook – http://tinyurl.com/mjfieldsfb

Tsu- https://www.tsu.co/mjfields

For more on the Ties of Steel series, sign up for the newsletter on MJ’s Facebook page or at

www.mjfieldsbooks.com

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Follow MJ on Spotify and listen to songs that inspired this and many of her other books!

Thank you to:

The owner of this book,

You are why I get to do this everyday and I am so grateful to you for that.

To Bryant Wood,

I met you once and knew you were perfect for this cover. I also knew this would be just a piece of what you are to become. I am watching you and rooting for you. I can’t wait to see where you journey takes you.

To Kris Adams,

Thank you for the intro to Bryant. He is amazing. So are you.

To Scott Hoover,

This photo shoot literally happened in hours. Thank you for adjusting. You are crazy talented.

To V. Parker,

I am more excited than a rolling multiple O where no one knows where it begins or ends, to be working with you. Others may not get that, but I’m sure you do.

This is why I love you.

To my girls,

I love you all and can’t wait to see your dreams become realities.

To Ally,

We will someday discuss….

I love you more.