Chapter 16

I turned around and saw Emiliano leaning in the doorway. He stood up straight and began walking towards me. I discreetly reached for the gun on the bed behind me with my left hand and kept it against my back. He stopped right in front of me, our feet almost touching, and said,

“Hera, I’m sorry.”

I looked fiercely into his eyes and said,

“Ever do that again, Emiliano, and I will kill you.”

Emiliano ignored me and grabbed my free hand and said,

“I was so worried about Anka, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

I clenched my teeth at the sound of *her* name. Emiliano brushed his hand against my cheek and said,

“We were given access to their surveillance so I know every move my Anka makes.”

*My Anka*. The thunder rumbled in my ears again. Emiliano tried to neutralize me by moving the hair out of the way of my ear to suck on it then moved his lips down my neck, kissing and inhaling my scent. For a moment I was paralyzed. I wanted to give in, but I knew he was using me as a substitute. I weakly said,

“Emiliano, please.”

He pulled away only enough for his eyes to look into mine,

“Hera, I missed you. You smell so good.”

The sound of my name coming from Emiliano’s mouth made me powerless. Emiliano leaned in slowly and paused when he was so close I could feel his lips brush against mine. I wanted to kiss him. I wanted to taste him. My legs started to tremble in anticipation. Emiliano took my hand and pressed it on the erection trying to escape out of his pants and I took a harsh breath in. With my face still in his hand, he moved his lips from my mouth to my ear and whispered,

“Remember the last time I made you squirt?”

I let out an airy moan and Emiliano took his hand off of my face and traced my body with his finger; starting down my neck, around the outside of my breast, down to my hips and then gently massaging me between my legs from the outside of my pants and said,

“Because I can’t stop thinking about it.”

I bit my bottom lip to keep from moaning again. I took my hand off of his dick and put it on his muscular chest and said,

“Emiliano, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

Emiliano hung his head for a moment then took his hands off of me and took a step back and said,

“We didn’t eat our dinner.”

I said,

“I’m starving.”

Emiliano smiled and started to walk to the door and without looking back said,

“You can bring the gun.”

My eyes opened wide for a second, then I reset my expression. I flipped around toward the bed and quickly rummaged through my purse and grabbed a small wooden case. With gun in tow I caught up to Emiliano in the hallway and he grabbed my hand as he helped me down the stairs. He saw my crystal heels and raised an eyebrow at me. I shrugged my shoulders and Emiliano smiled as he grabbed me by the waist and threw me over his shoulder. I yelled,

“Emiliano!”

And my laughter echoed through the house as he carried me all the way to the dining room, dropping me off in the chair next to his. Emiliano took his seat and I raised my eyebrow at him, to which he smiled and shrugged his shoulders. I set down the pistol and the wooden case on the table, away from Emiliano. Don looked over and asked,

“What is that?”

I looked at the wooden case, then back at Emiliano with a smile and a wink and said,

“That’s for after dinner.”

Emiliano looked at me suspiciously then smiled. His smile was perfect and made my stomach take flight. Without hesitation the wait staff served us dinner: Parmigiana di Melanzane. I took a bite and it was exquisite. Emiliano poured us each a glass of wine and we sat quietly while we ate and drank.

Once my glass was empty, Emiliano immediately refilled it and I asked,

“Don Emiliano are you trying to get me drunk?”

Emiliano smiled and said,

“Voglio che tu ammetta di aver capito l'italiano.”

*“I want you to admit you understand Italian.”*

I cocked my head and stared at Emiliano blankly, for about a good three seconds before the effects of the wine made me blush. Emiliano slid his chair a little closer to me, picked up my full wine glass and handed it to me and asked,

“How many languages do you know?”

I took a sip while I stared at Emiliano through squinted eyes. I set the glass down and bit my bottom lip and said,

“I don’t know, a few?”

Emiliano took a drink of his wine and said,

“You know Polish?”

I looked away from him and took a deep breath. Emiliano, again, handed me the wine glass and I took another sip and nodded my head. He continued,

“You know Spanish?”

I smiled and nodded my head. Emiliano touched the bottom of my glass and I took another drink. He continued,

“And you obviously know English, quite well.”

I bowed my head and said,

“Thank you.”

He lifted his head and raised his eyebrows at me and I instinctively took another drink. Emiliano smiled wider and said,

“And you know Italian..”

I licked my lips and looked away and tried to keep a straight face. Emiliano reached out and rested his hand on my arm and I looked at him. He asked,

“Are you finished with your food?”

The wine had me feeling airy when I nodded my head. Emiliano grabbed my hand and stood from his chair and I rose too. He pointed to the gun and the wooden case and I grabbed them and followed Emiliano further into the mansion. Through the dining room was an open two story living room. We took a seat on a couch and I sat the gun down on the coffee table and opened the wooden case; revealing two joints and a lighter. I pulled out a joint and the lighter and set the case down. I put the joint in my mouth and lit it, took a long relieving drag then handed it to Emiliano. Without hesitation he took the cigarette and inhaled. I smiled as he handed it back to me and he asked,

“And why does an American need to know so many European languages?”

I took another drag, held my breath for a second then handed the joint back to Emiliano. I exhaled and shook my head then said,

“I’m from Greece.”

Emiliano sucked on the joint then asked,

“Then how does a Goddess from Greece end up in America?”

He handed me the herb and I felt a little too hazy so I set the joint down in the ashtray on the coffee table, littered with cigar butts. I leaned back on the couch and looked at Emiliano, he bent down and grabbed my feet to take my shoes off and raised his eyebrows at me. I answered his question,

“I grew up in Greece with a Spanish nanny. When my mom died, my Polish grandmother came to take care of us while my dad got his shit together. And when my dad died, I was sent to America to live with my Greek aunt.”

Emiliano put my bare feet down and slid close enough to me that our knees and hands were touching and asked,

“You were speaking Greek when I called the other day?”

He leaned in closer and I could feel his breath on my neck. I laid my head back on the couch and closed my eyes as I felt Emiliano’s fingers lightly slide up my leg. Goosebumps covered my body and Emiliano began moving his fingers between my legs. I laid down on the couch to try to get away from him but that only gave him access to lay on his side next to me, keeping his hands between my legs.

Emiliano started kissing my neck and moved in closer to me so I could feel his imprisoned erection against my leg. The wine, the weed, Emiliano’s mouth, his fingers, his stiff thick dick, it was all too much. Emiliano moved his fingers from between my thighs and up my stomach to the top of my elastic pants and tucked his hand under them and was gliding his hands down until his fingers touched the top of my g-string, he began to tuck his fingers under my underwear when I gasped,

“Emiliano, you’re married!”

Emiliano paused for a second then removed his hand from under the soft satin and continued down, over my underwear. He let out a harsh breath when he felt how soaked my underwear was. Emiliano started rubbing his fingers against me and I instinctively arched my back, putting my breasts in Emiliano’s face. He caressed his face in my bosom and I began to feel a climax building. I grabbed Emiliano’s arm and jerked it up to get him out of my pants and he looked at me. My face was flushed and I sat up, fixing the waistband of my pants. Emiliano sat up and covered his face in his hands and whispered,

“Per una volta, vorrei aver ascoltato Mario.”

*“For once, I wish I would have listened to Mario.”*

I pretended not to hear him. He was under the influence. With the effects of the wine and the weed, I grew very tired. I yawned and Emiliano stood and reached for my hand and I put my hand in his and rose from the couch. He led me out into the corridor, up the stairs, and into his room.