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And then Massimo eased his fingers from Isotta, stopping the titillating motion. Isotta wasn’t sure what was going on. He was absent again. So, she had to wait, and she did, with bated breath. When she felt warmth against her folds, Isotta shuddered. His mouth found her wanton flesh, and Massimo licked her and sucked her, thrusting his tongue into her. His girth swelled under the pressure. Massimo really wanted to fuck her, but it was too soon. He wanted Isotta to want him so bad that she would do anything to have him. So, he didn’t plunge his thickness into her welcoming pussy. Instead, as Massimo lavished upon her jewel with his free hand, he fondled Isotta’s breasts, softly thumbing her hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers, sending Isotta to another level of pained pleasure and ecstasy. Massimo’s tongue game increased, sending Isotta rocketing to the moon. Her hot nectar coated his probing tongue, and she climaxed over and over and over again.
Massimo’s free hand moved to Isotta’s belly. He slowed his tongue down while plunging it deeper, hitting Isotta’s pearl over and over again. Isotta panted, on the verge of exploding again. Her walls pulsed and throbbed.
“Massimo, please,” she uttered between panted breaths. Oh my God!”
Massimo moaned inside Isotta, sending vocal vibrations through her core. The scream that poured from her lips was as uncontrollable as the flow of hot loveliness that spilled from her puss. Raising on his knees, tilting Isotta to a higher angle by supporting her back with his arm, her head cast further back, exaggerating her equilibrium. And then he licked her slowly and fully until the only wetness remaining was the new wetness he created.
“Babe, babe,” she panted, unable to catch her breath. “Massimo, please!”
Hearing Isotta calling out his name sent a wave of sensual fury through him. Lifting from the floor, Massimo stood over the woman he loved and gave Isotta everything she asked for. She gasped, unable to find new air to breathe, her eyes rolling to the back of her head as his thickness inched inside her, slowly, intentionally. Feeling gism swelling at the base of his manhood, Massimo slowly stroked, rocking Isotta with long, slow, deep thrusts. He wanted to feel every spasm of her womb give way to his touch, lulling her into a seductive dance where he was a musician playing every lyrical note, crescendoing, decrescendoing, sustaining.
Isotta’s breathing was labored as the change in stroke caused another climax, hardening her nipples and stirring her soul. With intention, Isotta flexed and released the muscles in her jewel, squeezing and releasing Massimo’s thickness to a rhythm all her own. His mind was blown as she teased and toyed with him, sending wave after wave of pressure that swelled in his loin. Massimo couldn’t take it anymore, and his thrusts intensified in rhythm.
“Cum for me, Massimo,” Isotta whimpered as she neared another climax of her own.
“Cum for me, Isotta.”
He swelled inside her, the veins of his dick being massaged by her tight walls. The fuck became frantic as Massimo held back all he could, wanting to stay in the moment with Isotta forever. His heart beat fast in his chest as hot gism reared and then raged to be released. Massimo’s breathing was jagged as he held tightly to Isotta’s hips, pounding her to the hilt with everything he had.
“Ahh!” He screamed as he could no longer hold back the load that exploded from his rod. His wetness, combined with the wetness of Isotta, showered on him once again as she rode his climax to the very end.
Words escaped them both as Massimo collapsed onto Isotta’s back, bracing her with the strength of his hands. After a moment, Massimo lifted off her and lifted her, turning Isotta to face him. The moment when their eyes met solidified the love they mutually shared. The shower continued to warm them as they held each other, reveling in the glow of the love they made.
The two stayed in that moment for a while. No conversation was had. No conversation was needed. Isotta didn’t have any more internal conversations with herself either. She got up from the bench and made her way into the house, still hoping, still dreaming, and finding herself still wondering why she missed her husband. There was a part of Isotta that longed for that. She desperately longed for it.
Chapter Eighteen
Dr. Descartes fought against her patient's nonbeating heart that had been recently restarted, although faintly. The doctor had the nurse carefully wipe the blood away even though it hadn’t flowed as freely as before his heart stopped the first time since he’d been with them. The doctor was tenuous yet determined. She didn’t want to lose the patient. He was a young man whose life was worth saving. He had such a long life to live, Dr. Descartes thought. Then, the beat of the heart monitor escalated. The doctor’s eye grew wider. Her patient’s heartbeat was faster than was prescribed, and she didn’t know what had happened to cause it. Dr. Descartes searched for the problem that caused the escalation.
The nick that marked Alessandro’s heart initially suffered had ripped even more. The doctor did her best in trying to repair what had been broken. And it sounded like Alessandro’s heart was going to tank again. But Dr. Descartes and her team kept fighting.
Initially, when asked, Sofia didn’t want to leave Alessandro’s hospital room. She expected that he would return, and she would see her son recovering. Sofia had been adamant about the need to stay put. Gabriel and Carmine took turns walking down to the surgical waiting room, but they always returned because Sofia was there. They didn’t try to reason with her because how could they? Carmine and Gabriel both understood why Sofia wanted to stay in the room. They saw her grappling with staying while still wanting to know what was going on with her son. Sofia internally struggled with wanting to be in two places, holding out hope that her son would return while still wanting to find out closer to the surgical procedure.
Sofia rode the mental seesaw of the back and forth between going and staying. After a while, she decided to go be closer to Alessandro. Maybe he would feel her presence and know that he had to come back to her. That’s what Sofia thought as the family made their way to the surgical emergency waiting room. They sat there and waited. Sofia tried to wait patiently, yet she found her eyes darting around the room, looking at everyone who came out of the surgical space.
Dr. Descartes felt like no sooner than one heart plunge was over. Another one was right around the corner. The team struggled to get the patient’s vitals regulated as Dr. Descartes continued to work on Alessandro’s heart. Alessandro was in a physical crisis, and the surgical team was trying to respond.
Sofia was physically uneasy as the family waited in the waiting room. Carmine and Gabriel felt much the same way, although they dared not physically show it nearly as much. They were men, after all. They waited, sometimes quietly, other times pacing the floor. When the door to where Alessandro had been taken finally opened. The entire Esposito family perked up, eying the staff’s every movement. Then, they saw a surgeon who moved directly in their direction.
“Esposito family?” Dr. Descartes said as she slid off her surgical cap. Even though she knew what she had to say, it never got any easier.
Sofia’s heart lurched in her chest when the family name was called. They all stood up and walked over to where the doctor was. Carmine grabbed his wife’s hand.
“If we can step over into the room, please?” Dr. Descartes asked as she moved, buying herself more time to get her words and her thoughts together.
The Espositos filed into the room, and the doctor closed the door. The family waited for the doctor to tell them something, anything – anything good. Dr. Descartes took a deep breath before starting.
“I regret to inform you.”
What the doctor had to say was interrupted by a wail that started off low but quickly escalated to a fevered pitch. Both Gabriel and Carmine lowered their heads as Carmine squeezed his wife’s hand. Tears began to fall from Sofia’s eyes, first, as light seepage and then a full-on onslaught where she cried in earnest. Her death wails became more ear-piercing as she continued to mourn the loss of the son she cared so much about.
“I am so sorry,” Dr. Descartes sighed. She could not afford to be emotionally impacted, regardless of how emotionally devastating the situation was. Sofia was inconsolable. Dr. Descartes tried to give her a moment, but the tears Sofia shed and the guttural sounds she made failed to subside. Sofia slid further down in the dark well of total, unyielding, mournful sadness that only the wails from the pit of her soul could express, and even then, not adequately. She repeated the doctor’s words over in her head. “I’m sorry to inform you.”
The words were so permanent even though they weren’t fulfilled or complete. Yet, even in their inconclusiveness, they spoke finality. It was final. Sofia’s beloved son was dead, never to return again. Another wail brewed in her spirit and spilled from her lips as her already tear-heavy eyes clouded over with an abundance of tears to which Sofia didn’t anticipate an end. Carmine reached over and took a tissue, handing it to Sofia. She accepted it but didn’t lift the tissue to her eyes. Sofia just couldn’t manage it. She was bereft and unashamedly so.
She was inconsolable, but the men in her family, although empathetic, had already mentally moved on. They remained quiet as though respecting her grief, but they were preoccupied with their own thoughts and circumstances. Carmine thought of retribution. He envisioned and imagined ways that he could strike back. Gabriel’s thoughts returned to the deceased guards he’d left. He wanted to make sure the matter had been handled. Gabriel dared not separate himself from his family by making a phone call, but he certainly considered it. His mother would be angry, though, especially with him leaving in her hour of need.
Giuseppe had gotten the information he needed to report back to Massimo. However, when he checked on his brother again, Massimo was asleep. He returned to his room, allowed his mind to divert from his obligatory response to his brother, and started to consider his own future. Giuseppe understood his position in the family, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. He understood the patriarchy, but that did not mean he agreed with how it was slated to play out. Always being second fiddle. Giuseppe knew he didn’t have a choice in his birth order, but there had to be something he could do about it. There had to be a way he could effect change that would have a lasting and undeniable impact on how things were slated to pan out.
