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She nods, letting go of my cheek like her hand is on fire. She stares at the ceiling before turning to me. “Last week he stood up for a kid who was being bullied but when he came home I could sense—”
“He liked what he did to them,” I continue for her.
She nods, biting her bottom lip and blinking hard, fighting against her tears. “The other kids were all discharged from the hospital, and no charges were pressed because he protected Tommy, but I’m scared.”
“That he’ll turn into me?”
She nods, not saying anything.
“He won’t, amore. From what you tell me he’s a good kid. He’s got his heart in the right place. He might like violence, but he used it to protect someone. That’s a good thing.”
She sniffles, and I wipe away the tear traveling down her cheek. She doesn’t recoil from my touch but looks at me with a strange look on her face, somewhere between hurt and acceptance.
“I want to leave around ten tonight. It needs to be dark when we cross the border. I got a guy in my pocket, so it won’t be a problem to get back into the country.”
“Damn, Sal,” she whispers, sitting up.
I do the same, I’m already mirroring her to make her feel at ease with me. “What?”
“I’ve managed fine without you these last several years,” she says, standing and walking around the room to turn on a couple of lights. Leaning back against the headboard I rest my arms on my raised knees and watch her pace. She’s fucking cute.
“How old are you anyway?”
“I’m thirty-five.” The corner of my lip hikes up involuntarily. “Is that all you want to ask me?”
She points a finger in my face, takes a deep breath and I have to adjust myself for the thousandth time today. Her eyes dart to the place between my thighs and her cheeks heat.
“No, of course not, asshole. I want to know so much more. I want to shoot you. I want to fucking stab you in the dick.”
“Why don’t you?” I ask a little too enthusiastically judging by her raised eyebrow as a challenge, opening my thighs so she has a front row seat to my growing bulge.
Pinching her lips together, she flips me off. “I’m not gonna give you what you want.”
I rub the back of my neck waiting for her to go on, fighting against my disappointment.
She lets out a heavy sigh. “Because you are the father of my child! I had no idea what to tell him about you, so I didn’t tell him anything. But I know he suspects something is wrong with what happened between us.” Pressing both hands against her stomach.
I lift my chin for her to continue.
“Oh, don’t give me those puppy eyes, you know what you did.”
“What did I do?” I ask, flexing my fingers and leaning back with both hands behind my neck.
“You stalked me for months— no years; you hid in my freaking closet. I found the knife carvings of how many times you made me come in my sleep.”
“I did,” I nod proudly, all those happy memories come rushing back.
She stares at me, her mouth open. “I know there is something wrong upstairs,” she says trying to keep the smile out of her voice. “You do know what we did was wrong?”
“Why?” I ask, now I’m curious. She’s mine; why shouldn’t I hide in her closet and get off to her sleeping? I mean I did it a lot. Standing at the foot of her bed, my underwear trapped under my balls while I jerked off. I flinch, okay maybe it wasn’t my brightest idea to lick her pussy, but it worked on my end. I let out a couple Italian swearwords with a smile on my face.
“I don’t even know what that means,” she says exasperated, eyeing the guns on the other bed.
“You spent two years living in Italy,” I frown.
“I know the basics, fucker. Iggy is the one who can speak five languages fluently.”
“He can?” I ask, shifting on the bed, something like pride filling my chest.
