SEX WITH MY husband is only great when I have his brother in my mind.
Instead of my husband inside me, I picture his brother deep in me, how his rough, calloused would feel wrapped around my neck, the feeling of his naked body pressed against mine, the scandalous things he would whisper that would caress my skin like the finest of silks, the tantalizing positions we would be in as I reach somewhere where I've never been. What-"Nicole!" My husband gasps my name one last time as he comes inside me with a sloppy thrust. He collapses right next to me with his naked body pressing against mine. His gasps for air trickle down my neck as if he ran a mile and all I can do is blink and stare at the beige-colored ceiling above me as I try to not let disappointment wash all over me even though it happens every time. Gianni cums faster than the speed of light as soon as his male part is inside me and all I can do is lay under him lifelessly, whimpering in pain.The freedom to make your own decisions wasn't written in my fate, unwilling, all I could was accept everything served to me. That being my arranged marriage to Gianni Russo- a 50-year-old who I'm supposed to love devotedly but I can't bring myself to. Ever since I was able to speak, everything in my life revolved around him. My favorite color was what his favorite color was, and my favorite food was what his favorite food was, and I had to read the books that he used to send for me, and listen to the songs he decided for me. Even the clothes I used to wear were decided by him.At the age of sixteen, Gianni introduced me to porn. He would come home every night and show me those videos to teach me how to please him when we got married. To help me practice, he would make me take off my clothes and do things the women in those videos did.I would touch him, he would moan. When he touched me, I cried in pain.Even after marriage when we finally had sex, all I felt was excruciating pain when he entered me. He told me that it happens the first time but I've never felt anything other than pain whenever we have sex.But there was one exception, that unforgettable night. I sneaked into a club once with my friend Caterina and there I met someone, who hasn't left my thoughts since then, who's plagued my very being, who made all of the things taught to me by my parents and husband-shatter.Five orgasms. He made me have five heart hammering, thighs trembling, body pulsing, euphoric, sense losing, catastrophic orgasms.That night lots of things got lost from me, things that I didn't know I had, things that I don't want back, things I want to feel again.It's been a total of six months and five days since I exchanged vows and rings with Gianni and all my husband does is come home every day, showers, and then pushes himself inside me, and with two thrusts he's done, then he leaves me there and probably goes to his other lovers. The words of my mother float in my head- telling me that it is okay for a man to have other women even after he was married but a woman must stay completely devoted to him. This regime carries out every day and there is never a day where I don't feel utterly useless but still completely used.Sliding from the bed and walking towards the bathroom with a heavy heart I turn on the shower.Taking a deep breath and then releasing it, I begin scrubbing myself. Hard. Everywhere. To get rid of my husband's touches. The tears that escape from my eyes silently get mixed with the water and then disappear down the drain as if they never left my eyes.Scrubbing myself, my thoughts get lost to my wedding day, when I saw the same man who's consumed my very being. The heavens were not on my side because he turned out to be Gianni's cousin brother, Alessio Russo- who is the head of the Russo family. Due to my nervousness, I couldn't gaze or even utter a word to him but the whole wedding I felt his dark gaze burning holes in my body.If Gianni ever found out about that night in the club, he would do things to me that my imagination can't even begin to visualize.Throwing negative thoughts like that aside, I turn off the shower and wrap a robe around me. Gianni stands in front of me with his shirt in hand along with a smile on his face."Will my beautiful wife help me wear this shirt?"Taking and releasing one deep breath, I smile at him, "Of course."He puts his arm in the shirt as I hold it up for him, the protruding belly and grey hair all over his chest greet me but my smile doesn't flatter.As soon as I'm done buttoning up his shirt, I rush towards my closet and look at all the dresses, contemplating which one to wear. Tonight, we are invited by Alessio to his house for dinner, my heart starts hammering against my rib cage just thinking about him. All I can do is send a silent prayer to God, to save me.To save me from the downfall that awaits me.MALEVOLENCE— THE QUALITY of causing or wanting to cause harm or evil.The man with dark hair, whiskey eyes, and a face sculpted so perfectly that it surpasses the beauty of Greek gods, stares at me, malevolence dripping from his gaze."How's married life, fratello?" Alessio's deep, rich voice dripping with an Italian accent cuts the silence lingering in this room. (brother)A few tiny pieces of food fall from Gianni's mouth as he laughs loudly, his laughter echoing through the empty dining room. "More amazing than I thought it would be." He leans forward on the table and points towards me, "Mio moglie is just so obedient and caring that I feel like I'm in heaven on this Earth." (My wife)Sending a small smile in Gianni's way, I sip the champagne in my hand giving undivided attention to the dangerous man sitting at the opposite end of this round table. With his broad body structure, muscles bulging under the material of his high-end suit, slicked-back dark hair, and such high cheekbon
THE RIDE BACK home is filled with silence, not the kind which is peaceful where you're assured everything is fine, this silence is the silence before a deadly storm is about to hit— the kind that screams danger and settles dread deep in your bones.Gianni didn't see Alessio having me wrapped in his arms but he did see me standing close to him and he isn't happy about it, his fisted hands, harsh breaths, and the sound of his lips grinding makes it clear."Gianni—" "Don't spit a word till we reach home."Shuddering with fear, I kept my lips sealed. By the time we pulled up in the parking lot, I was trembling and soaring with anxiety that keeps doubling every passing second.A yelp escapes my lips as my husband walks up to me as I try exiting the car and wraps the back of my neck in a murderous grip."Gianni," I whisper with tears springing in my eyes because of the pain.With no word leaving his mouth, I am dragged inside of the house in an animalistic way— with my feet half in the air
HIDING BRUISES HAS become a part of my regime now.It's been a month since Gianni raised a hand at me for the very first time because of whatever happened at Alessio's house then the second time he pushed me off the stairs because he thought I gained weight, the third time he nearly broke my skull by crushing it with his foot because he wasn't happy with my tone while greeting him. In the past 30 days, I've suffered from a broken skull, fractured ribs, a broken arm, and severe bleeding in my abdomen.Sitting on the toilet seat trying the wipe off the blood that's dripping down my legs—I have this sudden urge to cry again. One.Two.Three.Taking deep breaths to not let a sob escape my mouth because I'm supposed to be getting ready for the ball, I and my husband are invited to, not crying while heeding the stab wound on my inner thigh gifted to me by my dear husband."Are you still not ready?" The voice from outside the bathroom door startles me and the bottle of the disinfectant in m
THAT VOICE BELONGS to none other than the man wrapped in whiskey and sin.My attention falters from Zoe and fixates on Alessio who isn't looking at me, his roughly calloused hand is outstretched in Zoe's direction along with his whole attention on my new friend.He's asking her to dance, I think to myself. Standing in the corner, I see Zoe put her hands in Alessio's who holds it in a firm grip and both of them retreat to the dance floor without sparing me a single glance.Suddenly it's like I'm the bland painting on a wall—not captivating enough to have anyone's attention and not alluring enough to have my own husband dance with me. He has his arms wrapped around a woman's waist whose identity I didn't know of—surrounded by more couples. The love dripping from most people's gaze is so painstakingly prominent that it feels like someone's punching a hole through my heart.Why don't I have anyone who loves me like this? Why don't I have anyone who wants to dance with me? Why don't I hav
August 15th, 2016YOU REAP WHAT you sow. We all eventually face the consequences of the actions we do in the present.Twelve-year-old Nicole heard Mrs. Vietllo—her English teacher told her during one of her classes— she was a middle-aged lady with a smile that always made her feel warm, although everything she told the little kid, she carved it in the deep parts of her soul this was one thing the little girl disagreed on.Why do you think like that? She'd ask, crouching down to come eye to eye with the shy green-eyed girl who always looked at her with eyes sparkling.Looking at the floor, she'd shake her head without giving any answer because she knew her answers would lead her into trouble. So without answering, she sits near the window, letting the warm sunlight flicker all over her body and the blue sky fill her gaze with her thoughts in a train wreck.What bad things did I do for my parents and sister to hate me this much? She thought to herself.Engrossed in deep thinking, she tr
MY WHOLE LIFE—whenever I think that things couldn't go worse—life yells surprise and the next second everything goes downhill.The ball, the phone, Alessio, haven't left my mind along with his words, I will give you what you want. I am not having trouble believing Alessio but I'm having trouble thinking about what I want.Do I want to get away from this life? Do I want to leave Gianni? Not sure. I want both of these things but what will I even do after I leave this life behind? I've known nothing but Gianni and his likes and dislikes all my life and without him, I am not sure what my life will be left to.But those things are the least of my concerns now because my sister–Alyssa, is here. Strolling through my closet looking at all my dresses with that sparkle in her eyes she's always had when she sees something she likes.My life was never sunshine and rainbows, like the hundreds of fairy tales I've read— it was like a horror story with no light peeking through the curtains and Alyssa
| ALESSIO |⚘⚘I'VE ALWAYS HAD an unexplainable obsession with puzzles.Letting my gaze run all over the puzzles I've solved and gathered over the passing years, my gaze settles on the most recent one. Thousands of tiny pieces were put neatly where they belonged to form an enrapturing black hole. Took me three days—the longest ever—but it's all worth it because nothing satisfies my quench of a worthy challenge, or stimulation, unlike these puzzles.Pouring whiskey into the glass on the countertop of my bar, my mind wanders back again to someone who's proven to be more complex, more challenging, and far more thrilling than any puzzle I've ever come across.Nicole Russo. Her always troubled green eyes, quivering lips, curved begging to be touched, and a voice like the finest of tunes played by the most skilled of pianists make her so riveting that I find my thoughts occupied by her every time.Meeting her that starry night at my club, sporting a red dress with curiosity dripping from h
BEING A PART of this-mafia world as a woman always meant attending numerous balls, and parties every other day.Today, yet again, we're supposed to attend a charity ball and this ball is the most exquisite of all because Gianni went out of his way to order my old make-up and hair stylist for me."Can you please style my hair down?" I ask, eyeing Martha in the mirror as she rummages around the drawers to put hundreds of pins on the counter."No. Your husband ordered it to be put up." A harsh breath escapes me as I try to ignore the scalding pain shooting in the side of my head that may or may not be because my husband banged it against a wall this morning. Martha is a woman of few words, who can turn her senses on or off whenever and wherever she pleases- like right now, clad in nothing but a robe, my bruises and scars on momentary display but she chooses to ignore that along with the huge bump on the side of my head."Looks like you're forgetting your manners, Nicole." A hiss escape