Sicilian Expressions Novels & Stories

"Talk to me when you're not so full of yourself." Santiago didn't seem bothered by her response. He nodded and smiled. "Right, right. What's the phrase? 'The day is long'? Yeah, we've still got a long day ahead." Emilia was shocked and said, "It's 'there's plenty of time ahead.'" "Oh! You're right. Your Hebranian is so good, and you know all the words… Here, take it and drink." She looked at him with an odd expression and said, "This is for kids. I don't want it."

she said. “The typical Sicilian breakfast is based on a granita and a brioscia,” I said, and she raised her eyebrows. “The granita is a flavored slush, but with a softer consistency of ice; I always order it with coffee because it's the richest. Brioscia is a spongy bread; it tastes similar to a pandoro, but it's much softer and sweeter.” “Wow,” said Chiara. “I love sweet; I'm just not used to having so much sweet for breakfast in the morning.”

“Who’s Stella? Her name is everywhere.” Again, Gio and Tristan laughed. “Let’s get out of here, Tris,” Gio said, laughing. “You should learn about the Siciliano clan.” “It’s your mother-in-law.” “Oh.” My eyes were wide as saucers. My ears were hot. I covered my mouth, feeling mortified, as if I was caught red-handed stealing his wine. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” I took a sip. “It’s delicate. I taste a lot of fruits like plums and berries.”

I take a good long look at Sofia. She takes off the sunglasses and moves a stray piece of hair out of her eyes. "Why are you looking at me like that, bolillo?" "Bolillo?" "Never heard a white slur before?" I can't help the grin that splits my face. She's always challenging me. "Never heard that particular one, princess." Her eyes are almost black. I'd like to see them burning as I ram my cock into her tight little pussy. "It means white bread bun." My laugh is loud in the quiet setting. No one else is sitting outside their vehicle. It's in the low eighties up here in the mountains. Much cooler than Phoenix but still hot enough to stay in the car with the air cranked. "That the best insult yo

Amico -Friend Grazie- Thank you Fiore de Venezia- Flower of Venice Calcio della pistola- Butt of the gun

I sighed, and in a pleading tone, said, “Listen, it took me years to get her to speak to me. Please do not mess this up for me you guys.” Gio waved his hand around dismissively, and in a prideful tone replied, “Do not worry my friend. We Sicilian men are very charming. I can help you if you are worried.” John and I rolled our eyes at our European friend. “Humble as always Gio,” John replied with a sarcastic voice. Gio nodded in absolute. “Can you guys give us a minute?” I asked my friends, hoping they will go away to give us some privacy. John pouted and was about to reject, but Gio nodded and pulled him away.

"Nora, when are you going to stop this? I mean I hate the bad air around here." I feigned ignorance, "What do you mean?" "Sai di Cosa to parlando." ( You know what I'm talking about.) I shrugged, "Abbiamo del Lavoro da fare." (We have work to do.) ***

Her rage moments could be just as explosive as her happy moments. "It's okay, sorellina. I'll be just fine. I can take a hit and, frankly, he hits a bit like Selene. You'd think the big and scary macellaio di Sicilia (butcher of Sicily) would have some gusto behind his hits but it just reminded me of Selene's puny punches. I'll be back in tip top shape in no time."

I took a step closer to her and her eyes quickly lowered to my dick again before raising it at me. "If you've never met a Sicilian like me. Now you have." I said placing one of the fingers I used in playing with my balls on Micah's lips and she willingly brought out her tongue licking the finger. "Such a good girl, Michea," I called her name in Italian, and Micah smiled at my words. This time her smile was seductive and it affected me more than I think I have tempted her. "Now, I'm gonna fuck you," I mentioned and her eyes lit up in amazement.

—the loyalists who believed that a man was only as strong as the secrets he kept from his wife. "They won’t use bullets tonight," Roman said, his voice barely a whisper against the sound of the crashing waves below. "Stefano is a man of 'honor.' A bullet in a guest's house is a stain on the host. But a sickness... a sudden, tragic ailment in the night? That is the Sicilian way."