Sicilian Expressions Novels & Stories

"That woman has no idea you're about to shake hands with the Pope of Crime, does she?" "Shut. Up." "I mean it! You're walking into a gilded lion's den where everyone and their cousin was hoping Dalia would waltz back in wearing lace and Latin and be their queen." "Thank you for the reminder," I muttered. "You need gifts that say I'm not Dalia, but I'll outgun her in heels if I have to." "Andra." "Do you even speak Sicilian?" I groaned. "No." "See?" she gasped, clutching her chest again. "Icarus's sisters are going to stare at you with the same expression they uses to judge undercooked steak. Meanwhile, Dalia probably knows the family motto in five dialects and has it embroidered on her pillo

he added, almost casually. Something about the way he said it made my stomach clench. Then his voice dropped lower, colder. “Part in Sicily. Part in Calabria.” I squinted my eyes in assessment.

My head lolled back, a moan escaping my lips. "Cazzo, micio. Anche la tua figa sa di fragole." (F*ck, kitty. Even your p*ssy tastes like strawberries) I understood the gist of the statement given the mention of 'p*ssy' and 'strawberries'. The dirty Italian pushed all reservations to the wayside. Bracing one hand on the couch, I slid the other into his hair. I ran my blunt nails across his scalp and felt a shudder ghost down his back.

Weird how I was just thinking about him and then he showed up. "Oh mia cara sorella! Mi sei mancata, il tuo ultimo messaggio però è stato abbastanza scortese!” He started speaking Italian and my knowledge of the language was just down to 'ciao'. ["Oh my dear sister! I missed you, but your last message was quite rude."] ["Luciano, stai zitto e vai a casa. Non me ne frega un cazzo"] ["Luciano, shut up and go home. I really do not give a shit ."]

The girl in the room nervously shouted, “Okay, fine! I'll listen to you! I'll listen to you!” Only then did Antonio ease up slightly, saying coldly, “That's more like it! Remember! Sicilian girls will be with their family for life!”

Understand? Of course, she understood! Loud and clear! “You want to know if they were Sicilian…” Hailee said almost choking. “I lived with you for so long, I understand Italian and most of the accents, I visited your family in Italy, and I can spot a Sicilian accent a mile away. So, yes! They were Sicilian… like your family!” she added accusingly. “I recognized the accent, filled with arrogance and contempt… like you are the superior race and we all are the dirt under your shoes.”

said Sicily who referred to Rebecca as Lupi. Rebecca laughed, she did not seem to have any anger or resentment towards Sicily who had spoken so bluntly. However, she suddenly stopped her laughter and stared intently at Sicily, making the young woman confused. Sicily immediately felt her whole body because of Rebecca's gaze which felt as if she was looking at her body. Then her lips began to move. "What's wrong with my body, Madam, does it look so ugly that you're looking at me so intently?"

It was nighttime in Catania, Sicily, but it didn't look it. The rain had barely ceased and the endless chatters of passers-by seemed to harmonise with the loud music playing from the street bars. The streetlights brightened the rowdy footpath as three tall men wearing black shirts and hats that rhymed with the darkness walked hastily. "Ehi! Sei Cieco! (Hey! Are you blind?)" A man who looked in his early thirties shouted as he hit his shoulder against the chest of one of the three men. Luca, the third man in question slowly slipped his finger into his pocket.

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

My lungs burned with the salt-stained air, but my voice came steady. “You wanted us here. So talk.” Sicily laughed. Not loud, not manic. Just soft enough to sting. “Straight to business. That’s why I like you, Rival. No charm, no courtesy, no mask. Just steel in your hand and smoke in your lungs.” Thomas tilted his head, voice dripping sarcasm. “He writes poetry now? What’s next, a love song?” A ripple of chuckles from Sicily’s crew. I didn’t laugh. I kept my eyes locked on Sicily, every muscle coiled.