Page 12 of Angel's Whisper

“I hope you like it,” Isotta beamed as Massimo pulled out her chair. She sat down and watched as he got comfortable in the chair next to her. Massimo offered a polite smile as he placed the linen napkin in his lap. Rosa was also hopeful that Mr. Ricci enjoyed what his wife had done. She supervised the serving of the meal and waited for Massimo to take his first bite. That would be the telling factor, how he responded to the first taste. They both made the sign of the cross and prepared to eat.

“So, how was your day?” Isotta asked. She tried to make things as normal as possible even though she was still getting adjusted to being the woman of his house.

“Fine,” Massimo replied. But he didn’t mean it. Things at work were not fine. He had not ascended to the throne as CEO, and now they had a situation that demanded he complete investigative work to find the goddamn leak. He wasn’t cut out for that kind of shit, but Massimo knew he had to deliver. Massimo mechanically ate, giving no indication as to the taste. Isotta noticed that he wasn’t focused on the meal and that something was bothering him. That was it, right? He was distracted.

But then she started to wonder if the meal was everything she’d hoped it would be.

“Does it not taste good?”

Massimo drew his attention back to her. “It’s fine. Everything tastes good. I’m just preoccupied. That’s all.”

“Oh,” she uttered, looking over her shoulder and finding Rosa. Isotta looked disappointed even though Rosa shot her an encouraging look. But Isotta didn’t feel encouraged as Massimo picked up his napkin again and wiped his mouth. He lifted his muscular frame from the table and walked over to where Isotta sat. He reached for her, and Isotta accepted his upturned hand and stood to her feet. Isotta walked in Massimo’s vacated footsteps. She wasn’t surprised when he led her to their bedroom.

Massimo had a lot on his mind. Isotta had an inkling, but he was very much so preoccupied. He guided her into the bedroom, released her hand, and then closed the double doors behind him. Massimo strolled back to where Isotta stood, wide-eyed and wondering. He pulled her into a drugging kiss and, with his eyes low, placed both hands, one on each shoulder. Maintaining eye contact, Massimo silently commanded her. He pushed her down to her knees. The first push was all him. As Isotta looked into Massimo’s eyes, she went down the rest of the way on her own.

Massimo turned his attention to his clothes while still maintaining mesmerizing eye contact with Isotta. She wasn’t sure what he wanted from her. She wasn’t sure what Massimo wanted her to do. Her mind told her no, to get up and leave the room, but Isotta wanted to at least try to connect with Massimo, to show him that she was trying. The least she could do was try. She gazed up into Massimo’s eyes as his were boring into hers. She didn’t pay attention to the fact that he’d taken off his belt, unzipped his pants, and lowered both his pants and his boxers until Massimo lowered his hand and began to stroke his flaccid dick right in front of her.

Isotta’s eyes fell on the rhythmic movement, and she instantly turned her head embarrassedly. But when she did, Massimo re-engaged her, reaching out to her and cupping her chin, directing her head back in his direction. He kept his hand there as he stepped forward, practically eradicating any distance between them. His flaccid dick had hardened under his deliberate stroke. It stood out a distance from his legs, rock hard, with pronounced veins running through it.

Massimo pulled her chin, coaxing her even closer to his rock-hard rod. Isotta wasn’t sure what he wanted her to do. She looked up into his eyes again, past the obvious, and searched them for an answer. Massimo didn’t utter a word. He just took another step closer to Isotta, guiding his dick until it was close enough for Isotta to kiss without even moving her head. Massimo felt resistance. That’s not what he wanted. He released Isotta’s chin and placed the same hand on the back of her head. That way, he had much more control over her movement, her desired movement.

“Kiss it,” he instructed.

There was no overt sexy in his voice. There was no overt question or romance. He had given a direction. Massimo expected that direction to be followed without hesitation. But Isotta still was unsure. She’d never done anything like he suggested before. Yet, she heard the way he spoke to her and knew he had expectations. Gingerly, Isotta leaned forward, pursed her lips, and quickly kissed the tip. She immediately drew her head back to its original position.

Massimo grew impatient. The throbbing of his dick made the lack of satisfaction harder to deal with. He pushed her head forward while simultaneously lifting his dick to her lips. Even though they were still closed, Massimo’s movement was insistent. His eyes blazed coercively into hers. He pressed his rock hardness against her lips until she had to open her mouth.

Isotta was shocked by his movement. Yet, despite her resistance, Massimo forced his penis into her mouth. Her teeth were still clamped shut. Despite that, Massimo pushed even more with his dick and with the hand that held her head. She couldn’t escape it. She had to open her mouth. When she did, Massimo pushed further into her openness until he found a rhythm. His head fell back between his shoulders, and he pushed his dick in and pulled it out of Isotta’s mouth while firmly holder her head in place so she couldn’t back away.

She didn’t like the taste of him. Isotta didn’t like the force, the pushing in that nearly choked her, and the pulling out that gave her the slightest indication that she had a chance to breathe, but then him pushing it in again, which naturally caught her breath. But he wasn’t stopping. Massimo didn’t stop.

He kept going, pushing and pulling his ween inside her orifice. And then, he sped up as the press of hot gism threatened to move up his cock. His hand tightened on the back of Isotta’s head as he pushed into her more forcefully, hitting the back of her throat, which only compelled him to do it again and again.

She nearly choked. She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t pull away or release him from her mouth. She couldn’t protest either. There was nothing she could say. Her mouth was too full. Isotta couldn’t even drop down to her knees to try and disengage. He held her too forcefully.

He added a second hand. He lifted both hands and held the back of her head as his stroke intensified and quickened and struck the back of her throat repeatedly. Every time it did, Isotta nearly gagged. But Massimo took full advantage of that little bit of additional openness. He caught her in that gagging moment and ground his hips against her mouth, swirling and circling his thickness inside the expanded opening of her mouth.

She saw stars as she choked and gagged but couldn’t pull away because he wouldn’t relinquish the hold he had on her. Isotta relished in the momentary relief when he pulled back some from penetrating the back of her throat. But Massimo didn’t stop. He sped up, and before long, Isotta felt the prick of the hairs that surrounded his manhood against her face. She felt his peen thickening in her mouth. She felt the veins of his dick stand up even more pronounced.

“Ughhhhhh,” Massimo groaned, pounding relentlessly against her face. He moved one of his hands from her head to her throat and clamped down. Isotta felt like she was going to pass out. She couldn’t take anymore, her breath being snatched from her by the force of his hand and the unrelenting pounding of his flesh.

And then her throat was coated by a vile stickiness that came in spurts. Isotta couldn’t fully react to it because Massimo’s hand tightened on her throat even more. She grew weak, her eyes rolling to the top of her head. She couldn’t catch her breath. She couldn’t breathe through her nose because of the choking. She couldn’t breathe through her mouth because of the infiltration.

And then he was done after one final push.

Massimo leaned forward, breathing hard, his flaccid penis finally dropping from her opened mouth. He eased the hold he had on her neck, his hand falling by the wayside. Isotta wanted to gulp in the air she had missed, but her mouth was full. She couldn’t swallow. She refused to swallow. Her mouth stayed slightly open as she tried to breathe through her nose to regain some air to refill her lungs.

Massimo walked away. He didn’t address her. He merely stood straight up again and walked away.

Isotta collapsed onto the carpeted floor, the contents of her mouth spilling from her parted lips.

Chapter Seven

Celestina sat in front of the large picture window of the family's breakfast nook, drinking her morning cup of tea. Celestina wasn't focused on anything in particular, but her head was full, and her heart was heavy. The house was just so quiet, eerily quiet. Celestina fondly remembered when it wasn't. She thought back on the times when her daughters were much younger and the rare occasion when her daughters were able to be totally children, totally free. Not those times when they had to sit prim and proper in lace and ruffles, smiling pleasantly, being quiet except for the occasional yes ma'am and no ma'am. Not those times.

It was those rare occasions that, as Celestina sat and reflected, were too infrequent and too far in between. It was those rare occasions when the girls were able to be absolutely themselves without a care in the world. A slight smile creased Celestina's lips as she remembered those moments fondly. See, those memorable moments were always about her children, never her husband. Celestina took a sip of her tea and sighed as the girls got older. Their frolicking changed. Celestina remembered one time when they played dress up and played in makeup and hair pieces and hats. A smile creased her lips again, and she guffawed, remembering Isotta trying to pull on a wig over her thick shoulder-length hair. Isotta worked so hard to get that wig on, but she toppled over from her effort.

Such fond memories.

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