Page 23 of Forbidden Surrogate

It gets old getting used. I don’t tell either of them about Delphine while we work out and after our lift, Peter insists we head down to Belladonna’s and drink while we can. Problems in Pittsburgh could reasonably bring problems to our doorstep, and I don’t like the unnecessary risks.

Dad might even call Renzo and Gino back from Italy, but if he does that, shit has really hit the fan.

After a few hours at the bar, Peter and Mikey pick a pasta spot owned by members of our family — a couple guys that used to work for dad and retired to run the joint after a decade in prison out in Utica. Angela makes better gnocchi than what they serve, but after the stunt she pulled, I want to see her as little as possible.

I’ll have to check on her and Delphine eventually, because it’s just as dangerous to leave Angela alone with her as it is for me to be around her.

“He’s quiet,” Peter whispers about me halfway through dinner. I grunt.

“It’s Pittsburgh.”

Mikey nods. “Think your dad will send us out.”

“I fucking hope not.”

“What’s going to happen out there, then? One of those fucking kids takes charge? The treaty is fucked.”

Finally, the quiet part out loud.

“I need more wine.”

“Amen to that,” Peter says, calling the waitress over and ordering three more bottles for our table. The waitress brings four more over.

We drink and eat until late into the evening. I make an excuse to leave first, which surprises both my cousins again. It’s not like me, especially when time with them means time away from Angela. The problem is… I can’t stand the thought of Delphine alone. I need a break from the strong emotions and the violent pull towards a woman I shouldn’t even care about. I walk around outside the restaurant to sober up and then drive back ten minutes to the penthouse — alone.

Obsessively, my mind turns over the night with Delphine. I don’t remember when exactly Angela must have disappeared with her to drug her, but my sister did that without my permission then presented this perfect temptation to me… how the fuck did she expect me to resist? How could anyone?

I’m not a monster. I don’t want to think of myself as a monster. But the way I touched her and pumped my dick into that woman when she didn’t even want me…

If there’s a way to make it right, I’m too drunk to think about it right now. I suppose my only choice is carrying out the contract and ensuring that I don’t develop wild, untamed feelings for Delphine that I would only be forcing upon her in the future.

Emotions are dangerous, especially when there are contracts involved too. But I can’t stop thinking about Delphine. I toss and turn all night, her absence in my bed as strong as if we had been together for years.

My hand wanders over to my cock as I struggle to fall asleep at some point between three and four in the morning. I grip my cock and picture her easily. Recalling how tightly her lips wrapped around my dick almost makes me cum on the spot. I want to stop myself and just fall asleep, but my primal urgespush me to pump my cock and live out a hot daydream about Delphine before I have a hope of getting a wink of sleep.

Fantasizing about her lips and memories of fucking her throat nearly drags me over the edge, but what really does it for me is the vivid memory of Delphine’s hot pussy swallowing every last inch of my dick. I want to take her again and if she’s not pregnant, I don’t know how I’ll stop myself from taking another fucked up risk.

My dick finally erupts at the thought of emptying my seed inside Delphine again and the groan I make shudders deep in my chest, filling me with primal satisfaction and when that settles, this profound desire for Delphine and strange emptiness without her in my bed.

Chapter Fourteen

Delphine

After three days with Angela, I have no choice but to soften up to her. I don’t know where her brother went, I have no contact with the outside world, and so far, she hasn’t drugged me again. Whenever I make efforts to probe her for information about the mob family she comes from, Angela artfully dodges my questions. All she wants to talk about is ballet, dance, and how much she resents her brother for leaving us alone without considering our needs for mental health or delicious meals we don’t have to cook ourselves.

I would complain about our captivity more, except I have too much to worry about on my end. Angela isn’t exactly my ally considering she drugged me to get me here, Luigi could return at any minute, and as of today, I officially missed work. Someone at the library is bound to report me missing.

Considering we spend more time telling people not to do heroin outside of the bathroom than introducing people to a love of literature, I don’t know if my coworkers will really notice my absence. They might assume I have one of the crazy ass winter viruses going around and then nobody will know what happened to me until… I show up with a baby.

Actually, according to the contract, I’ll have no baby and a lot of money.

If I get pregnant, that is.

On day four of my imprisonment with Angela, her patience snaps. She craves escape from her brother’s clutches and spends all morning on the phone yelling at… someone. I don’t think it’s Luigi, but it must be someone who has influence over him, because Angela gets off the phone around 11 a.m. and takes a metal pasta maker out of the cupboard.

“Luigi will be here for a late lunch. Can you make meatballs?”

What the hell is going on with my life? Can I really stand here making meatballs with the crazy woman who drugged me for none other than the kidnapper who thrust his cock inside me a few days ago and then used my mouth for his pleasure? I nod and follow Angela to the kitchen. Either I make the meatballs or freak the hell out about seeing Luigi again.

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