Page 45 of Forbidden Property
I don’t think I’ve heard Renzo use this many sentences in a row without descending into insults or saying something crass and inappropriate otherwise. He turns me around from my position pressed against the wall. I convince myself that I’m crying because he shoved a wine bottle up my ass and not because Renzo was so dangerously close to getting me to compromise my resolve.
When he looks at me, it’s harder to stay stoic. Renzo thinks he sees right through me and that I would have never let him enact his kinky fantasies on me unless I loved him. Maybe we’re just the same flavor of fucked up deep down. I’m curious aboutthis expression of real vulnerability from him for once.I envy you.
That affects me more than his confession of love. That feels more real than Renzo loving me, if I have to choose which of his emotions to believe in. He touches my face and the warmth emanating from his palms pierces my armor again. I came so hard that Renzo actually stands a chance of screwing up my resolve.
“I always had to work so hard for what comes effortlessly to you,” he says. “But I suppose with you here… I’ve had time to think without influence. I might love my heritage, but a part of being Italian is being a romantic at heart.”
His hand falls from my cheek to my shoulder. I shiver as he touches me. My butthole puckers and squeezes as my body readjusts to the absence. Renzo’s cock hangs between his legs, surprisingly long for a man who just finished deep inside me. I can feel his seed dribbling down my thighs. He smiles a little and my heart flutters. Loving him means betraying myself. Betraying Nicki…
Can I really believe that he sees things differently after a few weeks together? What about me? How do I see things?
“What happens if your romantic heart meets an Italian girl?” I test Renzo, even as my body aches from the fucked up expression of his feelings he just subjected me to.
“It won’t matter,” Renzo assures me. “I am loyal to a fault and you will always be the first to have my child. Even if I didn’t choose you, I will always look upon you fondly. I won’t be able to change how I feel.”
He can’t change my mind.
“I will get on my knees for you daily to prove my love for you,” Renzo says. “Don’t answer now. Answer me the day our child is born.”
“I’ll be a bit busy giving birth.”
“Don’t be difficult,” Renzo says, his shoulders sinking. “If I can’t get you to budge an inch now after I fucked your ass with a wine bottle, I don’t expect anything else will work. Let’s go study for the LSAT.”
I can’t tell if he means it. I wait for Renzo to move and I’m surprised that his first step is to grab my robe and hand it to me. Heat courses through me as I cover myself and try to ignore the painful throbbing in my asshole. Renzo’s dick gets semi hard as he watches me dress. Juices pulse out of my pussy and my lower lips feel puffy and aroused.
Whenever I stop thinking about the pain in my asshole, a throbbing spasm brings my awareness right back to my aching back door. I let him shove the stem of a wine bottle up my ass and even if I can put my clothes on, I can’t stop the strong heady smell of olive oil all over my skin from permeating everything.
Renzo takes my hand once I have my robe on and leads me through the shelves. There’s something possessive and proud in the way he holds me and guides me through the maze. I shouldn’t care about making him happy by giving him my asshole but at this point, giving up my ass was a hell of a lot easier than letting Renzo in on my emotions.
If he’s willing to wait until the due date to hear that I love him… I’ll let him wait to earn my love. I’ll push him and test him and give him every opportunity to prove to me once and for all that he’s not at all a bigot or at least on the path to unraveling his bigotry. I never gave any thought to changing Renzo (of all people) for as long as I’ve known him. I can’t imagine a future where he doesn’t call me ‘mop girl’...
The fact that he used that nickname while he had a wine bottle in my ass and while he fucked me from behind was done purely to infuriate me, I’m sure. He knew I would cum while he called me ‘mop girl’ and he wanted to rub my face in the complex mixture of emotions he sends coursing through me whenever weinteract. I wonder if I truly fucking hate understanding this man so well.
When we’re upstairs, Renzo buries any signs of emotion or vulnerability and calmly returns to studying with me. No more telling me that he loves me, just logic problems and criticizing the speed with which I solve said problems. It doesn’t take long for everything to snap back to normal on the outside.
But something changed. I know it did. And it’s not just because of the painful throbbing in my ass.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Renzo
Five Months Later
Ihaven’t seen my twin brother in months, but now that Geralynn is about six months along, I need him to help me understand everything going on between the two of us. I can’t talk to Nicoletta about this, but as Geralynn gets rounder and since she still hasn’t told me anything about how she feels… I’m lost.
When I call Gino, he doesn’t pick up after the first call and returns my call about half an hour later.
“Are you dead?”
“Busy with Peter. What’s up?”
“Why are you busy with Peter?”
“We’ve been hanging out lately.”
I guess that answers where the fuck Gino has been the past few months. I try not to take it personally that he hardly messages me first and when I call him, he doesn’t care to pick up the phone instantly. It’s like he doesn’t care if I live or die.
“I’ve been fine, thanks for asking.”
