Page 59 of One Savage Union

My breath catches in my throat as his strokes up and down my arm leave goosebumps in their wake.

“Now, piccolo ragazza, will you play for me?”

After hearing the closest thing I think Rocco will ever say to me —‘I love you’ — my mouth is dry and my ears are buzzing.He’s wanted me from the beginning? Does he like me?When I finally clear my head, I answer.

“Of course, what would you like to hear? Maybe some Mozart or Beethoven?

He shakes his head, “No, I'd like to hear something you've composed. I know you have songs because my men found your notebooks amongst your things when they cleaned out your apartment. I want to say I'm sorry for snooping, but I'm not. It was the only way I could learn anything about you. I was trying to make your stay with me as painless as possible.

Rocco is being so soft and tender with me right now, so I decide to let the blatant violation of my privacy go. Now I understand why all my favorite foods and drinks were always readily available. He knew what I liked, and he made sure I had it. He tried to make a terrible situation bearable. Something about that makes me feel good inside.

“OK, I'll play something original for you, but I’ll warn you. All my stuff is jazzy, not classical. Are you ready for some good old-fashioned Black music? Think Thelonious Monk meets Hazel Scott.

He smirks. “I'm more than ready for anything that you give me.”

I swallow and focus my attention on the keys in front of me so that I don't do something crazy like grab and kiss him breathless. We're still technically on shaky ground, but it's becoming more solid every day. I launch into Mama, the last piece I wrote before I was kidnapped.

The melody begins bright but quickly turns somber and heavy. I thump the keys like I'm trying to reincarnate the only woman who ever loved me unconditionally. The woman who brought me life, but is no longer present in mine. It’s not long before the tears come, and Rocco wipes them away, one by one. As I continue to play and cry, not one tear hits the keys.

I weep for a mother and a father I've never known. I wail on these keys for having no place in this world that I can call my own. I belong to a husband I barely know, but who’s quickly becoming my lifeline. This is dangerous.

As I continue to play his hands began to sweep over my body and I feel his fingertips creep up the slit of my dress and between my thighs. I tense, but I never stop playing. On and on, the notes of the piano fill the room as his fingertips fill my body. His hand rubs across my clit and I moan into the sounds that come from the piano.

“Don’t come,” he whispers. “Keep playing.”

Fuck, I need to come…

I bite my bottom lip as he adds another finger inside me, and I play like my life depends on it. I play as if I won’t get to come if this song doesn’t, please him. His fingers move in and out of me in rhythm with my heart song. When I hear the rip of my dress, I gasp, but I don’t stop playing. Now., I’m playing in only a black bra and silk pooled around my thong-clad ass. It's only when he stands up behind me and places his hands over mine that I stop playing and catch my panting breath.

His low voice whispers in my ear. “Now I’m going to fuck you on top of this piano because it's all I've wanted to do since I've brought you aboard this yacht. Then I'm going to carry you into our bedroom and hold you while you tell me everything that's made you cry. I want to know why you were crying on the beach today, and I want to take away everything that hurts you.

My voice cracks with pain. “You can't, because she's gone.

He places a finger over my lips. “Shhh. Yes, she is, but I'm here and you'll never be alone again.”

He picks me up and lays me across the piano before undressing and climbing up to join me. He lays his body over mine, wrapping his arms around my back. He presses our lips together before gliding into me with one easy stroke, and I cry out from the pleasure.

“That’s it, beautiful, take all of me. Ti senti incredibile…” he groans into my ear. I don't understand much Italian but I know he just praised my pussy.

His kisses continue all over my body. His lips brush my eyes, my nose, my neck, and my breasts before returning to my mouth in a sloppy and wet massage. I know the expensive black lacquer of this piano is being covered in a torrential rain as I scream and cream all around his cock. My hands fling out and land on the keys below us, banging out a chaotic melody, I’ll never forget.

I come like a burst of light in the night sky.

“That’s it, Lucia,” he moans. “Let me fuck your Blues away. Come on my dick and then come to me with your heart’s sorrow.”

I come again, and this time he joins me in a roar. Then we lie there together, a breathless puddle of bliss.

When we catch our breath, he climbs down from the piano and scoops me up in his arms. He carries us to our room and puts me down next to the bed. Pulling the covers back, he gestures for me to climb in and follows behind.

“Now, tell me why you were crying at the beach.”

I pause for a moment. I’m not sure if I should be this vulnerable with him. Can I trust him with my disappointments?

He senses my unease and kisses my ear. “Piccola ragazza, you can trust me. I only want to make you happy. Tell me what or who’s making you cry; I’ll kill them.

I sigh, determined not to cry again. I’m all cried out. Plus, he’s making me laugh.

“I just heard you talking to Aria earlier about how she'll always have you and Mario, and I thought about how I don't have anyone like that in my life anymore. I never had a father, or a man to tell me those things you were telling her, and it just made me wonder why my father never wanted me. I mean, I guess he had his reasons, and my mother had hers. But if he knew I was born, then he must know that she died. He didn't even reach out. He didn't even leave me a letter or a note to let me know that the money would continue to come. It's like I don't even exist to him. I don't know; it just brought up all these emotions that I wasn't ready for.

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