Emma

May

Palermo

Being pregnant was not fun. Getting pregnant? Yes, that had been very, very fun. But the part where I grew an actual human being inside my body was much more difficult than I’d imagined.

Especially now that I was in the ninth month.

Sitting in the kitchen, I flipped through my notebook. In it I catalogued my pregnancy each day, noting every symptom, every ache and pain. From a scientific perspective, pregnancy was amazing, a true biological miracle. And focusing on the science helped take my mind off the the baby’s impending arrival.

I was going to be a mother.

I did all the reading (duh), so I knew what to expect in a general sense when the baby arrived. But the responsibility for another life, the weight of guiding and shaping a child’s personality and future? I didn’t have any idea how to excel at that. And there were other circumstances one had to consider, as well. Like, how could I keep a child born into the world of the mafia safe? Was I dooming this child to a life of violence and an early death?

Calm down. I tried to take several deep breaths, but couldn’t manage it. There was no room in my abdomen to allow my lungs to properly inflate.

At least I didn’t have classes right now. With rigorous calculations, I timed the pregnancy to conclude at the beginning of my summer break, just before I started my junior year. This would allow me two years to raise the baby before starting medical school.

I began writing my entry.

Two days over my due date.

Anxiety higher than normal.

Cried this morning for no reason.

Back pain continues, as do the Braxton-Hicks contractions.

Felt the urge to punch my husband while he was—

No, no, no. I crossed off the last entry. That wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Giacomo’s fault that he slept soundly, while I tossed and turned all night, searching for a comfortable position. If I didn’t go into labor in the next two days, I’d insist my obstetrician induce me. I couldn’t take much more of this.

A notification popped up on my phone.

GIGI
well? anything?

FRANKIE
Lol. I literally woke up wondering the same
I was just about to text

I rubbed my eyes underneath my glasses. My sisters were like pregnancy hawks, circling and waiting for any impending sign of labor. Private planes and security teams were on standby, ready to bring them to Palermo at a moment’s notice. Usually, I found their support comforting, but I was so tired today.

Nothing yet.

I stretched my sore back and cursed the bar stools. It wasn’t even six-thirty in the morning and I wanted to go lay down in bed again.

FRANKIE
Are u sure? No mucus? Diarrhea? Back pain?

Irritated, I stared at my phone. Did she think I didn’t know the signs? That I hadn’t done the research? Because she has had three kids, did that make her some kind of expert?

Stop, I told myself. She was only trying to help, and she did have a lot of experience.

The baby stretched inside my uterus, making its presence known, sort of like it was telling me to chill out. I blew out a breath and got up to warm my tea. As the microwave buzzed, I rubbed my belly and talked softly. “I know. I’m just irritated because you’re taking so long.”

“Bambina,” a deep voice said at the far end of the kitchen. Giacomo, wearing only boxer briefs, walked in and came toward me. He was muscled and gorgeous, absolute perfection, and the sight of his body still did things to me. Like my ovaries were telling me to hurry up with this first baby because they needed to get busy on a second.

If only I weren’t as big as a whale right now. Would I ever feel like myself again? Would he ever find me attractive again?

He didn’t stop until he reached me, those big arms pulling me in close to the warmth and protection of his body. He angled me slightly to the side so I fit better, his hand settling on my belly. Throughout my pregnancy, he’d loved touching and rubbing me. He might be a mob boss and a killer, but he was the sweetest man.

My eyes stung, tears again for no reason. Wow. I was a hormonal mess.

He kissed the top of my head. “Cry if you need to cry, beduzza.”

“I don’t need to cry,” I said as my voice trembled.

Humming in his throat, he massaged my lower back. “You couldn’t sleep last night. I’m worried about you.”

“It’s fine. It’ll all be over in a few days.” I hoped.

“Are you nervous?”

“No.” Not really. “I just want it over with. I’m tired of feeling so bloated and helpless. I can’t do anything. Everything is uncomfortable. I hate this. I don’t want to be pregnant anymore. It was a terrible idea in the first place.”

I was rambling, so I pressed my lips together. Complaining never served any purpose.

Without missing a beat, Giacomo bent and lifted me up in his arms. He began walking toward the hall, and I clutched his shoulders, marveling that he could still lift me. “I’m too heavy,” I protested. “Put me—”

“That’s enough.”

The words were said with such quiet authority that I instantly stopped talking. I sagged against him, more than happy to soak in his strength and comfort. He carried me through the house and up the stairs. Over the past nine months I had torn out all the ugly remnants of his father and hired a decorator to make the mansion more elegant, more homey. It wasn’t finished yet, but the cherubs and gold accents were gone, thank goodness.

We entered our bedroom, which was Giacomo’s old room. It was the first space I had redone, where they knocked down walls in the wing to enlarge it. The new nursery was next door. In the old wing, his father’s end of the house, were guest bedrooms, a library, and a game room.

Instead of placing me on the bed, he sat on the mattress and kept me on his lap. His fingers caressed the skin of my bare thigh. I wasn’t exactly comfortable—no position was comfortable these days—but it wasn’t terrible, either. He didn’t say anything, just held me, and I closed my eyes. Slowly, my muscles unlocked and I gave him more and more of my weight, the tension leaving my limbs.

“There you go,” he said quietly. “Relax, bambina. I’ve got you.”

Oh, there went my emotions again. I could feel my eyes burn once more. “Stop being so nice to me. You’re going to make me cry.”

He chuckled softly. “Would you rather I told you how much I want to fuck you right now?”

Was he kidding me? We hadn’t had been intimate in three weeks. Mostly because I was huge and unsexy, but also tired and cranky.

I shook my head. “You don’t need to patronize me to make me feel better.”

“Patronize?” His hand moved to my hip, pulling me closer until I felt the harness in his groin. He was fully erect. “Does that feel like I am lying, amore mio?”

No. Not in the least.

I leaned back so I could see his face. “Is this because you’ve gone so long without sex?”

His lips turned into a serious frown. “You think I don’t find my very pregnant wife sexy? That I don’t enjoy seeing the changes in her body because of my baby growing inside her?” When I didn’t answer, he leaned forward to press his forehead to mine. “Emmalina. Just a glimpse of your full tits and swollen belly gets me hard every time. My dick is raw from all the jerking off.”

“Really?” I whispered. “What about the stretch marks and swollen ankles? Do you find those hot, too?”

“Mamma mia, you are stubborn.” He lifted his head. “Do you want to have this baby today?”

“Fuck yes.” The curse word tumbled out before I could stop it. That was how tired I was of being pregnant.

“Then I will tell you what Dr. Mazzola said yesterday.”

I stiffened at the name. I did not trust anything that man said. “Mazzola is a jerk—and about seventy-five years behind the medical times.”

“You might be right,” Giacomo allowed. “But the old ways worked. That’s why people passed the information down from generation to generation.”

“Old wives’ tales, you mean. I’m not burying a potato in the yard or whatever else you’re about to suggest. Sal still freaks out every time I spill some salt.” Italians considered it very bad luck.

He kept going like I hadn’t spoken. “The old folks believed having sex induced labor.”

I rolled my eyes dramatically. “Yes, I’ve heard that fable, which was obviously invented by a man. The claim is that prostaglandins in human semen ripen the cervix and induce labor. But there’s no scientific basis for it.”

“There are some things, bambina, that need no scientific basis. And it’s more than just me coming inside you. Mazzola says the nipple stimulation and female orgasms help, as well.”

My nipples perked up at the idea. My breasts were constantly tender and swollen, so big that I found them jarring every time I took my clothes off. I could only imagine what they’d look like when my milk ducts kicked in.

“Ah, you like that, no?” Giacomo was studying my face, watching for my reaction.

“No. I’m horrified that you talked to Mazzola about my nipples.”

“Cazzata, my terrible little liar.” He bent to kiss me, brushing his mouth sweetly over mine. When he pulled back, I was breathing hard. He smirked and moved to cup one of my breasts. “Why don’t you let me lick your pussy? I’ll suck on your tits a little. It may help kick start things.”

“I don’t hate that idea.” Anything to take my mind off this rambunctious basketball inside me.

“Va bene.” He sat me on the bed and rose, which put his fantastic abs right in front of my face. I leaned forward to drag my tongue over his warm skin. A ripple went through his big body, muscles trembling, before he stepped back. “Bambina, this is for you. Hands and knees or sit on my face?”

I considered the options. “I’ll crush you if I sit on your face.”

“Hardly. And don’t worry about me. Which is more comfortable for you?”

“Hands and knees.”

He helped me get naked from the waist down, leaving on the maternity tank supporting my boobs. Then I crawled onto the mattress. “Are you sure about this?”

A growl was his only response as he moved between my legs. “Your ass, your thighs . . . madre di dio. This view is killing me.”

Hot breath ghosted over my spine before I felt the soft press of his lips. Gently, he smoothed his palms over my breasts, then my belly. “You’re so ripe and full. Womanly. Such a good girl, carrying my baby.”

Blood pooled between my legs at his wicked words. We hadn’t played this game in a long time. “Only for you, marito.”

Another growl deep in his throat.

Things happened quickly after that. He spread my butt cheeks then lowered his face, his tongue sliding through my folds and dipping into my entrance. “So wet,” he muttered. “Gesù, I’ve missed this.”

I believed it. He liked to eat me out before falling asleep, my arousal dried on his face and lips.

His tongue lashed my clit, the pace steady and exactly where I needed it. After almost a year together, my husband knew my body and how to get me off quickly. I climbed higher, my hips rocking, seeking, with my orgasm building in my muscles. “Oh, god. Yes. So good.”

He didn’t stop and very soon I was shaking and trembling, shouting as the release swept me under. It went on and on, the feeling so intense that I wondered why we hadn’t been doing this every day.

When I grew too sensitive he pulled away. “Thank you. That was fantastic.”

“I know.” He eased onto his back on the mattress and reached for my maternity tank. “But we aren’t done, bambina. Not yet.”

The top came off, leaving me naked and with my swollen breasts hanging down. Giacomo scooted closer to my chest, and before I could feel self-conscious, he was lifting and molding my breasts with his hands. “Look at these. I could play with your tits all day.”

“Just wait until my milk comes in.”

“Fuck, I can’t imagine.” He swiped his tongue over the tip of one. “They’re already driving me crazy.”

Huh. He hadn’t said anything, except I’d caught him staring at my chest the past few weeks. But I lost my train of thought when he sucked a nipple into his mouth, the wet heat surrounding the sensitive nerve endings, and pleasure rippled down my spine. I’d thought it would hurt or be uncomfortable, but this was the exact opposite. He put one hand on my belly, then used his free hand on my other nipple, pinching and rolling it.

My lips parted on a soft moan as he gently sucked, the rhythmic pressure all I could focus on. Each tug and swirl of his tongue caused my already swollen clit to pulse. My head buzzed, ears ringing with the sound of my panting. After awhile he moved to the other breast and did the same, and I was lost in a sea of sensation and need. “Please,” I begged. “Giacomo, please. It isn’t enough.”

He shifted until I straddled one of his large thighs, then nestled my sex against his rough skin. “Use me,” he whispered before taking my nipple in his mouth again.

I ground down, sliding my wet flesh over his hard muscle. The friction was delicious, and I rocked faster as I stared down at him. His eyes were closed as he sucked on my breast, and I was so filled with love for him. The world saw him as a thug, a killer, but I knew the man underneath. His sweetness, his tenderness. He’d been with me every step on this incredible journey, already a better father to this unborn baby than his own.

“Fuck me,” I said through labored breaths. I almost never said the words, but I knew how much he loved to hear them.

His eyes popped open as his dark gaze found mine. “Bambina.” He caressed my breasts with his big hands. “I don’t want to hurt you. Let’s keep doing this.”

“No.” I pushed off him and put my hand on his very thick erection. “I need you inside me.”

And I did. There was an emptiness in me that only he could fill. I had missed the stretch, the way he dominated my body when we were joined together. Like he was all I could see and feel.

I reached into his briefs to stroke him, my hand pulling on his shaft and sliding along the piercing. “Please, mio grande marito.”

Though his dick twitched in my hand, he still didn’t look convinced. “How?”

“Spooning,” I said. “Like we did before.” It was the most comfortable position for me in the third trimester.

“Fine.” He guided me off him and onto the mattress. “But if it hurts or you don’t like it, we stop.”

“Okay.” I rolled onto my side, facing away from him, and propped my leg up slightly. The baby shifted in my belly, moving around, but I tried not to think about it. This was about me and Giacomo, not the tiny little overdue person inside me.

Giacomo’s big body pressed up to my back. He positioned my leg where he wanted, then I felt the tip of him at my entrance. “Ready, beduzza?”

My body was humming, buzzing, the throb of my clit like a drumbeat. I nodded. “God, yes. Please.”

He pressed in slowly, the metal ball sliding against my walls. “Fuck,” he breathed. “So wet and hot.”

This position meant he couldn’t go very deep, but it didn’t matter. It was like he was everywhere, surrounding me. His bottom arm slid under my neck and he massaged my breast with his free hand, plucking at the nipple, while he sank into me.

“Your pussy is squeezing my cock.” He gave a shallow thrust and grunted. “Minchia, that’s good.”

“Keep going,” I panted. “It feels good for me, too.”

He growled in my ear and began rocking ever so slightly, his thick erection sliding back and forth across my sensitive tissues. “You can go harder, if you want.”

“This isn’t about what I want,” he said. “I want to relax you and make you come.”

Shoot, that was hot. Like he was servicing me. “As you should. It’s your fault that I’m in this situation to being with.”

He chuckled, his hot breath tickling my skin. “Bambina, you begged me to get you pregnant, remember? My little scientist had it scheduled to the day and she needed all my come inside her.”

Okay, so he wasn’t lying. I had begged him. But he hadn’t complained. It was the hottest sex we’d ever had.

He rose up on an elbow so he could reach under my belly. His fingers found my clit, circling and rubbing, as he gave me tiny thrusts of his hips. The combination was bliss. “Play with your tits,” he ordered. “Pinch your nipples.”

I slid my hand to my breast and squeezed the tip, which caused my walls to contract around the head of his dick. Everything was so sensitive, pleasure and pain wrapped up together in my brain. I was so full, but I loved it.

“Yeah, bambina, that’s it. I can feel you clenching on me. Keep going.”

I didn’t stop, working my nipples, as his fingers moved faster. His chest bellowed against my back, his breath every bit as ragged as mine. We were in this together, and the knowledge that he found me sexy, that he wanted me this much, made me even hotter.

The orgasm rushed over me, sparks under my skin and behind my eyes. I cried out, my inner walls spasming and sucking on him, and then I heard him curse under his breath. His hips pumped, almost like he couldn’t help himself, then he jerked and clutched me tighter. I could feel him pulse as he shot inside me, emptying into my channel.

When we both calmed, he didn’t pull out right away. He cradled me close and kissed my neck. “So beautiful. I want you pregnant all the time, amore mio.”

I laughed, giddy in the afterglow. “Sorry. You’ll have to wait a few years before it happens again.”

He cupped my breast and massaged. “We’ll see about that, sporcacciona.”

Dirty girl.

I bit my lip. I was so in love with this man. I reached behind me and clutched his head, hugging him the best I could. “Thank you for this. I needed it.”

“I would’ve fucked you sooner, but you kept snapping at me.”

“Well, you try carrying a watermelon in your stomach and see how you feel.”

He slid his softened cock out of me, then leaned over to brush his lips over mine. “Ti amo, bambina.”

I didn’t even open my eyes, just smiled dreamily. My body was loose and relaxed, and I might even be able to go back to sleep. “Ti amo, marito.”

He eased away, the mattress dipping under his weight. I didn’t move. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I could at the moment. I rubbed the tight skin of my belly and floated.

Giacomo’s hand rubbed my hip. “Roll onto your back, Emmalina.”

“What? Why?” I looked up at him, and found him kneeling on the bed, phone in his hand.

I knew what that meant.

“No, come on. Now?”

“Sì, now. I want to see my come dripping out of my very pregnant wife’s pussy. You have no idea how hot it gets me. And this may be my last chance to take a photo of it. Allora,” he patted my hip. “Move.”

I knew it was pointless to fight him. And he already had hundreds of pictures of me on his phone. What was one more?

I rolled onto my back, my big belly reaching to the ceiling. This position meant the baby was pressing on my bladder. “You better hurry up or I’m going to pee the bed.”

“I’ll be quick, don’t worry.” He bent closer, aiming the phone between my legs. “Cazzo, that is so hot. I will need to jerk off to this in little bit.”

When he finished taking photos, he dragged a finger through our mess then brought it up to my lips. “Taste us, verginella.”

Giving him the big doe eyes I know he loved, I sucked his finger inside my mouth and swirled my tongue over his skin. He licked his lips, his breath hitching. “We taste good together, no?”

Humming, I nodded. “So very good, baby.”

He exhaled and shook himself before easing off the bed. “I had better leave or I’m going to fuck you again.”

As if I had the energy for that. “Help me up and then go out and be a mob boss. I have things to do today.”