The Maid Ch. 05

"His name is Joe. We were childhood sweethearts. He left before Sophia was born. After I got pregnant, we decided to keep her. But then he started taking drugs, disappearing for days at a time. When he was around he was always in a foul mood and he kept missing days at work without giving them any explanation. Eventually they sacked him and we split up and then he just left. I never saw him again. I don't know where he is. I think Eleanor and John see him sometimes, -they're Sophia's grandparents- but they don't talk about him, he must be in a bad way. She shook her head sadly.

As she spoke he trailed his hand gently across of her back following the curve of her spine.

"I'm sorry."

"We weren't in a relationship at the time." She replied tightly, inexplicably finding this sympathy from him both irritating and uncomfortable.

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen."

"You must have been very frightened."

"It wasn't so bad, I had a lot of support."

She'd hardly had a chance to think about it at the time, she'd been far too busy surviving; but yes, it was terrifying.

"We're very lucky, both Joe's parents and mine have always been very involved in Sophia's life and very supportive. They adore her."

He pulled her into his arms and pressed himself against her back.

"Well you have me now." He spoke decisively into her hair. "I will take care of you."

They lay in silence and she wondered about him. What did he mean by that? What did he want from her? Where was this going? She wasn't even sure if she knew where she wanted it to go.

Encased in his arms, despite her misgivings, she felt safe and protected and it was a nice feeling. A feeling she could get used to very quickly if she wasn't careful. Finally she fell asleep

-

The following morning she woke to find herself alone in an unfamiliar bed. It was far bigger than her own and so much softer. She was disorientated for a second, and then memories of the previous night came rushing back. He wasn't there. She sat up and looked around. The sound of the shower running only seeped into her consciousness as it stopped. He emerged from the bathroom, wearing only a towel. The white fabric contrasted sharply with the olive tones of his skin. He was dripping wet and gorgeous, his hair disordered and messy.

Her eyes were drawn to his navel, and she followed the line of dark hair that began there and travelled down until it disappeared behind the towel. Self-consciously she pulled the bed sheet up higher to hide her own nakedness in the face of such perfection. His expression altered, he stalked over to the bed and yanked at the covers roughly off her, pulling them clean away, exposing her completely. Instinctively her legs shot up, knees beneath her chin she wrapped her arms around them as a protective measure.

"What are you doing?"

In his eyes she thought she saw anger, or lust, or maybe both.

"You do not hide your body from me."

He looked beautiful, but dangerous. Assailed by the smell of his shower gel, that familiar musky fragrance, she felt arousal bloom in her stomach, despite herself. She blinked, trying to sweep away her bodies involuntary reaction so she could focus on what had just happened.

How dare he? What right did he have to dictate what she could and couldn't do? Anger flared up inside her.

But before she had the chance to reply he was on top of her, kissing her ravenously, pinning her to the bed.

Her head was spinning; she was too aroused to think

He pulled back, and she noticed a feral possessive look in his eyes.

"You never hide your self from me." He reiterated.

"You can't tell me what to do."

She'd just woken up, it was too early and now not only was she trying to fathom the reason behind his unexpected mood swing, but also her own confusing reaction to it. He was behaving like he owned her.

Already he had her by the wrists, he was pinning them above her head, forcing her knees apart with his body. The towel was gone, she had no idea where but what she did know is they were both completely naked. She looked down to be confronted with his erection; angry and red, it was jutting towards her. It seemed like an embodiment of his mood. When she tried to wriggle out from beneath him and he growled.

Pressing his body against her, he kissed her forcefully. Pushing her back so she was lying down instead of sitting up. Suddenly he was only holding her wrists with one hand, with the other he gripped her hair and pulled her head back, exposing her neck.

He dragged his lips down the exposed flesh of her throat, as he headed further down towards her breasts he was forced to release her wrists again. With her newly free hands she grabbed his head and forced him to face her. They were both breathing hard. He stilled then and they looked at each for a moment.

"I need to have you."

"Stephano, we..."

"Now," He growled.

And then he was kissing her again, pressing himself into her, grinding his hips against hers until she was panting, writhing, keening with frustration. Her hands slid down his sides and she gripped his hips her fingers digging into the muscular curve of his arse.

As he thrust into her with one firm unrelenting action she made a sound, which was a cross between a moan and a gasp.

He possessed her, filling her completely. He was on top of her, using his body weight to pin her to the bed. Involuntarily she clenched around him, and he groaned as he began to move inside of her with a fierceness that stunned her. He was wilder, more aggressive. The look in his eyes was one of uncontrolled desire and despite herself it was really turning her on. He gripped her face in both his hands, and caught her lower lip in both of his and bit. She whimpered with pain-laced desire and again she heard a returning growl as it erupted from his chest.

He was pounding into her unrelentingly, grinding his hips against hers, she felt like she was riding the crest of a wave towards an orgasm, she clung to him as she began to...

...and suddenly he'd pulled out of her. She felt his absence keenly. She vaguely registered the frustrated whimper that escaped her own lips as he withdrew.

Grabbing his cock he fisted it a few times and then he was ejaculating, ropes of semen flew from the head and fell on her, coating her breasts and her stomach.

He roared as he came, collapsing on top of her. She lay beneath him, sticky, crushed beneath his weight, attempting but failing to catch her breath.

She was trying to work out what had just happened, trying to make sense of how she felt about it. She was still angry with him for behaving as though her body belonged to him, yet she was frustratingly aroused. Her thoughts were interrupted when she realized he was nuzzling her neck with his nose. She could feel his breath on her throat.

He sat back, increasing the distance between them and his gaze travelled possessively over her torso, taking in the evidence of his orgasm as it glistened on her skin. She looked at his face and their eyes met, but she couldn't read the expression that she found there.

Gripping her waist and pulling her with him, he rolled onto his side. They were facing each other as he stared at her searchingly, still breathing heavily. Everything about him was so intense, she thought as he kissed her gently, touching her face. She thought she could see a silent apology in his eyes but he didn't speak and she wasn't sure. She needed to be alone, to try and make sense of what had just happened without this overwhelming desire for him distracting her.

She got up and without looking back at him she mumbled, "I have to go.." As she wandered dazedly into the bathroom.

She climbed into the shower to clean the evidence of his orgasm away. She leaned against the tiled wall, closing her eyes as she waited for her breathing to return to normal. She was grateful for the warm water as it washed over her. She welcomed the physical sensation, even though it starkly contrasted with the numbness that was creeping through her mind.

Turning to face the faucet and the selection of products on the shelf, she picked up a bottle of shampoo and stared at it absently. She still wasn't sure how she felt. She sighed to herself. She would wash her hair, finish her shower and then she would leave. She needed some time to think about all of this. Time away from him, and the confusing effect he had on her emotions, before she had to pick up Sophia.

Suddenly she heard the catch on the shower door and she spun round to find him stepping into the shower with her. She gazed up at his face, as he towered over her. She took a step back only to hit the wall. His expression was predatory as he dropped to his knees and she couldn't help but cry out at the unexpected sensation as he hungrily caught her sex in his mouth.

He enveloped her clitoris and gently closed his teeth over it. As she looked down at the top of his head she was transported back to the first time they met.

Immediately his hands were gripping her buttocks, his fingers digging into her flesh harshly. She found her self pressed against the tiled wall. She was so aroused she was finding increasingly it difficult to think straight. He ran his hands down the backs of her thighs and he lifted one of her knees and maneuvering his shoulder under her thigh. As he lifted her she could feel herself sliding up the wet tiles. Her remaining foot was only just still touching the floor if she stood on the tips of her toes. She moaned and in answer she heard an appreciative groan.

His hands were round her waist, he was pinning her to the wall, dragging his teeth over her clitoris over and over driving her pleasure on and on. She felt so sensitive it was almost unbearable; she was so close, so close. She started to tremble and then she tensed, tilting her hips towards him she tilted her hips towards him, pressing herself into his face. Excruciatingly slowly he sunk fingers into her sex and that was it, that was all it took. She came, spectacularly as the warm water cascaded over her. She grabbed clumps of his hair in her fists and clutched at him desperately crying his name as he continued to lathe his tongue against her unrelentingly, as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed over her.

He stood, and caught her, his hands under her arms as she sagged, still trying to catch her breath. He picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom as though she hardly weighed a thing. Immediately he climbed on top of her caging her with his body he kissed her face again and again.

Cold droplets of water fell from him hitting her skin causing tiny shocks to reverberate through her, adding to the turbulent mixture of sensations that her body was already trying and failing to process.

He was hard again already. Fleetingly she wondered at his stamina. Poised at her entrance he stopped and watched her, his gaze questioning. She nodded her acceptance he slid into her achingly slowly.

He began to move inside of her, slowly at first and hardly at all, just a gentle shift of his pelvis. Andrea closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trailing her hands along his torso and waist, exploring his body in a way she realised she hadn't had the opportunity to before. Stephano had always been very much in charge during their lovemaking, always the one in control. Now he was meeker, gentler, more open to her exploration.

She wasn't sure she would come again so soon, especially after the morning's events, but she did. Her orgasm crept up on her slowly, but was no less intense for it. As he climaxed, he buried his face in her shoulder and held on to her tightly. She was starting to wonder if he was ever going to let her go when finally he did.

Afterwards they lay facing each other as a weighty silence stretched out between them. He reached up and touched her face.

"Andrea. Forgive me?" He asked as he gazed at her plaintively.

She pursed her lips and studied his face. He looked vulnerable, younger somehow.

"You can't just say things like that Stephano, that's not how it works." She said wearily. "I'm not an object. You don't own me."

"I know that, I'm sorry, I just..." An anguished expression flickered across his face.

She waited as the sentence hung unfinished between them.

"You just what?"

Unexpectedly, anger welled up inside her and her voice sounded harsher than she'd meant for it to but she didn't care.

"I did something you didn't like so you retaliated with brute force, with no regard for what I wanted?"

He watched her, nervously. She sat up and started to climb out of the bed

"I'm going to go now, I need time to think about this, I want to be on my own."

"Don't leave, please." He sounded panicked. "I'm sorry! I don't know what came over me. I...Sometimes I find it so hard to control myself when I'm around you."

She eyed him suspiciously as he carried on speaking, the words coming out in a rush.

"I was in the shower, all I could think about was you, waking you up, making love to you. Then when I came out and you covered your self like that I thought you didn't want me, that you'd changed your mind about us, that you would leave and I... I didn't want you to leave." He finished, brokenly.

"Why would I have left?" She asked rhetorically, bewildered at how on earth he'd reached that conclusion.

"I'm just not used to women denying me in any way. I find it infuriating and I find it arousing." He frowned then, a tortured baffled frown; like he was struggling to understand this reaction himself.

"I'm not one of those women. I am not denying you, but I'm not going to just do what you want all the time."

"I know, and I don't want that,"

She nodded, but she still didn't feel like she could entirely make sense of what had happened; she still felt she needed to be alone to think about it.

She didn't want to get back into the shower again, even though she needed to. She walked out of the bedroom, trying to remember where she'd left her over night bag, so she could get dressed.

"Andrea,"

She turned to face him,

"Don't go, please. I feel like if you walk out of here now I am never going to see you again."

She paused at that. He had a point, that might very well be what happened. This felt like a bit of a make or break moment. She sighed, maybe she should stay, resist the urge she had to withdraw from him.

He approached her carefully, placing his hand on her face. "I know I don't want that. And I think, I hope you don't want that either. Do not go, not like this."

"Okay, I'll stay."

He grinned, relief etched across his features. He took her in his arms and kissed her lingeringly on the mouth, he gazed into her eyes for an interminable amount of time until gently he said.

"Thank you."

Over breakfast he asked what she was doing that day.

"I have to go to Brighton this afternoon, to pick up Sophia."

"Where is Brighton?"

She could see where this was going. Sighing, she braced herself. "It's a town on the south coast."

"I can take you?"

Despite expecting him to ask this, she still panicked. She wasn't ready to allow him any further into her life. She wasn't ready to introduce him to Sophia, not yet.

"I can catch a train, it's a long way for you to drive..."

"Andrea," He interrupted, taking her face in his hands, and cupping her jaw, he lifted it so she was forced to look up at him. "I understand that you don't want me to meet them. I don't like it but I understand. I haven't given you much reason to trust me. We can spend the day there and I can take you the house and drop you off."

She opened her mouth to reply and then closed it again. How unexpectedly insightful of him, she thought to herself.

"I've never been." He added. "I'd like to see it." He eyed her cautiously.

She brightened. "Okay, we can go for a walk on the beach."

As they headed down to Brighton, Stephano explained that he only used a driver in London, when he was busy and he didn't have time to look for places to park. He preferred to do his own driving when he could.

Even watching him drive was sexy, she thought. The way he handled the car was smoothly confident and efficient.

They had lunch on sea front and then walked along the beach, the day was overcast and blustery, but it was quiet. Although the lights twinkled a little forlornly, the pier was still open for business as usual, despite the lack of customers.

On the pier Andrea saw a big soft toy and without thinking she cried, "Oh! Sophia would love that, she's crazy about leopards."

Stephano bought a game and picked up the air rifle. After briefly examining it he took the shot; it was the perfect bull's-eye, and the man in the kiosk was clearly taken a back.

"Well, I can tell you've done this before." He said to Stephano as he handed Andrea the large stuffed toy.

She looked at him speculatively; the guy was clearly surprised too. He was very proficient with that air rifle. Looking up at his face, she remembered the knife he used the first time they met to cut away her underwear, and Connie's comment about him being from southern Italy and the Mafia. He looked uncomfortable as he met her gaze.

They walked to the end of the pier. Leaning over the railing, they watched the waves crash into the pillars holding them up. It started to rain; a light, mist-like rain, the kind that you think will be okay until suddenly you're soaked through.

"We should go back to the car." He suggested, breaking the silence.

"We can come back in the summer." She told him without thinking. Hoping he hadn't noticed the implication in her comment, she stole a glance up at him.

He was looking at her strangely, but again she couldn't read his expression. He took her hand in his and they walked back along the beach.

"Stephano?"

"Yes?"

Tell me, what you do? I feel like I don't know anything about you. Why are you here? In this country?"

"I came here to see you."

"No," She felt cross. Why was he being so elusive? "I mean why were you staying in the hotel when we met."

His eyes darkened. She would have been sure a cloud had passed over the sun, except it was already cloudy.

"Investments. I wanted to invest some money."

"What kind of money? Where did it come from?"

She watched his face, he was frowning; he seemed to be having some sort of internal struggle.

She took a deep breath. Time to tackle this head on, if that's what it was going to take to get a straight answer from him.

"Stephano, are you involved with the mafia?"

He sighed. "Not exactly, no."

She frowned. He looked nervous. "What do you mean?"

"I'm involved in another organisation called the 'Ndrangheta."

"I've never heard of them."

"Very few people have, which is ironic; they're much bigger than the mafia, and far more successful."

And so he told her about his family, and their links with the 'Ndrangheta. About trying to leave it behind and how hard it was.

"I was born into it, my father and my uncle are very high up. You can't ever leave, not really. I've as good as, though. I'm lucky; I have two older brothers, they are happy to be involved. I don't see much of them, but they do call on me to wash their money sometimes."

"Sorry?"

"Money laundering, I'm in finance so I am in a good position to do it. That is why I came here."

"Do they pay you?"

"No, I make my own money, but my education, my start in life, it came from them. I can't deny that. I am who I am because of them, I never wanted for anything when I was growing up. I owe them. They'll never let me forget that. And I know a lot about them. They didn't want me to talk so they like to keep me close." He was frowning as he spoke, he seemed a bit angry but resigned too.

She'd always suspected, so why was it such a shock now he'd told her?