My Masters' Nightmare Season 1, Ep. 6 Consequences (3 page)

She grabbed my cock, slowly
lowering
herself onto it, pushing me inside of her inch by glorious
inch. I gasped, the woman tighter than I remembered. She came to a
stop on my lap, finally sitting on it like I had asked, her long
black hair tickling my chest. I brushed it over her shoulder, then
pushed her head forward, so I could see Rita. “Move up and down,” I
said, staring at Rita. She was watching me with wide eyes. Her face
was flushed, her mouth was open, and her brown hair was wild—the
woman beyond sexy.

“
Faster,” I instructed Camila.
She
picked
up speed, making me groan. Even though my ex’s grip on my cock was
exquisite, I still wished I was filling Rita instead.

I smacked Camila’s ass.
“Faster.” She started panting, her groans breaking
t
hrough, the
woman thirsty for my cock. She rode me hard, causing her big tits
to bounce. I reached around and grabbed one of them, tweaking her
nipple. Her pussy clenched in response, making me gasp.

My eyes
returned to Rita. Looking
embarrassed, she dropped her gaze. I let out a loud groan for her
benefit. She glanced back up. Her face was redder than her natural
hair color, the roots starting to become noticeable. She reminded
me so much of my murdered lover. I groaned again, imagining the
time Sophia had come to my bedroom seven years ago. She’d been
distressed over something, my beautiful
amore
looking so fragile. I’d sat her down on my
bed, asking what was wrong. She’d burst into tears, so I had pulled
her into my arms, giving her comfort. Although I had wanted to give
her more, to have her beneath me, naked and writhing in ecstasy as
I filled her. I don’t quite remember who had made the first move,
who kissed who, whose hands roamed over the other’s body. I
groaned, remembering how we had ripped each other’s clothes off
frantically, and how I had pushed her down, entering her with
nothing between us. She had been much tighter than Camila, so tight
that it had been painful, but I still wanted her wrapped around me,
squeezing the life out of my cock. I groaned, remembering how she
had cried out, telling me it hurt her too, but she still begged me
not to stop. I knew she was a virgin, Jagger had told me. He’d
asked me advice about how to have sex with her, the boy rather
clumsy with women back then. I was such a
bastardo
for stealing his love, but she was my
love too, and she had come to
me
, kissed
me
,
wanted me as much as I had wanted her.

“
Sophia,
ti amerò per
sempre
,” I
said, telling my dead lover I would love her forever.

The woman I was in stiffened, but it
wasn’t Camila’s reaction that got my attention, it was Rita’s gasp
and the way her hand went to her heart as though I had spoken the
words to her. But I hadn’t, because she wasn’t my
Sophia.

She squeezed her eyes shut, appearing
upset. I had no idea why my words would elicit such a reaction,
because even though she lusted after me, she hated me even
more.

I hit Camila’s back. “Get off me,” I
snapped, not wanting to finish inside of her.

She rose to her feet
and glared down at
me. Her face was just as flushed as Rita’s, but with anger instead
of desire. I pushed up and shoved her roughly to the side, making
her curse. She went for me, telling me I was a
stronzo
—an asshole. I shoved her harder,
sending her to the floor this time. “Stay down there, or I’ll bring
you to a completion you don’t want.”

She glared back, but didn’t get
up, the woman for once showing some intelligence. I turned
and headed for
Rita, stopping just outside of her reach. I took a hold of my cock,
running my hand up and down the shaft, wanting to come on her. She
stared at me, her face a mask of disbelief. I leaned my head back,
and continued to stroke myself, now desperate to come. I closed my
eyes, imagining it was Sophia standing before me—her gaze filled
with love, not hate.

“
Sophia,” I gasped, moving my
hand over my cock faster, gro
aning as I came, drawing it out, making it last.
Once I’d finished, I opened my eyes and almost laughed. Rita’s legs
and stomach were splattered with my cum, a true work of
art.

“
Next time I’ll aim for
your mouth, it’ll be less messy,” I said, using her own words from
the other day against her.

Rita’s face darkened, but she kept her
mouth shut. I turned to Camila, who was looking furious, her gaze
going between me and Rita. I wasn’t sure why she was including Rita
in on the glare. Maybe it was jealousy, or more likely over the
fact that it was Rita who had gotten her fucked.

Still holding the knife, I
swiped up my clothes and headed for the door, wondering how things
were going to play out between them. I hoped for the worst, which
was a distinct possibility with Camila, who hated me lusting after
anyone but herself—whether she wanted me or not. And I wouldn’t put
it past her to try to seduce me in an attempt to escape. If
anything, I was surprised she hadn’t already tried, but I guess the
hurt I’d done to her
famiglia
was probably too fresh, the woman needing to vent
her anger instead. Though, it was just a matter of time before her
calculating mind started working, and I looked forward to the
games. I also looked forward to seeing her lose every battle we
fought, tearing a piece of her hope away one bit at a time until
there was nothing left.

I banged on the door for the guard to
open up.

“
What about me?” Camila
said. “I need to be unlocked so I can clean myself.”

“
You can keep my smell on
you.”

“
But I need to use the
bathroom.”

I sneered at her. “You can piss
yourself for all I care, like your
famiglia
made Mario do when they locked him
up.”

“
I didn’t know anything about
that, and if I had, I would have gotten him released.”

“
I don’t believe
you.”

“
It’s true! He’s my
cousin.”

“
It’s too late; he
suffered, and now you will too.”

The
guard opened the door, his eyes
widening when he saw me naked. He might as well get used to it,
because it was going to be a frequent occurrence. Or maybe I should
bring a towel with me the next time, like Jagger used to. My cousin
had a habit of walking around the house in a towel, going between
his room and the cells, not giving a shit who saw. If only he’d
known my sick brother had been watching him. I gritted my teeth,
upset with myself for thinking about Alberto again. It made me want
to stick the knife in my chest, to cut out the pain, anything to
forget about what I had done.

I headed up the staircase, ignoring the
other guard’s look of surprise. I crossed the entrance and
dining-room, ascending the main staircase, going straight to my
bedroom. After a quick shower and shave, I dressed in my best black
suit, and then went to Jagger’s room. I ran my hand over his door,
wondering whether I should leave him in peace. No, I wanted to find
out how he was doing. He hadn’t left his room since I had carried
him there, and worse, he was refusing to eat, his nurse now having
to force feed him.

I knocked softly, then opened the door.
Honey glanced up. The blonde slave was sitting on a chair next to
Jagger’s bed, reading a book as my cousin slept. She looked like an
innocent Marilyn Monroe, all sweetness and light. She was wearing
one of Bianca’s dresses, the soft pink against her honey-colored
skin lovely. Slaves weren’t normally permitted clothing, but she
was Jagger’s nurse now, so I had given her some
liberties.

She smiled at me sadly, her
gaze flicking to Jagger, who was sleeping soundly, probably from
being sedated. He needed time to heal, if in fact he could. Though,
I believed in him, my cousin stronger in mind than body. He had
lived through five years of abuse at the hands of the
Padre
, had escaped the psycho a second time, and he would live
through Alberto’s abuse as well.
I was certain of it.

“
How is he?” I asked
Honey.

“
Better. He actually
allowed me to feed him today.”

“
That’
s pleasing to hear.” I smiled at her,
wondering whether she could make Jagger happy once more; if he had
ever been happy. My cousin was a melancholy person, which was
understandable. His childhood had held nothing but pain, even
before the
Padre
. His dead mother had been a nasty battle-ax, a
fire-breathing dragon.

Honey’s cheeks reddened, probably from
my stare. “Is there anything else you want me to do?” she
asked.

“
No, my cousin is your top
priority.”

She smiled.
“
He truly
is. I love him with all my heart.”

“
Buono
. And if you succeed in making him
happy, I will give you my blessing to be with him—that’s if he
still wants you.”

A huge smile split her
f
eatures.
“I
will
make him happy; I will do anything for him.”

“
I believe you. Just one more
thing, Bianca is returning home tomorrow and will also need to be
taken care of. She’s had plastic surgery due to the damage my
brother...” I paused, Alberto constantly coming to mind. I pushed
the pain down and continued, “She can only eat through a straw at
the moment, so you will have to feed her cool soups and soft
foods.”

Honey blanched, but still
nodded. I knew Bianca hated her, Honey knew it too. Bianca was
jealous of
Honey’s connection to Jagger, but Honey was an actual
nurse, and I wanted Bianca taken care of properly, so Honey would
just have to deal with Bianca’s jealousy.

I said my thanks,
then headed for
Alberto’s room. I stopped outside his door, running my hand over
the wood. My chest hurt at the emptiness both inside the room and
within myself. My actions towards Alberto may have been justified,
but I still should’ve done more for him, anything that would have
stopped me from having to attend his funeral. A funeral I was
responsible for, one I shouldn’t attend, but who else would go, the
cook? She was the only other person who would mourn Alberto, my
brother having been a favorite of hers, because of his love of her
cooking.

I headed down the staircase,
and across the floor to the front door. The guard opened it for me.
I stepped out
side into the bright daylight. The sound of gulls filled
the air, the shore practically kissing my driveway. Pulling out my
sunglasses from my pocket, I slipped them on and walked down the
path to Mario, who was standing by one of three armored vehicles
that Pedro Landi had given me.

Once we were
inside
, the
driver started the engine then pulled out, following the first
vehicle while the other one shadowed us. Both of them contained
soldiers whose job was to protect me and Mario.

I looked out my window as the chauffeur
drove past the shore, startling a flock of seagulls. I counted them
as they flew across the water. It brought back memories of Alberto
and I fighting over who had counted the most seagulls, a game we
used to play as children.

Countryside flew past my window: steep
hills, vineyards, stone houses, horses... My thoughts shifted to
the times Alberto and I went out riding. We would never do that
again—all because of me. I leaned back in my seat and closed my
eyes, wishing I was going anywhere but my brother’s
funeral.

***

The sound of gravel caught my
attention, making me
open my eyes. We were entering the cemetery,
sneaking in through the back entrance, although I didn’t know how
we were being inconspicuous since we stuck out with our procession
of four-wheel drives.

Our vehicle came to a halt. The guards
from the other vehicles piled out. They got into position, pointing
their guns up at the hills, which surrounded the cemetery, making
sure I didn’t get picked off by a sniper during the funeral.
Stepping out of the vehicle, I glanced up at the hills, at all the
possible places a sniper could hide. I wondered whether the
Donatelli rebels were up there now, just waiting to take me out
with a single shot to my head—the way my father had died. If they
succeeded in killing me, then so be it, but if they didn’t I would
find them and gut the bastards. No, I would shoot Matteo in the
head like he had done to my father.

I headed through the gate, my gaze
falling on the old cook. The battle-ax was standing behind the
young priest, with her daughter next to her. Four people and the
priest—the only ones who cared enough to see Alberto off. It just
made my pain deepen, that this was what Alberto’s life had amounted
to.

I stopped a few feet from my
brother’s coffin, which was
now resting in its grave. I breathed out, the
sound shuddering, pained. I blinked rapidly, not wanting to
cry.

This was
my
doing.

I shouldn’t cry.