Sergio (Benedetti Brothers 3)

No one seems to have heard my entrance. I make my way from the small but cozy kitchen to the dining room. I peek into the empty living room and turn and head up the stairs. They’re wooden and I’m careful so they don’t creak heavily. Four doors are closed on the landing. I open the first one to peek inside. It’s the master bedroom and, to my surprise, it’s empty. I push the door wider, confused. The curtains are open, the bed stripped bare, two pillows and a thick comforter folded neatly on top.

I step back out into the hallway to try the other door. It’s a bathroom. Drops of water cling to the rim of the pedestal sink and a towel lies askew on the rack. A toothbrush sits on the glass shelf just below the mirror. Natalie’s.

A sense of relief washes over me when I see it.

She’s here.

I step back into the hallway and try the next door which is the linen closet. I pause at the final door before opening it quietly, see the shadow of a form lying in the bed, back to me. The curtain is closed but there’s just enough light coming in from the split between the panels that I can make out her dark hair. I push the door wide, not caring to muffle the creak, and stand there, watch her startle awake, turn. Watch her face as she sits up, gasps, and I’m angry. So angry that I let her be afraid for a minute because she can’t see my face. It’s too dark where I’m standing. The pregnancy test weights heavy in my pocket and I’m fucking furious that she left, walked away, now. After everything.

I switch on the light and she blinks at the sudden brightness. The blue bruise on her temple sends a pang of guilt through me but the burn of anger dissipates that.

“Sergio.”

Her black eyes are huge, her face pale, gaunt almost. Darkness shadows the skin around her eyes.

I step inside. Her breathing is labored as she watches me approach.

“You left,” I say.

“What?”

I reach into my pocket. Take out the test. She watches me lay it on the nightstand before I take off my coat.

“You left,” I repeat.

She blinks up at me. “I—”

“Mine. No matter what. Remember?”

She’s silent. I’m angry at her for not talking to me, for shutting me out. For leaving. For hiding the fact that she’s pregnant.

For refusing to wait in the car that night.

For wanting to see.

To see me like that.

Ruthless.

Brutal.

Deadly.

I’m pissed at myself for letting her. I should have made her leave.

“I shouldn’t have let you watch.” I pull my sweater over my head, toss it aside. I don’t take my eyes off her. I step out of my shoes, go closer to the bed. Rip the blankets away.

“Sergio—”

“That was a mistake. I shouldn’t have let you see.”

I look her over. She’s wearing a tank top and panties. I set a knee on the bed, grip the collar of the tank. Rip it down the center.

She lets out a surprised scream.

“I shouldn’t have stayed away. Hell, I never should have let you leave my father’s house.”

She’s covering her breasts. My gaze slides down to her belly, pauses there before moving to her panties.

I shift my gaze back to hers. Push her backward on the bed.

She doesn’t resist. Not then and not when I take her wrists and stretch her arms to either side of the bed and wrap her hands around the rungs of the headboard.

“Keep them there,” I tell her.

I release her wrists. Look at her. It’s like she’s splayed out on the cross. Like a sacrifice. Like my sacrifice.

But that’s not what this is. I’m not here to make an offering.

I undo my belt. “I should whip your ass. I would. You fucking deserve it.”

She’s watching me, mouth open, eyes like saucers. She swallows.

I rip her panties off her, look at her pussy. It’s mine too. She doesn’t understand that yet, though. I thought she did, but I was wrong. I hook two fingers inside her cunt.

“You’re hurting me,” she squeaks.

“Good.”

“Sergio—”

“Who do you belong to?”

She squirms, grips my arm to pull me off.

With my free hand, I take her wrist and draw it back out to the headboard. “I told you to fucking keep your hands here. Do I need to tie you down?”

She shakes her head.

“Grip it,” I say when she hasn’t yet.

She obeys, silent but for her eyes. They betray her fear. But something else too. She does know. She does understand. She just can’t accept it yet. I have to make her accept the fact that she no longer belongs to herself but to me.

“If you let go, I swear to God I will take my belt to your ass.”

My face is stone as I undo my pants, push them and my briefs down far enough to free my cock.