Diana
I convinced Dragon to go talk to his jacketed brothers as night began to fall, taking every minute in a slow pleasure laden with anticipation to undo a few more memories from my mind, intoxicated by so many sensations that blend into the darkness in which I was forged. pleasure in the midst of pain, so dirty and completely inevitable.
Sitting on the sofa in the small living room, with the lights streaming through the huge window illuminating the bed crumpled by the scattered sheets, counting each minute as a silent prayer, waiting for Hunter's call to go to another hellish tormentor, I feel the weight of the past. climbing once more up the spine like a snake crawling in search of prey.
Closing my eyes I can still remember the scent of the De Angelis brothers' perfume, their laughter next to Stefano teasing, the pain of the scar on her collarbone reverberating through her body along with the despair when feeling the bites on her breasts, so many things hidden among the dirty secrets of the honorable men of the family.
Each mark that my man insists on kissing even without knowing the meaning, represents some memory, some business party in the years of waiting, maturing each obsessive part by the blood of these men being fed by the hatred and pain caused by Stefano.
His death represented the death of Beatrice, the adored daughter, the obedient wife taking him out of the world didn't make peace reign, it just created a new killer faithful to pain and fueled by anger.
I hoped that in some feeling awakened by Dragon, there was a background that referred to the naive and dreamy girl. Now, aware of each decision with complete certainty, I can admit that in none of these feelings is there anything of the dreamy Beatrice.
In the living skin, in the mind that whispers as alive as the pains inflicted on the body, there is no goodness, dream or desire for peace. In the deepest thought, with each beat of that organ that still beats the certainty is unique, that man belongs to me, he is mine, and even though in the back of my mind the thought of treating him like an object in the same way I was treated does not arouse any remorse.
I tried to justify the lack of remorse with the idea that I wouldn't make him go through anything I went through, the bruised face and the body tied up in that warehouse came back to my mind as a warning.
And like the narcissistic, selfish, possessive, and completely obsessed beauty I've decided that's a small price he'll have to bear. I will deal with the uncertainty that at some point he may want to have that glow of affection and feelings returned in the future.
As much as I can't reciprocate the feelings he makes so clear, I manage to have full attention of the animal he holds inside him, wanting the same, blood.
At some point he will, but I hope that by then the two parts of the same man, the rational and the irrational, will be chained under my sway. With no chance of escape, his desire to be can end up turning into penance is the result of his actions.
I want the mind, the strength, the animal, the man, all his desires, thoughts and each smile destined only for me, I opened a happy smile in imagining the six-foot-nine man, subjugated to my pleasure.
Your friends and the club serve as a way to achieve your goals, a way to cover up all your flaws and God help any of these bitches who try to touch what's mine.
The loft door opened with the owner of my thoughts smiling from some joke making the anger rise throughout my body with the desire to be the only one able to do that, our eyes met, as the smile widened showing all the teeth managed to reduce the fury.
“You're such a small drug, I'm never satisfied. - Closing the door, he knelt between my legs, pulling his right hand to stroke his beard.
The feeling of possession burning every part of my chest along with the desire to hide it somewhere just for my delight.
I decided to be honest in front of the blue eyes.
“And I want everything from you, even your thoughts. - I brought our faces closer by running my tongue through his ear.
Delighting in the growl he gave, squeezing my wrist.
“You're never going to be able to repay that shit, are you? - The steady gaze and the serious voice.
“You should have fallen in love with a whole person, not struggled to glue someone's pieces together. - The eyes shone with a sadness making the anger return with everything directed to what I'm not able to give him.
“That shit is already your Italian. - She placed my hand under her chest without disguising sadness or rancor when pronouncing my origin. - Just try not to wreck it. – She asked lowering her head.
I stroked his hair feeling the weight of his thoughts against my legs trapped by his arms looking for some way to hide the frustration of not being reciprocated the way he wants.
I lowered my head under hers feeling her hair against my cheek talking next to her ear.
“I promise to make you love me even when you hate me, American. “And that's a promise I can keep.
I heard the low and sad laugh reverberating through the huge body, this time without any tinge of anger for being the cause of this sadness, he will need to understand that I even own his pain.
I took a deep breath in the scent of the shampoo making a slow caress along his back, the tight black shirt showing every worked muscle stoking my thirst for affirmation.