You see, there are these apps where anybody can write books, stories and the sort and one day, scrolling the FB (which I don't usually do but I kill time with it on occasions) my eyes fell on a title that made me scoff.
The title, 'Mafia in Love'...
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She cleaned me up. She fucking cleaned me up, laying kisses after each stoke of the wet towel she had in her hand and wiped off each drop of blood, and even though at first I was tense and reluctant to do whatever she was doing, I finally dropped my head to the back and leaned it heavily against her shoulder, feeling her lips and hot breath on my left cheek.
Heaven! I died and came back to life, a different life, someone else's life, the life of someone who lived his rightfully and didn't kill a fly his entire life, someone that I could never be, and still angels fell down the sky right into my arms and nested a home in my heart.
An angel who's hands are now unbuttoning my shirt and so gracefully removes it making more place for her touches and kisses and the strokes of towel followed by her hot breath.
I'm fucking hard and still, I wouldn't interrupt her ritual even if I'll find my death in it. I have never been this cherished in my life. I actually never knew I deserved cherishing.
I was happy, I fucked a whore. I was angry, I fucked a whore. I was hard, I fucked a whore.
But now, I'm all three together, I'm thrilled she hasn't left, I'm angry because I don't know where Benito is and I'm hard, laughably hard and I mentally smirk, totally blown away by the effect this tiny woman has on me.
What I am extra the usual me is bothered, fucking bothered by her tear but I'm afraid to ask. A tiny thought crosses my mind that probably she doesn't want to be actually here but she stayed as a final goodbye for having saved her from that hell.
If that's the case, I'll fucking shut up. Call me a coward, but I'll make it the best night she has ever had, wiping off any memory of another man she might have, any shiver she might have known before me and I'll make sure she'll get addicted and will always come back to me, again and again till she'll never leave.
And if she's here to stay, well... I guess she doesn't have other options.
"Let me take care of you..." she whispers in my ear to a question that I don't even fucking remember having asked but by God... her voice only feels like a million shock needles traveling under my skin making my arousal hit hard and wasting any drop of patience I have, but... like she can read thoughts, she turns the chair around so I can face her, standing under the running shower and looking at me as if expecting me not to fucking shiver seeing her wet clothes glued to her body like a second skin.
"Let me see you..." I mumbled in something I intended to be an order but it came only as a request, mild and but scratching my throat.
She smiles, one of those smiles that brings the world to one's feet.
And as if it's not clear enough that she is my world m, she takes the wet towels and kneels between my parted leveling her eyes with mine and leaning forward till her nose is inches away from mine, so close that my entire vision is her beautiful shining face crossed by tears mixed with water, tears she surely hopes are hidden well enough but I see them, and they hurt.
