Mafia's African Rose

Unrenting Desire

     Thinking about the events of today, I couldn't help but feel the overwhelming fear creeping back in. The gunshot replayed in my mind like a haunting echo. My hands trembled as I tried to steady myself. The saloon, the panic—it was too much. I had just slipped into a pair of shorts and a spaghetti top, not bothering with a bra, when a knock startled me.

I sighed, assuming it was Alexa or Nora. Opening the door, I froze. It was the last person I expected to see.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, my voice firmer than I felt.

His eyes raked over me, lingering just a second too long. I could feel the heat of his gaze travel across my skin, igniting something unwanted and annoying. My traitorous body betrayed me, warmth pooling low in my belly.

"To see you," he said simply, his deep voice sending shivers through me.

"Well, I guess we don't want the same thing," I snapped, trying to shut the door.

His hand caught it effortlessly, his strength mocking my feeble attempt.

"I've missed you, Angel," he said, his voice quieter now. "A whole week without you is driving me insane."

"Then tell her, not me," I spat, my tone sharp and cutting.

"Let me in," he demanded, that commanding edge creeping into his voice. "Or do you not trust yourself around me?"

His smirk sent a spark of irritation through me. I rolled my eyes, stepping back into the room, trying to prove him wrong. He strode in with his usual confident swagger, making himself at home on my couch, his manspreading  in that arrogant way of his.

The air shifted instantly, the room felt smaller, and his cologne filled the space, intoxicating and infuriating.

"What do you want, Alexio?" I asked, crossing my arms, desperate to mask how his presence affected me.

"Baby, I'm not marrying her," he said, his voice steady and sure.

I froze, the words sinking in like a stone in water. Shock momentarily silenced me, but I quickly recovered, hardening my expression.

"If that's what you wanted to say, you've said it. Now leave."

His jaw clenched at my tone, annoyance flashing in his eyes. "What's with the attitude?" he bit out.

"You know," he said, his voice low and dangerous, "it'd feel so good fucking the attitude out of you."

I turned sharply, ready to hurl another snarky remark, but instead, I blurted out the unthinkable.

"Then do it."

The second the words left my mouth, I slapped a hand over it, horrified at myself.

He chuckled darkly, his smirk returning with a vengeance. "Come here," he commanded, his voice thick with authority.

Like I was under a spell, my feet moved on their own. I found myself standing before him, heart racing and head spinning. His hands gripped my hips, and before I knew it, I was straddling him on the couch.

His warm breath brushed against my neck as he buried his face in the crook of it, sending shivers down my spine.

"I love your haircut," he murmured, his voice muffled against my skin. "What a shame—I'm about to ruin it."

His lips ghosted over my collarbone, and every rational thought dissolved into the heat of the moment. I melted into him, forgetting the fear, forgetting Ciara, forgetting everything except him.

    He led me to his room, his lips never leaving mine. "I've missed you," he whispered against my mouth, and my body responded instantly, a surge of excitement coursing through me. His kisses trailed down my body, slow and deliberate, as though he was savoring every inch of me. He kissed, sucked, and bit gently, his touch igniting sensations that left me breathless.