Vixen Consoli let herself take off 4 years from the family business so she could experience life outside the mob. Knowing when she comes back home, she will be in charge while her brother River handles affairs in Italy. She set rules up for herself...
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~Vixen~
I felt the rays of the sun blast through the window on my face. I cover my eyes with a hand, letting out a deep groan— I despise mornings. Absolutely hate them. Whoever can start their day before 10 am on a regular basis is a lunatic.
Letting my eyes adjust to my surroundings, realizing where I am, I shoot up from the bed. Images of last night start to flood my mind. Closing my eyes, I can still feel Valerio's fingers caressing my body—The feeling of him inside me. I bite my lip and clench my legs together.
Fuuuuck. I groan and feel the dull ache between my legs. I am really fucking sore.
My eyes snap open wide and turn my head to look over my shoulder, finding the bed empty. I frown. Did he leave? Did he not enjoy himself as much as I had? The bathrooms open and empty and the clock shines 7:05 AM.
Do I just leave? I've never done a one night stand before, I don't know the drill. I pull myself off the bed. Once my feet touched the floor I shudder. It's so cold in here, I need a hot shower. I wouldn't have minded wet steamy morning sex in the shower with Valerio.
I bend down to pick up my boots, I realized my clothes along with his are missing. Only my torn-up panties remain on the floor. Was this some kind of sick joke? Did he seriously steal my clothes? What the actual fuck.
I wrap the sheet around my body as I start to explore the suite. I flinch as I start walking—my groin and thighs were aching. Fuck, I didn't even feel like this when I lost my virginity to my high school boyfriend. And I thought he was big.
Actually, I thought all my male companions were on the bigger than average size, but Valerio proved me wrong last night.
Making my way to the bathroom I closed and lock it behind me. I look at myself in the mirror and cringed at myself. Eww, no wonder he left before I woke up. Who would want to interact with this morning troll?
My sex hair is everywhere. It was a big tangled, frizzy mess. My mascara ran down to my cheeks, and crust from my drool left a trail down my jaw.
I let the sheet fall to the ground and I stare at my body. Oh fuck—My body was covered in love bites and bruises. My neck had a faint hand bruising around it and my hips had deep purple fingerprints on them. My thighs had some purple-red bruising around them along with scratch marks.
I knew we were rough—I didn't realize how rough though. I smile at myself looking down at every mark he left. I graze my fingers over them, stopping them on my tattoo.
It starts from my lower rib cage, going down past my hips and down my lower thigh. It's a line workpiece of peonies blossoming open surrounded by a vine of leaves and nine smaller flowers wrapping around a skull.
I started my tattoo when I was sixteen—after I had my first kills. For every kill after, I've added a small flower along the vine.
That feeling that I got when I saw their pathetic lives drain from their eyes consumed me. I took one mans life with just my bare hands and didn't even feel guilty about it. I didn't care if he had a life or a family, I just saw him as an empty vessel and not as a human being. I liked it so much, it scared me.
