He did it again.
We were on my bed, me following his rhythm, and suddenly he halted his movements completely just to stare in my eyes, studying them, gauging my emotions. Nothing else was happening, everything was still for a few seconds, and then, after he found what he was looking for, he started moving again, restoring his previous pace. This weird pause, was happening more often than not and by now, I had grown accustomed to it.
For the past weeks, every early afternoon, Lovino would leave to meet his poker buddies, bringing his 24-hour owning of me to an end, but later in the afternoon he would reappear, having renewed my bounds.
Lovino sped up. My breasts started bouncing at the force, his hand was tightly griping my hip.
My brother, seeing this twisted game paid his accumulated depts, would bet me again and again guiltlessly.
I hugged his head, burried my hands in his soft hair, the knot in my lower stomach intensifying. The shredded from the shutters sunlight was falling on his face, making his sweaty skin glisten and colouring his lips. I kissed him.
I couldn't say "no" to my master. I didn't want to end up homeless or dead.
Our breaths were becoming labored, the bed was creaking under us and I pulled Lovino inside me more. I came, a loud moan escaping my lips, my core cluching onto him who in turn, came deep inside me, muffling a groan by sucking on my neck.
Or maybe I was enjoying this.
In the end, Lovino had talent in this, and even though I was nothing but a plaything, he cared for me to get there.
He rolled off me and I sat up to take a cigarette of his. Before I could flick his lighter, Lovino abruptly took it from my mouth. "No smoking for you" he ordered and put it back inside the package. He got up from the bed.
"I wanna start it."
"No" he repeated and headed, naked as he was, in the bathroom. For a while, I just stared, perplexed, at the closed bathroom door. The water started running in the bathtub and I lied back on the bed.
I took a deep breath and tried to relax. The past weeks had been difficult. I had turned into a permanent sex slave and even though I had enjoyed most, if not all, of everything I was forced to do and had become relatively comfortable with my slavery, I deeply craved my freedom.
I couldn't help but wonder, why this was happening over and over. Hadn't all these weeks been enough for him to scratch me off his bucket list?
Lovino was practically living here now. He slept, bathe and ate here, he spent day after day here and made no effort to make me think my betting would ever stop. Simple proof for that were his clothes in my closet. I realized it was a good thing he had left them there, after a certain "incident": He had told me that he'd be back in no time and when he returned, he was grinning, but was soaked in someone else's blood. I cringed at the memory. There was no doubt he was a killer. And a happy one at that.
The running water stopped for a little while and then, commanced again.
I tried to gather my thoughts. I looked back at all the times we had sex, the lights always on, increasing my discomfort. He would watch me closely, making my uneasiness skyrocket. At the beginning, I would avoid his eyes, but he would always force me to look back at him, stiring with his hand my jaw towards him. By now, I had got used to that.
I remembered the one time I was sick with fever. I asked him if he could excuse me and leave, but instead, he ordered that we dry hump, avoiding any kissing. Soon after that, he left the bedroom and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he was gone, but there was take out soup waiting for me on the kitchen table.
The water stoped and soon, Lovino walked back in the bedroom, with a loose towel around his hips, dripping water.
I thought I would surprise him, but it was him that surprised me.
"You're in love with me" I dared.
"Finally" he replied. "It took you long enough."
I studied him for a while. He was looking directly in my eyes and was perfectly calm. The bastard was sincere! And, then, suddenly, he inquired: "Are you in love with me?"
His question startled me and my breath got caught in my throat. I avoided answering. "When did it happen?" I demanded to know. "You can't have fallen for me the first time you saw me; not even you are so shallow. So, when?"
Lovino headed to the closet. "When I saw you in the toilet, you got so scared. Nobody around me ever gets scared; they're not innocent enough. But, you were. And still are" he said, while gathering some clothes. "During the surveillance, I got to know you. You were the first person I got to meet in ages that wasn't in the mafia, wasn't a killer or a drug dealer or a whore or whatever. You were different."
"Then, why do this? Why not approach me like a normal person would? In what universe did this... this scheme seemed like a fine solution to you?" I asked him, unbelieving.
He turned to look at me and smiled with understanding. "You were bugged for a month" he reminded me. "I heard your opinion about the mafia; it wasn't good."
"Of course it wasn't!" I cut him, infuriated.
He went on as if I had said nothing. "You were trying to convince your brother to leave the oh, so awful mafia. But, you can't just leave; it doesn't work like that."
The fact that he mocked me even though he had just admitted that he was in love with me, didn't surprise me. I wondered if that man respected me at all or if a mafiozo could feel respect towards anyone in general. I decided to let this thought go for now, but that wouldn't mean he would just get away with insulting me. "So, because I – of course – have a terrible opinion about your "profession" " I quoted the word with my fingers in the air, distorting my face in utter disgust, "you had to do this? Force me to fuck you until you would get bored?"
"No. Force you to fuck me until you would get interested. I wanted to come and ask you out like a man, but you hate the mafia, you would have said "no". The forcing you plan seemed as good as any."
His honesty was disarming and I fell silent for a while. I only watched him getting dressed and securing his gun in its holster.
He reached at the door and turned his face to look at me. "So, are you in love with me?"
He was a persistant man; I should have known he'd ask again. "You kill people for a living."
"This doesn't answer my question."
Was that love? My feelings were confused beyond repair... "I think I am... Are you going to ask my brother to bet me again?"
"It depends. If I came with some flowers and asked you out on a date, would you say "yes"?"
I answered truthfully. "I don't know..."
"You just said you're in love with me!"
"Yes, but you kill people for a living."
"Then, I will" he replied. "And you better agree this time too. Otherwise..."
"Yes. I know. I'll be homeless"
"Exactly" he grinned. And with those words, he opened the door and left.