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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"Papa, promise you won't let him find me," I ask Papa with tears in my eyes while glaring outside through the car window and hoping he won't deny me this one very important request I have.
Because if Papa wants, Papa gets, and nobody can find me as long as he hides me well enough.
I pretended to be asleep after Raffa fell into a faint-like sleep of his own, a legit one and I was happy because, even though exhausted and waisted from the night we had, I could now freely lay half of my necked body on his, feeling the heat of his skin and filling my nostrils with his scent. I could hear his heartbeats in the rhythm of his chest raising and lowering and my ear captured the barely heard hiss of the air he breathed between his parted lips, those lips that had laid tens of kisses on the crown of my head until he fell asleep.
He was a deep sleeper, to my luck so, I got down from the bed, put my clothes on, and called Papa to pick me up.
It took him literally minutes to arrive.
"You know he'll find you," Papa replied with undeniable certainty, fixing the road ahead while squeezing the steering wheel strongly.
"Not if you help me. Please Papa..." I felt the need to beg.
I noticed lately a change in Papa's attitude when it came to Raffa. When he speaks about him his eyes shine and a goofy smile displays on his face. He likes Raffa which, in truth, is my certainty that Papa will fight for us. I only hope he doesn't do the fight with me.
He smiles and grabs my hand laying a kiss on its back with the elegance of a last-century gentleman.
"You know I would do anything for you, Principessa. I would put my life on the line for your happiness," he replies and puts my hand back on my thigh, grabbing the steering wheel again.
"I know, Papa," I mumble grateful, and move my eyes back to the scenery outside and my thoughts back to Raffa, rolling in my head images of him, hoping they will last with me forever.
"And so would he..." he continues and I remember his words not long ago, telling me that the right man would die for me.
"Well, he shouldn't have stayed away from me for so long, then," I said pouting like a child. And I know it's stupid but what place do I have next to a man who hasn't bothered to look for me and find me after saying he loved me?
God knows for how long he would have stayed away.
So, I'll leave and stay away myself until I'm sure I have forgiven him. This is why I've made last night a memory to keep me sane whenever missing him will feel like dying. I took all of him last night and gave him all of me, every inch, every breath, every kiss, and yeah... heartless you might say, but I want him to miss me. I want him to die of a broken heart and I want him to cross the nights of hell remembering my kisses, my touches, my clenched inner muscles around his girth, and know how much he hurt me.
