Page 8 of Claimed By The Mafia Prince

Her release pushes me over the edge, and I let out a grunt as I release myself inside her. Our bodies collapse against each other, gasping for air as we come down. I lay my weight on her, my mouth finding hers. I kiss her softly, tasting her sweetness.

She whimpers against my lips, gripping my arms tightly as I slowly pull out. I watch as she twists underneath me, hiding herself, a small red spot peaking underneath her twisted thighs.

A cheshire grin spreads across my face. “Don’t hide from me, Sole. Show me what’s mine.”

Melissa opens up for me again, and I lean down and kiss the space between her breasts before laying on my back. She crawls into me, and I close my eyes while rubbing her scalp.

She draws small circles on my chest that lull me to sleep. “Xander?”

“Hmm?” I say, half-asleep.

“What does il mio piccolo sole mean?” I open my eyes not realizing she’d remember me calling her that after our first kiss. I can feel her gaze burning into my skin as I sigh.

“Aren’t you Italian? Shouldn’t you know?” I laugh.

“Well, I grew up in prep school in the US, so I know as much Italian as a first grader.” She smiles, sticking her tongue out at me.

“The whole phrase means ‘my little sunshine,’ but sole just means sunshine.” I kiss her forehead lightly, not needing to look at her to know she has a goofy smile on her face.

“You call me your little sunshine? Why?”

The joy is evident in her tone, but I don’t know why I call her sunshine, maybe it’s her blonde hair, how I’ve never seen her frown, or maybe when I am around her, I want to be happy and normal with a picket fence and 2.5 kids.

“I call you that because, even like the sun, you need to go to sleep.” I close my eyes again and she huffs trying to sit up, but I pull her against my side, intertwining her legs with mine.

“Xander, tell me.” I fake starting to snore, and she sighs, letting it go.

I wake up at the crack of dawn. Melissa is still naked next to me, and I realize that’s the best sleep I’ve had in years. I lean up to look at her peaceful frame as I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

Careful not to wake Melissa, I slide out of bed and tiptoe across the room, quickly dressing in silence before making my way to the door. As I turn the handle, Melissa shifts in her sleep onto her stomach. Her round, perfect ass in the air.

As I make my way down the hallway, trying not to make a sound, my eyes catch sight of a vase of red roses placed on a small table. The vibrant petals seemed to glow in the early morning light filtering through the window, just as Melissa did in the moonlight.

I tenderly pick one of the flowers out of the vase and turn back towards Melissa’s room. I don’t know why but the thought of Mel waking up to nothing makes my stomach sick. I tiptoe back into Melissa's room gently placing the red rose on Melissa's bedside table.

She is now curled over on her side. I pull her lavender blanket over her naked body. I don’t want anyone else to see her like this, vulnerable and freshly fucked.

I should be the only one to see her like this. I should be the only one to fuck her so good she sleeps into the next afternoon.

I place a lingering kiss on her forehead. When her nose twitches and a small smile of peace spreads on her lips, I realize why I call her sunshine, how much she has ruined me for other women, and how even if she doesn’t know it, she is mine, and I’ll make sure she knows this soon enough.

4

MELISSA

My eyelids flutter open, and the afternoon light bathes my room in peach, casting everything in a soft glow similar to the way the moonlight danced on Xander’s muscles last night.

Fuck, Xander. I can still feel his heated gaze, the light caress of his calloused fingers.

I can’t keep the smile off my face as I look over to his side of the bed. He’s gone, but that was to be expected. What is unexpected is the vivid splash of red invading his space. A single rose, its petals unfurled like it’s taking a breath.

I move away from the rose, and the air in the room slowly gets sucked out as I cover my mouth, gasping for air the same way I did that night. I couldn’t move then. I couldn’t look away then. I still can’t do it now. The color red still feels like being gutted to me, a stark reminder of that woman’s body.

Memories flood my mind, and I can’t help but reenact that night—the blood, the screams, the horror as she painfully twitched her way to death. At the center of it all is the color red, staining everything in its wake.

I hate the color red. No, I despise it.

Every time I see red, it is like reliving the nightmare of watching that murder over and over again. But Xander couldn’t have known that. If he knew, I doubt he would traumatize me like this the night after losing my virginity. Right?

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