Teddy Bear II
Alejandro's POV
But I guess I didn't need to worry about staying away from her, seeing as she was doing it for me and had made it abundantly clear I ruined what we had and needed to move on.
I'd uphold the promise to her mamá to keep her safe and nothing more.
Only it was hard because somewhere along the like, keeping my word had morphed into something more. Something more important.
So important that I felt the need to claim her like some caveman when I knew deep down that no matter how attracted I was to her, I couldn't have her.
She's forbidding.
She's yours.
No she's not. I don't want her.
I gulp down my drink and nod along as Silvio speaks, but I can't be bothered to listen to what he's saying.
Besides, Camila was too emotionally invested and having sex with her would furthur complicate her thoughts. She needed someone that would coax her through it, someone that would hold her hand through it all.
Not someone that was selfish, rough and demanding.
And during sex I wasn't there. Sex wasn't an emotional connection for me. It was harsh, greedy and I was there to take what I wanted.
A release.
I slipped up on a lapse of judgement when I decided to pleasure her that night.
I'd done a good job of convincing myself I wasn't attracted to the girl, that was until the first soft little sound escaped her lips.
I had to think about anything else to rein in my arousal, but it was nearly impossible to do when I was pushing my finger in and out of her as she moaned my name, and pushed her ass into my cock.
I was proud of my self control for lasting that long, until I nearly lost it when she had to open that mouth of hers and lick my fingers off like it was nothing.
She was so naive and oblivious to the fact that while she thought she was being cute, I was forcing myself to control the urge. The urge to tie her up right there and fuck her senseless. The urge to throw her over my knee and punish her for everything she's put me through.
Before I know it, I'm reaching forward and pouring myself another glass of whiskey as I force my attention back to the man I'm speaking with.
I had come here for a reason, to discuss what I had planned for Miami. But Silvio hasn't given me an opening yet.
"You planning on growing the family, soon?" He asks.
My eyes snap to him and for the first time all night I feel like we're getting somewhere, I nod. "Well, I'm planning on integrating the family business into clean business. Working on bringing in clean money-"
"No, I mean the blood line." He clarifies, "The future of our empire lies on our future generations."
My gaze travels to the whiskey in front of me.
It was always the same shit. The man asked me about my plans for kids, while he babbled on about his. Only shutting up when I give him some bullshit, before going about my day doing what I do best.
Taking care of business.
But right now this whisky felt damn good.
. . .
"Tutto bene, Capo?" Comes a weary voice. (Everything okay, Boss?)
Grinning up at Marco, I slap a hand on his shoulder. "Peachy, fratello." I laugh. (brother)
He blinks down at me, eyeing me weirdly as I stumble past him to head up the stairs.
"Capo." His voice stops me and I spin on my heels smiling back at one of my brothers. He looks hesitant as he speaks. "I have some concerns about Camila and her school-"
"Camila." The mention of her pinches my chest. "Where is she?" I haven't seen my Principessa in so long.
He blinks at me. "In her room, asleep."
I nod satisfied, cutting off whatever he was going to say next. "Good, good." I continue nodding as I turn and make my way upstairs.
It was good she was asleep, safe and okay.
She's beautiful and I worry that if anyone sees her they will try to steal her. But I don't want that because I like holding her. Being in her arms.
But it's hard now because the thought of her makes me hard now.
And recently that seems like all my mind wants to do. Think about her.
It wasn't always like this, at first it wasn't even an option going there with her.
She still wasn't an option.
But I can't help my thoughts. Thoughts that drift late at night or when I'm alone, thoughts that replay the sound of her soft whimpers and moans.
Thoughts that like to venture to the image of her wide eyes starring up at me, so innocently as I picture doing things so far from innocent to her.
And her body, sinfully dangerous.
I can still remember the sight of her ass as she tried to squeeze the skin into that tight little fucking skirt she always wore. The skin was so smooth, practically begging for my attention.
That was the first time I let the thoughts linger for longer than a few seconds. And instead of leaving like I should have, I stayed.
I watched as she bent over and I let my mind flash with images of how it would look and feel to have that tan smooth skin redden under my palm.
Under my touch.
It was like I was in a trance, one that broke the minute I felt my hand move down to cup myself over my pyjama pants.
I froze in realization of what I was about to do. I was rock hard and my hand was squeezing myself through my pants. But that wasn't the problem.
The problem was that the focal point of my arousal and fantasies was the same girl that I had swore to never have.
The one that satisfied my emotional needs.
She couldn't be the image that fueled my sexual desires and arousal. I wouldn't allow it, not to mention how much of an invasion of privacy it was to be watching her change through the ajar door.
I was so ashamed that I had hastily got up and left.
"Cazzo." I curse as I stumble into my bedroom and shut the door only to groan down at the bulge straining against the material of my slacks.
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