Amapola

Salvatore has a way of confusing me; he's like a super-fast car that accelerates from 0 to 1000 km/h in seconds, and no matter how fast I run, I can't keep up with him. His emotions, always so masked and hidden, sometimes become visible to me, which confuses me even more. I don’t know if it's real or just a product of my imagination.
Unlike other people, I don’t fear him. I know he's as unstable as polonium, a chemical element that has the highest level of radioactivity and, consequently, instability in nature. It’s not like he can change his essence; he is what he is, and that’s that. He’s lethal, but I need to find out if there’s a way to get closer without being destroyed because with every passing moment, I want to be near him even more.
Being beside a mobster doesn’t always bring benefits, and I understood that while he wanted to give me a good time by taking me to see the capital of Sicily, he couldn’t be exposed, and I understood that.
At dinner, I caught a glimpse of a side of him I could never have imagined existed. It wasn't as if he had been affectionate, but he showed interest in me, in my life. He asked questions, wanted to know everything. I didn’t have much to share, but I didn’t hold back the little I had been through.
As for him, it was as he said—his secrets shouldn’t be shared. But in a strange way, I wanted to unravel him, not Salvatore the head of the Italian mafia, but the person, who he was when he looked in the mirror.
He was confusing me; who was this person treating me with courtesy, trying to make me enjoy the moment, admire the scenery, and discover a new place? I couldn’t see in him the monster people painted, heartless and inhuman. Why did he hide that part of himself? Had anyone else ever had access to it?
There were so many questions in my mind, but I couldn’t find answers to any of them. I knew that if I pressed him too much, he might pull away or explode. Talking to Salvatore was like walking through a minefield; with every step I took, I risked stepping on a bomb and watching everything blow up in seconds.
"Amapola?" he calls my attention while I reflect on the recent events, on what I imagined he was and what he has been showing me while I look into his eyes, trying to see beyond what he allows me to see. "What would you do if I kissed you?"
"Now?" I can’t believe his words. Did he want to kiss me? Was this real? The man I now understand I desire was wanting to kiss me?
"Yes, piccola. Now." He said, slowly leaning closer, giving me time to pull away, space to decide. Salvatore, once again, was giving me the power of choice, and once again, I chose to stay. Then his lips touched mine, and I couldn’t even begin to describe the situation.
However, quicker than I would have liked, he pulled away. Yet, I felt my feet literally taken off the ground. He ran with me in his arms as if I weighed nothing, not even the immense staircase inside the house slowed him down. When I saw him enter his room and lay me down on his bed, I anticipated what would happen. It was inevitable.
Was I scared? More than I could measure, but I wasn’t afraid of regretting it because I longed for this as much as he did. The last few weeks had been too intense, but they allowed me to see things from a different angle. I pushed away the visions and concepts of others, and when I allowed myself to see Salvatore through my own lenses, I saw something I could never have imagined possible. He had a soul, perhaps even a heart.
"Mia bella, io te voglio," Salvatore said with a hoarse voice as he lay his body over mine, relieving his weight on one arm.
"I want you too, Salvatore, fammi tuo."
"Yes, Amapola, I will make you mine." I feel his lips touch mine again, but this time there is no delicacy in his touches. Salvatore is demanding; he doesn’t ask, he takes from me what he wants. And as he kisses me, I feel him claiming his debt—not just taking my lips and my body, but also my soul and heart.
If I’m honest, I’ve always wanted him, since the first time I saw him, even having been introduced to his demonic face. I was able to see the angel. Il mio angelo Salvatore.
I feel his hands caressing my face with a gentleness I never expected him to have. He trails one hand down my neck, shoulders, and breasts, as if mapping every part of me.
Carefully, he removes his coat from my body. I wanted to keep it there, to have his scent clinging to my skin, but I knew that when I got up from this bed, I would be marked by him, literally.
Slowly, I see my shirt being taken off, and Salvatore's gaze is one of pure admiration, I would even say adoration. Does he look at all the women who lie in his bed like this? I wished with all my might that he didn’t. I wanted that look, free from any worry and lost in the moment, just for me.
His mouth travels down to my belly, sending shivers down my spine and making me writhe beneath him.

"Too sensitive, mia bella, stay still so I can make you feel pleasure."
"More?" I question, as all my nerve endings are on high alert, and I'm completely aware of my senses in this moment.
"Yes, Amapola." His face hovers over mine. "I haven’t even begun. Throughout this night, I will make you mine; every hour, minute, and second will be filled with different sensations so that you will never forget what it's like to be with me and never want to distance yourself."
"Do you want me close to you?"
"Per tutti i giorni della mia vita." I see truth in every word he says. Maybe tomorrow he will change his mind; maybe he won't want me around anymore. But today, I know those words are real, and that’s why I want this night to never end.
"I want you too, and I will stay for all the days of our lives," I say, gasping as his lips take my breasts. I didn’t expect the onslaught, but my entire body craved his touch.
His hands undo the button of my pants, and his fingers slide into my panties.