Mafia Obsession

Scarlet

I glance across the living room at Mom. She’s watching the TV with glassy eyes. I think she’s deep in thought, maybe reflecting on Dad, on the path that led us here. My body buzzes all over when I reread my man’s texts, my core aching. Nervousness tries to claim me, but I’d rather let my man claim me instead.

I wish you were here now, I reply. But I don’t want to make promises I can’t keep.

Are you having second thoughts?

No way. I want you so, so badly, Elio, but part of being a virgin means not knowing if I’ll be able to perform.

It’s not a performance, he texts. You don’t have to put on a show. You don’t have to TRY. All you have to do, my singing angel, is be you. That’s all I need to drive me completely wild. Just be your curvy, perfect self.

But what if my body has other ideas? I think I’m missing your point.

I swallow, glancing over at Mom. What if I can’t TAKE you? Is that clear enough?

I love it when you get sassy with me, he replies. I read that word. Love. Shimmers dance around me. I’ll take it slow with you at first. I’m not going to hurt you.

Then you better get here later, I tell him. Then we can try, at least. It’s not like we can make a baby just by texting, is it?

Hell, if we could, we’d have a dozen by now. I’ve never texted this much in my life.

Me neither. It’s weird. I know it’s just words on a screen, but it makes me feel so close to you.

I know what you mean, he replies. But I still prefer the real thing. I always will. It will have to be late, so our moms are sleeping. I’m forty- two, but I’m sneaking around like a teenager.

Ha, ha. That’s me, Elio, keeping you young. That’s why we’re the perfect match. You’ve got the experience. I’ve got the youth.

You’re damn right. We’re the perfect team. I’m getting so hard just thinking about later.

Oh yeah? What are you thinking?

Be careful with questions like that. If I start dirty-talking to you, I’ll have to drive over there sooner.

I squeeze my legs together, my core burning with temptation. Maybe I just want to know the protocol.

There’s no protocol. All I know is I’ll see you, lose my mind, and claim you with my rock-hard dick. I’m solid now, just thinking about you.

What about me? I ask.

Your curves, your smile, the way you fucking moan… I love how MUCH of you there is to indulge in. I’ll never be able to get enough. Your thick legs. Your big, juicy ass. Those round, perfect tits. Your messy hair. The youth and light in your eyes. The fact that your fertile, young body is going to get pregnant as soon as I come deep inside of you.

“Scarlet,” Mom says. “Are you okay?”

Oh, dammit. I’m panting like a real freak. It’s like my womb is sending urgent lust signals through me. I’ll add that to the list of crazy thoughts that haven’t stopped spiraling.

“Yeah, Mom. Sorry.”

“I thought you were having a panic attack for a second.” “No, I’m fine. Really.”Belongs to (N)ôvel/Drama.Org.

It’s more like a lust attack.

Maybe you’re right, I reply. I’m in the living room with Mom. I just started panting like a crazy lady. You’re making me so hot. I feel like I’m burning up.

Soon, then, he texts. If you’re asleep when I get in, I’m going to wake you by kissing those gorgeous thick legs, kissing up toward your sweet, wet slit, licking your needy clit, and making you cream all over my mouth.

I bite my lip, trying to push the lust away. It’s totally inappropriate with Mom in the same room. I won’t be able to sleep. I’m going to be waiting for you.

Those three dots appear. I remember the first time, days ago. Just two? Three? It’s hard to keep track of time. It feels like we just met. Yet through the texting, it’s like I’ve known him forever. It’s like our romance is a song that’s always been waiting to be sung, and now we’re doing it, singing it. Together.

You better, he tells me.