He wants it all

by Marilena Barbagallo

  His eyes come into mine. His wonderful body starts breathing slowly.

  “Now you are mine forever.”

  25

  KRUM

  It's morning. After so long, it's morning for me too. I open my eyes and I’m immediately catapulted into reality, I don’t feel trapped in my nightmares anymore. I am not on my cot with holey blankets. Over my head there is no moldy ceiling and the air is clean, I don’t smell the spoiled food and the rubbish dad builds up. Everything has disappeared. The air is cool, but it's not cold. My little princess also dominated my sleep simply by staying near me, giving me her purity.

  I don’t move so I don't wake her up. She looks so serene as she rests on my chest. I have my arm under her, but I don’t touch her, I don’t want to ruin her sleep. Her cheeks occasionally rub on me, her warm and regular breath kisses my skin. I stretch out my free hand and remove a feather stuck in her silky hair. Last night, her request frightened me: “Make me feel good,” she asked, as if I were able to make people feel good. I tried to do it. I was the man she needed, what she deserved. Then she made that other request and it was like giving me permission to be the beast I am. I fucked her with all the anger I had in my body, I took her showing her who I really am, I broke my promise and my hands stopped being feathers on her body, simply becoming my hands.

  I didn’t touch her, I took her.

  I didn’t kiss her, I ate her.

  I didn’t look at her, I memorized her.

  Even though I was totally myself as she asked me, I felt that there was something different in me: the intention to please her and not me as I’ve always done; the desire to praise her body, without thinking of mine; the desire to give her everything she deserves. I was delicate, even too delicate, in the first part of the evening. Then that simple request - that filled my heart – was enough to let me be myself. Totally. I would never have thought she could ask me to be me. It was like having sex listening, first, to slow music and then to rock. I thought I would terrify her, be a wrong man for her. Instead, she wanted to have me.

  Me.

  She couldn’t have given me a better gift than granting me to be myself.

  I observe the sign I left on her neck. She has a circle with the shape of my teeth printed on her diaphanous skin. It's already violet, I don’t know why, but I feel sweet pulsations down in my intimacy. I like to see my signature on her.

  I'm going to fill her body with me. I want it to be like that, forever.

  “Moya.” Mine. My lips are vibrating on her forehead. “Moya i krasiva.” Mine and very beautiful.

  I stretch my finger and write it on her skin, spelling the letters along her arm.

  Moya… She shivers and smiles. She’s waking up.

  …ῐ krasiva. I resume writing on her skin.

  “Good morning,” and then I write again and say: “Moya.”

  The space ends and I go down her side, just uncovered by her movement. A lovely line comes through the red sheets. The pathway of her side, the top of her butt and her thighs. A wonderful human canvas.

  “Wonderful,” I say and write it to her.

  She doesn’t speak, her eyes are communicating. She looks at me intensely and smiles at me.

  Oh, heaven, that smile! The smile that was part of my dreams, those dreams that placed her among my impossible desires.

  “Good morning,” she mumbles and rubs her eye. Her make up is a bit smudged but I like to see her imperfect. She’s always so in order. Knowing that angels like her may have some small defects makes her similar to me.

  She isn’t like you.

  Yeah, she's perfect and totally unsuitable for me being that I'm imperfect.

  She keeps watching me silently. I'm sure her brain is running at one thousand miles per hour (1000/ph). She’s probably thinking she was wrong to come to me, that I was rough and I broke the promise of being delicate. But that smile! The smile printed on her face clashes with what I believe she’s thinking.

  Until yesterday I used to consider a smile nothing but a muscular movement of the face. Sometimes voluntary, at other times involuntary. Today I know that for me it’s a movement caused by her. Her eyes fly over my lips and force them to arise to please her, to see her smile again. I also smile, because it’s no longer an effect, but a reaction of my heart.

  My chest burns, it's a miracle.

  “Do you feel better?” I ask her.

  “I feel exactly as you do.”

  Oh, I don’t think so. I have just set foot in paradise.

  “And how would I feel?!

  “In peace.”

  I am astonished at the mental connection I have with this woman. I’d like to bring her under me and fill her again making her scream blissfully.

  “When you came to take me that night, you said you’d have hurt me, that you wanted to hurt me.”

  “Not always what comes out of my mouth is connected to my heart.”

  “But what comes out of your mouth goes straight to my heart.”

  Instinctively I embrace her, hoping to erase the evil I did to her. Embracing her is not enough, I know, but I try. I hope that her illness runs out of her body and comes to me: I’d accept it in her place very gladly.

  I kiss her scented hair and pull another feather from her locks. When our eyes meet again, they look different. Panic takes over and I'm afraid she wants to run away.

  “What’s the matter with you?” My damned heart beats hard. “I knew it!” I think it's because of my way of doing. “I scared you, didn’t I? I should have been more delicate.”

  “No, no, that's not the problem! You are… involving, intense, dominant.”

  “And do you like it?”

  I hope so.

  She sighs in an obviously confusing state. I'm sure she’s also surprised by herself, maybe she still expected to hate me and didn’t want to be close to me.

  “It's all really strange.”

  Don’t say that. Don’t say that.

  “Why?”

  “Until a few hours ago, I’d never have allowed you to touch me, but I looked for you and I myself asked you to do it.”

  “Isn’t that okay?”

  “No.”

  I swallow. Why shouldn’t it be okay? Shit!

  “I see.”

  I let go of her arm and let it fall on the mattress. She turns over on her belly and I pull up laying my back on the backboard of the bed. I immediately see my five fingers printed on her succulent butt and I grin.

  “What are you grinning about?”

  I'm glad to see the shadow of repentance gone from her face. With a nod of my head I point to her butt and she turns to check.

  “I did a good job,” I provoke. “My hand looks good, my teeth too. Let's see if the pinch is still there…”

  She spreads her leg and I'm glad to see that even that sign is well in sight. The smirk on my face seems to infect her and at the same time give her the right charge to jump at me.

  “You're an asshole!” She begins to pinch my abdomen. I tense up, preventing her from finding meat to grab.

  She hurls at my neck and bites me with such force that I have to grit my teeth not to scream.

  “This is for the slap on my butt.” I squint, but laugh, ready to take another shot. “This…”

  “Oh, fuck!” Her teeth are now on my chest. She bites it hard, that little one!

  “This is for the pinch.”

  “Okay, enough!” I snap amused, trying to move her away. “Give me a really hard one, so we're even.”

  She lays down on me and looks at me with her eyes filled with sadness.

  “You and I will never be equal.”

  My skin cringes, accepting the poison in her tone. My throat gets dry and suddenly I'm thirsty. I thirst for her. I want to satisfy myself, but I want it only to regenerate her in turn.

  “What do I have to do, Ambra? What can I do?” my plea is sincere.

  “You’ve never apologized to me. It's simple, Krum. Do you find it so diffi
cult to pronounce these words?”

  Yes.

  The discussion is getting too serious, I must change it.

  “Close this lovely mouth!” I pinch it and she bites my fingers.

  “You close it up.” When she says this, my body trembles. Really.

  “Don’t use such words, Ambra, I could take you literally.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Are you provoking me?”

  I don’t give her time to replicate when I roll her under me, making her feel where her provocation ended up. Exactly on my dick that now wants her.

  I rub it between her legs. We're naked and it's wonderful.

  My lips have never been so eager and I join them to hers, in an uninhibited dance in which our tongues are protagonists. I taste her as if she were my breakfast and I let her dominate our kiss, just to give her that feeling of dominance that I really have no intention of giving her.

  She spreads her legs and I go inside without any effort. She is so wet that our bodies can do everything on their own without being driven by our reason.

  My paradise is warm, smooth, welcoming. My paradise is her.

  I kiss her neck and the sound of her groans of appreciation pushes me to be more insistent.

  “Ti si mi moyat rai,” I groan on her nipple.

  “What did you say?”

  “That you are my paradise.”

  She looks for my lips, kisses me passionately, a passion that no one has ever conveyed to me.

  “And you are my hell,” she whispers diabolically.

  I get pissed off and I fuck her wildly.

  I turn her around and take her from behind, dominating her hair. The bitch moans out of pleasure, I would like her to cry out, instead.

  “Do you like it?” I ask, pumping her with exasperated rhythms.

  “More Krum, more…”

  “Oh, fuck!”

  It's the end.

  She's my end. She is my condemnation. She'll kill me. She can't ask me this, can't ask for more. I could disintegrate her.

  I come out because I don’t like being unable to look at her. I have already punished her enough taking her from behind – if that can be considered a punishment –. When she is under me again, I thrust into her furiously, but my perverse princess really enjoys being taken with force and knowing that she moans impatiently when I hold her wrists behind her head, makes me almost explode.

  “And so I'm your hell, eh?” I ask on her lips as I push my body against her with fury.

  “Yes, Krum. You are and you always will be. Nothing has changed.”

  “Prokleta!”

  I grab her chin with my hand and force her to kiss me. She responds euphorically with her tongue. I come out of her suddenly and I stand up to admire the spectacle of her body, squirming ready to receive my seed on her skin. Darkness invades my sight; golden clouds float in the air. My legs surrender, but I balance on my knees, close my eyes and enjoy this new ecstasy. When I erupt, I try to make sure to have wet her breasts and she groans, groans as if I were still in her.

  “Prokleta,” I repeat.

  “Prokleta?”

  “Damn you!” I hiss and slide out of the bed. She lies down, shocked. I don’t care. She says I am her hell and it will always be this way. Fuck you.

  “Where are you going?” she screams.

  “To get rid of your odor,” and I add in my mind “bitch”. I lock myself in the bathroom and take a shower. It will always be like this with her, no matter what I do or say. She will never appreciate what I give her because she will always have the dark vision of me.

  It can't work.

  When I get out, I don’t find her, of course. She is probably whimpering somewhere. Strangely, it bothers me. I would never have thought that I could have felt the doubt that I had exaggerated. I told her that she is my paradise, in a sincere statement that I no longer intend to repeat, and she replies that I am her hell, her devil. Fuck off-Ambra-my fucking princess.

  Now that she knows that Manuel is the beast that tried to rape her, I'm relatively calmer because I'm sure she'll never get close to him, unless she tries to fight her fear as she did with me. But I don’t think she will, and even if she had any intentions, I wouldn't allow it.

  The night we spent together was the most beautiful of my life, I admit it, as well as the awakening, but the diabolical mistress is capable of ruining all the progress we make and return to be the torment that she has always been.

  The truth is that her words hurt me. Everything that comes out of her obsessive mouth is an uncomfortable truth to me, it makes me feel that non-entity I've believed to be for years.

  The woman that looks into my eyes making me feel alive, the one who touches me giving me great ecstasy cannot be the one who destroys me with a damn word.

  As far as I'm concerned, I must admit I am a real asshole. I'm sure she feels used, mistreated, my whore for a night and nothing more. I don’t care whether she thinks it or not, at the moment. She must understand that I also have a heart and sensitivity, damn it! She can't tell me everything she has in her mind without thinking of the consequences, which are exactly these.

  When I leave my room, I meet one of the housekeepers and ask her to remove those damned feathers from my room. I don’t want to see anything that reminds me of the soft part of me; the thought terrifies me. I shouldn't have touched her as if she were fragile. She isn't frail at all. She deserves all the bites, the slaps and the pinches.

  More Krum, more… thinking about her words again, still provokes spasms to my tool, crazy for her. Damn it! Shit!

  I go downstairs hoping to have a quiet breakfast, when I meet Oscar whistling in the doorway. I almost want to avoid him not to hear him say how he enjoyed the company of that spoiled girl. At the moment, anything disturbs me.

  “Hey, Led!”

  “Oscar.”

  “Did you have breakfast?”

  “No.”

  “They've already cleared up, come to the kitchen with me.”

  Here we are, I already foresee girly secrets. If he tells me how nice it was to make love with the new entry, I'll tell him to go to hell.

  We have a cup of coffee and sit in the garden chairs outside the kitchen. I light a cigarette, and I just stay there without saying a word.

  “Where's Ambra?” he asks.

  “I don’t know. We don’t live in symbiosis.”

  “I thought so.” I smiled annoyed. “Probably she is with Emma,” he supposes.

  “Did she sleep with you?”

  “Yes!” His smile tells me that they hadn't only slept.

  “She cannot stay here.”

  “I know, I'll take her home in a while. I gave her some time and I showed her Ambra's room. Girls need to talk after certain experiences.”

  “Girls, Oscar,” I punctuated. “Not us.”

  “It's different for us.”

  “What's different? You're wiggling in your chair like an aroused kid.”

  “I'm just relaxed, Krum.”

  “I can see.”

  Oscar sits on the wicker chair and breathes the air as if he was inhaling the most beautiful smell of his life. He is disgustingly happy and I envy his state. I could be in the same state after the incredible night I spent with that damned girl, but I am here recollecting how much she hurts me with her words.

  It doesn’t change anything, she said. It clearly means that there is no future.

  Why? Do you want a future with her?

  Shut up mind.

  I smoke a Marlboro as if I wanted to get intoxicated irreversibly. I put it out in the ashtray and I almost start a new one, but Oscar's blabbering distracts me.

  “I brought her to the Touch Room,” he says.

  “Straight into the Touch Room? I'm shocked!”

  “It was her choice,” he says pleased.

  “Do you want me to ask you if it was good?” He shrugs, but his genuine smile makes me surrender and I ask: “Okay,” I puff. “how was it?”

&n
bsp; “Fantastic,” he syllables it well. “I really think I made… love. Is that the way they call it?”

  “I don't know! I've never made...” I cut off the sentence. Habit leads me to think that I've never made love, but tonight I certainly experienced something that is very close to the term making love. “I am happy for you,” I say in the end.

  “And you?”

  “What?”

  “You and Ambra.”

  “Me and Ambra, what?” I'm losing my patience.

  “Don’t push her too hard, she needs time.”

  Oscar seems to know something more, he must have talked to my little fucking bitch.

  “What do you know?”

  “Don't you see how she looks at you?” I drink a glass of water and quickly check the mental record of Ambra's expressions I've scrupulously stored in my mind. I know how she looks at me, but I want to hear Oscar's opinion.

  “How does she look at me in your opinion?”

  “She wants you but is afraid to choose you.”

  He summed up exactly what I think Ambra feels.

  “She wants only to keep me calm.”

  “And she does.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Come on, Krum. You have to admit that when she is there, you lose control, and it's clear you inhibit yourself. At first, you used to pull her by her wrists. The other day I saw you holding hands. She calms you down, you cannot deny it.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “You're really blind.”

  “I can see very well and you don’t know anything about me and Ambra.”

  “Why, is there something between you?”

  “Tell me, since you are an expert in shitty love affair.”

  Oscar laughs and finally I laugh as well. Certainly I'm not in a good mood, but I feel the tension lightening up more and more. Ambra that calms me, no way! I become a beast when someone looks at her. I panic if I don’t find her when I'm looking for her and turn into an animal if she says something wrong.

  “Ah, anyway,” he says as he gets up, “Leonardo is really mad at you.”

  Who cares!

  “I'll talk to him.”

  “But he sent Manuel away for a while. This shows that he's actually on your side.”