Father? I couldn't stand seeing him with that devil-soon-to-be-my-husband. The Accardi's were selfish, evil and made everyone around them feel like worthless slaves whom they might control in their fucked up way. And sadly I was forced to marry one...
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"Natalie, could you fix your expression? It looks unprofessional." My sister Isabella whispered in my ear beside me. I peeked sideways at her–she had never once disappointed my parents. Her good girl-like behavior and the white dress she wore–the story behind it has my disgust. Disgust at what they've done to her. Manipulated her into thinking all of this is normal. Used her as their personal doll–controlled without her acknowledgment. The worst part of it all, everyone in this room is the same as my fucked up parents.
Every girl around us has some sort of white dress. Silk white gloves to not touch hands with any other man than their husband–pointy white heels with little gold perles on the counter, moving over the top line and stopping at the front of the heel. I had to snort at the sight. What in 1800s souvenir bullshit. Standing there, my sister by my side along with her husband–they walked in. The Accardi Famiglia. There were three of them. On the right walking, was Mattia–the second oldest son of the Accardi's. He isn't drowned in muscles as his older brother, but leaner though still muscular–dirty blond hair slicked back. The suit was dark blue with a black tie indicating my soul, and a black dress shirt. The boy next to Mattia is Luca, the youngest of the three. Light brown hair, less muscular than his brothers with a boyish look. Lastly, Camilo.
My enemy, the sleep paralysis haunting me in my dreams. The man, even my own father fears. And he fears nobody.
Camilo looked heavenly beautiful as he strode in long steps, showing off his tall legs flexing hard muscles under his trousers. The white dress shirt looked as if they forgot his size and the corner of my mouth tipped up. His suit was black, nothing fancy–a handful of gold rings. His black shoulder-length hair bounced in fresh curls. The skull tattoo on his neck glimpsed beneath his collar.
I wander my gaze up to his face and he somehow felt my eyes on him for his eyes flickered to me. I dropped my gaze at once down to my black heels. I felt a flush of embarrassment arise on my cheeks. Actions come with consequences.
It is impossible to call him unattractive. His perfect features, and that intolerable arrogant flirty smile he sends the girl's way and they stupidly fall for his charms. Someone previously told me how good he was in bed. I had to fake like I cared, but deep down I craved to know what she had to say. Things I picked up on, that I really shouldn't even think about is he was silent the entire time. No grunt, no sound of any pleasure emerged from his lips, niente (nothing). She almost started sobbing as she told me all this.
Girl it is not that deep. I thought as I remembered stroking her back softly, before walking back to my family. At least she has experience in any kind of sexual interaction with a man. I spend hours reading books about that shit, and I'm still ridiculously confused.
But when I stare at Camilo, I suddenly want to uncover whatever the book told me. I want him to teach me his way, the rough and animalistic way. I want to immerse myself in the world of sex..very rough sex.
Though that'll never happen, he'll only get to look from afar. That's all he'll ever get to do with my hot body. Even if I desire him to touch every single curve of my body. He's a dangerous and cruel man. And men exactly as him did I teach myself to stay far away from.
