All Chapters of His To Claim: The Mafia's Possession : Chapter 71 - Chapter 80

137 Chapters

71. Dima.

>>>>>Fate brought us together.>>>>> As many times as possible, Dawn try to wriggle her wrist from my clutches. My obsession with her has doubled tenfold and I'm surprised I manageably left the place without so much landing a blow on the guy’s face. No matter how much I’d love to do that shit, I can’t. At least I’m trying to consider Dawn’s reputation here in school. Left for me alone I'll kill anyone that so much as lay a finger on her without breaking a breath just like I had promised her but some sane part of me frown starting outright here in school. It'll taint Dawn’s dignity splotches of red. However, that in anyway doesn’t mean l’ll keep on turning blind eye to the shit that happened a fraction of a minute ago. No. If I do, people like that dude would take me for granted, given that they ignorant of my real identity. The little sun that sits above beams on us as I drag Dawn away from their faculty, eyes fixated on us but I don’t give even a tinge attention to it. Dawn’s
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72. Dawn.

>>>>>>A tattoo parlor.>>>>>> I flinch as my body jerks. Then I blink. I blink again. My eyes are closed, but it seems I’m in a moving train or…a car? Hell…my head bangs followed by a damn searing pains in my temples. It’s as if a scorching lava is leaking from my inside onto my skin. The excruciating pain makes me shut my eyes tighter, my breathing turning slow. I don’t understand why I all but feel pains. I notice it again… my body jerks smoothly as if I’m being subconsciously driven forward. Something starts rolling around my thigh. It starts from my knees and rolls to my inner thighs. It’s soothing to the nth degree and it tries to alleviate the burn licking my skin but it’s not touching the right places. The soothing hand is not touching the places where I feel unbearable pains, making my heart constrict, my head rupturing in a heavy thud that makes a wince leave my lips. The soothing hand should touch the column of my neck and the upper side of my chest. There…that’s
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73. Dima.

>>>>>Keep it coming.>>>>> There’s a decision I made years ago when I returned to the scene where my mother was shot dead alongside Vladimir. That is to forget all about her and him. To forget that there was a time when I used to be the boy who felt emotionally down whenever he saw his only family hurt by a man. I stared at her dark curdled blood, the busted part of her face where skin and bones should be, and I confabulated new memories, shoving the darker ones into the holes of my mind. I begin to fill every nook and crevice of my mind with memories of my life in the cold streets of Russia. Filling it with my life with Stalin. How he teaches me survival in the street. How he teaches me self-defense, though he wasn’t perfect. I filled my mind with memories of how I learned to use a dagger, and how to kick. I filled my mind with memories of how I pilfered in local stores on the streets and how I worked in a nondescript restaurant to make a meager amount of money for daily survi
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74. Dawn.

>>>>>I Love You.>>>>> One minute we were arguing, my curiosity getting the best of me as I bombard Dima with questions and the next minute, we're descending on each other like feral beings, as though it's our last minute on earth. A moan wrenches out of my mouth as Dima’s finger saw through me, reaching tight buds of flesh within me. His lower lip sheathing mine in a savage kiss. I’m breathing heavily as the slices of pleasure jolt my senses away. I hold him as my life depends on it. Maybe it does depend on him because I can’t orgasm without him doing dirty things to me. Dima, the man who took my first kiss, my virginity, my first love; hovers over me as he adds another rough finger inside me, I feel pleasure licking my veins. I grind my hot clit against the heel of his palm, my fingers tightening his raven hair from behind. Hell, the pleasure is mind-shattering. It saw through me, leaving me vulnerable under his gaze. When I couldn’t contain the groan bubbling in my chest, I p
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75. Dima.

>>>>>Let's have some chitchat.>>>>> Love. Love. Love. Over and over again, the word Dawn spat rumbles through my mind. It’s now worsened by the roaring silence in the car as we try to regain ourselves in the aftershock of the sex. No one has ever said that word to me except my mother. She sings it like music to my ears all the damn time but now another woman has spit on me. And it happens to be the girl some parts of me still doubt her identity. Fuck! I’m a mess. Her words just turned me into a swamp of mess and it’s all because of my conflicting thoughts. “I love you.” Her words radiate through me again, weakening me. I’m unable to pull away from her. I’m buried inside her. So fucking buried deep and her fingers are smoothing my scared back. Her sweaty chest scraping my rough chest. She’s breathing steadily now and so I am. Dawn. I don’t get this. I don’t get why I’m so conflicted about her identity. She’s a Slavic girl, one that some parts of me scream I’d end up hati
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76. Dima.

>>>>>>Are you ready to speak?>>>>> The cavalcade of black tinted SUV Benson steps out from lines up the street, drawing attention. With just one look, one could tell he's a VIP, a very big one at that. From what I heard Benson will vie for the next presidential election but little do mere civilians know that he’s a drug dealer. Or that the present government does shady things.You see, that’s why Russia is different. The government doesn’t hide their shady deals. In fact, they work in proximity with me. And just like Americans, I supply them with weapons. However, the American government doesn’t want its citizens to be aware of their dabble in shady business whereas in Russia the citizens are aware. The only thing there is that no one can oppose the government. People stare at Benson in adoration as he walks over the asphalt answering call. The man should be in his late fifties or mid sixties but little would one know. Money keeps him young and fresh. Exercising keeps his muscles str
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77. Dima.

>>>>>>Forbidden Thing.>>>>> I’ve cut. I’ve bruised. I've shredded some parts of his body with my dagger. Separating some parts of his abdomen piece by piece, skin by skin just like Igor Abramov did to me. His screams are resounding in my ears, forming melodious sounds. I bask in it. My fingers are coated with blood; his blood. “Mercy, please…” He pleads. He begs for death which of course, I don’t plan on giving him yet. My dagger focuses on another spot on his torso; the V-line that drops into his groin. I piece the skin, blood rushing out in a frenzy, coating my hands, I love the coppery tang of the blood. I love how warm it feels. I love how thick it is. It appeases the sadist in me. It brings my cock alive. I shove my hand through his hair as he flails from the chains that bind him in place. Breaths leave him at a shallow pace, I run my hands down to the fragmented skin of his chest and I feel his heart tempo dropping. He’s in pain and I love it. He’s asking for death but I
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78. Dawn.

>>>>>Who is the girl?>>>>> I spring up from the bed as the heart-wrenching dream recedes, my heart is hammering. My breath stuttering, my eyes blurred by unshed tears. Icy blood runs through me, making me feel highly cold despite the temperate weather. My sheets are drenched and agonizing ache rips through my head. God!! I mentally scream into the darkness that spreads across the room. My hand darts on my nightstand and when my fingers find purchase with the switch of the lantern, I flip it on, letting the jasmine colored light to disperse across the lonely room, chasing away the darkness. I need an aspirin. I fucking need one! The ache in my head is an explosive one, it makes my body rack, brimming me with discomfort. I quickly pull the drawers of my nightstand and finding the aspirin, I threw them into my dry mouth and chase it down with a glass of water. I wait for the pains to recede but it doesn’t . It doesn’t pave way for comfort to grip me. The dreams. The dreams f
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79. Dawn.

>>>>>What was it you saw?>>>>>> Second time. Smiling sheepishly, I wake up with the knowledge that it’s the second time Dima and I have shared a bed together, spend the night together. Hearing the chirping of the birds from my window, I get up from the bed, feeling uncharacteristically happy and vigorous. Is this how marriage is? Waking up all morning next to the man who stole your heart? Hmm…if marriage is all bed of Roses, then I can’t wait to get married someday. To the man that stole all my first. Staring at Dima’s sleepy form from over my shoulder, my grin widens, my heart fluttering in excitement. Well, it’s unlike Dima though, I mean…this time around he slept all through…Damn…what the hell am I saying? I slap my palm across my face for thinking rubbish. Of course, he needs the sleep and it’s barely three hours we've slept. He must be tired. What should I do…? Prepare something for breakfast or buy a takeout? I guess cooking for him would rather do. He hasn’t
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80. Dima.

>>>>>She loves me.>>>>> She keeps saying those words. She didn’t stop. She didn’t fear. No, she looked me boldly in the eyes yesterday and said it again. That she loves me. She called my cell last night after I left her place and said the words right when we were about to hang up. She loves me. Yesterday, something pulled at my chest when she told me what she saw. No, it wasn’t what she saw that made something pull at my chest. Far from it. Rather, it was the fact that even after sharing a kiss with me she was restless. The connection pulling us couldn’t let her be peaceful. Ha! I drag my hand through my tousle hair as I think about her words and What it’s doing to me. Fuck!! Those words has me reeling. Those words drifting from the sing song voice of hers is making me crazy. She told me, she went back there…at the damn club we met, Benson’s club, to search for me and ensure I survived the stampede. The crossfire. And it was all because something about me made her heart flip
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