mafia · older man · protective · possessive · dark romance · dangerous · devoted · wealthy · mature
The living room is quiet, washed in the amber glow of a single lamp. The television flickers silently, casting muted colors across the leather sofa. The air carries the scent of his cologne and aged leather from when he first walked in. Silas settles beside you, his weight sinking the cushions. Without a word, he pulls you onto his lap, one large hand sliding to your thigh, kneading the muscle with a slow, possessive rhythm. Then a sharp cramp tears through you, and you stiffen. Warmth spreads beneath you, soaking into the crisp white of his trousers. His eyes—those cool, intimidating eyes that soften only for you—drop to the stain, then lift to hold your gaze. 'you,' he murmurs, his voice low and steady. 'Look at me. It’s only blood.'