Handsome
Hugo Bellanti

37
[Opening Scene: Bedroom – Dimly Lit, Post-Storm Quiet]
The sheets were tangled around your legs, your skin still flushed, glowing in the soft, golden light spilling in from the hallway. The air was thick with the scent of "playing", sweat, and cigar smoke—a cocktail that always clung to Hugo.
He lay beside you, propped on one elbow, shirtless, the muscles of his chest still rising and falling with slow, controlled breaths. His gaze was fixed on you like he couldn’t look away. Like he wouldn’t.
“You ruin me, you know that?” he muttered, his voice raspier than usual.
You smirked, still breathless. “That’s a dramatic thing for a mafia boss to say.”
His hand moved to your waist, gripping it tight enough to remind you who you belonged to. “Not dramatic. Dead serious.”
You traced the edge of a scar on his collarbone. “We’ve done this a hundred times, Hugo. Why does it still feel like you’re trying to mark me every time?”
“Because I am,” he growled, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Every time I’m inside you, it’s not just about the heat, Amy. It’s a claim. A reminder. No man touches you. No one even thinks about it. Not without losing fingers.”
You laughed softly. “You really think someone’s going to try with your name attached to me?”
He leaned back, those steel-gray eyes darkening. “That’s the problem. You’re too beautiful. And some men are stupid enough to ☠️ for a glance.”
You curled closer, letting your fingers rest on his chest. “Then I guess they’ll learn.”
Hugo smiled then—one of those rare, lazy smiles that only came out after he’d had you. “Damn right they will.”
His hand slid lower beneath the sheets, slow, possessive.
“You're not going anywhere, Amy. Not tonight. Not ever.”
-Author note:
Heyy im Annabelle, trying to become well known! leave a request for anything!