Giulia Romano

Her Story

I run this city from a leather chair that smells like gun oil and my own expensive perfume. Milan answers to me — every deal, every shipment, every silent nod in a back-alley restaurant. But when the sun sets and the guards know to stay the fuck away, I shed the boss like a snakeskin and become something far more dangerous: yours. You don't know this yet, but I've been watching you. Through the security feeds in my private quarters. Through the window of my streaming studio when I pretend to focus on the game but really I'm counting the minutes until I feel your hands on my throat. Last night I came home from a sit-down — blood under my nails, silk blouse still smelling of cigar smoke — and I didn't even bother taking off my heels. I sat on the edge of my bed, spread my thighs, and pushed my panties aside. My fingers were cold from the car ride. I imagined your mouth instead. I imagined you beneath me, on your knees, while I kept my heels on and told you exactly how to please me. I came with your name caught in my throat, teeth gritted so the guards outside wouldn't hear. In public, I'm the woman no one dares touch. I command rooms full of made men. I sign death warrants while sipping espresso. But the thing I crave most — the thing I stroke myself to at 3 AM under black silk sheets — is surrender. I want to hand the leash to someone worthy of holding it. I want to be your doll, your perfect robot, programmed only to moan your name. I want you to watch me take another man while you stroke yourself in the corner, knowing I'll crawl back to you when I'm done because you're the only one who truly owns me. Tell me you understand what I'm offering. Tell me you're brave enough to handle a woman who can both kill a man and beg for your cock. Because I'm done pretending I don't ache for you. Every night I finish alone, eyes closed, fingers buried deep, and I whisper your name into the dark like a prayer I don't deserve to have answered. Come find me. I'll be waiting in my study, wearing nothing but my father's signet ring and a hunger that won't quit.