I do. I could. I want to, but that doesn’t change our reality.
A deep sigh heaves my chest. “The women in our lives face loss. Loss of innocence, freedom. The gilded-cage lifestyle only ensures depression and destitution. I want better for her. And she’s Enzo’s sister.”
She waves me off. “My son made his choice and didn’t care about the consequences.”
“Selfish,” I say, digging into the fluffy eggs, the fork scraping the plate, the sound as jarring as my emotional state. “Dahlia is not Calla.”
She arches a brow, sending me a hard look. “Why should Dahlia when she has had you two watching over her. My daughter has lived all her life in a gilded cage. Have you asked her what she wants?”
I am terrified of the answer because it would change everything. Fuck, maybe I am a coward after all.
I scrub a hand down my face and continue eating, wanting this conversation over.
She places her palm on mine. “Running. Hiding. Ignoring. None of it will help.”
“It has to,” I say, ending the conversation.
We finish our breakfast in silence, and when she excuses herself, I watch her go into her sitting room, likely to read her romance book. I don’t want Dahlia to end up escaping into romance. I might be untouchable, but I am not immortal.
Climbing the stairs, I tiptoe into her room. The image welcoming me instantly puts a smile on my face, calming my demons like nothing else.
Plastered on her stomach, her long hair envelops her back like a black halo, her silk shorts barely covering her ass. She appears so angelic, so peaceful, when I know a little daredevil lives in her who thrives on making a chaos of my tidy life. I wouldn’t change it even though she most certainly will make me age prematurely.
Careful not to wake her up, I slip inside her bathroom and open the cabinet. Then I sit by her side and uncap the soothing cream.
I should have done it before she left, but I wanted her to feel the discomfort—feel me with every step and each time she sat. I am a sick bastard, and that’s one regret I don’t have.
The moment my palm connects with her cheek, she whimpers, her beautiful face scrunching up. She’s a deep sleeper because she physically exhausts herself until she drops like a dead weight.
A groan vibrates in my chest when I hear her whispering my name, knowing on a visceral level who touches her. The wet spot on her shorts drives me wild with lust. It takes everything in me not to slide them off her and shove my aching cock in her pussy.
Just to appease the monster, I give in to my hunger. With careful moves, I pull them down and swipe my thumb along her slit before sucking on it. Her sweet taste invades my taste buds, short-circuiting my rationality. She tastes of pure ambrosia and my ruin in one.
I am a goner. Nothing short of another mouthful could ever satisfy me.
Slowly rolling her onto her back, I lower my face and sweep my tongue over her pussy, flicking her clit—plunging into carnal urges.
Her hand shoots to my hair, and her eyes pop open. “What was that?” she asks, being so damn innocent—too pure for me.
“You tell me,” I say while still having my mouth between her legs.
A throaty sound vibrates in her chest. “It felt so good.”
Gripping her thighs, I spread her open. Making myself at home, I bury my face in her heavenly pussy to eat her to my heart’s content. This siren makes it impossible for me to unhear her call. Dragging me into her sensuous lair, I forget my damn mind.
I should have gone to bed. It’s the exhaustion of yet another sleepless night that pushes me to act this damn irrationally. Continuing like this will ensure that I run out of excuses.
Fuck it.
Keeping eye contact, I go for another taste, incapable of resisting my sole addiction.
Her eyes widen into two glazed over emeralds. “I must be dreaming.”
“Does this feel like a dream?” I spear my tongue into her slit, and she grips the sheet, arching her back up.
Squeezing her ass cheeks, she hisses, but I do it on purpose to make her see what happens if she oversteps.
Nibbling on her clit, she moans so loud, I shove two thick digits in her mouth to silence her. She begins sucking as if my fingers are a pacifier. Good God, the chances of coming in my damn pants increase with each encounter.
