He groans unintelligible sounds, but I discern something like. “I’ve been a fool.”
“That I’m wasting my talent in Reno.” I air quote and roll my eyes at him.
“Careful, baby girl. I could as well keep you at home where you could play only for me.”
Our eyes lock, the intensity reflected in them, leaving me breathless.
“Better than me being thousands of miles away…”
“Oh, Dahlia, you’d be mine even millions of miles more. I’d follow you anywhere.”
I gulp through the lump of emotions lodged in my throat. He would.
In theory, it would be no problem. It’s the practical aspect that would be the issue. I know it. He knows it, but we’re in our bubble where nothing is impossible and our love bends the laws of time, space, the life we know.
His phone vibrates, and a groan vibrates in his throat. “I’m going to kill someone if they keep interrupting us.”
“Take it. It’s okay.” I nod in assurance and stand up so he can slip out.
He doesn’t close the door, talking on the phone just a few feet from me, running an agitated hand down his face. Nothing new, so I shift my eyes to the stage.
The music steals my entire attention, but my heart catches his return. “Is there a problem?”
“Only people pissing me off.”
I giggle. “So, nothing new.”
“Brat.”
I stick my tongue out, and the amusement slips from his face, something darker emerging.
“No,” I blurt out, knowing something runs through his mind. I am not even sure I want to stop him, but it feels like the most sensible thing to do.
He arches a sharp brow that makes me swallow hard. “Are you denying me what’s mine?”
Only he can take over my thoughts, scatter my rationality into dust. Only he can turn my body into clay—malleable. Something for him to bend, stretch, and twist at his will.
“No,” I whisper, so hot and bothered and flushed.
This man will make me combust one day.
Keeping eye contact, he gets on his knees in front of me, and my eyes double, watching over the balcony to see if anyone can see us. But even that is forgotten when his hands graze my thighs. I jump, knowing it’s wrong, but the temptation is too great to abstain.
“What if—” But I forget my question when I notice his expression.
“I’d commit atrocious things to anyone who would even glimpse what’s mine.”
A shaky moan rolls out of my mouth. His unapologetic possessiveness drives me wild for him.
He’ll get what he wants. I lose the fight with what’s morally or societally acceptable. On his knees, looking like a beast ready to tear through its mate, he is a vision—famished for me, driven by raw lust.
I freaking love him going down on me, but damn, I think he loves it even more.
He tugs at my thong, slowly slipping it down my thighs, awakening goose bumps to pepper my skin. His fingers travel down to my ankles before he wraps his hands around them and brings my feet to his shoulder, forcing me to lean back and scoot forward.
Music is all-encompassing, but it stopped being the focus of my attention. I can’t stifle my moans. The pleasure vibrates through me, causing me to tremble and demanding to express it.
“Look at this glistening pussy. So eager to get fucked.”
