I want a future starring me, that is all.
Besides, so many things are working against us. Did my mother have an affair with her father? Or did she introduce him to Jana before she died and Jana chose my dad but kept going back to him?
If Lyndall is Emilio's child, that changes everything.
I pull Lola closer, rolling her on top of me.
She smiles down at me, her curling black hair spilling down around her pretty face. "So, let's not talk about it."
I groan as she rocks against me, my cock springing to attention yet again.
"Deal." I slide my hand down her body to her pussy and start to stroke her clit when a loud knock on the door interrupts me.
Did I plan on meeting up with Cade or Silas? My head is so fuddled I'm not sure, but Cade has keys.
"Fuck."
"Who is it?" she asks as I stroke her harder, pushing my hand between her and my body to try to slide into her pussy with my fingers.
"Mormons. They're a problem around here. Very aggressive."
She laughs. "It's kinda late."
"That's Mormons for you."
They knock again. Louder, longer, and then the doorbell starts to go off as well. At this rate, the entire block will get woken up.
Suddenly, my name is shouted from the stoop. "Enzo, I know you're in there. Don't make me find my key!"
"Fucking brat." I ease Lola off of me and get to my feet.
"You have a tattoo."
"This isn't the time to talk about body art."
"Enzo, think of our children!" Lyndall calls out from the stoop.
"Fuck." I point to Lola's clothes as I spring to my feet. "I would get dressed. I don't think my brat of a fifteen-year-old sister needs a damn show."
With that, I race down to the door and pull it open. "What are you doing here?"
She barges in. "Running away."
She makes a beeline for the living room because, of course, she does.
"Lyndall, this is?—"
I stop.
Lola isn't there.
But Lyndall scoops something from the ground, takes in the two glasses, and holds up the bra. She crinkles her nose. "Eww, I'm guessing this isn't yours? Because I would expect your tastes to be latex."
"That's for gloves." I snatch the bra. "And it is none of your business. What the hell are you doing here, anyway? It is almost eleven P.M."
Lyndall's expression turns serious as she flops onto the sofa. "I ran away."
"Fuck, Lyndall."
