Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 62590 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 209(@300wpm)
“She loves you.”
I shrug. “She might. She might just think she needs me. But I love her.”
“No. I know my daughter. She wasn’t even shaken up by getting knocked around, tied up and thrown in a trunk. She’s in love.”
I can’t stop myself from glancing back to the door, to where the woman I adore is still sitting on my couch. Willing. Waiting for me. Mine, whether this man gives me permission to take her or not.
“I’m not ready for Summer to be married, but then, I wasn’t ready for her to graduate high school either. Or go to college. Or have a boyfriend.”
“I’ll put a ring on her finger tomorrow, but we can wait as long as you want,” I offer.
Al goes on as if he didn’t hear me. “Carmen won’t be crazy about Summer’s life continuing to be entrenched in the family business, but she loves you as much as I do.”
I look over, my breath stalling. Heart thudding.
“You’re the son I don’t have.”
I don’t move. I try to keep my face blank, but I can’t breathe.
“I’d be proud to have that relationship formalized with marriage.”
A muscle in my face jumps, and I angle my face away to cover the emotion. I extend my hand.
Al ignores my hand, embracing me and kissing me on both cheeks. He claps me on the cheek. “You take good care of her.”
When we pull away, I have to blink rapidly.
“And I don’t want her calling her mom crying over you again—”
“It won’t happen.”
“I don’t care whose fault it was, I don’t want to hear that.”
“I know, I know.” I shake my head. “That was my mistake. I didn’t think she—”
He waves off the explanation. “I really don’t want to get in the middle of it. Just make sure it doesn’t happen again.”
“Lo giuro su Dio.” I swear to God.
Summer
My dad leaves, and I press myself against Carlo, my breasts flattening against his ribs. He brushes a strand of hair from my face. “I’m going to marry you, bambina.”
I stiffen. “Because my dad said you had to?”
“No. Because you belong to me.”
I blink up at him, a smile growing. Carlo is mine. I’m his.
He tips his head toward the bedroom. “Now go in there. I need you naked and squirming beneath me.”
A familiar zing of excitement shoots straight to my core. The words you belong to me fill all the empty places in my soul. All my confusion about who I am, or what my future ought to hold fall away. None of it matters so long as I belong to Carlo, because he has the ability to make everything perfect. To make it right. He knows me. He understands who I really am, perhaps better than I understand myself. So if I belong to a man like that, I have nothing to fear.
“Do I have time for a shower?”
Carlo surveys me with a heavy-lidded gaze. He’s in his dominant role. “Make it quick, bambina. I’m hungry for you.”
I go to the en suite bathroom and turn the water on hot. When I strip and step under the spray, I groan. It feels so good, shedding the entire week of heartache under the spray of water. I don’t stay in until the mirrors are fogged, though. Carlo said to make it quick. Turning off the water, I step out and towel off, then wrap the towel around my head to dry my thick hair.
Carlo saunters in. “On your knees.”
I toss the towel back into the bathroom and drop to my knees, palms up on my thighs, waiting. My heart pitter-patters in fluttery anticipation.
He walks to me and shoves his fingers through my damp hair. “Good girl.” He grasps the hair and pulls my head back. “Who do you belong to?”
“You, Carlo. I belong to you.”
He rolls my nipple between his fingers and thumb. “Does this body belong to me?”
“Yes.”
He brushes the backs of his fingers across my chest, stopping above my beating heart. “What about this heart?” he asks the question softly, losing the dominant pitch of his voice. Like he’s not entirely sure of my answer.
I’m sure.
“Yours.” I unzip his pants, and his cock springs out. My breasts ache as I reach for him. I grip the base and squeeze. Hard. “I’m only yours.”
He strokes my hair. “Sweet girl.” There’s an ache of happiness in his voice. A choked emotion, like he can’t believe it’s true.
I swirl my tongue around the underside of the head of his cock, flick the tip and blow on it to let it cool, then engulf him completely. He groans, his fist tightening in my hair. He lets me set the pace for a while, and then he begins thrusting, holding my head immobile and using me.
“That’s it, bambi, you take my cock like such a good girl.”