I swallow again, this time thickly, painfully. “Please don’t tell him. I’ve made him a promise.”
“He’s a clueless asshole, isn’t he? Making such a sweet girl cry for him.” He shakes his head. “I won’t say anything. Even if I did, I doubt it’d get through his thick head. But you, Callie, you don’t be afraid to push him. Don’t be afraid to do what needs to be done to make that bastard see sense.” Then with a twinkle in his kind eyes, he says, “And when you get a chance, ask him what he keeps in the trunk of that fucking Mustang of his.”
That was confusing. But okay.
I take Pete’s advice and tuck it inside my heart as we leave.
He’s right.
I need to push Reed to make him see that this is his dream. This garage, his cars. The Mustang he built when he was in high school. That’s what he wants to do.
He’s always talking about my dream of being a ballerina, but what about him?
What about what he wants?
I need to give him that. After everything he’s given me, after everything he hides from me.
And I need to give him what he wants right now too. He wants relief, I know.
I can see it in the tight lines of his body as he drives us back to the glass house. I can see that I’ve tortured him enough. By pushing him for a meeting with Pete, by baking cupcakes and cookies for someone else.
He was fine while he was working at the garage but I know he’s back to feeling antsy.
While I’d never ever regret pushing and well, I’m going to push him more, I can at least calm him down. I can at least make things better for him.
So as soon as we get back home, I whisper, “Help me down on my knees.” When he only stares at me with a frown, I add, “Please, Roman.”
And he does that.
He helps my heavy body so I can drop down on my knees and get to work.
But first he takes off his hoodie and spreads it on the floor so I can rest my knees on something soft instead of hardwood.
My hands go for his jeans and I open them with eager, expert hands.
He’s not the only one who knows how to play with my body. I know how to play with his as well. He’s taught me and I want to play with him now.
I want to bring out his dick and suck on it.
I already know it’s big, his cock. But when I unzip him and bring it out, I feel like I’m seeing it for the first time.
It’s angry right now.
All thick and hard and huge, sticking out of his body.
Mean looking, villainous.
Because I tortured him. Because I drove him crazy.
I look up at him, his face that looks as mean as his arousal. “Sorry I made cupcakes for someone else.”
His jaw clenches and he grips his dick in his large hand. “So are you going to apologize to me?”
I nod, rubbing my palms up and down his jean-covered thighs. “Yes.”
He tugs on his rod, his face becoming meaner. “What else though? What else are you going to apologize for?”
Eyeing his thick rod and its slippery head, I whisper, “For putting on lipstick for someone else.”
“Damn right. And for laughing with someone else. For giving someone else your sweet fairy smile. For making all those people fucking look at you back at the shop.”
My breaths are harsh. “I didn’t… I didn’t know someone was looking at me.”
His free hand goes for my braid then and he uses it to tug my head back and bend down over me. “Because you never know, do you? Because you live in your fucking la-la land, your rosy tits jiggling in your rosy dresses when you walk. Your sweet pregnant belly sticking out, all ripe and juicy.”
I dig my nails in his thighs. “Roman —”
His eyes are all mean too, predatory. “You know, I thought you’re pregnant now. My Fae is pregnant, her belly’s swollen and right there for all the world to see. For all the men to keep away from. But no, that’s not the case, is it?” His teeth clench, his fingers in my hair tightening. “They still look at you. They still want to sniff around your skirt. They want to know what’s under it. They want your creamy tits and your big belly. They want you for themselves, my pregnant ballerina, and fuck yeah, it drives me fucking crazy. It drives me to kill. You drive me to kill. Are you going to apologize for that, Fae? For making me want to kill every man who looks at you.”
I arch my neck up even more. “Yes. I will. For everything.”
His chest is moving up and down with his noisy, growling breaths. “Then you better take off your dress. You better show me that pregnant belly where my baby sleeps. While you suck on the thing that got you pregnant.”
And so I take off my dress for him and cradle the precious belly he gave me, making his eyes flash with primitive possessiveness, making him growl deep in his chest.
Then I take him in my mouth.
I suck on his dick.
That never ever fits in my mouth.
His monster, villainous, tasty dick, dick that got me pregnant, that never fits in my good girl, fairy mouth.
I go for it anyway and he grunts and curses.
Even his knees tremble, my big, bad villain.
And that’s such a happy thought, such a satisfying thought that soon I’m taking him all in.
I’m taking him in my throat.
I wonder if my slender throat swells up with his huge dick. If he can see it. If he can see that his pretty and mean cock is inside of me and stretching my throat.
I hope he can.
I really do.
I hope he can feel how much I love him.
And when he comes in my mouth and I swallow what he gives me, I hope he can feel that I’m going to do anything to give him the dream that he doesn’t even know he has.
I know something is off.
Something has to be for my father to call me into his study.
He hasn’t called me in here in months.
Usually we see each other at the office and that’s all we can take of each other. Besides, I’ve been right under his nose every day so I thought I was free.
Of this suffocating office at least.
But apparently not, because he’s called me in on Sunday morning. It’s fine though.
Fae’s at the school library; she has finals and she’s planning on spending the day studying. I’m supposed to go pick her up in a few hours. If her admission to Juilliard wasn’t conditional, based on her graduating high school, I wouldn’t even let her go.
She gets tired easily these days and I wasn’t very gentle with her yesterday after we came back from Pete’s.
What can I say, I’m a jealous motherfucker.
I’m jealous. I’m possessive. I’m afraid.
I’m fucking afraid, all right.
I’m afraid that time’s running out. That Halo will be here soon. That Fae will leave for Juilliard.
Which is ridiculous.
I’ve wanted her to get out of St. Mary’s. I’ve wanted her to go to Juilliard and away from my father. And as much as it fucking scares me that I’ll actually be a father in a few weeks, I want Halo.