“Rosie, baby.” I wrap my fingers around the silky rope while rubbing her thigh. “Come fuck me.”
Grabbing her waist, I encourage her to scoot up so my cock is poised at her soaked entrance.
If she has any apprehension about having sex under her father’s roof, she doesn’t show it. On the contrary, she takes my hard shaft in her hand and sinks down on me.
“Ohh,” she moans, loud and unfiltered as her head tips back.
I glance at the locked door. I suppose whoever Ivan put on watch in the hallway could have a key. If they think I’m hurting Rosalie, they might barge in.
Guess we’ll just have to be quiet, but I’m struggling just as much as she is. With a clenched jaw and flared nostrils, I breathe heavily through my nose as Rosalie works my big cock into her tiny body.
Just the sight of my length disappearing into her is enough to make me come, but I hold off.
It’s always like this with her.
At first, I thought my lack of control was because I went without sex for so long. Now I know this is just how it is with Rosalie. She’s a sex goddess.
Tight and wet. The noises she makes. How responsive her body is to every single touch.
Lowering herself until she’s completely impaled on my dick, she winces and sighs at the stretch as she gets accustomed to the new position.
“How does it feel like this?” I ask, cupping one of her tits.
“Different,” she pants, looking down at me through heavy-lidded eyes. “Deeper.”
Sitting up, I graze my fingertips down her back while kissing her shoulder. “You have no idea what it does to me to see you like this. I’m just so fucking thankful you’re mine.”
She starts rocking her hips.
I groan.
Bracing her hands on my shoulders, she keeps moving, her motions getting more exaggerated as she slides up and down on me. Her nipples drag against my chest, and when her clit rubs on my lower stomach, she whimpers, “Talk to me. Tell me how much you need me.”
To Rosalie, dirty talk isn’t always dirty. She really gets off on the lovey-dovey shit. And if I’m being honest, so do I.
“I love you.” I kiss the column of her throat. Latching onto a place I know she likes, I suck hard enough to leave a hickey. Then I begin lifting her by the hips, bouncing her on my lap. “God, I love my wife. You make me so damn happy. You’re everything to me. You’re all I need, but I’m still going to put a baby in your belly.”
Her inner walls involuntarily clench at the mention of getting her pregnant.
She wraps her arms around my neck to get better leverage and kisses me hard on the lips before saying, “Well, there’s nothing stopping us now.”
Morning comes quickly. With only one nightmare to wake me and Preston right there to cuddle me back to sleep, it wasn’t the worst night I’ve ever had.
I’m pleasantly sore this morning. Muscles I’ve never been aware of are reminding me of what Preston and I did before going to sleep, and every time I move, there’s an ache between my legs.
I want a repeat. Soon.
“I got this one for you on your sixteenth birthday.” My father pulls my attention back to the present as he brings out yet another dress from the closet to fold it into one of the many suitcases he’s giving me for the trip.
I doubt I’ll ever wear a gown that fancy, but I smile anyway.
Currently, I’m in black leggings and one of Preston’s flannels. Although I have a closet full of luxurious clothing at my disposal, I insisted on being comfortable for the flight. I’m still not sure how I’m going to get through it. Not only have I never been on a plane before, but the thought of being stranded over nothing but ocean for hours sounds like my own personal version of hell.
“Would you like a drink, darling?” Ivan asks, eyeing my balled fists as I sit on the side of my bed. “I realize you’re underage, but a shot of bourbon could help.”
“No.” I shake my head. “Thanks, though. I’m trying not to rely on substances to get through everything, you know?”
Returning to the closet, he beams at me, and his voice is muffled in the smaller space when he says, “Such a strong girl. I’m so proud of you.”
My heart warms at his sincere compliment.
I’ve already forgiven him for yesterday. It’s hard to stay mad when he’s being so great. If I had doubts about his affection for me before, I don’t anymore. Even though we’re just getting to know each other, I can see through his tough exterior. As scary as he was when we first met, when it comes to me, he’s a big softy.
I suspect no parent is perfect. Ivan’s certainly far from it, but he’s the only father I’ve got. It’ll be a while before I think of him as “Dad” but I hope he and I will get there someday.
There’s a swirl of longing and regret when I think about everything we’ve missed. All the father-daughter moments we never got to have.
I imagine he would’ve been the kind of dad who tucked me in at night and told me stories. He would’ve given me extra dessert because I pouted. And when I wanted to go to a real school, he would’ve let me because I begged. Probably a snooty all-girls private school, but still.
In return, I would’ve been his reprieve from the hard world he’s built around himself.
I think we would’ve been good for each other.
As I touch another silky dress in his extended hands, sudden tears spring to my eyes. “You promise to come see us at Christmas?”
“Oh, Rosalie.” He steps forward, and the frilly blue fabric gets squished between us when he pats me on the shoulder. “I promise. Only being behind bars could keep me away.”
I think he’s joking. At least, I hope he’s joking, but with his line of work, anything could happen.
“Then don’t get arrested,” I quip, and he chuckles as he goes back to making sure I have every outfit for any occasion.
Thankfully, it’s not all formal wear. Opening the fourth suitcase, Ivan piles in some jeans in my size, leggings, T-shirts, tropical-looking tank tops, and flowy cotton sundresses.
Helga’s been washing the clothes Ivan’s guy collected from the cabin. If we were sticking around longer, I’d probably insist on wearing what I already have. But I have to admit, getting a new wardrobe is nice.
A soft knock comes at the open door of my bedroom.
I perk up because Preston’s back from helping the guys load his luggage into the SUV Ivan’s letting us drive to the airport. He’s wearing a white T-shirt he borrowed from Ivan, his own leather jacket, and some dark-wash jeans Nico gave him. With the stubble on his face and his hair combed back, he looks like a modern-day James Dean.
Another day, another identity.
That seems to be the theme in my recent life.
At least the role I’m playing now has the advantages of private jets and vacation homes. The fact that Ivan’s pilot is the one transporting us makes me feel a tiny bit better about the trip. All my father’s employees know how much I’m worth. And what it would mean for them if something bad happens to me.
Being a mafia princess is weird.
The final suitcase snaps closed, and two men trail in behind Preston to carry them out.
“Preston. Welcome to the family.” Ivan extends his arm, and at first, I think he’s going to shake Preston’s hand. But then I see the back end of the gun he’s offering. “Take it,” he insists. Preston hesitates, so Ivan adds, “Please. It would make me feel better to know you have it for protection. It’s loaded. The safety is on.”