Page 105 of He Should Be Mine
A dry laugh bubbles out of me. I would die for him, but I can’t even have him. It really is a tragedy. Shakespeare would love to write about it.
I sigh and sip some more coffee. I shouldn’t give up hope. Dario is planning something, I know he is. I just have no idea what it is. The only plan I can think of is waiting until Rick gets bored of me and orders Dario to take me for a long walk off a short pier. And then Dario hides me instead.
But that’s a terrible plan. Mostly because I’m pretty sure Rick wants to kill me himself. He wants to choke me out and star in his very own snuff film. I’ve seen it in his eyes.
I shudder as an icy trickle runs down my spine. Yeah, let’s hope Dario’s plan is better than mine.
My thoughts drift back to the private show I gave Dario. My thoughts keep drifting back to that. Roughly every five minutes or so since it happened. Which isn’t exactly surprising because it was frigging hot. Like surface of the sun levels of heat.
Alone in my room, but knowing Dario was watching? That unleashed a kink I never knew I had.
Some trick of the light and the glass combined with the angles meant I couldn’t see him. But his presence, his attention, still managed to burn into me. It was searing. Scorching. I felt branded by it. As if every piece of my flesh he looked at, now bears his mark. Mine, mine, mine, is written all over me. In ink only he and I can see.
I suck in a breath and gulp down some more coffee. Okay, at this rate I’m going to get a stiffy. I’m already halfway there. If I remember what it felt like to have that dildo inside of me, I’m going to grow a full on boner. And that’s just embarrassing.
Dario is in his room, but knowing my luck, he will stride out at just the wrong moment, and these pajamas hide nothing. Absolutelynothing.
But my brain ignores me. Now I’m consumed by an echo of the feeling. Except my imagination has swapped silicone for the real thing. Which is understandable. A big, big reason why the whole thing was so incredibly hot, was the knowledge that I was riding an exact replica of him. It was close as I can get to being stuffed with the real thing, and it was glorious.
I’m not sure I have ever cum so hard. Just from a replica of his cock and the heat of his attention. Fucking hell. The real thing is going to melt my poor little brain.
When Dario finally fucks me, I’m going to turn into a puddle of goo.
As if conjured by my thoughts, Dario strides into the living area, looking immaculately put together and disgustingly awake. As well as devastatingly handsome.
Oh lord, I’m going to expire. From pent up desire and longing. Death by blue balls, although I always thought whoever coined that term missed a trick by not going with cummy ache.
Dario fiddles with his cufflinks. “We are going out.”
I blink. Just how half-asleep and distracted by horny thoughts am I? I don’t remember anything about going out.
“We are?” I mumble dazedly. “Where?”
“You have a doctor’s appointment. A check up after your hospital admission.”
What the hell? Am I going prematurely senile? I don’t remember a thing about this.
Dario’s whiskey-colored eyes stare at me intensely. It is a similar look to the one he gave me when he was telling me to go out onto the balcony.
Oh.
There is no doctor’s appointment. It is an excuse to tell Rick. A ploy to get me out of here for a few hours.
I straighten up. Suddenly I’m wide awake. Probably more awake than I have ever been in my life.
“How beautiful do I need to be?” I whisper.
Dario’s eyes smolder. “You are always beautiful.”
My heart bursts into a full song and dance routine. Dario didn’t say it like a platitude. He breathed it as if he meant it with every fiber of his being. And now I’m going to swoon to death.
“Flattery will get you everywhere.” I wink. Then I saunter to my room as if my knees aren’t about to give up on me.
Is it possible to die from overexposure to sexiness? I feel like the answer is yes. And since Dario is the sexiest man to ever have walked the earth, there really is no hope for me. It is simply a matter of time.
In the relative safety of my room, I start throwing clothes around. What the hell do I wear when I have no idea where we are going?
Okay, Molly, come on, you can do this. Deep breath. Think.
