Page 131 of He Should Be Mine
“I’m going to get you some water,” he says.
I nod breathlessly.
“And then you are going to do that again.”
Oh. My. God. This really is the best night of my life.
Chapter thirty-six
Dario
It’s a little cold today. I’ve propped open the balcony door a little to get some fresh air into the apartment, and there is definitely a bite to it. The breeze is crisp and refreshing. Autumn is on the way.
Molly is curled up on the opposite end of the sofa. His nose is in a book and he has his adorable glasses on.
I hate how far away he is from me. The distance between us feels wrong. My arms are aching to hold him. He should be sitting on my lap while he reads.
I take a long, steady breath. Just a few more weeks. Three, maybe two, and then this will all be over. Molly will be mine and everything will be as it should. I only have to hold on for a little longer.
In the meantime, at least we can be together at night.
My eyes close as memories overwhelm me. It is pointless to try to fight them, so I don’t even bother to try. I allow them to burst into vivid life.
Molly in my arms. Molly crying out in pleasure. Molly riding my cock as if he was born to be there.
I should be annoyed at all the time I’ve wasted having mediocre sex with other people. If I had found Molly earlier, I would not have had to miss out.
But the joy of finding him now, easily melts away any disgruntlement. God has given me Molly, so I do not resent a single other thing. It has all been worth it. Every dark day of my life was a step down the path that led me to my Molly. So I would take every single one again. Gladly.
Suddenly, a loud sound buzzes out. Molly’s phone is vibrating against the coffee table. He snatches it up.
I hate everything about that gesture. The speed with which he responded was pure training. Urgency. Obedience. Fear.
I think the thing I hate most of all is that, when he is mine, I’m going to want him to respond to me just as swiftly. Sometimes I think I might not be saving Molly at all. I might be dragging him out of the frying pan and into the fire.
Molly’s pink lips curl down into a frown as he stares at his phone screen.
“Riccardo?” I growl, unnecessarily.
I’m pretty sure Molly is only allowed to talk to Riccardo. And me. We are the only people who have his number. Between us, we have Molly caught and bound. Isolated.
Molly nods and bites his bottom lip. “He wants me to make myself pretty.”
My guts twist even though I know damn well it was only a matter of time. For the next few weeks, Molly is still Riccardo’s.
“I made a deal with Isabella. She isn’t drugging him anymore.”
Molly’s blue eyes flash at me. Sharp enough to make me recoil. That wasn’t the relief I was hoping to see. The shock of it is enough to steal my breath away.
Molly says nothing. He just gracefully flows to his feet, goes to his room and shuts the door.
I sit motionless on the sofa. The frantic beating of my heart is the only sound. Shit. Molly is right. What was I thinking? I told Isabella not to drug Riccardo, so now he is going to want to fuck Molly.
He is going to want to. And be able to. Because of me.
I suck in a pained breath. It is better than Riccardo losing his temper and killing Molly. I was right about that. I have to hold on to the truth. I am a possessive, jealous asshole, but I want Molly alive. More than anything.
I concentrate on my breathing for several long minutes. I try to think of nothing else but the rise and fall of my lungs.
