Page 17 of He Should Be Mine
Molly on the bed.
His head thrown back.
Cheeks flushed.
Panting.
Riccardo’s hands on him.
Tattooed fingers running over Molly’s pale skin. Sliding up to pull on those nipple piercings.
I recoil and my stomach nearly heaves. I shake my head violently, as if that will reset it. What the hell is wrong with me? Why is my mind thinking of such things? It doesn’t make any sense.
Maybe I’m horny? It has been a while.
I glance down at my groin. The gray of my slacks gives nothing away, but I know it’s hiding my shriveled cock.
I release a shaky breath. Okay, not horny. That makes sense. I’d be a twisted fuck if thoughts of my boss fuckinghis boy got me hard. That would be all kinds of wrong, for all sorts of reasons.
Including the fact that I’m not gay.
With a groan, I lie down on my bed. I need to pull myself together. I’m acting like a crazy person. Riccardo fucking Molly is not the end of the world. It is why Molly is here. It’s why I’m here.
I may not approve, but that’s because of who Riccardo is and the huge risk he is taking. I’m not homophobic. What ordinary people choose to do to each other is their business, not mine.
Listening to it shouldn’t be bothering me like this.
It’s not as if I’m a prude. Sex is far from the worst of humanity’s sins and lord knows I’m well acquainted with all the other vices.
And for fuck’s sake, it is hardly the first time I’ve lain here while Molly gets his ass pounded on the other side of the drywall. I’ve been through this many times. Very many times.
So why does each time feel more unbearable than the last?
I cover my face with my hands. There is no point in spiraling about it. This is a riddle I’ve failed to solve countless times before. I just have to accept it. Accept the fact that I hate Riccardo’s visits.
I need to listen to my music and think about something else.
Anything else.
Anything at all.
Chapter six
Molly
Being outside is amazing. I feel alive. This is a million times better than being cut off from the world. It’s practically heaven.
I’m strutting through a fancy part of London. There are people everywhere. It’s vibrant and busy. The pavement is broad and flat, so it doesn’t feel too crowded.
The sun is shining. It’s warm. And I’m walking down the street with Dario.
It’s perfect. Everything about this moment is perfect. I would not change a thing.
Dario is scowling, but that’s normal for him. I know he is secretly a big squishy teddy bear inside. So he can scowl all he likes. Even though it does mess up his handsome face.
I cast him another quick glance. Lord, is he stunning in the summer light. He is a vision. I swear god listened to the prayers of every horny little boy and girl, and poured all their wishes into one man. The very embodiment of tall, dark, and handsome.
Dario Bianchi is the perfect package. He ticks all the boxes. He was born to make people swoon. God’s gift to the world.
