Page 98 of Tyrant (The Villetti Chronicles)

“Daddy,” I whispered, completely forgetting Arlo was there now all I could see was Zayn. He was right here in my dad’s house staring at me with so many emotions on his face, I could barely count, let alone process them.

He moved, gathering me to him with his hands on my face before he was kissing me. My arms hung at my sides, still in too much shock to process the fact he was here. My lips were overtaken by the sensation of his pressing against them. Owning them. Reminding them of who they belonged to. WhoIbelonged to.

“Arianna,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the side of my mouth. “Take me to your bedroom. Now.”

“What about Arlo?”

“He’s here to protect me while I speak to you. Now take me upstairs. I’m not asking, I’m telling.”

I knew better than to disobey Zayn, especially when I could feel his demand vibrating through my skin. Taking one of his hands from my face, I backed away towards the stairs. Zayn followed me, a dark glint in his eyes that had my body trembling in anticipation of what he would do to it.

“Help yourself to tea in the kitchen,” I called over my shoulder to Arlo as Zayn hurried me up the stairs like he was on a deadline. I wasn’t sure what the rush was all about.

The moment I opened my bedroom door, he shoved me inside, slammed it shut and backed me up against a wall.

“My little fairy,” he practically growled, gripping my throat before he kissed me again.

I was pinned to the wall by his bulk. My hands gripped his clothes, trying to process his urgency. His free hand was on my body, grabbing a hold of my thigh and hooking it around him.

“Zayn, what—”

“I need you.”

Those three little words had me abandoning my questions. Had me abandoning all thoughts. Zayn was here. He was here. And I needed him too.

His lips hovered over mine, those dark eyes on me, intent and waiting. He ground into me, making his intentions very clear. I could feel how hard he was.

“Daddy,” I whimpered.

“That’s my good girl.”

My arms circled his neck when he kissed me again. I moaned when he shifted. He smiled against my lips like he knew the exact effect he had on me. I would melt for him. Always.

His hands went to my clothes, pulling my loose jogging bottoms down my legs. My underwear followed next. I arched into him when his fingers stroked between my legs. He gathered my wetness before massaging my clit, sending jolts of pleasure up my spine.

Zayn was clearly in a hurry to have me because he stopped too soon. He tugged at his own clothes, freeing his cock. He lifted me, bracing me against the wall with his body caging mine in. Then he sank inside me, groaning with the sensation. I let out a choked sound with his thick length impaling me, making me take every inch with no respite.

When he’d fully seated himself, leaving me panting and my pussy clenching around his cock, he gripped my chin.

“I know, little fairy, I’m sorry it’s too much.” His eyes were pits of black with a fire raging inside them. “I can’t sleep knowing you aren’t by my side where you belong. I can’t breathe. I’m not okay without you. I. Need. You.”

My words died in my throat, too choked by the emotion he stirred up in my chest. He pulled back and thrust in again, forcing an almost pained sound of need through my constricted throat.

“You. Are. Mine.” He thrust again. “Mine.” And again. “No one gets to have you but me.” Another. “No one gets to breathe you in.” Again. “No one gets to see you, touch you, or fuck you.” He pushed deeper this time. “I. Own. You.”

I was utterly consumed by Zayn and the hard thrust of his body into mine. The ache it caused inside me. The ownership he had over me.

“I missed you,” I whispered as a tear leaked from my eye as the heavy weight of loving Zayn Villetti settled in my soul.

He wiped the tear away with the pad of his thumb before licking it from his skin.

“My precious little fairy. I’m here. I’m right here.”

Taking a step back, he held onto me as he walked to the bed, sitting down on the end with me in his lap. I looped my arms around his shoulders, bringing our chests flush with each other. Dipping my head, I ran my tongue along the graffiti tattoo he had on his neck, tracing the lines of the text. He tipped his head back, giving me full access.

“Padre,” I murmured against his skin.

“You worked it out.”

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