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“Margot, you are a catch. You are smart and kind and one of the most considerate people I’ve ever met, let alone for someone sixteen. You are beautiful and popular and charming and I bet guys are waiting in line for Gabe to mess up. Don’t take any nonsense from anyone.”
A smile pulls at her lips and she nods just as the sound of a door opening breaks through our conversation. Margot’s eyes widen and she shakes her head at me just before Rowan walks into the room. I try not to focus too much on how gorgeous he looks even at eight-thirty in the morning. “Good morning, ladies,” he says looking back and forth between us.
“Hi, Dad.” Margot gets up, shooting me one last glance. “Thanks, Ellie,” she says, and then she’s gone without another word.
Rowan looks at me and then points behind him where I can hear Margot walking back upstairs.Did you talk to her?he mouths and I nod.
“For now, you’re on a need-to-know basis.” I stand up and make my way to where he’s standing.
“Elianna.” He glowers. “Last night was not acceptable.”
“And she knows that.”
He puts a hand over his eyes before dragging it through his hair. “My daughters are going to be the death of me.” He lets his hand drop and his soft eyes find mine. “She’s okay?”
“She’s okay. Just a rough night.”
“Fine,” he murmurs before his eyes slide over me slowly. He takes a look behind him before grabbing me by the hand and tugging me closer to him. “How’d you sleep?”
“Okay, you?”
“A little restless thinking about you down the hall when I wanted you in bed with me but I survived.” He sighs. “I don’t know when we’ll have another night alone. Might be harder when Margot is home.”
“I know,” I whisper. He reaches up to gently stroke my face and I can’t help but lean into his touch. My eyes flutter shut and I feel the gentle brush of his lips across mine and then my cheek leaving dozens of sparks in its wake. “Rowan,” I whisper.
“Sunshine.” His nose rubs against mine and then down my neck when he grabs me by the waistband of my drawstring pants and tugs me even closer to him. His hand reaches inside both my pants and my underwear and drags a finger through my slit. “I thought about this all fucking night. Your wet cunt dripping all over me,” he murmurs low in my ear and then I feel his palm rubbing against my clit while two fingers push through my opening.
“Rowan…” I press my face into his chest to muffle the sounds.
“You’re so wet and I’ve barely touched you. I fucking love that.”
I grip his forearms in an attempt to steady myself while pleasure sizzles beneath my skin. “Oh fuck,” I whisper as I feel myself nearing the edge already.
“You’re not so innocent, are you, baby? Letting me finger you in the middle of the kitchen.” He grunts. “I need you to fucking come though. I need something to hold me over until I can get my mouth back down there.” He replaces his palm with his thumb and applies more pressure, rubbing me in circles and I find myself sinking my teeth into his chest. “Oh fuck.” His mouth is right at my ear and he bites down on my lobe in response. “Knowing that I’m the only man that’s ever licked your hot little cunt has made me fucking feral, Ellie.”
His dirty words send me over the edge and I slap a hand over my mouth to make sure no noises escape me, but even in the high of my very delicious orgasm, the sound of a door opening somewhere in the house breaks through the haze. I’m disoriented while I come down from my climax, but I feel his hand leave me and then he’s no longer standing in front of me. My eyes flutter open, just as Isla and Sabrina come through the kitchen still in their matching pajamas.
“Hi, Ellie. Hi, Daddy!” Isla climbs up on one of the bar stools and Sabrina follows suit. “Ellie, are you okay?” My eyes snap to hers and I nod enthusiastically while trying to calm my still-racing heart.
“Yes. Sorry. Breakfast?!” I resist the urge to glare at Rowan who is chuckling to himself while he washes his hands. He gives me a subtle wink when I meet his gaze and the space between my legs that is still sensitive from his assault pulses with need.
The next morning, it’s almost eight-fifteen, and while Sawyer is downstairs devouring the pancakes I made, I’m surprised Isla hasn’t come down yet. I don’t usually need to move her along; she knows when she hears Sawyer heading downstairs that she needs to as well but sometimes she’s still picking out her outfit and needs some help. I jog up the stairs and into Isla’s room to see her sitting on the edge of her bed, still in her pajama top with a pair of cobalt blue leggings like she’d gotten tired halfway through getting dressed.
“Isla? Come on. I made pancakes.” She looks up at me and I see the exhaustion all over her face. “Oh, honey, are you not feeling well?”
She shakes her head and I watch as tears well up in her eyes. “But today is Art Day. I can’t miss it.”
I kneel in front of her and put my hand on her forehead and then on her cheek; she definitely has a fever. “Oh Isla, you are burning up. You cannot go to school.”
“But…”
“I know…” I rub her back gently knowing how much she was looking forward to Art Day. “But we can have an Art Day here when you’re feeling better.”
“It’s not the same.”
“I know.” I touch her face and gently help her pull her leggings off. “But we can invite your friends from school.”
“Like…a party?” she asks, but the usual excitement in her eyes isn’t there.