Page 90 of Forgotten Sacrifice

“Is this too much? Do you want me to stop?” I pause.

“I want you to put your bikini on, and come right back,” he commands, his voice strained.

No clue why he wants me to do that, but I nod as I hurry out of the shower, leaving a trail of water as I run to my room and put on my string bikini.

“Is this what you want, Daddy?” I ask, joining him under the spray.

He takes in my body, his eye lingering over my hard nipples plastered to the wet bikini fabric. “This is exactly what I want. You’re exactly what I want,” he says reverently,and I feel like my heart is going to beat out of my chest. “On your knees.”

I don’t hesitate, falling to my knees.

“Did you know I had this exact fantasy? After you got your tattoo, and I saw you in this illegal bikini, I had to jerk my dick in the shower—imagining I was fucking your throat.”

“I was listening,” I admit, my checks flushing. “I heard you call my name.”

A ghost of a smile spreads across his lips. “Naughty girl.”

“And then I ran to my room and touched myself.”

He groans, his head hitting the back of the tile, and I open wide, swallowing his dick all the way from tip to root.

“Christ, Luna. You really are going to kill me,” he garbles.

I look up at him with his dick in my mouth, smiling around his length.

He smiles back at me. “But what a fucking way to go.”

Luna

“Nowwill you tell me why we’re at the airport?”

“I have two surprises for you,” Vince says as we pull onto the tarmac next to a private jet.

“Oh my God, are we flying on that?”

He hops out and comes to my side, opening my door for me. “First surprise: we’re going to Italy to convince Grandmaster Bruno D’Agostino to be your coach.”

I squeal, throwing my arms aroundVince’s neck.

He grunts.

“Sorry.” I drop my arms, remembering the man had the shit beaten out of him yesterday.

“I’m afraid to tell you surprise two,” he teases.

“Tell me,” I beg as we walk up the stairs, entering the jet.

The captain greets us, and a flight attendant escorts us to the seating area. I bounce excitedly in my chair, taking it all in. I’ve never flown coach before, let alone a private jet.

“What can I get you to drink?” The flight attendant asks me.

“Soda.”

“Get us both waters.” Vince overrules me, and the woman nods, disappearing to the back.

“You can’t go longer than five minutes,” I gripe.

“I don’t want you getting dehydrated on the flight. Now, do you want to hear about the second surprise?”