Page 93 of He Should Be Mine

I try to swallow, but my throat is no longer working.

Molly pulls his fingers out. His hand slides around behind him. It lowers. It slips between his legs.

He gasps. His hand starts pumping in and out. In rhythm with his hand that is sliding up and down his now leaking cock.

His nipples have stiffened into tight little nubs. The piercings look exquisite against them. They are begging to be tugged. I bet that would make him squirm.

A breathy moan escapes his puffy and wet lips. His head tilts back, exposing the long lines of his slender throat. His jaw is relaxed and loose. His eyes are firmly shut.

I wonder what he is picturing.

He picks up the pace. His hips are rocking now. His lungs are heaving.

He is close. So very close. When he is mine, I’m going to hold him on the edge like this for hours. Until he is a sobbing, whimpering, pleading mess.

Molly cries out. His hips thrust forward. His cock spurts all over his belly.

“Da… Daddy!” he wails.

My cock throbs. I swear he nearly said my name. Oh fuck. That is the hottest thing I have ever experienced. I need to make Molly cum while screaming my name.

And even if just now, he only ever meant to say daddy. I still know he meant me. He was talking to me.

Molly lifts his head up. He grins at Riccardo with slitted eyes. He lifts the hand that was around his cock to his mouth and starts licking his fingers clean.

“Such a good boy,” Riccardo says.

His expression is smug. Pleased. I want to punch his face until it is nothing but bloody pulp and then punch it some more. I want to feel fragments of his skull in my knuckles.

Riccardo slips on his shoes. He stands. He stretches like he has just had a good nap. “No rest for the wicked.”

My gaze drops to his crotch. He is soft. Isabella is still drugging him. There is no other explanation for not getting hard while watching Molly’s show.

He strides towards the door, hands in his pockets, all nonchalant. “See you Sunday, Baby,” he calls over his shoulder.

Then he is gone.

My lungs remember to work. The oxygen feels good. It’s cool and crisp and it’s helping my mind to function again.

Molly jumps to his feet, pulling his romper up as he goes. He doesn’t look at me. He just hurries to his bedroom and shuts the door.

My heart twists. I half rise to go to him, but then I sink back down onto the sofa. The cameras are still watching. Molly is not mine to comfort. Not yet.

The future is calling, but first we need to get through Sunday and whatever the hell Riccardo has planned.

Fuck.

More fucking obstacles in the way. But nothing, absolutely nothing, is going to stand between me and Molly for much longer.

I’m going to bulldoze it all down.

Chapter twenty-six

Molly

“You cannot possibly need all of this.”

Dario surveys the suitcases piled in the hallway as if they are a personal affront.