Page 27 of Stealing Her Heart
“You have a little princess waiting for you, capo,” she taunts me, kissing my lips before she spins away from me.
Laughing, I swat her ass as she shakes it at my playfully. Jesus, I love her. I might not deserve her, but I am keeping her anyway. I am a bad man that I know she deserves something better, something more, but I won’t ever let her go.
“And I am going to see my little girl. Has she been good for mama?”
“That would be a negative. You promised her breakfast. She has been pouting all morning. You see to your girl then come see to your wife.”
Growling at her playfully, smacking her ass again. Watching her wide hips sway side to side as she heads up the stairs towards our bedroom, I have to adjust my cock in my slacks. My greedy dick will have to wait.
Before I do another thing, I have a dragon to slay. My little girl is upset at me. Grabbing the bag I set down when I walked in, I saunter down the hall to her bedroom. Stepping inside, I hold back a chuckle. Because how is this my life?
Gracie Rose, my first-born child, my little girl, my spoiled princess, sits at the little throne I had made for her, pouting. I catch her just before she puts the pout on—this is all a show to make daddy feel bad. My little princess has me wrapped around her tiny finger and she knows it.
“Hey little one,” I whisper as I kneel down, ready to take my penance. “I forgot our king breakfast huh? Daddy’s sorry. I had to go…someone had some dragons that needed slaying.”
Gracie tries not to smile but she loves our fairytale pretending. This room was done up in pink from the thick fluffy rug to the pink and gold teardrop chandelier. Nothing but the best for my little girl. Plus, she wanted her room to be sparkly, like mama’s—because yes our room is pink and fluffy and sparkly. Whatever both my girls want, they get.
“Dada,” she calls, holding her hands up for me to pick her up. That sweet little voice calling me Dada fixes my jaded heart each time I hear it.
“Coming little one,” I call, going to swoop her up. Gracie giggles and lets me press kisses all over her chunky face. Setting her on my hip, I pull out something guaranteed to make her forget she was ever upset.
“How about this one, Gracie? Do we like it?”
Holding up the little music box, my heart surges as her eyes go big, wide, filling with wonder. Of course she has her mother’s eyes. I was done for the minute she opened them after she was born. I said I would set this town on fire for my wife. Well, I would set myself on fire if it meant protecting my little girl.
“Dada! Sparkle,” she coos, pressing her face up against the glass of the globe.
It was specially ordered for her a few weeks ago. It is a recreation of Silver Shores, with the crashing waves, the pier, the boardwalk, and one bright green hot air balloon. All encased in a sparkling glitter dome, it sparkles with nighttime stars or daytime sunshine. It plays her favorite song, a jazz number her uncle Dario got her hooked on.
“That’s home, little one. Where mama and dada found each other and started living a dream,” I whisper, rocking her back and forth gently.
It is later than it should be, but I would have been upset if Gianna put my girl to bed before I got home. Settling in her little princess bed, I set the music box on the table beside it. As I cover her up, I tell her a little romantic fairytale.
“Daddy did not want to, but he had no choice. He shot the bad guy Ceasar right in the face. Because he was one of mama’s dragons.”
I am not ashamed of who I am. Of the man I have had to become to protect the people I love. Some might see my love for my wife, my daughter, my sisters, as a weakness. I consider it my strength. It gave me something to fight for, something to want to die for. Something to live for. I will always do everything in my power to get back to my girls—even if it means someone else doesn’t get to go home to theirs.
Finding Gianna did make me a better man. But I am still not a good man. The blood I washed off earlier was not from me cutting off a thief’s fingers. It was from beating a man to death because he had tried to traffic some young girls down to True Ridge. If I could, I’d have dragged it out to let him suffer a little bit more. He deserved what he got.
Once I see my little one is out, I head down the hall to my wife. Stepping inside, I lean against the door to stare at her. Jesus, she is beautiful. It is those sparkling, bright, full-of-love eyes of hers that make it impossible for me not to love her. I would do anything she asked of me whenever she turns those pretty fucking eyes on me.
“You’re so fucking beautiful pregnant with my children,” I tell her.
Pushing off the frame, I stalk towards her, pulling at my tie, undoing my cuff links. Gianna lies in the middle of the bed, her round belly soft and bare, a tiny lace camisole barely covering her full tits. No panties. I do not allow her to wear panties. Won’t even let her buy the things.
“Keep looking that good, capo, I am going to stay pregnant with your children,” she shoots back, licking her lips as her eyes devour me.
“Music to my ears, little princess,” I hum, grabbing under her knees, yanking her down the bed. Dropping down between her thighs, I lift one leg, kissing a path up her thigh, then the other.
“Hope you saved some for me, baby,” she purrs, coming her fingers through my hair. Yanking, she pulls me against her pussy, and I sigh.
“Always for you, my queen.”
For close to an hour, I lie face first in her thighs, eating, sucking, licking her to countless orgasms. Sliding beneath her, I lift her astride me when she begs me to fill her. As she slides down my cock, she calls my name, and I am reminded how fucking lucky I am to have stolen her.
Yeah, I did steal her I guess—but in a way, she stole me first.