Page 13 of Destined for the Devil
At this, he rose up off the floor and reached for the lamp, his tall stature shocking me once more. I must have looked disappointed that our littlequestion and answer period was over because he asked, "What? You look like you want to say something."
That he stay with me. That's what I wanted to say. But there was no way in fucking hell I would utter those words.
"Not at all. Goodnight."
8
Pussy Whipped
Roman
IleftIsla’sroom,but I didn’t walk to mine—I floated. Sleepwalked. Hypnotized. The butterflies in my stomach set my entire body on fire. I greatly enjoyed our little chat and hearing her confirm that she had nowhere to go absolutely elated me. She would stay with me; I was sure of it now.
Once I slumped into bed, I ordered a moka pot, milk, and a bunch of other food to arrive tomorrow morning. If Isla wanted coffee from a moka pot with milk—she would get it.
Fuckme, I was complete mush. This girl was submitting me—me,without even trying.
Knowing she was feeling better and asleep, I finally rested. Like usual, I was awake before dawn—work-out, shower—but while I was unpacking the delivered groceries, I heard the light click of her bedroom door opening. Standing at the kitchen island, I listened intently as she slowly came down the hallway, her hand sliding on the wall for support.
God fuckingdamnit, she looked so blissful and adorable in the morning. She was so sleepy; her hair was all over the place, and she had not worn a bra once since I’d met her. I actively avoided looking at her perky tits.
"Good morning.” She cleared her throat. "Um, I forgot the toothbrush you gave me yesterday. In your bathroom."
"I'll get it for you. You want some breakfast first?" I stepped back andpointed to the moka pot on the stove.
Immediately, her eyes lit up, and pure joy and amazement appeared on her face. Fuck, her smile and happiness bloomed between us, and I wanted to replicate this feeling again and again.
"What?! Where did you—how do you have a moka pot?!" she blurted out, her smile wide.
"Well, I took offense that you think my coffee is awful, so I'm determined to prove that's not the case." Isla took an uneven step forward and leaned on the countertop, her silly, sleepy smile filling me up with happiness too. But then I remembered what happened to her. "How are your legs?"
Her wild and tangled hair framed her face, and I caught that beautiful sparkle in her eyes. "If possible, both better and worse. I really want to sit down on my butt, but I'm scared to bend my legs." She chuckled lightly. "Are you planning to make breakfast with all that?"
She looked over the carton of eggs on the counter and a bunch of other shit I had bought. I hated cooking and didn't actually know how to.
"Yeah," I replied confidently.
"Do...you know how? Because if you're planning to make an omelet—which is what the ingredients look like—you don't use a pot for that...you use a frying pan." Her cheeks quivered as she tried to hold back her laughter.
"Oh-kay, Chef Gordon Ramsay, show me how it's done then!" I challenged her, but her smile only widened, and she slowly hobbled over to stand in front of the stove beside me.
My heart was threatening to burst out of me at the proximity. Holy hell, I had a fucking problem. Unable to look away from her, I noticed she stole a few glances at my naked chest. "You should probably put a shirt on.” She spoke quietly, and I completely ignited at that sentence, feeling my dick twitch just from her eyes on me.
"You're too distracted by my half-naked body?" The joke was there, but I was serious. Was she?
Wow, I had to slow down. I was completely not in control of my mouth. My mouth…kissing her pink lips...licking her delicious pussy, planting soft kisses on her back. My intrusive thoughts were overpowering me again.
A small blush crept onto her plump cheeks, but she didn't falter. Slowly, she turned to face me, letting her gaze slide down my body. Our height difference was suddenly screaming in my face when I realized I had to look down fully. She was maybe five-foot-seven and I was six-five.
"You do have a nice body.” Her gaze settled on my neck, sending violent goosebumps all over my skin. “Obviously. But no, I'm not distracted. If you're going to fry something, it's best to wear clothes. In case the oil or butter splatters."
The last word came out as a whisper just as her large gray eyes found mine, catching my stare. Damn. She wasn’t a simple girl. She may have been young and innocent, but there was something…something behind her eyes and in the tone of her voice that I couldn't quite pick up on. Provocation? Defiance? Disobedience?
She rendered me speechless; for some reason I couldn't find a retort to her last words. We just stood there, as if in a staring contest, and I was lost. Lost in her eyes and presence.
Finally, she broke the silence and asked with her now recognizable kindness. "Do you have a frying pan? And a bowl and fork?"
I gave her what she needed and promptly abandoned her in the kitchen, heading to grab a t-shirt and her toothbrush, doing my best to distract myself from that moment of closeness to her. I stood at the bathroom mirror and just breathed, trying to compose myself.
