Page 80 of The Diávolos: Part Two
I gently cup her tear-stained face in my hands, my thumbs wiping away the trails of sorrow. “Look at me,” I whisper, my voice a soft reassurance. “You’re not that little girl anymore, Angelica. You’re very much alive, thriving, and so incredibly strong. That photo is a snapshot of a time that doesn’t define who you are today.”
Her eyes dart back to the old photographs that she’s holding tightly in her trembling hands. I reach out and take them from her grasp, placing them gently aside. Our eyes meet, and I can see the pain etched in hers.
“Your sister could’ve been in these,” Angelica continues, her lips quivering. I wince, the thought of Thea causing a deep, gnawing pain in the hollow of my heart. An unsettling relief settles in my chest. I can’t help but feel a strange gratitude that my sister wasn’t alive to experience the Sisterhood. But intertwined with that relief is an unmistakable ache. My sister has been dead for years. And yet, her absence is more pronounced, more profound now that the truth is out.
“I know,angeloúdi mou. I know. But the past is the past. As much as it hurts, we have to choose to release the grip it has on us and move forward.” I trace the lines of her face with my fingertips. “We have to embrace the present moment and unshackle ourselves from the chains of yesterday. Moving forward requires a certain courage, and you, my darling angel, are the most fearless woman I know.” A hesitant smile emerges on her lips as she absorbs my words. “Now, stay put.”
I head to the bathroom and draw her a bath. The room smells of rose and peony, mixed with a hint of cocoa, reminiscent of that day when I first met her at the gun range.
I remember the overbearing need to feel her body against mine the moment I saw her.
Even now, her beauty still suffocates me.
What I felt back then, I now feel tenfold.
When I walk back into the room, Angelica is still seated on the bed, unmoving, misery written all over her face as she cries in silence.
“My sweet angel,” I coo, lifting her up. She buries her head in the crook of my neck.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Angelica says.
“Stop. Please, stop. You’ve donenothingwrong, Angelica. Don’t let your father’s shadow cast doubt on the incredible person that you are.”
Setting her down, I slip off her panties and unclasp her bra, letting them fall to the heated tile.
Picking Angelica up again, I place her in the hot bath and grab a clip to fasten her hair at the top of her head. Then, I take massage oil and rub it all over her shoulders.
Her head lulls to the side as I work my way through the tension. Moans escape her mouth which send an alarm straight to my dick, awakening the beast I’ve been trying so hard to tame.
Angelica and I haven’tplayedin a little while and the need to consume her is overwhelming. I promised I would let her make the decision to give herself to me, but it’s so damn hard.
As hard as my cock is anytime I’m around her.
When I’m finished with the massage, I leave her in the tub, kissing her sweet lips before leaving the bathroom and giving her some time alone.
I wait in the living room for her to appear, but it feels long.Too long. I have the urge to go check on her, but I know she’s okay. She has to be.
Minutes later, Angelica’s small frame comes into sight, and she seems more relaxed. I tap my lap for her to join me. “Come here.”
She shakes her head.
“Angelica,” I scold, my voice coming out in a low rumble. “Don’t make me grab you by the ponytail and drag you over the couch to have my way with your ass.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, mouth slightly agape, a soft gasp leaving her mouth.
Despite her initial resistance, Angelica eventually relents, and the patter of her bare feet on the marble floor resonates in the quiet hallway as she makes her way to the couch.
“Good girl,” I praise, and her cheeks darken with a hint of embarrassment.
Just as Angelica sits on my lap, the intercom rings. She snaps her head to me, eyes wide. We’ve never had visitors during her time here. No one ever shows up unannounced at my house. But I know who this is.
“Don’t worry,ágele mou,” I tell her as I pick up the phone. “Let them up,” I say on the intercom.
“Who is it?” Angelica asks.
“You’ll see.” I struggle to hide my sly smirk.
“I’ve had enough of your surprises,” she retorts, attempting to walk away from me, but I catch her mid-stride and sling her back onto the couch.
