Mr. Vincenzo | 18+

twelve

e l o i s e

I gave my look a last glance in the mirror. I was wearing a black turtleneck top, a formal jacket over it, and if I was wearing palazzo pants instead of casual black jeans, I'd look ready for office than for a university lecture. In neither case would I look ready for what I was actually getting ready for.

I would, if I remove everything I wore above and kept only what Vincenzo wanted to see last night.

I wore bra cups over a bra for this man. What else was he going to make me do?

Biting my lip, I thought of what more he already made me do. Repeat many times that I was horny. For him. Suck his dick. Go commando in front of my parents. Masterbate so he won't torcher me with orgasm denial. Let him eat me out on my own bed when my parents and brothers were present in the same house. And wear a lingerie that no one else had seen on me before.

He called me breathtaking. My stomach still did a backflip as it did then.

If Dylan had to compliment me, he'd call me hot and sexy. Never beautiful. Never breathtaking. With the way Dylan looked at me, I always doubted if he meant it. With the way Vincenzo looked at me, I didn't doubt. I just knew he meant it.

This perfect fucking man.

He meant it. Why was my heart beating so fast? No, no, no. I shook my head, grabbed my bag, and left my room for breakfast. Or my mind would just keep thinking about him in a way I should not. Vincenzo should only affect my pussy, how hard I orgasm, not how hard my heart beats.

Downstairs, he was already at the table in a fresh change of clothes, talking with my Dad while eating his pancakes. This time, he was dressed in was a white shirt but had no coat, almost giving an edge to his bulging biceps. His hairs were styled back, casually, almost boyish, but his face displayed a maturity that boys lacked. He looked a few years younger than Dad but nothing more. I was beginning to think I wouldn't be as attracted to him as I was if he looked unnaturally younger for his age, or even if he was actually younger.

For all I knew, he was breathtaking as he was. Absolutely so.

Dad greeted me as I sat down at the table, opposite to Vincenzo. I greeted him back and also wished Vincenzo a good morning. My attention zeroed on the way his lips moved as he spoke back to me, the way he put the fork in his mouth, held it between his perfectly-aligned teeth, grazed it out, closed his pinkish lips—those lips were on my pussy last night and that tongue was inside me... he called me a temptation. What else was he?

I tore my gaze away and filled my plate, extra syrup.

"Ellie, how was your date yesterday?"

I bit my lip. Oh, Dad. I was just thinking about yesterday.

"It was okay." I said, focusing on my pancake rather than Dad or Vincenzo. "We went along as friends, nothing more."

"Only be anything more if you want to."

I looked up at him surprised. Didn't he and Mom wanted me to date?

"Vinny told me you were uncomfortable and you shouldn't ever be, okay, Ellie?"

I nodded, finding it hard to believe. Vincenzo did that? For me?

"Thanks, Dad." I said and shifted my eyes to Vincenzo. "Thank you, Mr. Rodriguez."

"It's fine if you call him Uncle Vincenzo. Aaron and Aiden are already doing that."

Not again. I groaned internally.

"I'm just not, and I mean no offence to Mr. Rodriguez, but..." he was just too hot to be called an Uncle.

"It's fine, Wade. Give her a breather. Don't you remember how long it took me to call your parents Uncle and Aunt? I understand where she's coming from."