The Devil's Daughter.
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"You, of all people, should know that I don't share what's mine with anyone." His voice is dangerously low, each word laced with a quiet, simmering warning.
"This isn't about you," I snap, my patience unraveling as my eyes burn with unshed tears.
His jaw tightens. "This is about me looking out for you. You've been through enough-I'm not giving anyone else the opportunity to hurt you." His tone is firm, unwavering.
"You can't make this decision for me!" Frustration coils tight in my chest. "How do you even know he's going to hurt me?"
His expression darkens. "I am making this decision for you. And how do you know he won't? It's a risk. Is he even who he says he is? It's not every day your dead father shows up out of nowhere, claiming he wants to take you home."
Before I can respond, a smooth, amused voice cuts through the tension.
"Will a DNA test be enough for you?"
We both freeze. Slowly, we turn toward the open doorway.
There, leaning casually against the frame, stands a man who looks no older than his twenties. He's dressed in all black-Dolce & Gabbana trainers, fitted jeans, and a simple T-shirt. A silver dog tag hangs over the fabric, catching the light as he shifts. His toned arms are on full display, and my breath catches at the sight of the tattoo curling around his forearm-a grey scorpion wrapped around a dagger.
I know that tattoo.
I've traced my fingers over it more times than I can count.
His dirty blond waves fall slightly over his forehead, and as I meet his electric blue eyes, playful yet knowing, something inside me lurches.
I know him.
This isn't a stranger.
This is my father.
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#367
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I know he's followed me when the door shuts and locks behind me. His breath is on my ear before I can even think about anything and I relax against him as his teeth nip at the lobe. He reaches around me to start the shower and starts undoing my belt without even looking at what he's doing. He's leaving hickeys up my neck and almost rips my shirt in an effort to get it off me. I spin around once it's off and smirk at the lust in his eyes. I push him back against the door and press close enough to him to feel everything, every breath and every rumble of his chest as he hums in approval. "Are you going to keep teasing me, mi vida?" (my life) I shiver at his tone and lean forward, close enough for our lips to brush. "This is not teasing, love." My hand drifts up his torso to wrap around his neck and I turn his head to return the favour, leaving red hickeys and bite marks as he grinds against me. The room starts to steam up as the water reaches the right temperature and I tug his shirt off and yank my belt off along with my jeans and boxers. I back up into the shower and his eyes trail me heatedly, I can almost feel his look on me and I savour the feeling as I step under the water and slick my hair back. He removes the last of his clothes and drifts over to me, his eyes not leaving mine for a second. He reaches for me and slams his lips down on mine viciously, his teeth nipping and pulling while his tongue soothes the pain. He pulls my hair back to release himself from the kiss and starts kissing down the column of my neck to my collarbone where he leaves another mark. His grip is tight enough to leave bruises and I relish in the pleasure pain he gives me as he completely numbs my senses to everything but him.
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