“Ask nicely, Firecracker.” I smirk. Her gaze locks withmine, desire and need reflecting in her eyes. I can almost hear her thoughts, her dilemma of submitting to her needs or maintaining her stubbornness. She doesn’t like to ask for things. She doesn’t believe in requesting. She’s too proud of a woman, and I love every bit of it, but I want her to know there’s no shame in fulfilling her needs, even if that means she has to ask me for it. I love seeing her struggle, the war going on between her mind and her body. It’s a beautiful sight.
I bring my hand to her jawline, my thumb tracing the contours of her face. “Say it, baby.” I kiss her forehead.
“Please…please kiss me,” she whispers breathlessly.
I bite my lip to smother a satisfied smile. “Since you asked so nicely, baby,” I murmur, my voice dripping with a hint of authority before my lips crash into hers.
The kiss is intense and passionate, our mouths molding together as she sinks in my embrace. Her lips are so soft under mine, and I can’t resist the urge to deepen the kiss. I bite her lower lip gently, my tongue tracing it before pushing in, tasting her. She moans softly, surrendering herself to me.
Her scent surrounds me, filling my senses and making me want more. She tastes so sweet, and I can’t get enough. As our mouths move together, my hands begin to wander, exploring the curves and planes of her body. My fingers slide up her sides, tracing a path up her shirt to the bare skin of her abdomen. I feel a shiver go through her and I know she’s just as affected by me as I am by her.
I deepen the kiss and hold her tight as I push her back towards her bed. She breaks the kiss, her breath coming out in pants as her back hits the mattress, her eyes fixed on mine, wild with desire. Her lips are swollen, and her hair is a mess.
“I need you, Firecracker,” I growl.
“Good thing I am all yours to take captain,” she whispers, her fingers running across my chest, feeling the musclesthrough my shirt. I groan.
I lean over her. My body presses into hers. “Anya—” The door creaks open. We both freeze as I look up to see Siya standing in the doorway, a confused expression on her face.
“Oh, uh, sorry.” She glances at us and her face turns red before she averts her gaze. “I am so sorry.”
“Siya—” Anya pushes me away, but Siya closes the door with a bang. I turn to face Anya, who is now sitting up, looking flustered and disoriented. Well, I guess we cannot continue further. She covers her face with her hands.
We sit in silence for a few moments. The only sound in the room is our ragged breaths. I watch as Anya smoothes out her hair and straightens her clothes, trying to compose herself. I run a hand through my hair, feeling a pang of frustration. I readjust my dick in my pants.
I look at her. She looks at me through her hands. We maintain eye contact, and then she bursts out laughing loudly, and I join her, shaking my head.
“You should probably check on your friend.” I nudge her as we fall on the bed side-by-side. “She looked traumatized,” I add, turning to face her.
“I think I am more traumatized.” She sighs. I pull her into me, my arm wrapping around her waist, holding her close. I bury my face into her neck, nuzzling the soft skin there, taking in her scent.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, breaking the comfortable silence between us. I groan, annoyed at the interruption again, and reluctantly reach for it. The number flashing on the screen is unknown, which makes me frown. Anya glances at me, concern etched on her face.
“Who is it?” she asks softly.
“Don’t know,” I mutter as I answer, pressing the phone to my ear. “Hello?”
“Is this Daniel Grayson?” A calm yet urgent voice on theother end asks.
“Yes, this is he. Who’s calling?” I respond, my grip on the phone tightening slightly.
“This is Dr. Matthews from St. Peter’s Hospital. Your father has been admitted here. We recommend you come as soon as possible.” The words hit me like a freight train, slamming into my chest with crushing force. For a moment, the world around me fades, leaving only the static noise of my own heartbeat thundering in my ears.
“W-what?” I manage to croak, my throat tightening as the weight of the news settles in.Dad? Hospitalized? The words don’t feel real like a cruel trick my mind is playing on me.
“Your father—he was brought in a little while ago,” the voice continues, but the rest of the sentence blurs, drowned out by the deafening buzz in my head.
I can’t lose him. Not now. Not already.
“Daniel?” Anya’s voice breaks through, her hand resting on my arm. Her touch is grounding, reminding me I’m not alone in this moment.
“I…” My voice cracks, the lump in my throat making it almost impossible to speak. “I have to go.”
Tears prick at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away, trying to keep it together. The phone slips from my trembling hand but Anya catches it before it hits the floor.
“What happened?” she asks, her voice steady but her eyes filled with worry.
“My dad,” I choke out, the words tasting bitter and wrong on my tongue. “He’s in the hospital.”
