Page 17 of Claimed By Daddy
I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face, not that I want to. Reaching over our plates, I lightly cup the side of his face and run my thumb over the sexy as hell scar in his eyebrow. “Start here.”
His cheek presses into my hand as he smiles. “This?” He rests his fingers on my thumb and drags them through the scar. “I got this the day I met your brother and Nik. We all attendedCrestfallen Prep, so I knew them in passing. But with who I am… who they are… we were far from being friends. Or even acquaintances. On a dare from some friends, I stole the headmaster’s Buick. Security shot at me, and I accidentally drove his sedan straight into the building when they put a slug in my shoulder.”
I’ve seen the scar of that bullet wound, but this story isn’t quite how I imagined him getting it. Far from it, actually. “You’re kidding?” I scoff, shaking my head as he finishes the Pinot in his glass. Lifting the bottle to refill it, he tips it toward me, in a silent question. I shake my head, and he places the bottle back beside the plates between us.
“Not in the slightest.” Rolling his stemless glass between his hands, he muses, “Straight into the gymnasium. Myfriendswho dared me were nowhere to be found when I realized my leg was pinned in the crash. But?—”
“Cian and Nikolai?” I interrupt.
“For some reason, they pulled me free and got me home. Probably kept my ass out of juvie,” he shares with a lighthearted chuckle.
My eyes pull from his, flicking toward the scar. “So that’s from the accident.”
“No.” His tone is suddenly less jovial and reminiscent. “That’s from my father beating the shit out of me when an O’Brien and a Romanov brought my injured ass to his doorstep.”
“Oh,” I softly exhale, realizing his father wasn’t too different from my own.
As though he didn’t just drop a massive bomb, he continues, “And the three of us… We’ve been thick as thieves ever since.”
He tells me more stories from his childhood—some about my brother that he probably shouldn’t. The wine dwindles, and Enzo moves closer to me as we talk. I lean back into the bed of cushions to get more comfortable. “You surprise me, Enzo,” I confess, watching the candlelight flicker when a soft, warm breeze blows over the terrace.
“How so?”
“You’re… different from what I expected. Softer.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment, princess.”
“It is,” I promise. “I like this version of you.”
He leans closer, and his chocolate eyes burn when they catch the light from the candles. “You’re the only person who’s ever seen this side of me.”
I stare back at him in silence, wondering how we got here so fast. And why it feels like exactly where we’re supposed to be.
Enzo finishes the last of his wine and leans back beside me with one hand behind his head and the other leisurely dusting along my upper thigh. Rolling toward him, I rest my head against his shoulder and curl my legs under me. “I still can’t believe you managed to plan all of this in under a day.”
“You said you wanted a date, princess.”
“I was thinking pizza and a movie.” I laugh softly. “I didn’t expect a candlelit dinner under the stars.”
“I don’t do things half-assed, Eavan,” he firmly responds. He turns, fingers brushing my jaw as he tilts my face toward his. He stares down at me, and my heart flutters. “Especially when it comes to you.” Pressing his lips to mine, he kisses me gently. No urgency or need—just tenderness. His hand slides around the back of my neck, and his thumb rubs against my jaw as he takes his time tasting my lips.
The softness of his silk tie brushes against my bare skin at the neckline of my dress when I press my body to his. He parts his lips lightly, and his tongue teases mine with a deliberate slowness that leaves me whimpering into his mouth with need.
Our kiss growing more passionate, he rolls toward me, pressing me onto my back and leaving him resting half on top of me. His hand slides along my thigh, hooking under my knee, and lightly parting my legs. His knuckles dust over my skin—leaving a wake of goosebumps—and he mutters his instruction against my lips, “Spread wide for Daddy.”
Eavan’s legs fall open as I drag my knuckles from her knee toward her upper thigh—her already short dress pushed up to her hips leaves very little to the imagination. Upon reaching the apex of her thighs, a pleased groan rumbles in my chest. I brush across the lacy fabric covering her pussy and run my fingertips against the thin material, tracing the length of her slit and pressing it lightly into the warmth radiating at her center. “Do you like these panties, princess?”
“What?” she murmurs when my question catches her off-guard, only to get her answer as I shove my fingers through the delicate material—shredding it as I rip them from her body.
“Enz—” I cut her admonishment short when I plunge two fingers inside her, “oooh.”
Her arousal coats my digits as I thrust and curl them relentlessly inside her, demanding an orgasm from her. She spasms around my fingers, and I know she’s teetering at the edge. I slide my fingers from her and listen to her displeased grumble as I lift them to my mouth. Slipping one between my lips, I suck the sweet, tangy taste of her from it with a delighted moan. “Is that how you’re supposed to answer me?” I ask, pressing my other arousal-coated digit between her lips. With my finger massaging her tongue, she’s unable to answer. Mercilessly, I press it deeper, I make her swallow me down to the knuckle before pulling back enough to allow her to speak.
“No,” she hoarsely guffs.
“No,what, princess?”
Staring up at me with defiance in her eyes and struggling to hold back the wicked smirk pulling at the corners of her mouth, she brats, “No. It’s not.”
