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She braces her hands on the wet wall in front of her as I start to thrust. I growl into her neck as I start to go faster, holding hertight to me as her pussy wraps itself around my cock like a vice. She’s so tight and wet it’s threatening to undo me on the spot.
“Daddy!” she sobs as I carefully wrap her wet hair around my fist and start pounding my cock into her roughly. My little girl’s body is wound so tight that she’s standing on her toes as I drive into her in fevered thrusts, the sound of our lovemaking drowning out all other sounds.
“Look at you, taking my cock like you were made for it,” I say through gritted teeth, dragging my tongue over the hollow base of her neck and down her shoulder, my words causing her pussy to flutter around my cock. “Do you like that, baby? Knowing you were made for me and only me?”
“Only you. Please.”
“That’s right, little girl. You’re mine,” I growl.
She lets out a sob as her pussy clamps tighter around my cock, and when she’s at the very edge, I drop my free hand between her legs and rub circles over her clit as I continue to pound into her hard and fast. Her fingers claw at the wall as she climaxes, and I follow an instant later, letting her pussy milk every last drop of my cum from my cock.
My feral, wicked side purrs with pleasure as we sink to the shower floor in each other’s arms, too exhausted to leave it.
When she reaches to turn off the showerhead, I stop her, taking her hand and kissing the knuckles. “Leave it on for a moment. You’ll get cold without it.”
She smiles shyly at me before leaning over to kiss my cheek.
“We should probably get off the floor,” she whispers after a moment, though she makes no move to get up. We sit there in comfortable silence, listening to the shower run, before I decide to break it.
“I want you to move in with me.”
Birdie still goes against me, but doesn’t say a word. She doesn’t need to say anything.
I can already feel the shift in the air between us.
Chapter Seven
Birdie
Tears stream down my cheeks and I stare at the man sprawled on my bed.
Ethan’s muscular back is exposed to the cool morning air of my apartment, and I’m afraid to do anything about it. If I pull a blanket over him, I might wake him up, and I can’t do that, not when I’m trying to leave quietly. At least Baxter is curled against him, helping to keep him warm in the only way he knows how.
I’d be powerless to go through with this if Ethan were to look at me with that intense gaze of his.
I don’t want to do this, but I have no choice.
Late last night, I got a text from an unknown number. In addition to a thinly veiled threat, it also had a picture of my mother.
My father has not only located me, but he’s found her, too.
I’m not sure how, or if he’s been sitting on the information for a while. All I know is that he said he’d end her life if I didn’t make the choice to meet him. In my heart, I also know that when I meet him, it’ll be my last few moments on American soil. He’ll whisk me away in an instant, and my life will be over as I know it.
My relationship with Ethan will be over, too.
But to protect my mother—and, by extension, him—I have to go. I have no choice but to leave this all behind. Him. Baxter. Thisapartment and all it’s given to me. It breaks my heart into so many pieces I can’t ever hope to count them.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I turn and walk out of the bedroom. I can’t look at Ethan a moment longer. If I do, my feelings will come spilling out. If I tell him that I love him, I’ll never be able to go through with leaving.
The note I’ve left on the nightstand will have to be enough. I explained the situation as best I could, while trying not to give him details that would put him in danger. I also asked him to look after Baxter, and to take care of the things I’m leaving behind. I’m hoping that he’ll understand, though I know there’s a chance he won’t. I try not to think about that as I slip out my front door quietly.
The tears begin to fall as I take the elevator down to the ground floor, but when the doors slide open, I walk confidently as I can out to the street. As hard as this is, I know I’m doing the right thing. Protecting the woman who gave up so much to protect me is the right thing to do, I’m sure of it.
Just like my father said in his message to me, there’s a car waiting outside on the curb with two men sitting in the front seats. The plate is the right number and everything.
My father might be scum, but at least he’s thorough with his instructions.
I climb into the back of the car without greeting the men. Neither say a word to me as they pull the vehicle onto the street. They talk softly in Romanian, but I only catch a few words here and there. My mother had taught me the basics, but not enough to be quite fluent. She’d never planned on me going back to her home country, and I never thought I would either. For a moment, I wonder if they’ll say anything to me, but I get my answer a second later.
