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“You can always go if you wish, you know. You don’t owe us anything. We helped because we could, and you already returned the favor by helping us survive.”
“Teamwork,” Sona intoned. “Not just me.”
“Where’s your home?” Daria asked, her curiosity unraveling.
“Somewhere you can’t go. Much like yours,” was the easy reply, revealing nothing.
“Do you miss it?”
“Sometimes. But we stick together. I’m not leaving until I’m sure those idiots with us get home safely, don’t try to kill each other, and make some realizations before they go back to their even more idiotic clans.”
The last one definitely meant Diego and Riva, which had Daria biting back a smile. Then she locked in on the threat in the kill part and lifted her chin.
“Well, that’s good. Try not to piss anyone off around here. Edmund has a temper and is crazy protective over Alexa.”
“Don’t worry. Pissing off anyone’s the last thing on my agenda—not when giving and receiving pleasure with someone willing is a much better endeavor.”
The woman walked away, swaying with so much elegance and humming a bright tune of anticipation…as if she had someone in mind. Jealousy was a mean bitch, clamping inside her belly until it hurt. But she couldn’t help it and couldn’t help wondering how things would have turned out if it was Sona who had walked in on Charlie and not her. Would she encourage him, too? Would she have been bolder and stepped inside the shower, too, instead of looking, effectively ending Charlie’s misery as she seduced him beyond his wits? Would they have stopped at the commotion or would they have gone faster until they reached that climax together?
It ate her up, this building insanity when it came to Charlie—this possessiveness that had no right to exist. Agitated, she stomped towards what she claimed as her bedroom, went to the shower, and got out of it fast before she could consider anything beyond just showering. In bed, it took longer to ease her body and mind, raging with a hundred emotions that went from Charlie to the bald man to the little bits of sparks forming inside her. She gripped a pillow tight and peered at the ceiling, where gentle swirls of paint formed what she deduced was sunset at its peak beauty.
Patience.
Comforted by that reminder and the art, she drifted off.
The groan was heavy and desperate, mingling with the creaking of springs and the thrust of hips against her. It covered her completely until she could do nothing but cling on, and made her feel so good that it could no longer be fought. Understanding it was a dream, Daria felt emboldened and threw herself into it, wrapping onto the body above her until they were one. Hands wandered and sought while a breath slid hot air into her as he grappled for control. But he lost it and was lost in her as the man drove on and on, body riddled with lust and voice broken with hunger.
Come for me, Daria.
She didn’t come, but she did wake up with sweat trickling down her body and the sheets tangled in her feet. Daria stared at the ceiling once more, using it as an anchor to remind herself that this was reality now and no longer a dream. The throbbing in her body didn’t help, centering the ache between her legs until her hands fisted on the mattress. Then one of them was no longer fisting but resting against her thigh, torn with the dilemma of holding on to the dream or letting it go.
It disappeared, anyway, like water gushing out of her cupped palms. It didn’t matter because instinct had made its decision for her as she slipped a finger inside her panties until she found the area that needed it the most. Hunger built and intensified as she rubbed herself repeatedly, but it didn’t get anywhere no matter how long she took. A sigh of frustration escaped her lips as she finally removed her hand, feeling like she had made things worse with how she ached to the point of pain now.
“Idiot. You are an idiot with your dirty dreams and your stupid hormones.”
And it wasn’t going to stop until she did something to distract herself. Daria sat up, frowned at the sheets, and reluctantly got out of bed so she could tidy it up. To her surprise, being able to see such a simple task—down to the last step of tucking the sheets in—left her with so much pride that it made her feel better. She stepped back to admire her work, got dressed, and skipped her way out of her bedroom—
Only to crash straight into a solid object that sent her toppling.
“Jesus, Daria.”
A hand reached out before she could land on her butt, and she steadied the other party at the same time. Riva grumbled.
“What are you doing outside my bedroom?”
“About to enter it and wake up your sleepy head.”
“What?”
“It’s past the time of recharging and bordering on us worrying if you are asleep or dead,” the woman explained.
“I’m not dead.”
“That’s good to hear and nicer to see. You look well-rested, which is what everyone needed. And you seem to be…why are you looking at me like that?”
Something roared inside Daria’s heart, and she couldn’t help it as she gobbled up Riva’s features, from the pursed lips and slightly crooked nose down to the extra thick lashes that emphasized the woman’s big, magenta-colored eyes.
“You are so pretty.”
