Page 3 of Pucking Them
D’Angelo’s fingers shake when he turns the page on the book with more force than necessary.
Satisfying.
His piercing gaze cuts to me.
“Brat.” D’Angelo’s voice becomes low and dangerous. “Luckily, I know exactly how to tame those.”
He unexpectedly drops the Guide and drags me up with his strong arms onto his lap.
I yelp, dizzy.
I blink, staring into his unamused gaze.
“Ehm, hello.” I loop my arms around D’Angelo’s neck. “Is it by dragging them onto your lap and handfeeding them delicious treats as a reward?”
D’Angelo’s lips curl into a wicked smile. “How did you guess? But then, can you guess what it includes when I carry you to our bedroom?”
I flush, licking my dry lips. “More rewards?”
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear, before murmuring close enough for his lips to graze my sensitive skin and make me shiver (as I know he intended; gorgeous jerk), “Guess again, cara mia.”
Oh well, that’s a Future Robyn problem.
I simply arch my eyebrow and open my mouth.
D’Angleo gives me a fond look that makes me melt, before picking up a dark chocolate strawberry from a glass bowl beside him.
Eden made the dessert earlier, along with cooking Sunday lunch.
Eden does most of the cooking, cleaning, and laundry, as well as working as the PA to D’Angelo.
He’s the caretaker dom who looks after us all. Sometimes, however, I wish that he would look after himself as well.
Or at least, realize that we care for him as much as we do each other.
D’Angelo ghosts the chocolate tip of the fruit over my lips, and I boldly meet his eye before I lean forward and bite. Then I suck his fingers as well as the strawberry into my mouth. I lick his fingers clean, never looking away from him.
The sweet, juicy flavors burst on my tongue, and I chase them.
D’Angelo’s pupils dilate. He never looks away from me.
Finally, I release his fingers, giving them a final lick.
He grimaces, uncomfortable at the stickiness. He rubs his fingers clean on the rug, tapping his thigh three times.
I appreciate that he is facing his OCD to enjoy this moment with me. I know how tough it is for him.
Suddenly, a triumphant cry rises from across the lawn.
“Goal! The Prince of Rebels takes on Dee the Dom and scores!” Shay’s bright laugh lights up the day, as if a second sun has come out.
D’Angelo and I both look over at the far side of the garden.
Our expressions soften at the same time.
Our English twins are playing soccer on the small pitch that D’Angelo built for them as far from the mansion as he could to try and protect his windows from being smashed by balls.
Shay has somehow still managed to break three of them. Twice with overenthusiastic kicks from soccer balls, but once from the wild hit from a golf ball.
