Chapter 9
Nine
DARIA
Did he hurt me? He’s joking, right? Did he not hear the way I was moaning and whimpering? But the lines of concern on his face are so deep, I realize he’s truly worried.
“What? No, of course not. That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”
He strokes my back. “Good,” he says, blowing out a breath. “Good.”
“I would have said stop .”
He searches my face. “Sometimes subs don’t.”
“I’m not afraid to speak up,” I assure him.
Eyes flaring with approval, his palm roams to my ass. His rough and strong hands smooth over my skin. “What’s your name?”
A laugh bursts out of me, and I bury my head against his chest. I let this man fuck the shit out of me and he doesn’t even know my name. He softly swats my ass, and I press against his side, feeling every hard plane.
“Sorry,” I say with a soft chuckle, gazing up at him. “My name is Daria.”
His fingers brush over my thighs, the tips stroking over my pussy, which is leaking cum. Arching an eyebrow, he carefully parts me and slips a finger inside of me. As he plunges the digit deep, I stifle a moan. “You’re still a mess.” Leaning in, he brushes his lips over mine. “Sit on my face, Daria .”
“What?”
“Don’t be shy now.” He adds another finger. “Let me clean you properly.”
Biting my lip, I study him. He simply lifts his eyebrows in challenge and continues to tease me with his fingers, waiting for me to acquiesce. There’s really not a reason to say no. He’s offering me a throne. Why wouldn’t I take it?
As I push up, his fingers slip out of me, and he holds my hips as I climb over him, positioning my cunt right above his mouth.
He gazes up at me with a triumphant smirk. “Give me that pretty pussy,” he growls.
And I lower myself to his face like a good girl. His eyes flare with pride, and he clutches my hips, driving his tongue straight into me and savoring me before running the flat of it all the way up to my clit, lapping at it. I rock into the touch, his fingers tightening hard enough to bruise.
Releasing a little sigh, I drop my head back and pinch my nipples between my fingers, letting go and grinding over his face. Vic groans against me, and I smile, riding his face while he cleans every inch of me. Does he like the way I taste with his cum dripping out of me?
My legs tighten as he sucks on my clit, and I rock a little harder, gasping as he spears two thick fingers inside of me, pressing down on my G-spot while he reverently flicks his tongue over the sensitive nerves.
“Fuck, Vic,” I moan, releasing my nipples and driving my fingers into his hair, pressing him against my cunt.
He growls in approval, and the reverberation sends me over the edge. I buck and twitch against him, panting as the orgasm rolls over me. Vic is solely focused on showering my clit with attention, gently rolling over it as I come down, but when he senses my attention, his eyes lift to meet mine. Pride and smug delight dance within the depths of his brown irises.
That. That look right there burns into my mind. He’s handsome as hell, but with his mouth sealed to my cunt, he’s the fucking devil incarnate.
“You’re going to ruin me,” I whisper.
His lips curl against my skin, and he sucks on my clit, making me jerk and release a startled noise. A dark chuckle washes over my skin. Extracting his fingers, he places a gentle kiss against my clit before easing my ass back onto his chest. Even though his hard pecs hold me up, I worry my lip. I don’t want to hurt him. I’m not light, but he doesn’t seem to care.
I watch him suck his fingers clean, my cheeks heating as he releases a pleased sound, loving what he tastes. I try to climb off him. His hands hold me hostage, eyes meeting mine in challenge.
“Who said you could leave, little doe?”
“I’m not leaving.” Running my nails over his scalp, I fold over to kiss his forehead. “I want to lie down.”
He hums and releases me to do just that. I slide off him and curl against his body, wrapping my arms around him and resting my head on his chest.
“Can I keep you?” I ask with a laugh. Vic doesn’t answer, and when I look up at him, I catch a hard line between his eyebrows. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah,” he rasps, looking away. “Are you feeling better?”
I don’t know what I did or said, but I can’t help feeling like I’m in trouble. “Uh, yeah.”
He glances at me. “Don’t lie to me.”
I bite my lip. “If you want to go, it’s okay,” I say, voice small. Clearly, my teasing question bothered him. This club isn’t for me to find someone to keep. He’s probably trying to figure out how to let me down gently.
“You’re thinking too hard,” he chastises. “Just let me hold you.”
And that’s it , his eyes say.
There will be no keeping. Of course he’s not mine, he never will be. “Okay,” I say, pinching my eyes shut and soaking up this moment because I don’t know if I’ll ever experience anything like it again.
My neck feels strangely bare. Last night, Vic took off the collar, sliding it back into his pocket and out of my reach. I know it’s dumb, but I felt like he’d struck me. I sigh and glance at the clock. I need to get ready for dinner at my dads’. Their new mate, Lettícia, wanted to introduce the rest of her family to me.
Though I like Lettícia, I’m not really feeling social. Regardless, I have to go. My dads mean everything to me. They’re the ones who stayed when Mom left. They’re the ones who picked up the pieces of my broken heart every time I went to see Mom. They’ve always been my rocks.
My phone buzzes, and I grab it on the way to my room, checking the message and ignoring the ache deep in my core. How is it that I still feel Vic inside of me? Is he some sort of magician?
Jane
So, what did you think?
About the club or the toys?
Both. Did you find someone to play with?
I debate telling her no and keeping the memory all to myself, but it would be silly to lie.
Yeah. It was . . . an experience.
Right? I mean, it was fun, but it felt kind of transactional, you know? I don’t think I’d do it again.
Transactional? That’s not how it felt with Vic. With Vic, it felt like I was protected. Like he was taking care of me. And I would do it again in a heartbeat; only, when we parted ways, he didn’t give me his number. He simply took the collar, brushed his lips over my forehead, and walked away without looking back.
Is it dumb that I’m sad at the thought of never seeing him again?
Probably.
I blow out a hard breath and look at myself in the floor-length mirror in my bedroom. My neck is covered in pretty little reminders of his lips on my skin. If I lift my shirt, I know I’ll find his marks all over my skin. Proof that it was real. My chest clenches and I shake my head. Don’t be pathetic .
Jane is waiting for my reply.
Yeah, I get what you mean. I think I got some inspiration for my pitch, though.
Same! See you at work on Monday?
I reply to her and toss my phone aside, staring at the hickeys covering my throat. I hate to cover them, but that might not be the best first impression for meeting my new uncles—step-uncles?—and step grandma. With a heavy heart, I grab a turtleneck tank top that I pair with my favorite skinny jeans and ankle boots. Thanks to a little extra care today, my curls are in good shape, so I leave them loose and apply a simple coating of mascara and lip balm, hoping my lips don’t look too abused.
I grab my phone and purse, locking my apartment door behind me. Since John, my sleazy landlord, lives on the first floor, I rush down the stairs and past his door, but he opens it and calls my name.
“Sorry, I have to go,” I tell him without looking back.
“Rent is due next week!” he shouts after me.
“I know,” I shout back.
“Don’t be late.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mumble, shoving through the lobby door and out onto the sidewalk. I hear him grumble something about me being a bitch but let it slide. Normally, I’d say something back, but he’s my landlord, and he’s already pissed at me for being late with rent last month. I can’t afford to get kicked out, and I definitely can’t afford deposits on a new apartment.
My beat-up car is a welcome sight. I slide into the driver’s seat and glare at the apartment building. It’s not exactly dilapidated, but it’s not some fancy condo, like the place Quinn and her pack live. It’s an old, red brick building that’s seen better days. It’s home, for now. Eventually, I’ll move out.
Or, at least, I hope so. I don’t want to deal with John for the rest of my life.
Shaking off my self-pity, I turn on the car and pull out of my parking spot, ignoring the screeching sound the vehicle makes. That’s not a good sign. Maybe if I pretend I didn’t hear it, everything will be fine.
I definitely can’t afford car troubles.
While my dads would do anything to help me, Mom took every penny from the bank account when she left. Though my dads’ blue-collar jobs don’t exactly pay well, Letti comes from a wealthy family, and their financial situation has vastly improved. But I’m not about to take from them. I won’t be my mother. I’m an adult. I can take care of myself.
My car screeches as I take a turn, and I grimace.
Please don’t break.
By some miracle, my car makes it to my dads’ without further incident. There are several vehicles I don’t recognize in the driveway. A black and chrome truck that’s gorgeous and the newest model catches my eye. Envy zings through my system.
One day. One day, I’ll have enough money to buy something like that.
I park behind the fancy truck and shut off the engine, saying a little prayer to the transportation gods and begging them to give me a few more years with the old beater. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have a vague plan. Move along the marketing career path. Get a new car. Maybe a house. Maybe buy a second pair of sheets.
Chewing on my lip, I study the house. Despite coming from money, Letti didn’t insist on buying the biggest one they could afford. Instead, they settled for a cute and spacious three-bedroom brick home. It’s a lot nicer than the house I grew up in, but part of me misses the threadbare carpet and familiar walls. Still, this is their home now, and my dads are happy. That’s all that matters.
I straighten my shoulders and head through the open garage and into the house, smiling when I hear Brock, my biological dad, laughing at something someone said. Voices overlap, and I breathe in, loving the smell of home. My own scent is still suppressed, thanks to that pill I took last night, but I applied a light coating of a lavender perfume, hoping no one would notice.
Slipping into the mudroom, I kick off my heeled ankle boots and hang up my purse on the array of hooks next to the pantry shelves. There’s a stack of clean clothes piled on the washer and dryer, and I smile to myself. Before my stepmom, it would’ve been a heaping mountain, but lately, my dads have been making an effort—folding laundry, planting gardens, making fancy family dinners.
Love has a way of making you better.
Or it has a way of reminding you that you’ll never be good enough . As that bitter thought enters my mind, my smile vanishes. Frowning at myself, I recite my new mantra, the one that’s supposed to help me heal my heart and get back to the Daria who swooned at the drop of a hat and squealed when the couples in the rom-com books finally kissed.
I am good enough. I deserve love. I love myself. I have a great ass and pretty tits.
Okay. I added that last one for my ego, but still. Fuck my ex-boyfriends for cheating on me. I’m amazing.
I deserve a pack who’ll love me.
“Why are you hiding, mija?” Lettícia is Mexican American, and while she’s only known me for a little over a year, there’s more love in her calling me her daughter than I’ve ever felt from my own mom.
“Hey, Letti. I was just putting my things down.”
She searches my face with rich brown eyes, features softening. Letti is gorgeous, with long dark hair, full eyebrows, plump lips, and defined cheekbones. My dads are definitely lucky she even gave them the time of day, but they cherish her, and she loves them back just as fiercely. Their romance was the kind that’s so perfectly sweet, it either makes you giddy or makes you want to scream into a pillow and agonize over why you can’t find something similar.
One guess as to what I did.
“Don’t be nervous. My family doesn’t bite,” she teases me.
“Are you sure about that?” I ask her with an arched brow. “I’ve seen Henry’s neck.”
She blushes, strands of her dark hair brushing over her cheeks as she dips her head. “Daria,” she hisses. “You shouldn’t talk about those things.”
“What? I’m an omega as well. I know what you all get up to when I’m not around.”
“You’re as bad as my brothers,” she grumbles, shaking her head. “Come. We’re all ready to eat.”
“It smells so good.” I follow her into the kitchen. It’s still a shock to walk in and see the gleaming marble counters. This house might not be a mansion, but it’s a major upgrade from the peeling siding, old roof, and bubbling laminate counters I grew up with. I can’t say I blame Letti for not wanting to move into our old house. It was in rough shape, and she deserves better.
Letti bounced around from crappy pack to crappy pack until she met my dads, when they came out to do a repair for her. Their meet-cute was something out of a book, and if she had the courage to keep trying, maybe I should too. She’s found a good, strong love without her scent matches. While my dream has always been to find my fated mates, maybe I need to start thinking differently.
But that’s the thing—I don’t want to settle. I want that uncontrollable love. I want the all-consuming attraction and need that comes with scent matches. I want to be possessed by it. Last night with Vic was the closest I’ve ever gotten. And if that’s not sad, I don’t know what is.
The spacious kitchen is filled with my dads and what I can only assume are Letti’s brothers. Or two of them. Nico, my other dad, said she has three.
“Daria,” Letti begins, turning back to me and gesturing to the tall men in the kitchen. “Meet my brothers Alejandro, Carlos, and...where’s Vicente?”
My heart jumps into my throat. Vicente? Surely that’s a coincidence, right? It has to be. There’s no way that the beta who fucked the shit out of me last night is...
“ I’m right here, Lettícia. You’re as bad as Mamá.”
That voice.
Oh, fuck.
“I heard that,” Letti’s mom calls from the other room.
The brothers in the kitchen chuckle, and my mouth goes dry as Vic steps into the kitchen. He’s as beautiful as I remember—tattoos, strong jaw, sinful lips. He’s rolling his eyes at his brothers. His black hair is neatly swept back, but it’s him. There’s no mistaking that face or the way the deep timbre of his voice shoots straight to my core and has my cunt clenching, remembering exactly what he felt like inside of me. Remembering how his tongue swirled over my clit. Or the way he smirked up at me right before I sat on his face.
Is it hot in here?
Vic’s smile is beautiful, and I ache to have his eyes on mine to see if he’s as affected by last night as I am, but at the same time, I want a hole to open and swallow me whole because holy shit. Vic is Letti’s brother.
My cheeks are probably bright red. I glance at my dads to see if they can tell I’m panicking, but they’re grinning at Letti, who is chastising her brother in Spanish.
She huffs, then turns to me. “Daria, meet my baby brother, Vicente.”
“Baby? I’m forty-two,” he tells her. And then I feel the weight of his attention fall to me, and I swear he sucks in a sharp breath.
My gaze roves over his face, memorizing the surprise on his face. “Uh, nice to meet you,” I say quickly.
“Nice to meet you,” he says, expression shuttering. That lighthearted smile is gone, and he’s staring at me like he’s trying to figure out how to get rid of me.
Guess I should’ve seen that coming. Disappointment swims in my stomach. No, you know what? I’m not going to let this get to me. I’m done letting other people hurt me.
Turning away from him is hard, but I give him my back, a very subtle fuck you and look at Letti. “What can I help you with?” His gaze drills into me, making my hackles rise, but I ignore that too.
“The table needs napkins,” my stepmom says. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” Heart fluttering, I grab the napkins from the drawer and escape into the dining room.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. How is this possible?
That man has done so many things to me. That man has been consuming my thoughts all day. How am I supposed to sit through a dinner and pretend like we’ve never met?
One of the other brothers says something about the latest happenings in the stock market, and that starts a big discussion about investments. I lay all the napkins on the gleaming dining room table, chewing on my cheek and trying to come up with an excuse to leave.
But that would hurt Letti’s feelings, and I really like her.
No. I’ll have to suffer through and try to erase the memory of last night from my mind.
Which is a damn shame because I spent half the day wondering if I’d find him at the club if I went back. Blowing out a hard breath, I pull myself up. I can do this.
“You must be Daria.”
I spin and spot an older woman sitting in the leather recliner in the living room, her hands resting on a cane. She’s got the same scrutinizing gaze as Vic, but her soft smile reminds me of Letti.
“Uh, yes. Hi.” I head over to her and hold out my hand.
She shakes her head and struggles to her feet. “Family doesn’t shake hands.” She takes me into her arms and hugs me, accepting me as quickly as Letti did.
My heart clenches, and the little girl inside of me who begged her mother for hugs weeps, but I block out the memories and focus on the moment. Though she smells like lilacs and her bones feel frail, there’s strength in her hold. Like she’s been through her own shit and come out stronger.
“Daria! Mamá,” Letti calls. “Come get your plate before these animals eat everything.”
“She’s right, we should go,” her mother says as she steps out of my arms. “I’m Alma, by the way.” Her knuckles turn white as she clutches the cane, and I move to help her, but she waves her hand. “I’m fine.”
“Sorry.”
She shoots me a look. “Don’t be. I’m stubborn—ask any of my kids.”
Chuckling at that, I walk by her side into the kitchen, refusing to leave her behind. All eyes fall to me and Alma as we enter. Vic’s gaze cuts through me before he glances at his mom.
“Let the girl go first,” Alma says, and each of her children steps back to let me through.
“Oh, no, you should go first.”
Alma squints at me. I bite my cheek, glancing at Vic for some reason. He arches an eyebrow as if to say just do what she says , and I nod.
“Okay, but you’re next,” I tell her.
She grins at me and dips her head in agreement. Letti squeezes my arm as I pass, thanking me, and I grab my plate, studiously avoiding Vic as I get my things. Him being here complicates things. Unlike my mother, family means everything to Letti. Vic and I might’ve had sex, but it was one time. One, life-changing time...
I shake my head, as though to clear it. This is a simple dinner. It’s not like he’s going to bend me over the table and smack my ass.
It’s just dinner.
How awkward can it be?