Chapter 7 Push My Buttons
Chapter seven
Push My Buttons
Marco
“Marco, what did you just do? Why would you cause a scene like that?” Sophia huffs as I pull her through the house, heels clapping loudly along the marble floors in time to my wild heartbeat.
“My dad looked like he was going to tear you to shreds. He’s going to lose his ever-loving mind if I don’t go back in there.”
Stopping only to grab our coats, I drape hers—a big, soft fluffy gray designer—over her shoulders, and mine over the crook of the elbow of my free arm.
It might be in the minus degrees outside, but inside I’m at boiling point.
For an intelligent man, Patrick Princi is a fucking imbecile when it comes to what, or rather who, is best for his only daughter.
Pulling the front door open with more force than necessary, I hail the valet and ask him to fetch my car. Gritting my teeth to stop the vitriol aimed at her father from spilling out, I turn to Sophia. Our faces are so close our noses touch.
“I don’t give a shit, Soph. I refuse to let him treat you like some sort of prize that he thinks he has a right to award to someone of his choosing. It’s your fucking life. Your fucking choice.”
“You would say that. You don’t have to deal with him,” she snaps, the puff of air that leaves her lips dusting mine. If only she knew.
“Truth or dare?” I grit out.
“What are we, fucking thirteen again?” she snarks back, but the deep swallow she takes betrays her.
“More like eighteen and almost twenty-two again. Now, truth or fucking dare?” Still nose to nose, I zero in on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel to sink my teeth into her plush bottom lip, inflicting pain before sucking it into my mouth to soothe it.
She breaks through my thoughts with her hushed but defiant response.
“Dare,” she whispers back with a glint in her eyes telling me she remembers. There she is. My sassy girl.
Instead of answering her immediately, I pull back and lead her down the stairs to where my black custom-built 911 GT3-RS Porsche is waiting.
Opening her door I raise an eyebrow, silently communicating for her to get in.
Miraculously, she obeys. Beating her to it, I grab her seat belt and lean across, purposely bringing my chest flush with hers.
I linger for a beat before I snap the buckle in place, noting the way goosebumps dance on her exposed skin, which has turned to the prettiest shade of pink.
Calmly, I round the car to the driver’s side.
I fire off a quick message to Sebastian to tell him I need to take a detour before I come to Bella Donna, but I’ll be there before midnight.
There’s no missing the displeasure in his quick response.
Seb:
FML. Just fucking get here.
Me:
I’ll be there.
I won’t break my word to him. But first I need to make good on what could’ve been a turning point for me and Sophia if only I had chosen the right words six years ago.
She chose “dare.” Tonight, I’m not making the same mistake twice.
She tracks my every movement, watching intently as I get in and quietly fasten my own seat belt.
It’s hard not to feel consumed by her in the small cabin of my car.
She smells good enough to lick. Like coconut and coffee with a hint of caramel.
Rich and decadent, but far from sweet. It reminds me of how she smelled the last time we were this close together in a car.
The tension enveloping us was just as thick as it is now.
Turning to meet the intensity of her stare, I don’t bother with the preamble before stating, “I dare you to ask me the same question you asked last time we played.”
She shudders, like my words raise the memory from a painful place. The same one I visit on the regular.
“Wha…what?” she stammers, her eyes roaming over my face before flicking down to my crotch, which tells her exactly the question I’m referring to.
I place my hand on top of her hand closest to me and gently thread our fingers.
She zeroes in on our joined hands and watches as I lift them over the center console and place them on my right thigh.
She lifts her eyes to mine as I slowly slide our hands over the top of my thigh and along the crease where my hip and leg join, letting them rest on my inner thigh.
Our hands are close enough to my thickening cock that if she flexes her fingers, they will graze the very same spot she let her eyes linger on moments earlier.
She bites down on her bottom lip but keeps her hand exactly where it is.
“Marco…trust me. I’m alllllll grown up now. I don’t need a sex ed lesson on how a cock works.” She scoffs, pursing her lips in defiance, like that’s going to deter me from getting her to complete the dare.
“That wasn’t the question. Ask me the question, Kitten.”
Ever so slowly, she flexes her fingers, and with a featherlight touch her fingertips sweep along my growing erection, the one I’ve been fighting to keep down since I saw her looking like a sex kitten in that dress.
“Did I do that to you,” she says softly, adding an eyeroll for dramatic effect.
“Do what?” I whisper with a shit-eating grin, leaning in closer to ensure she doesn’t miss a word of what I should have told her the first time.
“Did having you in my arms with your chest molded to mine and your legs wrapped around my body, wearing only two little scraps of yellow fabric, that barely contained your perfect tits and untouched pussy get me hard as a fucking rock while in the fucking ocean? Abso-fucking-lutely.”
She drags her teeth over her juicy bottom lip and averts her gaze. I grip her chin and bring her eyes back round to meet mine. Defiance and disbelief dance together, spurring me on to do as she asked. Prove it.
“Did seeing your perfect fucking body wrapped up like a gift in this sexy as sin dress tonight do this to me?” I say moving our hands and placing it over my boner.
“Fuck. Yes. And finally, does the thought of slowly stripping you out of that dress and tearing those tights clean off your body, so I can feast on your pussy until your cum is dripping down my face and your voice is hoarse from screaming my name do this?” I say as she lets me curl our joined hands around my length.
“Six fucking years’ worth of yes. Is that enough proof for you, baby? ”
She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip again—fuck if I can’t wait to do the same—squints her eyes, and taps her lip with her pointer, making a big show of thinking it over with a sultry smirk.
“You’re getting there, hotshot.”
I know I’ll have to deal with the wrath of her father, but I’m done hiding my raw need and desire for her. I don’t want to waste one more fucking minute.
I put the car in gear and shoot around the circular driveway and out of the grand gates, stepping on the accelerator as we hit the open road. Sophia gasps and instinctively grabs onto the door to anchor her body in the seat.
“Oh, and Kitten, let’s just get one thing straight.
From here on in, there’s no need to worry about how to suck another man’s cock—just mine.
” Averting my eyes from the road for a moment, I shoot her a devilish grin.
“Best believe I’m going to make up for lost time by showing you just how I like it.
But first there’s one more thing we need to do as part of this do-over. ”
“Which is?”
“Go for that pizza and gelato date you still owe me.”
Her melodic laughter fills the car, and warmth blooms throughout my entire body.
I’m already addicted to being the reason for her happiness instead of her sadness.
It’s funny how much of my life she occupied before she went off to college.
Missing her was a persistent ache, the price I paid for some misplaced need to win the approval of her father.
Something I feel no closer to having, especially after tonight’s events, but that I no longer care to fight for.
Now Sophia’s back, and all I want is to fight for her.
To have every single one of her smiles. All her laughs.
To be the one who wipes away her tears, not cause them.
Nothing or no one will stand in my way of having her by my side.
Not now. Not ever. She’s mine. She’s always been mine.