Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
I had to wait before I could follow, my erection making my movements restricted. Back inside the reception, I scanned the room for her, assuming she had returned to her cake. But it was gone, now simply a table containing pieces of the sweet treats ready to eat. I began to head to the kitchen to find her, when Carolina stepped in front of me.
“I haven’t danced with my favorite godfather.”
I laughed, unable to resist her teasing. I never had. I pulled her into my arms, and we began to move around the dance floor. “I am your only godfather.”
“My belated, grumpy, yet still beloved one,” she replied.
My younger brother Paolo had been a wild child his entire life, constantly into trouble. After our parents died, his behavior became worse. He drank too much, had a constant stream of girlfriends, and couldn’t handle responsibilities or keep a job—even when I was his employer. I had almost given up on him, but on his twenty-second birthday, he met Amanda. She was seven years his senior and had an eight-year-old daughter she had raised as a single mother. He changed overnight, falling in love with both mother and daughter. He stopped his excessive drinking, became my right hand, a husband, and a father in a short span of time. Due to an accident in his early years, he was unable to father his own kids, and Carolina became his world. I became an uncle, and in short order, they asked me to be Carolina’s godfather. She was a sweet, loving little girl I adored, and I accepted the honor quickly.
“Was the day everything you wanted, Pumpkin?” I asked, calling her by the nickname I’d given her years ago.
“That and more.”
“You were, are, beautiful. I wish you every happiness.”
She squeezed me.
“If that boy gives you trouble, you call me.”
She laughed. “So chatty tonight, Uncle Dante.”
I pressed a kiss to her forehead. I was a man of few words when it came to my family. To anything, really. People tended to take my silence for grumpiness. I didn’t make an effort to change their opinion.
I spun her around the room, trying not to reflect on the fact that even though she was taller and more graceful than the angry bee I had danced with before, our movements earlier had been so in sync, it was as if I were dancing with the music itself. Carolina danced very well, but she didn’t live the song. My little bee became part of the melody.
I finished the dance and handed her off to her impatiently waiting new husband, then stepped into the kitchen to find the woman who had run from me, only to discover she was gone from the premises entirely. The staff informed me she was an external contractor hired by the family. Outside, the van was gone, and I tried to recall the name I had seen etched on the side. Nothing came to mind, and I decided it was for the best. I was at least ten years her senior. I didn’t live here. She was too innocent for someone like me. She needed a steady young man who would marry her, give her a family, and get fat from eating her cakes. It was a brief, unexpected encounter. That was all, I told myself sternly.
So, I returned to the wedding, determined to put her out of my mind.
Yet, she remained on the periphery, the images of her dancing in my arms, singing in her low, sultry voice, always present. I thought of her adorable anger, the way she told me off, not worried about who I was. I recalled her taste. How easily I could distract her and steal her decadent cupcakes.
But long after the wedding was over, I couldn’t stop thinking about her, no matter what I did. I woke up each morning, hard and aching, my hand wrapped around my weeping dick, her already on my mind.
And I was tired of fighting it.
My brother’s amused voice broke into my musings.
“What is eating you? Amanda says you’re grumpier than usual.”
I turned and met his teasing expression, accepting the glass of scotch from his hand.
“I beg to differ. Your wife is being overdramatic. I simply refused the vitamin-infused green smoothie she was trying to get me to drink.” I shuddered. “I hate all that green shit.” I lifted my glass, admiring the golden hue of the drink it contained. “This is what I need to stay healthy.”
He laughed and sat at his desk, crossing his legs. “Amanda is constantly on a health kick of one kind or another. I gave up trying to stop her years ago. I just go along with it.”
“You drink that shit?” I sat down across from him.
He grinned. “She thinks I do. I take it from her, kiss her, and dump it somewhere. Just like I scrape the kale salad off my plate into the garbage disposal or give the gluten-free shit to the staff.”