Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84181 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Just like that, he’s walking away too.
6
GIANNA
The next day, I am completely fed up.
I eat breakfast alone. Lunch alone. Dinner alone. All meals have been delivered to my bedroom. I haven’t seen Patanza in two days, and I haven’t seen Mrs. Molina since she confronted me.
The guilt is eating me alive. All I want is to feel human—to speak to someone and voice my opinions, but no one wants to listen.
I can understand why. I’ve destroyed the relationships I had, demolished by my own bad decisions. The people that trusted me, no longer can. The people who gave me a chance now regret that decision.
Though the view is gorgeous, all I see is black and white. There are people who would kill for this kind of room, this paradise, yet here I am, with the right side of my face on the comforter, drowning my sorrows with bottle after bottle of wine.
The sun is setting now—I can see it from here.
The house is quiet. I haven’t seen anyone but Emilio all day.
I continue asking for bottles of wine, but sooner or later I’m going to need something much stronger than this.
I have to do something to win back their trust.
I have to fix the damage I caused. But how? How, when no one is wiling to give me a chance—when no one will even look me in the eye?
Nightfall arrives, and I roll over, staring up at the twirling ceiling fan. It’s still quiet, the ocean roar peaceful, the city lights bright and flashy.
I step out of bed and walk to the door, on the search for something stronger now. Tequila, or even rum will do.
I walk to the empty kitchen. The countertops are spotless, and of course the wine fridge is out of my favorite wine. The bar inside doesn’t have a very good selection, which only leaves the pool’s bar.
With a sigh, I turn around and walk out, going into the living room, past the clean, untouched furniture. I look out at the pool bar, but then I see a shadowy figure sitting close to the rails. Chains of smoke surround him, and I notice a short tumbler in his left hand.
I quietly open the door, walking barefoot past the pool. The scent of his cigar is strong and powerful, but I suck it up and keep it moving. I know I shouldn’t. I should just grab my bottle and go about my way, but I can’t help myself.
I step up behind him, and he peers over his shoulder with a solid frown. The city lights highlight one half of his face, the other half shadowy in the moonlight.
“What are you doing out here?” I ask.
He looks away, taking a slow pull from his cigar.
“Can’t sleep?” What a stupid question. He never fucking sleeps. I sigh. “Draco, can we please just talk? I need to tell you how I feel.” I pause. “I want to help you.”
He clears his throat, shifting in his chair.
“What happened is my fault, okay? I know now, and I know you’re pissed. I blame myself for it, and I always will. I regret what I did. I was selfish and I wasn’t thinking. I was stupid, thinking I could—could own you in some fucked up kind of way. Testing your limits. I thought I had you wrapped around my finger. I thought I . . . I don’t know. I just thought I didn’t need you. But I do. More than you think. So please, just say something.”
He picks up his glass and downs whatever liquor he is drinking. When he’s done, he sets it down on the ground and then stabs the butt of his cigar on the concrete. He starts to push out of his chair, but I walk forward and stop him from getting up, pressing him down by the shoulders.
A million thoughts take over my mind, but I don’t let them consume me. He’s only wearing sweatpants, and I immediately go for what I want.
I lower to my knees to get between his legs, yanking his pants down as he tries to push me away. “Get off of me,” he growls.
But I don’t. I keep going, wrapping my fingers around the hem of his pants and tugging, tugging, until I see nothing but his briefs. He barely lifts his hips, making me work for it, eyes hard on me. I continue, focusing on the edge of his briefs, my heart beating faster.
When his thick, soft cock is free, I push up and wrap my hand around the base of it, bringing his tip to my lips and swirling my tongue around it. He sighs heavily, and when I look up, his eyes still hard and intense on mine.
I close my lips around him, my hand still wrapped and stroking. He’s getting harder by the second. When he’s as hard as a rock, I have to work harder to fit him in my mouth, but I don’t stop. I keep sucking and licking, dying for a taste of him. Needing him to want me again.