She smiled, rubbed her face against his hand that was still lifting her chin, looked him in his eyes, and said, “Die. You die.”
“That's it lamb. That's what I would do. I would die. So, is Vegas more important than us?”
“No, sir.”
“Good girl. Now, I have to go to my office and make one phone call. Then it's the three of us for the night.” He was about to walk out of the room when he turned back, looked at her, and said, “I love you. You know that you are the reason that I was allowed to live for 40 years. It was just to wait for you to get old enough to come to me.” I watched my mother's face flush and her body shudder with what I now know to be love and want. She laid her head on his chest and sighed.
“I know.”
“Okay little one, I'll be back.” He hugged her one more time, kissed her head, and walked over to me.
“Yiós. Son, have you been a big help today?” He always asked me. His way of making sure I know when he is away, my job is to protect and look out for my mom.
“Nai, patéra. Yes, father.”
“That’s my son. Se agapáo gie mou. I love you son.”
“Se agapáo, patéra.” He told me he loved me often. He said he missed not having a father to tell him and he swore if he ever had a son, he would say it all the time and he kept his word.
“See peach, it was in that moment I knew that any relationship I would ever have would need to be like that because I felt that protectiveness even as a son and I knew that any woman I ended up with would have to be able to take that from me and no ordinary woman would be able to do that. I knew she would have to be extraordinary in more ways than one and you, my peach are her.”
“Well, where are your parents? What happened to them?” I take note of how she changed the subject. I am going to have to work on her confidence in herself and us.
“When I was fifteen my mom ended up with advanced stages of breast cancer and my dad obviously paid for all the best doctors, all the best surgeons, all the best everything but in the end, she died really young. She lived until I was seventeen. She died just six months shy of my eighteenth birthday and as he promised in that conversation, without her here he's dead. So, a month after my eighteenth birthday he died as well. I know he held on as long as he did for me to be an adult so that I wouldn't be stuck out there as a minor with all this money and all this inheritance for people to try to somehow take advantage of and so true to his word without his lamb he couldn't make it. Now, having my own everything in my arms, I get why.Chapter TwelveKaleraOMG!! His parents' story is so sad but achingly beautiful at the same time. Who wouldn't want to be loved like that? “You feel cold, baby,” he says rubbing up and down my arms. I burrow further into him, not feeling cold at all. Wrapped in his arms, I feel warm. “Come on, baby girl. Wrap your arms around my neck.” I do as he says, giggling when he pretends to strain to lift me. Though to be fair, I'm not light. “So, anything else you want to ask me?” he asks as he kisses me swiftly but with purpose while putting me on his lap. That is one thing I have surmised about him this short amount of hours. Everything he does, no matter how simply is with purpose.
“I guess I am just wondering what happens now. How does all this work? I guess at this moment it doesn’t really matter since it is possible I am not pregnant….”
“You ARE pregnant,” he says, gnarling his teeth as he speaks. My mouth pops closed, a little taken aback by his reaction. I drop my head and grab my lip between my teeth, as usual when something is making me nervous or unsure. “I’m sorry, little peach.” he sighs, pulling me back against him. “You did nothing wrong. Just the idea of my child not being inside of you right now, growing, makes me unapologetically unhinged.” He rolls me to my back and lays on top of me. “You want to know what happens next, sweet girl? This.” he slides inside of me and like the perfect note, my eyes roll to the back of my head as I moan, the intrusion once again too much and not enough. Hell. “You feel that baby girl? Shit. Fuck, Kalera. You feel this...us. This is us, sweet girl. Put your hand between your legs and feel the connection.” God. Why is everything dirty he says so hot? I do as he says and jump as my fingers touch my clit before reaching the spot where I can feel him rutting in and out of me. My fingers attempt to wrap around his girth, foiled at every attempt by the veracity of his thrusts and how slippery he is. Everything in me becomes feverish with the knowledge that it is the combination of us together that is making him that slick. “God damn it, little peach. Your tiny fingers are fucking with my sanity right now. Jesus. Is there no part of you that won’t make me an animal?” he doesn’t wait for an answer. He lifts my legs over his arms, leans into my mouth, inhales my lips, and uses my pussy for target practice. In and out over and over he uses me to prove a point. One, I don’t even need to see. “The. Fuck. Happens. Next.” he enunciates with each thrust.