When I’m Gone (Rosemary Beach #11)(54)
Author: Abbi Glines

She stood up and swung around to grin at me. “Sorry. I had to clean the bottom of the fridge.”

“Don’t apologize. I’ve decided I want to kiss that ass. Bend back over,” I said, with a wicked grin.

Reese backed up, putting her hands in front of her to stop me. “No. We will never get out of here if you don’t stop it. We’ve had sex on the sofa, in bed, over the bar, and on the dresser. And it’s only been like thirty-six hours since we got here. We will never finish.”

I grabbed her hands and tugged her to me, careful not to hurt her. “Baby, whose pussy is this?” I asked, sliding my hand down the front of her shorts.

“Yours,” she said on a sigh.

My possessive monster roared to life. “That’s right. And I want to play with my pussy. And hear my girl scream my name.”

Reese’s eyes glazed over, and her breathing hitched. I knew I had her. She was so easy to convince. The first few times, I had been careful and taken our time. Made sure she was with me and that she knew I worshipped her and would never hurt her.

She didn’t need that anymore. All I had to do was talk dirty, and she was melting up against me, ready for me to do whatever I wanted. Again, this woman made me feel like the king of the world.

A knock on the door stopped me from pulling her shirt up and sucking on her tits. I fought back, muttering a curse, because it was probably someone else come to tell her good-bye. Reese needed to know she would be missed. That more people here cared about her than just Jimmy. And for that reason alone, I kept from complaining.

“I’ll get it. Miss Popular has more guests,” I teased her.

Her musical laugh followed me.

I jerked open the door, expecting to see someone I knew, but instead, I was greeted by a tall, distinguished-looking man dressed in what I knew was an Armani custom suit because I had one for special events. His black hair and olive skin made me think he was Italian. There was something about the way his eyes were shaped. They were brown but familiar.

“Does a Reese Ellis reside here?” he asked, his accent not as thick as I was expecting. He kind of reminded me of the Hollywood version of a Mafia lord.

“She did,” I replied, not liking that this man knew Reese’s name and was looking for her.

“I’m Reese Ellis,” she said, coming up behind me.

Shit. I didn’t want her coming to the door. Something about this man concerned me.

“Can I help you?” she asked, studying the man curiously.

“Baby, I got this,” I whispered, moving her back behind me with one arm and making sure my body covered her.

The corner of the man’s mouth lifted as if he was amused. “I’m glad to see Reese has someone to protect her. However, I’ve waited twenty-three years to meet her.” He held out his hand to me. “I’m Benedetto DeCarlo, Reese’s father.”