Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 90

DOMENICO

I hadn’t been standing there long, but already my patience was thinning. Every second Reina spent away from home, away from me, was a second I felt like I was losing a piece of myself. Whoever had been tailing her hadn’t been identified yet, and that thought alone was enough to make my blood boil.

I couldn’t leave her alone. Not now. Not ever. My chest ached with the need to see her safe, to make sure no one could touch her or scare her the way I had feared in those past days.

Her apartment wasn’t far, but staying there meant she was exposed to her stalker. I’d made it my mission to bring her back under my protection myself. She shouldn’t know the truth that she was in danger, not yet.

She wouldn’t like it if she did, it would only make her worry, which I didn’t want. This was not just about control, it was about keeping her safe, about making sure the world knew I didn’t just tolerate her being alone—I refused it.

The cigar in my hand smoldered as I inhaled deeply, letting the familiar burn settle my nerves while I scanned the lot. The last class should have been over minutes ago; I had checked her timetable before I left the office. She should have been out already. But she was not.

My lips pressed into a hard line. I didn’t even want to think about what I would do if I arrived late, if something had happened. My chest tightened at the thought, my pulse picking up. I couldn’t allow my imagination to run away with me, yet every muscle in my body was wound tight, anticipating the moment I’d finally see her.

Then I did.

A few feet away, standing in the parking lot like an angel I had no right to claim, she appeared.

My heart slammed in my chest so violently I thought it might actually give out. I wanted to run to her, pull her into my arms, crush her against me until she couldn’t breathe from the pressure of my obsession.

Four days. Four empty, cold, lonely days without her beside me. My bed hadn’t known warmth. My room hadn’t known her scent. The world had been gray, hollow, lifeless, and she was here now, like she had just stepped out of my mind into reality.

I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. I took a step forward, cigar tucked between my fingers like it was fighting for dear life, like I hadn’t nearly burnt it down in my impatience. My voice came out rough, low, as I called her out to her.

Fuck! I had missed calling to her.

"Princess."

Reina froze. Her gaze went to me, and I saw the flicker of surprise, recognition, annoyance. Good. That was perfect. I wasn’t supposed to be polite. I wasn’t supposed to wait for invitations. I was supposed to claim her. And that’s exactly what I was going to do.

Before she could even take a step toward me—or away from me—I had opened the passenger door of her car.

"Huh?" she huffed, indignation flashing across her face. "The car’s mine. I have the key. I don’t know how you—"

"I have my ways," I said, voice low, dangerous, and amused at the same time.

I loved pulling out a cute masked with annoyed expressions out of her. She looked so cute whenever she looked annoyed.

Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pressed into a thin line. And yet... there was the blush. Just a faint one, but it was there, heating the skin of her cheeks. God, I missed her. I missed every tiny reaction, every subtle movement, every breath she took when she thought no one was watching.

She didn’t yell at me. Didn’t demand I leave. Didn’t ask me to explain what I was doing there. She just looked at me like she was annoyed at a storm she couldn’t control. I wanted that. I wanted her to know I could storm into her life without warning and she couldn’t stop me.

I slid into the driver’s seat, closing the door behind me, feeling that familiar weight of power settle in my chest. She would argue, she would frown, but she would stay. And she did. She always did, eventually.

I started the car, the engine growling beneath me, and reached for something I knew she loved. A girl group song started to play softly through the speakers, the beat light but insistent. I was sure she would notice.

I watched her closely, just out of the corner of my eye, and when I did, I saw it—the small, unspoken acknowledgment that she liked this. That she remembered the last time I played it. That she remembered me.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I asked her, casually, smoothly, because I wanted to hear her voice, her tone, her hesitation, her answers, even if they were cold.

"How was your day, Princess? Classes? Everything okay?"

She didn’t look at me right away. Her fingers tightened around her bag strap, eyes fixed on the road ahead.

"Fine."

Just that. One word. Sharp enough to cut.

I hummed, like she’d just given me a detailed report. "That’s good. ’Fine’ is better than ’exhausting.’ Means you didn’t want to throw any professors out of a window."

She shot me a weird look. Flat. Warning. "I didn’t say that. I never wanted to throw anyone out of a window."

"I know." I grinned, turning onto the main road. "But I can tell. You have a very specific face when you’re irritated. Right here." I lifted a finger, circling the air near my temple. "That little crease."

"There is no crease," she muttered.

"There is. It’s cute."

She scoffed and turned toward the window, clearly done with me.

I didn’t stop. Because I didn’t want her to be done with me.

"So. What did you have today?" I asked. "That literature class you hate? Or the one with the boring slides?"

Silence.

I nodded to myself. "Literature, then."

Her jaw tightened. "Why do you even care about any of that?"

I shrugged, easy. "Because you’re sitting in a car with me right next to you, and I’m driving you home. This is usually the part where people talk."

"I didn’t ask you to come." She huffed, rolling her eyes.

Fuck! Wasn’t she so cute?!

"No," I agreed calmly. "You didn’t."

Another pause. Longer this time.

I glanced at her again, catching the way she was fighting a smile. Barely. Like it annoyed her that her lips even considered it.

"What about lunch?" I continued. "Did you eat? Don’t answer—" I tilted my head. "You didn’t eat lunch, I can tell."

She sighed, exasperated. "You don’t know that."

"I do," I said. "You’d be less grumpy if you had."

"I’m not grumpy."

"Princess," I said gently, "you called ’fine’ an entire conversation."

She crossed her arms. "You’re infuriating."

I laughed softly. "That’s new. Usually I’m charming."

She shot me another look, this one sharper. "You’re persistent."

"That’s also true."

We stopped at a light. I drummed my fingers against the steering wheel in time with the song playing, deliberately casual, deliberately light.

"So," I said, like we weren’t dancing around something much heavier, "any assignments I should be jealous of? Or are you free tonight?"

She groaned. "You’re impossible."

"And yet," I said smoothly, turning to look at her fully now, "you’re still here with me, not trying to or threatening me you want to get down."

She didn’t answer. But she didn’t tell me to stop talking either.

That was enough. That was a progress and I wanted more. More of this. More of her. More of us. Together, of course.