GIANNI
“What's wrong? Is he okay? Did something happen?”
I tap the screen to pause the replay, then rewind it back ten seconds to watch it again. To savor the change in Caterina's voice and posture when she got the idea there was something wrong here. How quickly she jumped from bitter sadness to concern over me. The desperation edging her words, her breathlessness, it's all somewhat gratifying.
I sit back in my chair with a smile, watching the change come over her again. Does she realize she changed so suddenly, or is she still kidding herself into thinking we’re through?
She can run all she wants but can't pretend she doesn't care. At least I know I still have that.
Just as I still have my daughter’s loyalty. Am I entirely thrilled she went behind my back to visit Caterina without at least telling me her plan? No, but I can forgive her secret visit since I know she's defending me. While Tatiana loves her best friend, she also wants to be sure Caterina knows the truth—at least, the truth as she knows it. There are still parts of my life she's unaware of, and that's by design. I'll never want anything more than to protect her from the ugliness and danger.
Even if she resents me for it. That little joke about her inability to relate to having a dishonest father. It touched a nerve, and I'm still seething more than an hour later after getting home and immediately pulling up the footage recorded by the camera in Caterina's room. I couldn't have imagined I'd find my daughter there, but if anything, she did me a favor. She gave me insight into my little bird’s psyche, probably more than she would have offered if I had come straight out and asked.
No, there’s no probably about it. I believed her when she swore she wouldn’t feed Caterina any stories about me. Not my fierce, independent kid. As much as it irritates me, I can’t help but appreciate her loyalty.
I have to know exactly what Caterina’s thinking, feeling, doing. I need to use any tool at my disposal, because she will not make it easy to win her back.
I hope she doesn’t think her stubbornness and a few ignored phone calls will convince me to leave her alone. If so, she should know me better than that. It's the hardest-won victories that are the most satisfying, and I always win. Caterina cannot escape me. She might think she has, but only because I let her believe she could.
Now the clock is ticking. It's past eleven, and knowing Caterina, she'll want to go to bed soon. Especially if she plans on going to work in the morning. I settle back at my desk, a drink in hand, my tie discarded, and my shirt partly unbuttoned. The house is quiet, painfully so. Incredible how the solitude I valued so highly not that long ago, now leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.
All this peace and quiet does is remind me of what I've lost, even when I plan to get it back. Next time, I'll be more careful. I won't give her a reason to run away. If it means honesty, as Roger said earlier, I can make that sacrifice. I can learn to be better, to open up even when I don't think it matters.
I would tell her that, if only she were here. All the promises I would make. If she asked for the moon, I would happily comply, as long as it ended this constant, painful longing. Now that I've had her, it's the height of cruelty to ask me to live without her. Without her body, her sweetness.
Her goodness. Her warmth and her light.
Her tight pussy gripping me, commanding me when I want to be the one doing the commanding. I’m a man who prides himself on strength, yet the fact is, she is my weakness. And while I should be working on removing her from my system, I know it would be a waste of time to even try.
Hence my sitting here, sipping my scotch, waiting for her to return to her room. The more I observe, the better my chance of getting inside her head and finding out what it will take to bring her around.
All I can do is laugh bitterly at myself before taking another sip from the glass. I can tell myself all I want, that this is nothing more than a means of understanding her better. Deep down inside, however, I can't deny the insatiable need to see her. To watch her undress and indulge myself in the sight of her lush perfection.
I sit up at attention when the bedroom door swings open. Finally. Did she have to put her father to bed? Resentment tugs in the back of my mind, and I grind my molars, eyes trained on the tablet. So he's been drinking, has he? And she would still rather be with him. It boggles my mind. Was it that bad here? Or is she being the dutiful daughter? Likely, except I'm not about to comfort myself with that idea.
She got scared and reacted emotionally; part of that was my fault. She won’t come back until I make things right. I'm not going to excuse myself.
There she is. The tension running through my body loosens at the sight of her. She softly closes the door and kicks off her shoes before sitting at the foot of the bed as she did earlier with Tatiana. She sighs, then drops her head into her hands, and I have to wonder if she's thinking about me.
“Do you know you made a mistake?” I whisper, taking in every part of her with my hungry gaze. There's something defeated about her posture, the way she props her elbows on her knees and exhales slowly, deeply. This is a girl with the weight of the world on her shoulders. I only want to take that weight away. Can't she see that? What do I have to do to prove myself to her?
She blows out a long sigh before standing and stretching. I know that look on her face. Plainly visible, thanks to the high-quality camera recording her. It's so clear and sharp I can practically see the pores on her face. She's determined. To do what I haven't the slightest idea, but I'll find out. Somehow, I'll find out what’s going on in that head of hers. She can’t hide from me.
When she crosses her arms over herself, taking the hem of her t-shirt in her hands, I barely move. She lifts the shirt overhead, revealing a lacy bra I've unhooked before. I can almost feel it under my fingers as I watch, instantly captivated. My own private show, made even more exciting since she doesn't know about it.
Next comes her jeans, and when she bends to pick them up off the floor, I’m treated to the sight of her ass. My cock stirs as hunger flares to life. It's always there, simmering, yet there's no keeping it from bursting into flames now that she's down to a skimpy thong. What I wouldn't give to touch her right now, to have her in my lap. Straddling me or bent over the desk. Yes, I like that better, the idea of her body sprawled across the desk, feet on the floor, legs spread. I would pull that thong off with my teeth before running my tongue between those round, firm cheeks.
She reaches behind her to unclasp the bra and free her tits, and now I have no choice but to lower my zipper and free what's already hard, straining. I could look at her body every day for years, for the rest of my life, and never get tired of it. Nothing will ever quench my thirst.
I take myself in my hand and stroke slowly while she goes through her dresser for one of those night shirts she likes to wear. I’ll replace every single one of them with my own. They suit her better than the hottest piece of lingerie ever could. There's something absurdly sexy about how she looks with the hem barely skimming the tops of her thighs, with her tits moving gently beneath the cotton. The taut peaks of her nipples brush against the fabric, and I groan at the thought of touching them, thumbing them slowly. Watching her expression as she dissolves in pleasure.
It's almost enough to make me consider getting in the car and driving there now, breaking in the way Roger did, stealing into her room, and taking her whether she likes it or not.
Deep down inside, I think she'd like it… eventually, anyway. She can't deny how her body needs mine, no matter what her brain tells her. There's always going to be a more profound wisdom beneath the surface.
She still looks miserable when she sits on the bed after pulling back the blanket. “Regretting your choices, huh?” I murmur, stroking myself faster, staring at her legs and wishing I was there to pry them open. “I bet you wish you had stayed now.”
Or is there something more? If I could only ask and get an answer. She told Tatiana she doesn't want to block my number, which only gives me hope. I can still get through to her. Remind her that no matter what's dragging her down, I will do everything in my power to remove it from her life. No matter what it is.
I fucking killed for her. What else must I do to prove what she means to me?
Her hands land on her thighs the way I wish mine could, and I stroke myself faster when they begin to creep up, almost reaching the hem of her shirt. “That's right,” I whisper, panting. “Touch yourself. Make yourself feel good. Envision me touching you. Do you wish I was there?”
My heart is ready to burst by the time she lies back, swinging her legs up onto the bed, then parting them. This is precisely why I wanted the camera angled the way it is now; I have a straight shot of her pussy, still covered by a thin piece of fabric, but only until she peels it off and sets it beside her.
Holy shit. Has it really only been two days since I gazed upon this glorious sight? Since I swept my tongue along her seam and reveled in her reaction. Her fingertips brush the insides of her thighs and I moan, using the cum dribbling from the tip of my cock to lube my shaft.
“That's right, baby,” I grunt, eyes glued to the spot between her legs. “Make yourself feel good. Do it for me, little bird. Come for me.”
She closes her eyes, arching her back at the first contact with her smooth pussy lips. Her mouth falls open and her head to the side when she strokes her pretty, pink clit. She knows just what to do and I watch, stroking faster, grunting with desire.
That could be me. It should be me.