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“Take your time,” Dimo rests his hand on my shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in.”
“How’s Mama?”
“She surprisingly took it better than I thought. She’s met him.”
“Wow,” I say, nodding slowly to steady my breathing. “I think I want to meet him.”
A few days later, I’m pacing back and forth in my bedroom, the sound of my footsteps muffled by the carpet. My heart is racing, and I can’t seem to find a way to calm it down. I keep glancing at the clock on my nightstand.
I could’ve waited downstairs with Dimo or helped Magda in the kitchen, but they’ve all but kicked me out of the house because I was being too fidgety.
I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror as I pass by. My face looks tense, and I try to smooth out the worry lines on my forehead. I take a deep breath, though it doesn’t seem to help much.
I stop at my desk, my eyes landing on a picture of our father. I wonder if Atlas has the same eyes or the same smile as Baba. The anticipation is almost unbearable. I move to the window, looking out at the driveway, hoping to see a car pull up. Nothing yet.
My burner phone buzzes on the bed, and I jump, nerves on edge.
Dion: Good luck today.
I haven’t seen Dion since I came home from the hospital, but he’s messaged me every day since.
Though I miss him, we’ve been sticking to the deal we made to not see each other until I’m better and the entire ordeal with Andrew is over. If it ever does end…
I read the message a second time. I never told him I was meeting Atlas today. It must have been my brother.
Me: Are you and Dimo best friends now?
Dion: Something like that.
Dion: Send me an ootd pic.
I laugh out loud.
Me: Ew, Dion. Are we in 2017? If you want to know what I’m wearing, you can just ask.
Dion: Just send me a fucking picture, Aria.
Me: I’m rolling my eyes at you.
Dion: Remember what happened last time you did that?
Within an instant, my heart is hammering, a steady thrum. The memory of Dion spanking me while penetrating me deeply from behind runs wild in my head.
Warmth spreads through me, starting low in my belly.
Dion: Is my little liar speechless?
My fingers twitch, as if they have a mind of their own, and I bite my lip, trying to focus on my text.
Me: No…
Dion: Then tell me that you’re dying to have me inside you again.
I feel a flush rise to my cheeks and my breath quickens, becoming shallower and more rapid.
Holy hell.
The mere thought of his dick inside me still leaves me breathless.
