Sexting My Ex’s Dad (Forbidden Silver Foxes)

40. Elio

40

ELIO

F ury courses through me, and Stella is standing there, breathless, her cheeks flushed from giving that lapdance.

I shouldn’t care what she does, but I do. And I don’t want her on another man’s lap.

“That’s what we do now, huh?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Give lap dances to random guys?”

“It is my job.”

“That part doesn’t have to be, or did you forget that I own this business which means I know how it works.”

She wrinkles her nose at me. “As my boss you should want me to rake in as much money as I can. It doesn’t matter how I get it.”

She’s doing this just to irk me.

I grab her wrist, pushing her against the wall. The impact is hard enough to make her wince, but she doesn’t try to break free. Whether she says the words out loud or not; they’re obvious. She doesn’t want to go anywhere else. Her gaze never leaves mine, defiant even now.

“Did you mean to make me jealous? Because it worked,” I snarl, anger and hurt twisting together until they’re indistinguishable.

“Jealous?” she scoffs, disbelief etched across her face. “This has nothing to do with you.”

“Nothing to do with me?” My grip tightens. “Everything you do has something to do with me.”

Suddenly, everything shifts. Anger morphs into something else entirely – desire, longing, desperation. Before I know it, I’ve closed the distance between us, pressing Stella against the door and capturing her lips in a fierce, aggressive kiss.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or why this woman makes me question myself. I had been the one to walk out on her…to end our situationship, but seeing her with another man…I can’t allow that. It doesn’t matter what I say or do; I still expect her to be mine.

And she, so easily, plays right into it.

Her initial shock melts away as she reciprocates, matching my intensity with her own. It’s as if our bodies remember each other perfectly, despite the time and distance that has separated us. My hands find her waist, pulling her closer, while hers tangle in my hair, anchoring herself to me.

She tastes just as I remember – sweet and intoxicating, a heady combination that sends my senses reeling. I hate the fact that I seem to have some kind of feelings for her, that I can’t seem to let her go…that I can’t stop myself from thinking about her. My mind screams at me to pull away, to regain control, but I don’t listen.

My bottom head wouldn’t let me even if I tried.

I force myself to pull away, my chest heaving. “You were being paid for a lap dance, weren’t you?” I whisper, the words bitter on my tongue.

Stella’s eyes widen at my question. She hesitates, then nods, biting her lip as if unsure how to respond. “Yeah,” she admits softly, her voice barely audible over the pounding music outside.

“Then give me one,” I demand, my tone harsher than intended. I take a step back and drop into the chair in the center of the room. I watch her closely, trying to ignore the nagging feeling that this isn’t right – that we shouldn’t be doing this.

For a moment, I think she’s going to slap me. I wouldn’t blame her if she did.. But she doesn’t argue or refuse; instead, she squares her shoulders and walks towards me slowly, deliberately. As she moves, her long, wavy brown hair sways like a sensual dance in itself, capturing my attention and pulling me deeper under her spell.

“Fine,” she says, her voice laced with defiance. She stops just in front of me, her petite frame casting a shadow over my seated form.

My pulse quickens as Stella starts dancing, her body moving gracefully to the rhythmic beat of the bass that vibrates through the floor. Her hands glide over her curves, drawing my gaze to every inch of her exposed skin. The way she carries herself screams confidence, but I can’t help but notice a hint of vulnerability in her eyes – a subtle reminder of the trust issues that have e waalways plagued her.

Trust issues that I’ve caused her…

As much as I want to reach out and touch her, to assure her that I won’t hurt her again, I remain still, my hands gripping the armrests of the chair. The seconds tick by excruciatingly slow, each one stretching into an eternity as Stella’s dance continues.

Finally, the timer goes off, signaling the end of the song and the conclusion of our illicit encounter. Stella steps away from me, her breath coming in shallow pants as she mutters, “I have to get back to work.”

“Wait—” I start, but she cuts me off with a firm shake of her head.

“I can’t, Elio,” she says, her voice barely audible as she turns away.

I can’t let her walk away.

If I’m being honest, I’m selfish. Even though I know I shouldn’t be with her, I can’t let her be with anyone else.

It’s me or nobody.

My hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around her delicate wrist as I keep her from leaving. “Come to my place later.”

“Why?”

“So we can talk.”

She scoffs. “Talk about what? How much it hurt when you dump me? No, I told you that if you walked out then I wouldn’t even think about you again.”

“Then you’re fooling yourself. I’m all you think about.” I wouldn’t say I’m cocky, but the truth is so evident in her eyes.

“I’m not coming,” she says.

“Then I’ll come to you.” I shrug. “But either way we’re going to talk.”

She stares at me for a while, face all scrunched up, and I can tell that there’s so much she wants to say however she walks away without saying them.

I smirk. I would bet every last penny I had that I’d be seeing her tonight at my mansion.