Chapter 74 Chapter 74 Leftovers
The closer I get to the house, the louder the boys get. The sun is blazing above us, and they’re out on the beach playing soccer. Arno and Sal are goalies, small mounds of sand marking each goal. They’re playing skins and shirts—of course they are. Ivan, Leo, Jax, and Illia Jr. are shirts. Illia Sr., Can, Christian, and Matteo are skins.
I don’t see Dimitri.
Christian spots me first and waves me over, hollering for me to join and take his dad’s place.
“Where is Dimitri?” I ask, stepping closer.
“He’s somewhere in the house sulking,” Ivan says, a cigarette hanging from his mouth like it’s glued there.
“You hurt his feelings,” Sal adds. “Ivan hasn’t shut up about it.”
They all laugh.
I yank my sweatshirt off and step onto the sand. “Ivan better stop before he gets bit too.”
I take the ball from Ivan, spinning around him before he can react. I weave past Leo, dodge Jax, fake Sal out, and score. Matteo lifts me off the ground in celebration while Christian bumps his chest into mine. I blow kisses straight at Ivan.
“You guys suck. I could beat you blindfolded and alone,” I laugh.
“Beginner’s luck,” Sal shoots back.
“Sure,” I grin. They have no idea I actually play. I’m not even sure Ivan knows.
The game restarts. Sal passes to Jax, but I charge in, stealing the ball clean. I flick it up to my knees, bouncing it forward as I close in on the goal. One smooth motion—knee, lift, head—and I slam it toward Sal. It flies past him, missing his face by an inch.
“Are you fucking with us?” Sal laughs.
“Oh yeah.” I turn toward Ivan. “What have you been teasing Dimitri about?”
Ivan tries to dribble the ball but fumbles. “Oh, you know… he always gets my leftovers.”
I freeze.
Heat floods my face, anger surging so fast it makes my vision blur. Did he really just say that?
He looks up, realizes exactly what he did.
Too late.
Matteo kicks the ball toward me. I trap it under my foot, staring Ivan down.
“Did you just fucking call me leftovers?”
“I didn’t mean you—” he starts, but I’m already moving.
I flick the ball up, twist my body, and scissor-kick it straight into his face as hard as I can. He drops into the sand, hands clutching his face. I wouldn’t be surprised if I broke his nose. He doesn’t even make a sound.
“Seriously?” he mutters, sitting up.
Strike two.
“I guess I shouldn’t be too mad,” I say coldly. “Everyone’s getting leftovers from me after Kiril.”
The name hangs heavy in the air.
For the first time, Ivan’s face crumbles. Real emotion. Raw, unguarded. He looks like he might actually cry.
“Spare me,” I cut him off. “I just broke up with the king of apologies.”
I grab my sweatshirt and turn toward the house.
Illia Jr. catches up to me. “I’m done playing too,” he says with an easy smile.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “Feels like I’m ruining your family vacation.”
“Not even close,” he laughs. “You make it interesting.” He rubs the back of his neck. “You should come to my dad’s 55th birthday. All our moms will be there.”
I blink. “All… of them?”
He grins. “Yeah. It’s going to be chaos.”
I nod, still processing, and he heads off down the hall, leaving me outside Dimitri’s room.
I step inside.
He’s stretched out on the bed, phone in hand, texting. Doesn’t even look up as I walk in. Fine.
I strip and head into the bathroom, turning the water on hot enough to steam the mirrors. I let the anger bleed out of me, dripping down the drain as I wash my face. By the time I’m done, my body feels lighter.
I coat my skin in coconut oil, then layer vanilla lotion over it. My hair, still gray, gets brushed smooth. I take my time, grounding myself.
When I walk out, Dimitri is sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.
I walk toward him slowly, adding a sway to my hips.
His eyes lift, tracking every step.
I stop between his legs, turn my back to him, and lean into him, pressing my body against his. He exhales sharply, arms wrapping around me instantly, pulling me tight.
“I’m sorry I gave him ammo,” I murmur, guiding his hands up over my chest.
He groans low in his throat.
“I shouldn’t have said what I said either,” he admits, pressing a kiss to my shoulder.
I push my hips back harder against him.
“Do you forgive me, daddy?” I whisper, turning to face him.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “You know that does things to me.”
I slide my hand down his chest, tracing the lion tattoo before wrapping my fingers around him. He’s already hard.
Not surprising.
I tug his sweats down and drop to my knees.
“You don’t have to—” he starts, reaching for me.
“Rule number one,” I cut him off, licking from base to tip, “don’t tell me no.” I circle him with my tongue. “Also… I want to.”
I pull back, spit into my hand, and stroke him slowly.
“Rule number two,” I murmur, taking his tip into my mouth, “don’t tell me you love me.”
He laughs, the sound breaking into a groan as I take him deeper.
“Rule number three… don’t get jealous.”
I place small kisses on his thighs and squeeze his base twisting my hand, moving up and down his shaft driving him mad. I lick and softly suck on him teasing slowly. Picking up my pace I take him all the way as deep as I can go without restricting my breathing. I hold him tighter moving faster and faster.
A knock interrupts us.
“Don’t come in!” Dimitri snaps.
I don’t stop. I feel his veins swell, his hands grab my head. I hum around him, taking him deeper until I choke, and that’s what pushes him over. His hand tightens in my hair as he spills down my throat with a sharp, deep grunt.
I swallow around him, keeping him buried deep.
“It’s me,” Ivan’s voice comes through the door.
“We’re busy!” Dimitri calls back, still breathing hard.
I open my mouth and let him slide out slowly while looking up at him.
“Damn,” he mutters, staring down at me.