“Swallow,” he orders without hesitation.
“You heard him,” I say, releasing her cinched mouth from my grip before her throat bobs. “She missed a little.” Taking my thumb, I push it into her mouth, “but she’s sucking it off my thumb.”
“Jesus Christ,” Sean curses.
“Don’t worry about grabbing me dinner,” I taunt, grinning down at her, “because, by the time you get here, I’ll already have eaten.”
Ending the call, I pull her to her feet, and Cecelia shakes her head, mock scorn in her eyes. “You’re horrible.”
“You’ll thank me for that, and you know it.”
“Yeah,” she grins, “I probably will.”
“You’re finally owning it,” I state, gripping her hair and pulling it back to expose her throat.
“Yeah, I am,” she whimpers as I flatten my tongue at the divot of her throat before running it to her mouth, thrusting my tongue in for a little preview.
“Dom,” she grits out, body rattling with anticipation, chest heaving, eyes dilated, expression needy.
“Need something?”
She narrows her demanding navy blues. I love it when she gets like this because she’s almost impossible to keep satiated. Gripping her jaw, I take her mouth, tasting myself while walking her back toward the bed. Pushing her back, I tug down her panties and sink to my knees. Spreading her soaked pussy, I stroke it with my fingers leisurely, and she’s so fucking ready after what just went down that she comes. Gazing down at her, I send up a selfish prayer for more rain just before I bow my head and worship.
“One day, I watched the sun setting forty-four times . . . You know . . . when one is so terribly sad, one loves sunsets.”—Le Petit Prince, Antoine de Saint-Exupéry
The nurse rolls Delphine to my open passenger door before helping me situate her in the seat. She surprises me when she calls after the nurse with a seemingly appreciative goodbye. Scrutinizing her when I’m in my driver’s seat, I notice a difference in her demeanor. “You good? You seem . . . good.”
She gives me an easy nod as I turn the ignition over, eyes the same rare gray staring back at me. “You seem good, too.”
“A rarity for us,” I jest.
My quip dims some of the light in her eyes before she speaks. “Can we . . . can we go somewhere?”
Her request has me pausing my hand on the gearshift. “You don’t want to go home?”
“I would like to see a sunset,” she declares, her attention darting out of the windshield and back to me. “Do you know of a place?”
“We live in a mountain town. There are plenty of places to choose from.” I glance at my dash clock and see we have two hours at most before sundown.
“Take me to one,” she orders, clicking her belt and settling in.
“You don’t feel sick?” I ask, pulling out of the circular drive.
“I have cancer and poison pumping through me to chase it,” she expels a breath, “I always feel sick.”
An ill feeling runs through me as I question her motive. “Planning on dying today?”
“Non, why?” She reads my expression. “I’m just trying to make good use of the time I have.”
I mull that over. “Did the doctor tell you something?”
“Non.”
“I can call the oncologist, Delphine,” I remind her.
“Non,” she sighs. “I only had my treatment.”
If I hadn’t caught her wiping a tear away, I would never believe it was there. The only tears I’ve ever seen the woman shed were when I was still of single-digit age, and those were for my parents and her ex-husband.
“You can take me home if you want to, I just wanted to spend some time with you. Is that such a crime?”
“Considering you never have, it’s surprising.”
“We are . . . friends now, are we not?” She asks.
“If you say so,” I jest.
“Fine, take me home.”
“I’ve got a place to take you if you tell me why you’re leaking,” I prompt, spotting another fast tear trailing down her cheek. The sight of it jogs the memory of Cecelia that day she came to me. Her eyes were pouring, just as emotional, because something significant had happened, and it appears to be the case for my aunt.
“Why are you so upset, Tatie?”
“I don’t want to talk about me.” She appraises me as I pull to a stop light. “You are a handsome man. So much of Celine I see in you.”
“Are we seriously having a heart-to-heart?” I ask, utterly confused.
“You have found love,” she states, not at all a question.
I blink back at her. “Why would you think that?”
“We are so alike, Dominic. I know you might not want to hear it—and maybe do not believe it—but we are. In many ways. I’m happy if you have.”
“Happy if I found love with Roman’s daughter?” I query incredulously.
She stares back at me, lips quirking. “You deny you are?”
“That wasn’t the question,” I redirect.
She turns back to stare out of the windshield. “I am happy you are capable, that you embrace it.”
“Wouldn’t go that far,” I mutter, almost inaudibly, but that’s not exactly true anymore. We spend the first of the drive making small talk, which makes me feel a little like I’ve entered the Twilight Zone. She laughs, twice, and loudly. The unease increases, and I start to wonder if she’s lying about her treatment progression and is now on borrowed time.
A little under an hour later, we’re coasting up the narrow, winding road to the top of the mountain with twenty minutes to spare for the sunset. Delphine remains quiet, trusting me to get her there, anticipation radiating from where she sits with a rare hope in her eyes. When I pull into a parking lot which consists of nothing but a small building sitting to the right of us, she looks over to me skeptically. “Here?”
I nod and walk around the car to help her out. She practically falls against me when she hits her feet, sweat beading her brow and upper lip as I grip her tightly to keep her upright. “You okay?”
Her lips tremble, her pride at stake as she eyes the distance to the building. “I’m weaker than . . . we don’t have to—”
“I’ll walk you,” I assure her. Her eyes again mist and I clutch her to me, walking her toward the building. When we reach the steep stairs leading to the door, she looks at them warily, shaking her head. “Dominic, I’m too wea—”
“I’ve got you.” Sweeping her securely in my arms, I take the stairs toward the doorway just as a man opens it and spots us, quickly ushering his wife through and holding it for us to pass.
“Thank you,” I mutter, and Delphine echoes it. Her eyes trail the couple, who curiously stare back at us as I step in, cradling her to my chest.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Tatie,” I tell her just as she buries her face in my shoulder before I slowly start descending the heavily inclined steps passing the vacant pews which sit to our left and right.
Once I reach the bottom, I glance around satisfied before nudging her with the lift of my shoulder. “Just in time for the show. Look at your sunset, Tatie.”