Make Me Moan, Daddy-Chapter 12

REINA

We walked to the main house together, hand in hand because that’s what we were supposed to do. The air smelled faintly of coffee and freshly baked bread when we stepped into the dining room. Breakfast was already laid out—fruit, pastries, eggs, meats—a spread that belonged in a magazine.

The maids moved quietly around the table, pouring juice and filling plates.

I sat beside Paolo, my legs crossed, the hem of my dress sliding up just enough to show the edge of my thigh. The maids finished their tasks and slipped out, the soft click of the door closing behind them.

It wasn’t until then that Domenico entered.

My breath caught without my permission. He wore a black shirt, open at the collar, sleeves rolled just enough to show the strong lines of his forearms, the same arms that had held me just last night.

Domenico’s presence filled the room instantly, heavy and deliberate. He didn’t just walk in—he claimed the space without having to announce his presence.

Father-in-law sat across from me, his eyes finding mine almost immediately. My pulse thudded hard in my ears.

"Good morning, father." I swallowed down nothing as I greeted the man who had made me come harder than I had ever done in my entire life.

A smug smile tugging on his lips as he grabbed a napkin. Fuck, those lips. That sinful mouth that had been buried deep in my pussy, licking me all over, making me cry out in pleasure.

Just thinking about it now, I felt my pussy throb and I had to press my thighs together, biting down hard on my lower lip so I wouldn’t make any sound.

Your husband is right here next to you, Reina! Get it the fuck together!

"Morning, princess. Did you sleep well?" Domenico asked, his lips curved upward as he smirk, making my heart skipped a beat.

Oh, God! That name, with the seductive way he had said it, made me want to burry my fingers deep in my cunt. I wanted to fuck myself with that sound repeating in my head.

This wasn’t the first time Domenico had called me by that name, but this time, it felt so wrong, so sinful and yet so sexy.

He was obviously flirting with me, how could Paolo really not notice that?

Was he just dumb, or did he simply just don’t give a fuck about me?

I tried to focus on my food, cutting into a piece of fruit, bringing it to my lips. But every time I chewed, I imagined something else between my lips—something warm, hard, heavy. I shifted in my seat, pressing my thighs together under the table.

When I glanced up again, Domenico was watching me. Not just watching—studying. The slow curl of his mouth into a smirk made my skin heat. He lifted his fork, sliding it past his lips, and drew it back out with a subtle lick that made my mind go somewhere dangerous.

I could almost feel it—his tongue on my nipple, slow and deliberate like that. My stomach tightened.

He then winked at me.

I quickly dropped my gaze to my plate, pretending to busy myself with another bite, but it was too late. My mind was already slipping. The taste of grapes on my tongue became the taste of him, the slick heat of his mouth. I was getting wet. Right there at the breakfast table, with my husband sitting beside me.

Paolo didn’t notice. He never did.

Just as if he could hear my thoughts—like my husband could somehow sense me thinking about him—Paolo cleared his throat and slowly set his fork down.

"Father," he said, his voice clipped, and I could feel the tension rolling off him beside me. "I got a call from the facility this morning. Elisa pulled a trick on her nurse... and now they can’t find her."

The air in the dining room dropped ten degrees. I didn’t even have to look up to know Domenico’s gaze had darkened—his stare was so sharp I could feel it cutting through me. He hated his daughter. That much was no secret. And nothing infuriated him more than hearing her name spoken aloud at his table, least of all during his rare, peaceful breakfast. 𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

I had only seen Elisa once—on my wedding day two years ago. At the time, I hadn’t even known Paolo had a sister. Neither he nor his brother had ever spoken of her. She was their secret, their shame, the black sheep cast from the family tree.

The whispers said Elisa was nothing but a rebellious child who grew into an addict, her whole life revolving around drugs and the people who could feed her more drugs. She’d been locked away in rehab long before I met Paolo. Yet somehow, she had slipped free—just long enough to crash my wedding.

I remembered it vividly. The way she’d stood there, defiant, a storm in human form... only for Domenico’s men to drag her away like she was nothing. Later, Paolo had told me she was "mentally ill," that she needed to be contained, managed, locked away.

Now she’d escaped again.

And the worst part? The silence around this table—the way no one gasped or flinched—proved it wasn’t a tragedy to them. To this family, Elisa wasn’t a daughter, or a sister, or a life. She was a stain. A disgrace.

"I should have killed that piece of trash before she grew into this disgrace," Domenico muttered, his tone dripping with rage. "I should never have listened to that pathetic excuse of a mother of yours."

The scoff that followed was heavy enough to make the chandelier above us tremble. I could feel his fury radiating, crushing the air in the room until breathing became a conscious effort.

Paolo dragged in a shaky breath. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as I heard his leg bouncing under the table, betraying the panic he never allowed to show on his face.

"What should I do, Father?" His voice cracked, just slightly. For the first time, I realized how much he cared for his sister... how hard he worked to hide it.

"You already know what must be done," Domenico bit out, his words like a death sentence.

My throat tightened. A lump burned there.

Paolo exhaled through his nose, forcing calm. "Alright, sir. I’ll have Calestino track her down and return her to the facility."

Relief rushed through me so fast I nearly sagged against my chair. For one terrifying heartbeat, I had thought Domenico was ordering her execution. And God help me, I wouldn’t have been surprised.

This family was fucked. Rotten from the inside out. I wouldn’t even blink if they slit their own blood’s throat and called it "necessary."

We fell into silence again, the sound of silverware against porcelain filling the void. My gaze drifted to the empty chairs at the table. A chill rippled over my spine as I wondered—how different would this breakfast be if everyone else were here?

And then, as if on cue, Domenico’s knife screeched against his plate—slow, deliberate—until the sound turned my bones to glass.

We were halfway through the meal when Paolo pushed his chair back. "I should get going," he said, brushing crumbs from his lap. "Flight’s in a few hours."

I nodded, keeping my voice even. "Safe travels."

Paolo smiled, he leaned down, kissed my cheek, and was gone.

The door clicked shut behind him. The silence that followed felt thick, charged.

I lifted my gaze. Domenico hadn’t moved his eyes from me.

The scrape of his chair against the floor was the only warning before he stood and crossed the room. He came to my side, his hand curling around the back of my neck as he leaned down.

The kiss hit me like a storm—hungry, claiming, his mouth crushing mine in a way that stole my breath. I gasped against him, and he used it, sliding his tongue into my mouth, tasting me like he owned me.

He seemed... Pissed? I wondered why.

My fingers clenched around the edge of the table, but he was already pulling me up, forcing me to my feet, then lifting me onto the polished wood. Plates clattered and rolled aside, forgotten.

His hands were everywhere—gripping my thighs, dragging me closer until I could feel the heat of him pressing between my legs.

He bit my bottom lip, hard enough to make me moan, then soothed it with his tongue. "You dressed for me," he murmured against my mouth. "You have been fucking with me, Reina."

"I didn’t," I whispered, but it was a lie, and we both knew it.

He smirked, his breath hot against my cheek. Biting hard on my bottom lip again. "Liar."

His lips trailed down my neck, biting, sucking, leaving marks I wouldn’t be able to hide. My head fell back, a small whimper escaping my lips before I could stop it.

What the hell are we doing? Paolo just walked out barely fifteen seconds ago. What the hell am I doing right now?