Color Me Pretty: A Father's Best Friend Romance

The spell of her hips rising and grinding and riding me was broken when my cell went off on the nightstand. Nobody bothered me early unless it was necessary, but I couldn’t make myself care. Not when I had Della’s pussy squeezing me so tight it felt like she was trying to milk me of cum every time she lowered down in frantic movements.

It rang again.

Gripping her hip, I kept her moving against me, our skin slapping, the wet sounds between us loud and telling, as I lifted the phone to my ear and pistoling inside of her. “Somebody better be fucking dead, Flamell.”

Della didn’t stop like I thought she would. If anything, the hand I kept on her only made her wilder for more as we worked each other’s bodies to the brink. She started circling her hips and biting her lip to be quiet, but she rode me harder, faster, until sweat covered both of us.

“That’s it, baby,” I cooed, “just like that.”

“It’s Katrina Murphy,” he told me.

I let out a breathy groan as Della changed position and took me deeper. I jackknifed upward, filling her the same time she moved down, causing her to tighten around me again and I knew she was close. “What about her?”

There was no doubt in my mind he knew what I was doing right now, and with who because I was all but grunting as Della fucked herself with my dick at the pace she set. But I didn’t give a shit. I needed Della to come, to let me drive into her until I couldn’t hold back and come so fucking deep inside her cunt that she’d never get rid of me.

Della was so lost in the moment I don’t think she even registered the phone. “Theo,” she cried out. “I need you to come inside of me. Please.”

The same moment Flamell opened his mouth, Della threw her head back and came like she knew my thoughts, her mouth parted in a silent scream as she gripped me so hard I couldn’t help but follow behind her, holding her down while I emptied myself in spurts inside of her. “She was found dead over on the south side. Overdosed. Police were called an hour ago. Coroner just took her body away.”

I was coming down from my high with Della tucked close into my sweaty body when I tensed under her. Her arms tightened around my shoulders, seemingly unknowing of what Flamell had told me.

“West?” he asked.

“I’m here,” I murmured, words thick.

“Tell Della that I’m sorry,” was what he ended it with before hanging up.

I dropped the phone onto the bed beside me and wrapped my arms around Della, keeping her close to me. My softening dick was still inside her as we caught our breath.

“Baby,” I whispered into the crook of her neck where I kissed her softly.

She hummed.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Della

Dead. There was no way that could be true. It’d been hours since he told me, and I still didn’t believe him. It hadn’t sunk in until I asked Dallas to drop me off at my apartment. I knew Theo had things he needed to do, even though he offered to stay with me. I didn’t want him to.

How could she be dead?

Rationally, I knew how. I knew why. I’d told myself if she didn’t get help that overdosing was a likely possibility. I didn’t want it to be true. I didn’t want…

Throat thick, I stared at the fluffball Theo sent home with me, his gentle licks on my shins not as comforting as I was sure he’d hoped for. I picked up Ramsay and cuddled him on the couch, in a daze as I repeated those words in my head.

“I’m so sorry, Della. So sorry.”

Exhaling roughly, I squeezed my eyes shut to fight off the onslaught of tears that burned them. Theo might not have liked Kat, Sam, or Gina, but he’d meant what he said. Whether he’d been sorry for me or for her, I wasn’t sure. Maybe both. All I knew was that I’d been sorrier than he could have known.

Kat had overdosed.

Overdosed after I’d given her…

Ramsay barked when I made a choking noise and curled into myself. He jumped off my lap and onto the floor, head cocked, and eyes focused on me. The tears poured down my cheeks over the guilt that surfaced hard and heavy in my chest.

Reaching for my phone, I dialed the first person I could think of that wouldn’t look differently at me if I admitted what I’d done with details I’d held back. “I need you to come over.”