by Remy Landon
Fuck. She was sure he knew exactly what he was doing, and God damn him for knowing and doing it anyway. She had all she could do not to shift in her chair, but she couldn't show him any signs that he was making her uncomfortable or that she was wavering in any way.
Cassandra willed her voice to be clear and strong. And it was. “Before you start telling me what you want me to hear, I need to thank you again, in person. For giving me Brownie. It was really very kind and generous of you. You know how much he means to me.”
“Yes. I do. But I didn't want you to think Brownie was any sort of bribe. When I heard from Ingrid that he was leaving, I knew I had to do something. He was actually a favorite of my mother's, so this gives me peace and makes me happy to know he'll be loved and cared for. And I didn't want you to have any more sadness or pain. Everything I've done these past few months has been my way of apologizing for hurting you, even though I know that doesn't come close to making it up to you. I don't even know if I ever can make it up to you. But I have to try. And I knew what I really needed to do was to talk to you and hopefully make you understand how I got so...fucked up.” He gave her a half smile.
“Is that the psychological term for it?”
Carlo's smile broadened, and Cassandra felt something uncurl inside her. “I'm glad to see you still have your sense of humor with me. I've missed how we used to banter back and forth.” He paused as he straightened on the couch. There was a distinct bulge in his pants, and she hoped to God it was just the pleats. “I've missed everything about you.”
Okay, so she felt like she really, really needed to get the focus of this conversation back to where it had to be. She reached out for her water, unscrewed the cap and took a quick sip, putting the bottle down quickly because her hand was goddamned trembling. And of course he was looking at her with one eyebrow raised as if to say, oh, am I getting to you?
“Carlo—you may have other ideas of how you want this talk to go, but I want to make it clear that I'm planning for this to be...closure. You obviously need to tell me something, and maybe I need to hear it, so we can both, you know...move on.”
“Move on?”
“Yes. So what is it I need to hear that's caused you to be the way you are?”
“Is that what you truly want, Cassandra—to move on? You want honesty from me, and I'm going to give you that, but I'd like to know what you're really feeling. Although it's becoming quite evident. You care much more than you're letting on.” Carlo's expression brightened into a wide smile. “You're rushing me because you're nervous. You want me to say what I want to say and then leave, because you don't trust yourself alone with me.” His eyes were shining with triumph. “I'm right, aren't I?”
She held herself rigidly in the armchair, her heart thundering in her chest. “This is very stressful for me to have you here, but it's not because of what you're thinking. It just brings up bad memories of—of the last time you were here.” There. That sounded convincing.
He studied her somberly. A shadow of guilt crossed his face. “I'm sorry,” he said quietly. “For everything. I've told you that I enjoy being dominant sexually—I always have. But my need to see women as playthings—to feel like I could be with them on my terms, then leave them and keep emotions out of it—this was my defense mechanism, and it came after I lost someone I loved very much. It was my fault.” He sighed deeply and stood up, running his hands through his hair and casting his gaze to the ceiling. “This is very difficult. I don't talk about it.”
““I can tell it's very painful for you, Carlo,” she said softly. “You don't have to say any more.”
“Don't I?” He turned to look at her.
God, he was so beautiful. She had a wild, reckless urge to get up from her chair and throw her arms around him, but she would fight that temptation like hell.
“No. You don't.” She swallowed hard. “We can just leave it like this. I don't want to be angry with you anymore.”
“Are you saying we're going to be okay?”
“I'm saying we're going to be...” The word caught in her throat, but she forced it out. “Over.”
“Bullshit,” he said softly. “I don't believe you.”
Suddenly, she was desperate for him to believe it—for her to believe it. “That man I was with last night...we've been dating.”
Carlo's expression darkened. “Are you fucking him?”
How dare he even ask? The arrogant bastard! Indignation made her stand up to face him. “That is none of your goddamned business.”
“I'm making it my business because of how I feel about you.”
“You can't control me, Carlo. You don't own me.”
“Oh, but Cassandra...you belong to me. You have from the moment I saw you.”
“So you think you can just claim me—just like that? You make me so fucking pissed off, I can't even find the words to tell you!”
“You may be angry, sweetheart, but there are other layers beneath that. And I'm going to unwrap you to find them.” He reached her in two quick strides, making her gasp as he grasped her upper arms and pulled her into him.
Pressed up against him, it felt like her insides were liquefying into a molten mess. “No...I am done with this. Done with you.” Her voice sounded small, too small—it was barely more than a whisper, for Christ's sake.
“You want me, Cassandra. I can see it in your face. You want me as much as I want you.” His gaze was fierce, raking over her, as if he were branding her with his eyes. His breathing was rough and ragged, and he shifted his hips against her. Oh, God...she could feel him.
“Look at me.”
Shaking her head, she put her hands on his chest, trying not to notice how warm he felt, how hard his muscles were beneath the thin shirt, trying to push him away, even as she knew she would fail.
“Look at me,” he repeated. “Cassandra.”
Reluctantly, she raised her eyes to his and saw the smoky color with hints of blue...saw the determination and the raw hunger for her.
“I am done,” she whispered, and realized those words had a different meaning.
Carlo realized it, too. “You are done resisting me,” he said hoarsely, his eyes burning with victory and desire. “You are done saying no.” He put his hands on either side of her face and crushed her mouth with his, parting her lips with his tongue.
To be kissed by this man, to taste him again, defied description and even coherent thought. It was as though she had been given a powerful drug. Her mind was swimming; she felt boneless, weightless, dizzy. She felt terrified yet exhilarated, completely blown away yet exactly where she belonged.
Holy...fuck.
He was kissing her deeply—almost desperately, still cradling her face in his strong hands. His tongue intertwined with hers, and just when she needed to take a breath, he would release the pressure just a fraction of an inch so that she could. And then he would return to kissing her relentlessly as she whimpered against his lips, fully aware that he was making her mouth yield and soften to him.
The rest of her soon followed. Her hands, which had been curled into fists against his broad chest, relaxed and opened. She felt his arms encircle her waist, pulling her tightly to him and making her gasp when she felt the hard bulge in his pants.
Her head tipped back as she took his tongue willingly, hungrily. Suddenly, Carlo's mouth left hers, and in one quick, smooth motion, she was swept up into his arms and cradled like a child. She began to speak but before she could do so, he buried his face in her neck. “God, I've missed your scent,” he said huskily, nuzzling her and sending shivers cascading through her body as he carried her quickly down the hallway—to her bedroom.
Random thoughts presented themselves to her as they approached her bed. Oh my fuck...do I feel heavy to him...he's carrying me so effortlessly...this should feel awkward and yet it doesn't...having him sit on the couch didn't matter...oh my fuck...
And the most pressing question: why am I not saying no?
The possibility of stopping this now wa
s about as remote as touching the moon. But why? Why, after the hurt and anguish he had caused her, would she be allowing this? This was more than just simple lust. It was because this was Carlo Leone. And it was because...
Now he was easing her down on her comforter, as gently as if she were made of glass. Immediately, he climbed on top of her, covering her mouth with his as he deftly unbuttoned her sweater and tugged it off, still kissing her, leaving her only in her cami.
He pulled back and looked down at her chest. “Your nipples are showing me how excited you are, Cassandra,” he said softly. “They're waiting to be sucked, aren't they?”
An instant throbbing between her legs.
“Answer me, please.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Something else would like to be sucked as well. Is that true?”
“Yes.”
“I want your hair spread out on the pillow. Take it down while I take off your pants.”
The lighting from the hallway was illuminating half of him— making him look almost as though he was made of marble—while the other half remained in shadow. The light and dark sides of Carlo Leone.
Obediently, she removed her elastic, unwrapped her bun and raked her fingers through her hair as Carlo hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her pants, worked them down over her hips and pulled them off so she was only in her cami and panties—plain, white cotton, bikini style panties, because she had wanted to convince herself he would not be seeing them, anyway.
The cool air in the bedroom was making her shiver. That, and the anticipation of what Carlo Leone was going to do to her.
Straightening up beside the bed, he seemed confident she wasn't going anywhere. And he was right. She lay there, silent and frozen with her heart flopping helplessly, as Carlo removed his tie and unbuttoned his shirt. Looking directly at her, he was breathing hard, his perfectly-sculpted lips slightly parted. Her eyes traced the outlines of his chiseled pecs and abs, resting on his belt buckle and the prominent bulge just below it.
She watched, wide-eyed and trembling, as he unbuckled his belt. Sliding off his pants and socks, he stood naked in front of her, this incredible specimen of a man. Looking at his enormous erection, she thought of how it would feel inside her, and burned with want.
Carlo moved onto the bed, hovering above her on his hands and knees. His dark brows lifted slightly and his eyes were shining and gentle as they roamed across her face. “This is just what I imagined. So beautiful,” he murmured. “So beautiful that it is taking every ounce of my willpower to wait. But I want us to savor our first time.” His voice was low, but his words made her startle. “Are you wet for me, Cassandra?”
Blushing furiously, she opened her mouth but couldn't speak.
“I'd like an answer. If I slipped my finger inside your panties and touched you, would I find you dripping wet?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me to do that?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
Carlo leaned forward, lifting up the bottom of her cami and planting a kiss just above her belly button as she shuddered, then working his fingers inside her bra and finding her taut nipple.
“Look at me, sweetheart.” His voice sounded mellow, golden—like warm honey.
As she brought her eyes up to meet his, he rubbed a fingertip over her nipple in a light, circular motion, causing an electric sensation to move down her abdomen, into her sex, creating more wetness.
“Please take off your bra.”
She quickly complied, letting it fall to the floor, and lay back down.
“Good girl. I'm going to suck on your nipples while I touch you. I want you saturated the first time I enter you, because I'm not going to be able to be gentle. And I don't think you want me to be, do you?”
She shook her head, sincerely hoping the anticipation wouldn't kill her.
“Good.” As he positioned his mouth over her left breast, Cassandra could feel small puffs of his breath as he exhaled. He took her nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue expertly over the peak, then closing his mouth and sucking gently at first, then more firmly. She gasped as she felt his teeth graze her tender flesh—just enough pain to heighten the pleasure.
He moved to her other breast and repeated his licking, sucking, nibbling. But this time, he put his hand down her panties, curving his fingers to sink into her pussy, and a low, guttural sound escaped his lips. “Christ, Cassandra—you're so fucking wet and ready for me.”
She let out a little cry as he plunged his fingers in deep. Did he expect her to be silent? Because she couldn't. Her pussy was tightening. His touch, and hearing him groan in desire, had brought her to the brink. Now he was sliding out his fingers and rubbing his thumb across her swollen clit as she steeled herself not to come. Oh. My. Fucking. God. This was agony. He put his mouth on hers to smother the sounds she was making.
Just when she couldn't hold back any longer, he withdrew his hand and his mouth. “Take off your panties and spread your legs wide for me, Cassandra.” His eyes were glazed with arousal and his breath was coming in long, ragged gasps, stray pieces of his black hair trembling against his forehead. He kissed her again, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth, and then climbed off the bed. For a split second, she wondered what he was doing until she saw him fishing in his pants pocket and bringing forth a foil packet. Protection. Presumptuous as hell of him to have it, but she felt a flash of gratitude.
She yanked down her bottoms as Carlo ripped open the packet, swiftly rolled the condom down his erection and returned to his position on top of her. As he rubbed his cock against her opening, she moaned again and bunched the comforter in her hands. The head of his shaft felt huge.
“I'm going to kiss you gently, sweetheart, but I'm going to fuck you hard. Are you ready to take my cock?”
Her voice was thick with desire. “Yes, Carlo.” God, yes.
Without further delay, he took her hands and pinned them over her head. Crushing her lips with his, he groaned against her mouth as he jerked his hips forward and thrust into her. She cried out.
“Ah, fuck, Cassandra—you're so tight. You feel so good...”
He was rock hard and huge, and she spread her legs wider to take him all in. He was kissing her softly now—slow, tender—but he was pounding into her slick opening, stretching her more than she had ever felt before. It was as though he was rewarding her with sweet kisses for allowing him to fuck her hard. This was the perfect balance of tenderness and force. Contrasts. This was Carlo.
She was in absolute awe that he filled her so completely—and it was more than physically. It wasn't just what she felt, but what she felt. It was ecstasy.
She could not hold out any longer. Sinking her fingers into his thick hair, she cried out against his mouth as she climaxed. Carlo thrust into her for a final time and exploded just seconds later.
Overcome with emotion, she clutched at his hair as the tears spilled from her eyes and trickled down the sides of her face. Carlo was kissing her over and over: her eyebrows, her tear-stained cheeks, her forehead, her mouth. And then the world came to a screeching halt when he pulled away from her, looked deeply into her eyes and murmured, “Cassandra...I love you.”
chapter thirty-one ~ Carlo
Gold's Gym was busier than Carlo would have liked, but this was what he got for coming on a Monday night right after work. Regardless, he needed to burn off his nervous energy so he might be able to sleep better tonight.
The pudgy, forty-ish man finished wiping down the treadmill and gave Carlo a nod as he stepped off. Carlo smiled in return, setting his water bottle in the cup holder and programming the machine for a thirty-minute interval workout.
He hadn't heard from Cassandra since they had been together Friday night. She had asked him for space, and as hard as it was, he was giving it to her. He owed her that much. He knew he had completely shocked her by saying what he had after they'd made love—he, too, had been astonished. He hadn't planned on saying it. But thinki
ng back, he didn't regret it. Not in the least.
Looking down at her, the cascade of auburn tresses, her stunning eyes glistening with fresh tears—the fragility and femininity of this gorgeous creature who looked more girl than woman—and realizing what she meant to him, he thought he would burst. The only option was to speak. To release not only the pressure, but what he had been holding onto for so long. As the words slipped out, he felt something open in him, break free, and let go. They were simple words, but packed with power and promise. And life-changing. Possibly.
There was the matter of Cassandra's response. Her eyes had widened into pools of incredulity, and he felt himself drowning in them, virtually unable to breathe until she spoke. Her tears had kept coming, streaking down her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut. He had brushed the hair away from her face, letting the silky tendrils fall through his fingers, and she had spoken.
Don't. Please don't say anything more. This is hard enough for me.
A tightening then, in his gut. He had asked her what she meant.
I've been trying to get over you. I've been proud of myself for learning to be strong on my own. And now this...she shook her head against the pillow, her face crumpling in anguish as one hand came up to cover her eyes.
Cassandra—what are you so afraid of?
She had opened her eyes and answered in a whisper. You. I'm afraid of you, Carlo, and the feelings you create in me.
He had tried to press her for more, but she had asked him to leave, gathering the comforter around her and looking vulnerable, lost.
So—reluctantly—he had left.
Making love to her had been beyond his wildest expectations. Physically, he had never been more aroused in his life. Her small, perfect breasts, the rosy, pebbled skin around her hard nipples, her flat belly, the curve of her slender hips...and the pink, velvet folds of her sex covered in the finest layer of strawberry blonde. He had wanted to bury his face between her legs—lick her relentlessly—but this was superseded by the desire to be inside her. Feeling her hot tightness around his cock, he could have come instantly, but he'd held out as long as he possibly could—not wanting the feeling to end of being inside her as close to her as he could be, hearing her soft moans and whimpers and knowing she was close to climaxing herself.