Cara & Gian: The Complete Guzzi Duet

by Bethany-Kris

  “Why? It still fits. My angel.”

  “I’m not yours,” Cara snapped. “Not anymore.”

  Gian smirked, his arrogance becoming all the more apparent. “Oh, Cara, you’re always going to be mine. Sempre, amore.”

  “I beg to differ.”

  “Do you want to play this game?”

  “Gian—”

  “You are mine, Cara, even if you’re not with me. And do you want to know how I know that, sweet girl?”

  Cara refused to look him in the eye. He stepped close enough that his body pressed against hers, but she couldn’t move away. She kept her head turned to the side, even when his hand slid up to cup her cheek and his fingers threaded into her hair.

  “I know you’re still mine, because there’s no way on earth you could tell me that man, or any other man, knows anything about you worth knowing.”

  “Stop, Gian.”

  Why was her voice so goddamn weak?

  And why did she want to turn into his palm, not away like she was?

  This isn’t fair.

  “Has he, or anyone else, even touched you since me? Can you even stand to let someone have you the way you let me have you?”

  Cara’s gaze cut to his fast. “Gian.”

  “Tell me.”

  “No.”

  “No, you won’t tell or no, no one has touched you?”

  Both of them.

  Cara refused to say that out loud. Gian only smiled like he already knew the fucking truth, like he could see it written all over her face.

  “Right. I would be willing to bet he knows fuck all when it comes to you,” Gian said with a dark, husky laugh. “Like the way you won’t get your ass out of bed in the morning, or all the little secrets you like to hold onto because you’re locked up way too tight in your heart, and it takes a fucking sledge hammer to get through.”

  Gian inched closer, his unique scent soaking into Cara’s lungs like a familiar drug. Liquor and leather and man. “Let’s be honest, Cara, he doesn’t know the shit that matters, really. He probably doesn’t know what you like, either. I bet he doesn’t know how you liked to be choked when you come, or the way you beg like a good little slut to have your ass filled when your—”

  Cara’s hand came up swift and hard. She didn’t even think about it. Her palm cracked against Gian’s cheek with enough force to silence the nearby tables of people.

  “Excuse me, miss, do you need anything?”

  The sound of the bartender’s voice had Gian’s burning gaze flying over Cara’s shoulder, probably burrowing a fucking hole into the poor man who dared to intrude.

  “It’s fine,” Cara said. “We’re perfectly fine.”

  “If you’re sure …?”

  “She’s sure,” Gian uttered through clenched teeth.

  Emotions warred within Cara, heating her cheeks and making her body vibrate. Her palm stung, but she didn’t care. She glared at Gian, daring him to say another word, even when her hand dropped back down to her side. He didn’t look away, but rather, his smirk grew sinful, like he had gotten exactly the reaction he wanted.

  “I can say more, if you want,” he said.

  “Shut your mouth. How dare you, Gian?”

  “Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me any man, except me, knows those things, and owns those things where you’re concerned. Tell me.”

  She couldn’t.

  “You can’t say it, can you?” he asked.

  “Fuck you.”

  “Tell me to get the hell away from you, then.”

  Cara didn’t.

  She hated herself for that, too.

  What she despised even more, was when he kissed her—hard, demanding, and rough, just the way she liked the most—she didn’t push him away. No, she fisted his jacket and bought him closer, she sighed at the familiarity of his hand curving around her throat and his tongue dancing with hers. She soaked in his scent, reveled in his taste, and hated herself for every second of it.

  She wanted more, so she just pulled him closer.

  Every bit of anger and disgust came out in Cara’s kiss, and even more bled away the longer she didn’t force Gian to stop. Not when his thumb pressed into her racing pulse, or his teeth bit into her lower lip.

  She couldn’t breathe, but fucking hell, she was awake and alive again for the first time in months.

  Why did it have to be like this?

  Why him and her?

  Why?

  He provoked her, she knew. His words had been meant to provoke her into this. She was weak enough to let him.

  Cara’s lips tingled from the brutality of Gian’s kiss long after he had pulled away. God, she loved it.

  Gian watched her like a predator, refusing to move his gaze even an inch, and not letting her drop her stare. She saw his jealousy still lit up like fireworks in his eyes, but she found so much more staring back at her, too.

  A man she had missed for months. A man she still loved, though she knew it was bad. A man she wasn’t even sure she knew.

  So, why was he so familiar?

  “You did that on purpose,” Cara said, her accusation coming out quieter than she meant for it to. “You provoked me on purpose, Gian.”

  “I did nothing that you didn’t want me to, mon ange.”

  She hated that pet name, too, because she didn’t hate it at all when he said it.

  Cara had damn near forgotten they were still in the restaurant, standing at the bar. It became impossible to ignore when the sound of clattering utensils from a nearby table broke her from her daze, and she realized how very public of a scene they had just made.

  She finally dropped Gian’s stare.

  “Come with me,” Gian murmured.

  Cara shook her head. “No, and you know why.”

  “Don’t do that, Cara. Don’t refuse me when you know damn well that it’s the very last thing you want to do. Come with me, be with me for a night, and fuck the rest. What’s the issue?”

  “You know exactly—”

  Gian stepped away from her, cocking an eyebrow high as he did so. “We both could be doing far better things than standing here, arguing about nonsense and details that will never matter to me when it comes to us. And before you even spit it out of your pretty mouth, I don’t think they matter all that much to you right now, either. I am leaving, my car will be waiting at the curb. I’ll give you ten minutes, and then I’m gone. Come with me or don’t, but I won’t stand here and argue with you for another second.”

  Cara thought he was joking, or bluffing.

  She should have known better.

  Gian didn’t joke or bluff.

  He gave her a soft kiss on her cheek, and then he turned on his heel and headed for the front of the restaurant. There was so much she had wanted to shout at his back in that moment. Fuck him for the details, as he called them. Fuck him for making her choose like this. Fuck him for making her love him, breaking her heart, and then doing this to her too.

  Why wasn’t she stronger?

  Why wasn’t she a better woman?

  When it came to Gian, apparently Cara was nothing more than a stupid, foolish girl who had no control over herself, nor did she want to have limits where he was concerned.

  She watched the clock behind the bar.

  At eight minutes, her heart won out.

  Gian said nothing when Cara slid into his car.

  “I thought you didn’t do angry sex,” Cara said from her perch on the edge of Gian’s bed. “Wasn’t it you who said that was unhealthy?”

  “I’m not angry.”

  She might be.

  He sure as hell wasn’t.

  How could Gian be angry when, at the moment, he had Cara stripped down to nothing but her skin, in his penthouse, on his bed? How could he possibly be angry?

  “You’re not even a little bit mad?”

  “About what?” he asked, shedding the final bits of his clothing.

  “I did hit you.”

  He shrugged. “I did provoke you.”


  “I knew you did that on purpose.”

  “And look where you are now, my sweet girl.”

  Cara’s eyes flashed with her desire and irritation. “Yes, how stupid of me, I fell right back in your bed.”

  “Where you belong, Cara.”

  Her red lips curved at the edges in a half-hearted smile. “You’re impossible.”

  “So you’ve said a few times before.”

  Gian shoved his boxer-briefs down, not missing Cara’s gaze dropping to his prominent erection. He’d been as hard as fucking steel from the moment he’d touched her at the restaurant.

  It was a serious problem. He intended to rectify it as soon as possible.

  Gian crossed the small bit of space between him and where Cara sat on his bed. She stared up at him, still and waiting. He wanted nothing more than to feed into the dark, debasing shit running through his mind. All the urges he couldn’t fulfill elsewhere, and the needs that weren’t helped with his memories of Cara.

  He held back.

  Barely.

  “Could you snap your fingers for me?” she asked sweetly.

  Too sweetly.

  “Why?”

  “At least then I can say I came running for something when you called.”

  Fuck.

  Gian let out a hard breath. “Cara, stay or go.”

  She didn’t move, neither did her blue gaze—the window into the most beautiful soul he had ever had the pleasure of knowing.

  “But don’t sit here and make it seem like I’m not giving you a choice,” he continued when she stayed silent. “I want you here. I have wanted you here since the day I let you walk out, but don’t make this into some hate-fuck session. It’s never going to be that and if you need that to justify how you’re going to feel tomorrow, then leave. Right now.”

  Her stare slid away from his. “You can’t let me have anything, can you?”

  “Not when I can see right through your shit, bella.”

  “You’re making this hard on me.”

  “From where I’m standing, it seems pretty fucking easy.”

  “Of course it would, to you.”

  Gian opened his mouth to respond, but his air caught in his throat when Cara’s hands reached for him, her fingers circled tight around his cock. She slid her palm under his sac to cradle his balls. Firm, long strokes of her hand—tight as fuck at the base, and a little looser at the tip—had his head falling back, and a thick groan escaping his chest. His cock jerked in her hand, when her thumb rolled one of his balls between her soft palm and her fingers. Gently, and not too rough, but shit if that didn’t make him flex his hips forward into her strokes for more.

  He didn’t give a shit if it was her hands, her mouth, or her cunt. As long as his dick was on it, in it, or soaked by it. As long as she was touching, fucking, or doing something to him, all was well in his world.

  Whatever it was, she was his heaven.

  It was his drug.

  How long had it been since she touched him?

  Too damn long.

  “You were right,” Cara said, “at the restaurant, I mean.”

  “Do tell.”

  “There’s been no one since you. There can’t be. They’re not you, Gian.”

  “I’m not sorry for that,” he murmured.

  “I didn’t think you would be.”

  He was far too pleased about it, actually.

  “Don’t be nice,” Cara said softly, making him look down at her. “Don’t be soft, and sweet, and good. Don’t do that tonight because you want to fuck with my head after everything that happened. We don’t do that, Gian.”

  “Cara—”

  “Don’t.”

  “Cara,” Gian murmured in a half-groan, his fingers weaving into her hair and tugging firmly enough to make her stop. He found a familiar lust and love swirling in the blues of her eyes, but he saw a wariness there, too. It cut him deep. “When have I ever done that to you?”

  She didn’t hesitate. “Never.”

  “And I won’t.”

  A single nod answered him back.

  “Now … Jésus Christ, get that mouth of yours on my fucking cock. I better see those goddamn lipstick stains of yours where I like, Cara. Be a good girl, like I know you can be, and suck my fucking dick.”

  She did what he demanded, and it was glorious. A warm, wet familiar bliss that cleared his mind and made him silent in one single second. All she had to do was wrap her pretty red lips around his cock, suck him hard and deep enough into her throat that her muscles contracted along his length, and he was done for.

  God, did she know how to suck cock.

  It made Gian crazy.

  Her tongue flicked against the throbbing vein on the underside of his dick, while her sharp teeth scraped along his length on the withdrawal. Gian didn’t need to urge or help Cara on when it came to sucking him off. She knew exactly what to do. That didn’t stop him from tugging harder on her hair to feel her happy little moans vibrate his shaft. It didn’t stop him from flexing his hips forward when she took him deeper, just to see her sly grin form around his dick as her eyes watered.

  “You’re so good with that mouth, mon ange. Succhiami il cazzo.”

  Suck my cock.

  Suck my cock.

  He said it three times—once for each language he spoke.

  It was only when his spine started to stiffen and his balls got too fucking tight that he finally pulled Cara away. As much as he wanted to watch her suck him dry, he needed to be buried as deep as he possibly could be into her cunt when he finally came.

  Too damn long, he reminded himself.

  Cara was already reaching for him before he could push her back to the bed, her thighs opening for his body to fit against hers as his mouth slammed down on her parted, wet lips. She sighed when he pulled her hair, making her head tilt back so he could kiss her throat, and bite her shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. He could feel her heart race like thunder when she slipped a hand between their bodies and fitted his cock to her cunt. The wetness of her arousal soaked the head of his dick, and he thrust in.

  Home, and heaven, and bliss.

  Those were the things he found when he finally buried his cock balls-deep inside Cara Rossi for the first time in months.

  Love, and selfish, and more were the words that slipped through his mind when she shuddered under him, and her nails raked stinging lines along his back.

  “Fucking take me,” he ground out against the hollow of her throat. “Take all of me, Cara, and show me how much you want it. Show me how good you are for it, sweet girl.”

  Cara only mumbled a broken cry of his name. Her back arched hard from the bed while her legs opened even wider. She pushed her head back farther into the sheets, and her teeth clenched around another whine as he fucked her harder.

  He couldn’t get deep enough.

  He couldn’t fuck hard enough.

  Not enough to feel like he was ever going to satisfy how much he needed, loved, and wanted this fucking woman.

  “I want … I want …” Cara’s words melted together in a gasping breath that he couldn’t understand. But with every thrust of his body against hers, with every slide of his cock inside the wet clenching heat of her cunt, he knew what it was. She wanted to come, and he needed that too. More than his own pleasure, he needed hers. “Please.”

  He knew what she wanted for that, too.

  Not nice, not easy, and not soft or slow.

  She wanted his hand on her throat, taking away her air, and a brutal fucking that would ache when she was finally done coming. He gave her exactly that, reveling in the way her cunt clamped down on his cock when his fingers curved tightly to her throat and how the blues of her eyes sparkled with bliss when his rhythm turned harsher.

  Shit, her orgasm came on fast.

  Even with his hand on her throat, her scream was beautiful.

  Gian thought he might be able to hold off his own need to come long enough to fuck her through it, and
then get her on her knees to finish him off.

  He was wrong.

  He came hard, emptying every bit of cum into her cunt as the last shudder racked its way through Cara’s body. His fingers loosened their hold on her throat—he’d never trusted his control to choke her while he came and he wasn’t about to start testing the waters right then.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Gian mumbled.

  He was too fucking sensitive and too damn weak all of the sudden. Pulling out of her warm pussy was the hardest thing he ever had to do, but he needed to so he could breathe.

  Cara’s light, breathless laughter echoed into the room. His cock—covered in their fluids—rested semi-hard against her thigh. He felt her fingertips slide along his length, and looked down to find her using their mingled cum to lubricate her clit as her fingers started stroking fast circles.

  “Shit,” Gian breathed. “That’s fucking hot, Cara.”

  Her smile was sinful. “Watch me come again.”

  Jesus Christ.

  His cock was already perking up.

  “Watch me, Gian,” Cara whispered.

  All. Fucking. Night. Long.

  “Tabernac.” Gian’s curse came out as a low rumble, his irritation rising as he was forced to roll away from soft, naked skin in his bed. He couldn’t let go of Cara completely, so he picked up the ringing cell phone on the nightstand and stroked a hand up her spine with his other. All of his frustration leaked into his tired voice when he answered the call with, “Do you know what goddamn time it is, and what in the fuck do you want?”

  “Yeah, it’s after nine and Sunday, Gian. Since when do you sleep in and where in the hell are you?”

  Dom’s voice made Gian sit up in the bed, but he still didn’t stop touching Cara as he moved. She grounded him—her presence calmed him. He had been a mess for months and for a moment, he was okay.

  “It’s Sunday, Gian,” Dom repeated. “Mass started already. Elena put out a call to a couple of people when you didn’t show up this morning at the mansion, though you were supposed to be there last night. What the fuck?”

  Saturday at the mansion.

  Sunday at church with his wife.