Dishonored

by Bethany-Kris

  The mention of her father made Caesar take notice—the man was in lockup for what, he didn’t know, and for how long, he didn’t care. It was the first time she had mentioned him to Caesar, however, although he didn’t know why that irked him so much.

  It shouldn’t matter at all.

  He didn’t miss the fondness in her tone, or the way her painted-red lips curved softly at the edges in happiness. He didn’t get those kinds of feelings at all when he thought about his own father—hatred and bitterness, sure. Not happiness or love, though.

  It was … strange to him.

  Foreign, even.

  Aria had come closer to Caesar at an antagonizing slow speed until she came to a stop right in front of him. It had given him the chance to take all of her in again, but now he was only staring at her face, and those bright green eyes of hers meeting his blue gaze.

  She was fire, he thought.

  But he felt like ice.

  “Have you thought about what I said?” she asked. “About stepping back, and letting me do my business … or even helping me? I let you have a bit of time to think everything over, and now here I am to get an answer. Do you have one for me?”

  “I don’t have all the details, so no.”

  “Shame. I hate waiting on a man.”

  She came subtly closer again—enough that he could see the way her dark, long lashes curved high, and he could count the diamonds in the cluster studs she’d put in her earlobes. It was distracting and disconcerting.

  Aria smirked. “Does this feel familiar, Caesar? You seem to like crowding my fucking space, and setting me off balance. That’s your game, isn’t it? That’s how you get what you want from women, or it’s how you mess them up enough to find your in?”

  Caesar laughed bitterly. “What, did you take a few days to recoup from our meeting, and decide you wanted a second go at it? Now it’s your turn to try and fuck with me? That’s not how this is going to work, Aria.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  Her simple, soft-spoken question was punctuated by a sexy grin before she tried to slip past him to leave. Caesar acted out of the sudden dark urge that pummeled its way through his insides, and nothing else when he reached out and grabbed hold of Aria’s elbow. Swinging her back around to face him again with a sharp word on his tongue, he nearly missed her open palmed slap coming his way.

  Almost.

  “Don’t you dare—”

  He caught her wrist with his free hand, and her blazing gaze with his own. It silenced whatever retort was about to come out of her pretty mouth, but he didn’t really care. Her show of anger had his own irritation soaring high.

  “I told you not to play games with me,” he murmured. “Didn’t I?”

  She never blinked—never flinched. “You think this is a game, Caesar?”

  “I think—”

  “I don’t care what you think,” she snapped. “Now let me go.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  His response was clearly not what she wanted. Aria moved fast, then, dropping her clutch to the floor and using her free hand to swing at him again. Both of his hands were tied up in holding her some way and he didn’t get the chance to catch her in time.

  Not before her hand connected with his face, anyway.

  Crack.

  The force of her slap sent his head snapping to the side as a sting radiated over his cheek. He swore he could taste a bit of blood blooming in his mouth, too.

  Fuck this woman.

  Damn her.

  He found himself laughing. Because she challenged him. Because she wasn’t afraid. Because she didn’t care at all, and she actually dared to fucking hit him.

  Caesar righted himself but there was no way he could hide the rage flashing across his features, not to mention the bulge of his hardening cock trying to hammer its way out of his fucking slacks. Aria’s heavy breaths made her shoulders and chest heave up and down with every one, and her lips had flattened in an angry, grim line.

  “I don’t get deterred by an emotional woman, or a violent one,” he told her. “it just turns me on. I take it as a challenge.”

  Aria blinked, and glanced down at his crotch before her gaze jumped back up again. “I—”

  “And I don’t think you came here because you wanted me to fucking talk, either.”

  “You have no idea what I want.”

  “Don’t I? I bet all you want right now is for me to find the closest flat surface, and fuck the defiance right out of you.”

  She hesitated.

  Her eyes blazed yes. Her trembling shoulders and clenched fists all said yes.

  Her words came out saying, “Let me go right—”

  Stubborn woman.

  Caesar shut Aria up by yanking her into him, and slamming his mouth down on hers. It took all of one bruising kiss, and her lips parted for his. He couldn’t find a single part of himself that wanted to be easy, and so he wasn’t. All teeth, and lips, and tongue—tasting her again, and drawing blood from her bottom lip when he bit down hard, and making her whine when he threaded his fingers into her hair and pulled.

  She hit him again for that.

  “Fuck,” he hissed, rearing back from the second slap’s sting and pressing his fingertips to his hot cheek. “Now you get my hands on your throat for that one.”

  Aria didn’t back up at his threat.

  Didn’t raise her hands again.

  Didn’t look scared.

  “Good,” she murmured.

  Damn him straight to hell.

  This woman would kill him.

  “You’re a fucking asshole,” she told him.

  And it got her hot.

  Clearly.

  Caesar laughed, and stepped forward. Aria still didn’t back down. “And I bet your sweet, tight pussy is weeping for a taste of me, too. Admit it.”

  She didn’t say anything.

  Instead, she let her hand slide between her thighs under the skirt of that teasing dress, and then brought it back out again to flash wet fingers. “Want a taste?”

  His chest ached.

  His throat tightened.

  “Yes,” he said.

  “Too fucking bad.”

  She punctuated her words by slipping those fingers between her own lips, and sucking them clean. Caesar’s lust spiked higher, and so did his anger. Aria didn’t have the time to react before he jolted forward, grabbed her throat in his hand, and stuck his other one right up her dress.

  She sucked in a hard, ragged breath and grinned when he squeezed her delicate neck, and fisted her damp panties at the gusset. She wasn’t going to keep anything from him like it was some kind of game—there was no push and pull here. He was taking, and she was giving it.

  Simple as that.

  It took one hard pull, and he ripped the lace before pulling the ruined panties from her body.

  That had to hurt.

  Sting, at least.

  She only laughed.

  A dark, bitter laugh that urged him on, and promised sin, relief, and sex was fucking close. She didn’t look afraid of him at all.

  “Do it,” she said as his fingers danced higher between her thighs again. “Don’t you want a taste of gold, Caesar? How many times have you gone back for seconds when it comes to a woman?”

  “Shut up.”

  She grinned.

  He sneered.

  God, she was wet. Warm and soft and sleek as hell on his fingertips when they slid between her thighs. Slick arousal coated his fingertips, and her whole body shuddered when he stroked her pussy, and then let two fingers stretch her open. Inside, she was impossibly softer—silken, even. Wetter, too. And so much fucking hotter.

  She clearly wanted more of his touches if the way she was grinding her cunt into his hand was any indication, but he refused. He wasn’t giving her anything just yet—not something she wanted, anyway.

  He was too pissed for that.

  She
was going to know it.

  “Plea—”

  “Don’t think so,” Caesar said before her begging could start. Oh, he’d love to hear it. Would have her screaming it soon enough, sure. Not right then. “You owe me a taste, you crazy woman.”

  Aria sucked in a sharp breath when Caesar’s hand tightened on her throat again, and his fingers left her pussy. It took a second for him to flip her around, and bend her over the back of the couch. He kept a firm hold on the back of her neck, and refused to let her up even as he bunched her skirt up around her hips.

  Beautiful ass.

  Pink pussy.

  Wet thighs.

  Damn.

  He bent down and bit her right ass cheek, but didn’t even give her the chance to respond to that action before he’d buried his face between her thighs from behind.

  Fuck.

  She tasted better when she was angry. Hotter, if it were possible. Tarter, too. Her loud shout and the push of her ass backing into his face had him humming in approval. She couldn’t do very much—couldn’t move very fucking much, either.

  And that was fine with him.

  He took his time tunneling his tongue into her clenching cunt, and then sucking on her sensitive spots. He teased with little nips, but refused to give her anymore.

  Even when her words came out jumbled, high, and needy. Even when her desperation came out so strongly he thought she might cry for it.

  No, he wasn’t giving her that.

  She hadn’t earned it.

  “Fuck you,” he heard her say. “Please …” And then a new one, “I fucking hate you.”

  Shit.

  He hated him, too.

  And just when her body finally started to shake with the promise of her orgasm, he pulled back altogether, and kept it away from her again. Caesar grabbed Aria by her hips, and flipped her around so that her ass was resting on the arm of the couch, her legs were spread wide open, and her body sprawled across the cushions. Those wild curls of hers flew over the couch, and her wide, angry eyes sought his.

  Caesar wasted no time shuffling his pants down, freeing his cock from their confines, and rolling latex down his length. He fisted his cock as he reached out to stroke his thumb between Aria’s slick, hot folds. Her legs trembled, but she stayed spread open for him.

  Good girl.

  “What happens now?” he asked.

  She glared.

  He grinned.

  He bet she liked the sight of him like this—his mouth still wet from her pussy. It was all for her, anyway. She’d done this to them both.

  “Well?” he demanded harshly.

  Aria swallowed hard. “Now you’re going to fuck me.”

  “And?”

  “Choke me.”

  Almost there.

  “What else, mia cara?”

  The tension in her shoulders softened momentarily as she whispered, “When you say I’ve had enough, I’ll ask to finish you.” Her gaze jumped up to meet his when she added, “Nicely.”

  Caesar nodded. “Anything else?”

  “And I’ll like it.”

  Of course, she would. Women liked to act as though they had to be treated a certain way during sex, but they all came the same and wailed the same when he was fucking them how he liked. He enjoyed stripping a woman of their crazy, nonsensical notions about pride and dignity. Sex was the easiest place to lose all of that trash.

  “Why do you sound so surprised when you say you’ll like it? Has every man treated you like a delicate flower? Has one even made you come before me?”

  Aria’s jaw stiffened. “Shut up, and fuck me.”

  He figured he got his answers with that.

  And he didn’t really mind.

  Aria stiffened, and her back arched when Caesar’s hand struck out and wrapped tight around her throat again. He fitted himself between her thighs, and in one hard thrust, found his own personal heaven.

  And hell.

  Her high, keening whine when he filled her was the most addictive sound. Her body tensed all over when he pulled out, and slammed right back in again. “Hit my arm if you want me to stop. Got it?”

  He got a nod.

  That was good enough for him.

  “Jesus Christ,” she breathed, grinding her body against his for more. “Oh, my God.”

  “You’ve got no self-control like this.”

  And he liked it.

  A lot.

  “A pretty little slut under me,” he added.

  Aria’s head tilted back with his next thrust, and her cry came out airless and broken. Caesar had both of his hands wrapped around the delicate line of her throat then, and he started to squeeze. Easy at first—just enough for her to feel it, and to take away her air a bit at a time. With every thrust, he squeezed a bit harder until her noises came out choked, and her eyes flew wide to find his.

  She was so close to coming.

  Shaking all over.

  Sweat-slicked skin.

  Pink from losing her air.

  Mussed hair.

  Smudged makeup.

  Beautiful, really.

  He found a wildness staring back at him—a desperate need to come or breathe or do something. Yet, she didn’t tap his arm. She didn’t want him to stop.

  “Do you want to come?”

  He got another nod.

  “Would you beg for it?”

  Please, her eyes blazed.

  He released one hand from her throat, and slipped it up under her ass. All it took was his thumb sliding into the tight ring of her ass, and his fingers curving tight around her throat, and she was screaming.

  His name never sounded better.

  Caesar waited until she stopped shaking. He gave her that much time at least. And then he pulled from her wet cunt, and tugged the condom off before discarding it in a small bin under the coffee table. Moving around the arm of the couch, he already had his cock in hand, and waiting for her.

  “Ask,” he demanded, “and then I’ll see what else I can do for you.”

  She was already reaching for him.

  Ready.

  Wanting.

  “May I finish you, please?”

  Perfect, really.

  Even if he hated her.

  It took all of two days.

  Two single days for Caesar to know he fucked up.

  Or rather, Aria had fucked him over.

  Yeah, that was better.

  Across the room, his father raged on. Angelo in all his anger never stuttered or stumbled over a single word he threw at his oldest son like daggers. Thing was—Caesar was Kevlar to this, now. It didn’t hurt him a bit.

  “I thought you had learned,” his father snarled. “I thought you were finally getting it.”

  That was another one of those Angelo problems, but Caesar didn’t think his father would like him pointing it out.

  Thankfully, the office door was closed, but he was sure whoever was waiting outside was getting a damn good earful.

  It wouldn’t be the first time.

  “I told you to fix the issue,” Angelo roared, “not fuck it!”

  “For what it’s worth,” Caesar murmured, “she was a good fuck.”

  Twice.

  Well, more than twice. But two separate occasions, so he counted it like that.

  Angelo’s molars crunched when he clenched his jaw. “I have overlooked a lot of shit, but I can’t pretend like you didn’t do this. We are in the midst of a war with this woman and her clan, and you slept with her. You’re fraternizing with her. You’re betraying us. Was that always the next step for you, figlio? To betray me?”

  Caesar didn’t answer. He didn’t figure his father wanted one, really.

  Spread out on the desk were a good fifteen or so pictures. Images Caesar hadn’t expected to be thrown in his face when he arrived at his father’s office after being called in with little to no explanation.

  Photos that showed
Aria.

  Walking into his building.

  And leaving looking like he’d fucked her for half the night—which he had.

  Those were the innocent ones.

  There were others, too. Photos looking in his windows—Aria on her back, and her knees. Naked, and so was he—mostly. Someone would have needed to be on the roof, or even in an apartment, of the building next to his to get those photos.

  His anger simmered hot and dangerous.

  She’d set him up.

  She’d done it purposely.

  He was the one who used sex as a weapon, and she had turned the tables on him. It was disconcerting, and it pissed him the fuck off like nothing else. He didn’t know what to deal with first. His father. The woman that did this to him. Or the fact that a part of him was just as turned on as he was angry because Christ, that woman had balls on her. She had some kind of nerve, and he respected her as much as he hated her.

  It was as amusing as it was infuriating.

  “This is it, Caesar,” Angelo said, his anger dissipating as he stared blankly from behind the desk. His father waved at the photographs. “I can’t keep protecting you like I have, and excusing you. This is it. We won’t be allowing this information to get out, but especially not to our men or the Camorra clan. I can’t have people thinking someone on my side, and inside my organization is playing both sides. No more, though. I won’t be doing anymore for you. This is it, son.”

  “Okay,” he replied dully.

  Angelo had been saying this for years.

  This shouldn’t have been a surprise.

  “Vecoli—Tony Vecoli.”

  Caesar blinked. “Canadian Cosa Nostra boss. What about him?”

  Angelo sighed, and glanced down before he pulled out a file from his desk and tossed it to the top. “All the details are in there if you want to look. But the short version is this. He’s got a girl—a year younger than you that he needs to marry off, and get her out of his hair. He’s also quite aware of the circumstances you’ve put me in here, and we agreed. You’d do better being away. And so, that’s where you’re going to go and stay. Indefinitely. You will not be welcomed back to Philly, and you will no longer be under my protection or control. Step out of line there like you have here, and the next time I see you will be when you’re resting in a casket.”

  Uh.

  “No,” Caesar said.