The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

“I love you,” she told him.

  Marcus kissed her again. “Sempre—forever, Cella.”

  Laughter echoing down from the hallway had Cella wishing she could catch her breath. “We better get back to the party.”

  “Just long enough to say goodbye.”

  “Marcus.”

  He smirked. “Fine.”

  His fingers wove with hers, and his dark laughter—sending sparks shooting through her bloodstream—chased them out of the hallway. No one seemed to notice them rejoining the party, or that they slipped onto the middle of the floor to dance a slow waltz as a few others were doing.

  Or maybe that was just them.

  Maybe they didn’t notice the others.

  After all, Marcus was still watching her like that—all heavy and intense, and ready to drown in her. She’d missed that. Him.

  Everything about him.

  • • •

  Her hotel was closer. And that was really what it came down to for Cella when Marcus asked her where she wanted to go for the night after leaving his parents’ penthouse party that ended up going a bit into the evening. That was the thing about life when someone had the chance to be with people that made their days better and brighter—one could lose track of time.

  Then, the moment someone mentioned the time as they decided to leave, the atmosphere between Cella and Marcus changed in a blink. Oh, they certainly took their time saying goodbye, and playing their part. She’d kind of realized that to stand beside Marcus—as she chose him—that she needed to be what he needed her to be. The same way she knew he wanted nothing more than to pull her out of there and fuck her against the closest flat surface, but he played his part, first.

  Stepped into his role.

  The dutiful son. A Made man. Rising crime boss, if what the news had to say was to be believed.

  So she turned into the person he needed her to be while she stood beside him, until she could finally get him alone, and then Marcus became the man she knew best. Who took what he wanted from her, and made sure she loved every damn second of it, too.

  Cella didn’t even get more than four steps inside her hotel room before the hard slam of the door had her stomach clenching in anticipation.

  “Turn around.”

  She did, spinning in those too-high heels that she knew damn well would make her legs look good, and have Marcus watching her everywhere she walked during the night. She hadn’t been wrong on either of those things. The shoes did both.

  Marcus hadn’t even moved away from the door he’d just slammed shut; his gaze nailed to her, and she got the best sight of him licking along his bottom lip as he tipped his head to the side. That stare of his traveled up her body, appreciating the way her dress hugged every curve she had before he finally met her eyes with his own.

  His stare had her wet.

  The intensity.

  How he arched his left brow just enough. That strong jaw of his clenching every so slightly when he swallowed. Even the way he flicked his wrist over to undo the buttons of his blazer.

  He was perfection wrapped in a fucking suit.

  “How fond are you of that dress?”

  Cella’s breath caught in her chest as she replied, “Fond enough that as long as a dry clean will fix it, I don’t care.”

  Marcus nodded. “Good to know—give me your panties.”

  “Like, to you?”

  “Off, in my hand, and then they’re going in my pocket.”

  “I don’t get them back?”

  “Not the pair you have on tonight. Did you think I wouldn’t see them when you bent over to fix the strap on your heel in the elevator? Since when do you hike a fucking skirt up to damn near your thighs to bend over, Cella? They’re mine to keep after you tease me like that. Off. Now.”

  She grinned because, yes, she had done that.

  No shame.

  “That’s how it’s going to be tonight?” she asked.

  Marcus let his tongue drift along his teeth, sucking in air as he did so before saying, “Seems so—keep that sass up.”

  Oh, she would.

  He liked that, too.

  Even conversation could be foreplay with this man. She bet that had been hell for him, too. Seeing her bent over, the way her panties hugged her ass and hid that sliver of her sex, as they left through the elevator from the penthouse. If that wasn’t bad enough, he had to drive six blocks before they arrived at the hotel.

  “You told me once you like to break the rules.”

  Marcus made a thick noise under his breath. “I did say that.”

  “Well, maybe I like to make you break them. Or I just like to see you try not to.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Cella winked. “You should.”

  “Panties,” he drawled as he began a slow process of removing his blazer. “They’re mine.”

  Right.

  “Of course,” she simpered, winking.

  Marcus shook his head, but Cella still hurried to do what he demanded of her. She did, however, take her time to bunch her skirt up to her hips before she pulled those panties down her legs until she could step out of them entirely. At the same time, she was careful to not even give him even a quick peek at her pussy.

  Just to make him wait more.

  He’d make it worth it.

  His teeth nipped into his bottom lip as she crossed the room with those panties in her outstretched hand, ready to hand them over. He took the flimsy scrap of white lace from her grasp with a quick jerk of his hand that had her thighs clenching together to soothe the sudden ache now pulsing between her legs.

  Sure enough, he tucked the panties into his pocket.

  Marcus hummed his approval. “Show me what’s mine.”

  “How?”

  “Any way you want. For as long as it takes me to get what I need off, anyhow, and then I’m going to bend you over the edge of the bed and fuck you until my goddamn cock aches. I don’t care how you do it, just show me. Oh, and keep the damn dress on. After watching you walk around in that all night, I feel like it owes me and so do you.”

  Cella laughed, feeling breathless already, as she walked backward until her thighs hit the edge of the bed. Sitting back, she hiked her skirt up all over again, this time not bothering at all to tease Marcus as she spread her thighs wide for him. Nothing was sexier than the way he groaned when she showed him just how wet she was with two fingers sweeping through her slit.

  He, on the other hand, took his sweet time getting undressed. One goddamn button at a time while she continued toying with her sex, alternating between fucking herself with her fingers, and then rubbing circles into her clit.

  “Want to come?” he asked.

  Her air came out in a shuddering exhale. “I could.”

  His blazer was long gone. His vest, tie, and then dress shirt followed the same path. Her thighs started to tremble when she rubbed the circles a little faster into her clit, and he worked his belt apart far too slowly for her liking.

  “Do you like that? Getting teased like you did to me, I mean.”

  Cella smirked. “But look at what it’s getting me, Marcus.”

  He grunted low.

  “Say it again.”

  “What?” she breathed.

  “My name—just before your orgasm, it sounds like a prayer.”

  “Can I come?”

  “When you say it again.”

  She did, her eyes squeezing shut and head falling back while his name passed her lips. Her body seemed to shatter into a million little pieces at the same time.

  Marcus loomed over her when she opened her eyes back up again. He’d finally pulled that belt apart and shoved his pants down just enough to free his cock. In his hand, he stroked his length, leaning down to tease his kiss along her quivering lips.

  Those hot kisses of his trailed lower. Over her skin, and then down her throat. Across the expanse of her breasts, lower to her tummy, and then where she wanted him the most. He took his time tasting her, licki
ng the taste of her orgasm straight from the source until she was shaking and begging again.

  “Marcus, I’m going to ... let me—”

  He lifted a hell of a lot faster than he had gone down on her, taking away her oncoming orgasm with nothing more than a chuckle before he kissed her. Cella whined into his mouth, frustration curling deep in her gut until those dark words of his reminded her of what would be quickly coming next.

  He could eat her later.

  She wanted to be fucked right now.

  “Bend over.”

  She did, making sure to let every inch of her body mold against his as she moved, so he felt all of her. He pulled her to the edge of the bed with a rough tug of his hands on her hips that had her moaning. When he filled her full of him, taking his time to let his cock stretch her out in the best way, her body felt taut and ready to snap all over again. He shoved her dress up around her hips again.

  Then, he was fucking her.

  All at once.

  Long, deep thrust.

  A hand in her hair.

  Another on her ass, leaving fingerprint bruises.

  His brutal pace had her grabbing for support against the bed with one hand while she reached back for him with the other. His hand on her ass left to grab onto hers, his fingers twisting with hers as she cried out against the bed sheets.

  He fucked her harder, then twisted the loose strands of her hair around his fist to yank a little firmer until her throat was taut. All those sounds of hers had the muscles in her throat vibrating. A lot like the rest of her body that met his thrust for thrust.

  “Fuck, this pussy, woman.”

  “Oh God, yes,” she gasped. “Like that ... just like that.”

  She was sure he’d make her work for that orgasm. After all, she had teased him ... and he’d only gotten her back a little for making him suffer, but he didn’t do that at all. He fucked her until she was shouting with her second orgasm, and then he let go of her hand to slip a hand between her thighs. His pace stayed the same, he rubbed swift circles into her tender clit, and kept it up until she sobbed his name against the bed while she came again.

  Only then did he slow down.

  Only then did he let her breathe.

  Barely.

  Marcus leaned down over her, his wet fingertips trailing over her inner thigh while his mouth ghosted over the back of her neck.

  “Not done,” he told her, that husky tone of his making her anticipation grow all over again. “Not even close to being done, Cella.”

  “Before you get started again,” Cella mumbled against his kiss after he’d pulled out of her just long enough to roll her over on the bed and fit right back between her thighs again, “do something for me?”

  “Anything. Just ask.”

  It was not the right time.

  It was, however, late.

  Cella might miss her chance, and she didn’t want to do that. It wasn’t just her that had been waiting for a chance to have this man back.

  “Call Tiff,” she said. “Say goodnight.”

  He leaned back a bit, his gaze softening from the heat that had been there just a moment before. She shrugged at his unspoken question. Yeah, it was a total fucking cockblock, but they could get back to this moment. Soon, her daughter would be asleep and Cella had promised she would try her best to get Marcus to call.

  “She’s asked about you every chance she had,” Cella said, “and she knew I was coming to see you today—I didn’t realize there was something missing in her life, even if we all did the best to give it to her, until she started acting like she might have found it.”

  A dad, she didn’t say.

  Thing was, Cella couldn’t say that.

  Neither could Marcus.

  Only one little girl could say that—even if everyone around her saw the questions and behavior for exactly what it was when it came to Marcus—it was only for her to say. Just Tiffany.

  “Yeah.”

  His simple yeah said it all. His understanding in a word.

  He grinned.

  She smiled back.

  “Of course,” he added, “let’s get her on the phone, and say goodnight to her.”

  This man?

  He truly was perfect.

  For her.

  “And then we’ll pick this up where we left off, hmm?” Marcus asked.

  “You know it.”

  A lot like them.

  This wasn’t a restart. Not from the beginning. They were just picking back up where they left off.

  EPILOGUE

  One Year Later ...

  “Ma has a surprise,” Tiffany blurted out in the back seat.

  Marcus’s gaze lifted to the rearview mirror to find the girl in the back seat currently red-faced where she sat in her booster seat. Her sense of embarrassment was cute, really. Car drives, but especially long ones, were always fun when it came to Tiffany because she never stopped talking from the moment they got on the road. It kept him entertained and awake, anyway.

  “Does she?” he asked.

  “Not supposed to tell.”

  He pressed his lips together, desperately trying to hide the smile forming. Tiffany was a lot of things, and each of those were special to him. He loved everything that made up this sweet child, and more. One of the things she couldn’t seem to do, however?

  Keep a secret.

  It would be cute.

  If someone meant for their secrets to be told.

  “Do you feel better now that you told me she has a surprise?” he asked.

  Tiffany sighed like a weight was off her chest. “Yes.”

  “Don’t tell me what it is, okay?”

  “I won’t.”

  “Good. That’s what matters.”

  Well, not really.

  He wouldn’t break his girl’s heart, though. He was pretty sure Cella hadn’t intended for Tiffany to say anything about this surprise—Marcus had no fucking idea what it was; he was curious now—but he wouldn’t make the girl feel badly for it, either.

  Besides, soon he’d arrive at Cella’s mother and father’s place where he’d meet up with her later in the day after she finished a consult with a client in Brooklyn, and surely, he would find out her surprise then.

  This thing between him and Cella?

  It took work to keep working.

  Like weekends with her in New York, and then the next with him in Toronto. Or making sure Tiffany could visit her grandparents on a regular enough basis to make sure the kid never felt like she went without her family. He’d been lucky that for the past couple of months during the summer, Cella mostly took on jobs that were based in and around Ontario or Quebec except for this last one that came from a friend in Brooklyn who had apparently been waiting forever to get a design done. During that time, she even started looking for a place to move her Rochester office. He hadn’t asked her to do it, but she brought it up one night and he didn’t tell her to stop.

  “Are we almost there?”

  And just like that, as with most kids, Tiffany changed direction entirely.

  “Almost,” he said.

  Then, he had another thought.

  “You know, I have a surprise for your ma, too.”

  In the backseat, Tiffany threw her hands high. “Well, this is just impossible!”

  Marcus laughed for the rest of the drive.

  Man, he loved that kid.

  • • •

  “Marcus.”

  “Lucian.”

  The two men greeted each other with a quick shake of hands after Marcus helped Tiffany to remove her shoes and the backpack on her shoulders. The girl gave her grandfather a hug around his waist, and then ran deeper into the house. Probably in search of her grandmother.

  “Remember, no telling secrets!”

  “Got it, Marcus!”

  He smiled, shaking his head.

  “Oh, we have secrets, do we?” Lucian asked.

  “Apparently.”

  “Good ones, I hope.”

&nb
sp; Marcus shrugged. “Have to ask Cella about hers, but as for mine ... give me a few minutes.”

  Pocketing his Mercedes keys to his pocket, Marcus tried to shake off the strange nerves that crawled around his throat. It wasn’t like him to get nervous, but here he was. Doing exactly that, it seemed.

  “You said you wanted to chat?” Lucian asked.

  Marcus nodded at Cella’s father. “Yeah, before Cella gets here, if you wouldn’t mind. And of course, if you have a minute to spare for me.”

  “I was taught never to shun a boss, Marcus, even if that boss isn’t mine and he’s decades younger than me. A boss is a boss ...”

  Ah.

  Yeah.

  “Is a boss,” Marcus finished for the man.

  Cosa Nostra rules never changed. It didn’t matter if a man was no longer active in the life—like Lucian because as far as Marcus knew, the man had stepped out of his active role in the family years ago—he was still expected to follow the rules.

  “You know, I’ve never publicly confirmed that,” Marcus said, twisting the ring around his index finger that his father had worn for years. The Guzzi ring—the one that signified the boss. Men had kissed that ring for years. Wished they could be the ones wearing it. Now, it belonged to him and surprise, it was a perfect fit. Not that he expected anything less. “The fact I took over the Guzzi family, I mean.”

  Lucian smirked from the side as he turned in the hallway with a wave. “Ah, but you don’t have to. The Marcellos hear everything.”

  Right.

  Marcus wouldn’t forget it.

  On the way past the kitchen, Marcus peeked in to find Tiffany was telling her grandmother all about the friends she had made in Toronto over the summer during their many outings and trips to parks near his home. She seemed content, so he didn’t bother her. A quick smile from Jordyn, Cella’s mother, had him nodding hello back before he continued following Lucian to the upstairs where the man’s office waited for them.

  Once behind the closed doors, Lucian took a seat behind his large desk dominating the far end of the room. Marcus stayed standing, if only because life had taught that when inside another man’s office, he didn’t prefer to sit. Lucian didn’t say anything about his choice to stand, so he didn’t think the man was too offended.

  “You know,” Lucian said, “the last time Tiffany was here, we were having Jordyn’s birthday party. She called you her dad to one of her cousins.”