by Remy Rose
I wait. And then, her image...dim and shadowy. She’s blinking and bewildered, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her voice husky and blurred with sleep. “Carlo? What is it?” I can hear the uncertainty seep into her words. “What's wrong?”
“Nothing's wrong...I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to talk to you.”
The video shifts jerkily from her face to a white headboard and back to her face again as she sits up in her bed. She appears to be wearing a thin white tank top. Suddenly, the screen goes dark.
“Cassandra? Are you there?”
After a few seconds, a hesitant and muffled yes.
“Why am I not seeing you?”
“Because I'm covering up the camera. I look like crap.”
“Stop. Take your hand away.”
I can hear her sigh, and then her image comes back into view. I watch, amused, as she tugs her free hand through her long hair, easing it down the mass of tangled strands and wincing. She looks sleepy and childlike and gorgeous.
“You don't have to do that, Cassandra.”
“Do what?” she mumbles.
“Fix your hair. You look beautiful just as you are.”
She yawns and covers her mouth, looking into the camera reproachfully.
“I've missed you.”
Her face softens. “You have?”
“Yes. I've been thinking a lot about you.”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, smiling shyly. “I've been thinking about you, too.”
“One of the things I've been thinking is how much I want to fuck you.”
This wakes her up. Her chin lifts slightly.
“Are you wanting me to?”
Cassandra turns away, biting her lip.
“Please look into the camera, Cassandra, and answer me.”
She brings her gaze back to me. Her voice is small. “Yes.”
“I need to know if you are ready for it.”
“I am.”
“I mean ready in the sense of what I need you to do. How I need you to be.” I pause. “Like I told you before, I have to have things a certain way. And right now, I want you to do something for me.”
Her eyes are large, expectant. “What is it?”
“I want you to put the phone against something and stand in front of it. I want both of your hands to be free, and I need to be able to see more of your body.”
She takes a long, shaky breath. “Carlo...”
“Show me that you're ready to do what I'm asking.”
Another deep breath, and then movement. She’s getting off the bed. The image of the room tilts as she walks, and then she sets the phone down.
She takes a few steps away from the camera so that her body from the waist up is in view.
“Step back a bit more.”
She obeys. Now I can see the narrow band of bare skin between her white tank top and panties.
“Perfect. Have you ever had phone sex before, Cassandra?”
“No,” she whispers. Her hands are clasped in front of her. Jesus, if only we weren’t fifteen hundred miles apart. If only I could be in the same room with her right now. What I would do to her.
I look closely at her image. I can see the hardened points of her nipples through her tank top.
“Are you nervous?”
She nods.
“Will you do what I ask, without hesitating?”
She nods again.
“That’s a good girl.” I lean back against the headboard, sliding my free hand down my boxers. “Take off your top.”
Cassandra wriggles first one arm free, then the other, and lets the tank top fall to the floor. She keeps her arms straight by her sides—I’ve got to give her credit for not trying to cover herself. Her breasts are round, perfect...Christ, I want to hold them, feel her nipples in my mouth.
“Touch them. Touch them like you'd want me to.”
I slide my hand slowly up and down my cock as I watch as her fingers move upward to feel her nipples. She’s closing her eyes, her head tipped back slightly, her hair spilling over her shoulders. My heart begins to slam against my chest, breaths coming in harsh, uneven gasps, as she strokes and tweaks her nipples. She’s making me horny as fuck.
“Take off your panties, Cassandra.” I stop my own stroking—don’t want to come just yet.
She slips them off, once again positioning herself in front of the camera. She stands with her arms at her sides, legs a little apart, eyes closed—waiting for my instructions. Christ, I want to fuck her right now. That body—petite and toned and perfectly proportioned. She’s killing me.
“Stroke yourself,” I order, my cock straining against my boxers, “and pretend I'm touching you.”
Wrapping one arm around her waist as if to steady herself, Cassandra widens her stance. She slides her other hand down and starts to caress the folds between her legs, moaning ever so softly as she bends two fingers and pushes them inside her opening.
I can’t fucking wait any longer. The boxers go down to my knees, and I’m stroking again, faster and faster till I’m groaning, watching Cassandra's fingers slide in and out of her pussy.
I explode within seconds, my ecstasy matched only by knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that I have Cassandra exactly where I need her to be.
She is ready.
chapter thirty-one ~ Cassandra
I always get keyed up when I know I’ll see Carlo, but this time feels different. I’m driving to his house in Lititz, and I’ve already downed a bottle and a half of water. I’m hoping I won’t have to pee a small pond once I get there, but my mouth is so effing dry—in contrast to my fingers, which feel damp as they grip the wheel. Calm the fuck down, girlfriend. You're going to his house to have sex with him, not get beheaded.
Of course, it’s not just the sex that’s stressing me out. It’s the unknown—what he expects of me. What he’ll ask of me.
Jesus. I’m shivering, thinking of the indescribable hold Carlo has on me that I don’t understand and can’t explain. I find myself almost craving him to make me do things. Last week, FaceTiming with him...it felt like I was in a dream. I’ve never been so uninhibited with him, or anyone, before. Definitely one of the most intensely erotic experiences I’ve ever had. After we hung up, I got back in bed and brought myself to another climax—woke up early in the morning, thought of what we did, and made myself come again in the shower.
Carlo’s become like a drug for me, and even though I did initially try to fight the addiction...now, I’m hooked.
And tonight, we’re going to finally...okay, so what should I call it? Make love? Fuck? Somewhere in between. The butterflies in my stomach turn into herons as I remember his phone call last night.
Wear a casual dress. Something simple, but I want it to show off your breasts. Bare legs, black panties, black push-up bra. No jewelry, no perfume and very little makeup. You don't need it, anyway. Wear your hair up. No alcohol or any mood-altering drugs of any kind. And I want you to shave your pussy bare the night before.
The last instruction caused an immediate pulsing in that area, imagining what he might do to me and remembering that night he'd gone down on me against the wall.
Do you have any questions, Cassandra?
No, I told him, although honestly, my mind was peppered with them. What are you going to do to me? Will it be slow and gentle, or quick and rough? Will anything hurt? Will you get angry if there is something I can't do?
And the most pressing question of all: How are we going to be afterwards?
My phone rings from the passenger seat, jarring me out of my thoughts. I glance down to see who it is. Teal. Talking to her will be a good diversion. “Hey.”
“Did you forget you were supposed to call me back?”
Oh, shit. “Ughh, sorry...I've just had a lot going on lately.”
“Let me guess...Carlo.”
“Work, mostly.”
“And Carlo. Where are you, anyway?”
“Driving to Carlo's.” Do I tell her? Oh, what
the hell...I might as well. “I think tonight's the night.”
“What? You mean you're finally going to do the nasty?”
“Yes, and what a lovely way to put it.”
“You must be freaking out, girlfriend!”
“Basically.” The herons inside me, flapping again. Okay, so maybe Teal isn’t such a good diversion.
“But this is good, right? You've been wanting to for a while now.”
“Yes.”
“So how did this all come about? Did he ask you, or did you say Carlo, I really, really want to fuck you six ways to Sunday?”
“Neither. Things got…kind of intense last week.” I’m not going to share the FaceTime incident. Too private. “I guess we decided we were both ready.”
“I'm so happy for you, my love! This could be turning into something serious.” Teal’s voice takes on a sly tone. “And I'm thinking he's going to be totally amazing.”
I'm thinking that, too.
“Listen, I'm just heading into class. I can't wait to hear how everything goes. Call me tomorrow with all the deets, okay?”
“Okay. Love you.”
I end the call and turn onto Carlo's road. My heart is beating wildly as I pull into his driveway, and my armpits feel sticky—thank God I brought deodorant. I quickly apply it in the car and hope Carlo isn’t watching from the house.
He liked me in the purple gown I wore for Gianna's engagement party, so I bought a simple, violet mini-dress, knee-length and clingy, with a scoop neck and tight bodice. Since early October nights can be chilly, I brought a cropped gray cardigan to wear over the dress. He didn’t mention anything about shoes, but I’m wearing silver flats.
By the time I step onto the brick walkway, my thoughts have collected and twisted into one giant clusterfuck. I curl my fingers into fists as I approach the front door, hoping the mind scream reverberating in my skull won’t exit through my mouth. All at once, this has become overwhelming: the time it’s taken to get to this point, combined with how long it’s been since I’ve actually had sex with anyone, compounded by not knowing exactly what is in store for me. For a split second, I consider getting back in my car and driving away.
But all of this changes when the door opens, and I see him.
Carlo leans against the door frame in a black t-shirt and faded jeans, showcasing his trademark lazy grin and creating a flurry of sparks at the very core of me. He’s clean-shaven tonight, his hair damp and disheveled like he’s just towel-dried it, and he seems calm and relaxed—as if tonight is just any other night. But when I get closer and look in his eyes, I can see something smoldering there: an eagerness and intensity I haven’t seen before.
It makes me tremble.
“Come in.”
I follow him into the entryway and am immediately swept into his arms. The suddenness of this touches me...it’s like he knows I need to be held. I stand with my head pressed against his chest, breathing in the intoxicating scent of him, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat.
He nuzzles my hair. “I'm glad you're here.”
“Me too.”
“Are you all right?”
“I think so.”
“Good. You're early,” he says softly, a teasing lilt to his voice. “Couldn't wait to get started?”
I huff in protest, flattening my hands against his chest, but he holds me tight. “That's not allowed.”
“What isn't allowed?”
“Pushing me away.”
His voice has changed—stern, serious. There’s a leaping sort of feeling in my chest, but I let my hands relax against him.
“Much better.” He takes a step back, his eyes raking over me approvingly. “You look amazing. The dress, the hair—you did very well.”
“Thank you. I had a little guidance.”
His eyes are more gray than blue tonight, and looking into their depths, I see a shift. The intense want melts into a flicker of raw emotion—and I feel like I’m staring deep into Carlo Leone's soul for the first time.
And then, just as suddenly, the flicker is gone. His cool fingers cup my face as he bends to kiss me. I close my eyes, parting my lips to accept his tongue, and I can’t help the faint moan that escapes me. He’s kissing me softly, deeply, pulling my lower lip into his mouth and nibbling gently, and I curl my toes inside my flats. He tastes delicious—warm and minty—and it occurs to me that I could just kiss him for hours and be completely satisfied, when he surprises me by stopping and pressing his lips to my forehead.
“I've been waiting a long time to get you where I needed you to be, Cassandra. I don't want to wait anymore.”
Oh, God. It's starting.
Carlo takes my hand. I slip off my shoes, my heart thudding and skipping as he leads me past the living room and down the hallway. Carlo stops at the second door on the left, pushes it open and places his hand lightly on my bare upper back. I quiver walking into the room.
Having never seen his bedroom, I’ve conjured up all sorts of images—some of which freaked me out. But there’s no red room of pain here—just a very sleek and classy décor, perfect for a bachelor.
The bed, of course, is the first thing I notice. It’s king-sized with a contemporary, black, four-poster frame, tall headboard and a bedspread with gray and white geometric designs, folded back crisply to reveal a lime green sheet. A square black nightstand is on one side holding an alarm clock, two bottles of water (thank you, Carlo) and a pewter lamp with a white shade. The room has pearly gray walls and a carpet in a slightly darker shade. There’s a cluster of white votive candles on a suspended shelf, their tiny flames dancing under the ceiling fan, and more lighting from wall sconces around the room. On one wall is a black leather love seat with two lime green pillows, and opposite this wall is the master bath.
Let me take another moment to fully comprehend this: I am in Carlo Leone’s bedroom.
The breeze from the ceiling fan carries a scent with it. I look at Carlo. “Vanilla?”
“Yes. The candles. Vanilla is known to increase sexual stimulation in both men and women.”
I can’t help but laugh a little. Like either of us need that extra boost. “That's an interesting bit of trivia. You seem to have thought of everything...the bottled water, the candles...”
“I've thought this through, yes.”
He’s staring at me again. Jesus, his eyes.
I fold my arms across my chest. “I can think of one thing that's missing.”
“Really. What?”
“Music.”
“That’s a deliberate choice.” He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close. “I want you to be completely focused.” A pause. “And I want to be able to hear every sound you make.”
My God. I let out my breath in one long, shuddery exhale. I’m suddenly feeling weak and rubbery.
“Like that sound, for example.” His lips go to my neck, nipping and kissing, and all of a sudden I’m trembling—hating myself for it, but overwhelmed with all that I’m feeling about this night. About this man.
Tears spring to my eyes, and Carlo senses the change in me, because he grips my shoulders.
“Cassandra. You need to trust me.”
I look into his eyes...see the intensity, the hunger, the need. At this moment, wanting him so much, I could promise him the world. “I do. I do trust you.”
“Then let's start.” His face softens, his voice pleasant but firm. “From this point forward, you are not to speak or make a sound unless I tell you to. But if there is anything you absolutely cannot do, if you want me to stop what I’m doing at any time, you can simply say the word enough, and I'll stop. I need you to be a completely willing participant.”
A completely willing participant? What did this mean? What is it going to involve? The questions crowd into my mouth, but I don’t let them out.
“I also want absolute stillness from you—meaning, I don't want you to make even the slightest movement without instructions from me. That includes no touching me, no shifting position,
no motion unless I ask you to do so. Do you understand?”
I swallow the questions and my uneasiness and nod.
“Good girl,” he says softly. “Now. Go stand in front of the couch, and take down your hair.”
I do as he asks, easing out the pins and elastic and placing them on the small table beside the couch. I curled my hair before putting it up, and it cascades to my shoulders in long corkscrews.
He moves behind me, unzipping my dress slowly and pausing to place kisses on the back of my neck and between my shoulder blades.
Kiss...unzip...kiss...unzip. I close my eyes, willing myself not to shiver. Absolute stillness. I can do this.
“Lift your arms straight over your head.”
I obey. His hands go to the hemline of my dress, lifting it up and sliding it over my head, then draping it over the arm of the love seat. The cool air in the room wafts over me as I stand motionless in my black bra and panties.
I hear him draw in his breath and then whisper. “Beautiful.” He pulls off his black t-shirt, tossing it on the floor and running a hand through his hair. I’m aching to put her hands on his wide chest, to trace the outlines of his pecs and abs, to feel his mouth on mine again.
But Carlo has other plans for me.
“Get on your knees, Cassandra.”
Knowing what he wants sends thrills rocketing through me. I kneel on the soft gray carpet.
“Unzip my pants. I think you know what I want you to do. Do you?”
I hesitate, unsure if he wants me to speak.
“I asked you a question, and I expect an answer.”
“Yes,” I answer quickly. “I know what you want.”
“Good. Unzip my pants, and take out my cock. Then you may suck it.”
I move closer to him, inches away from the huge bulge in his jeans. Just the thought of taking him in my mouth is panty-melting. Right now, I feel an almost desperate urge to please him.
Slowly, I slide down the zipper, taking a shaky breath as I gently tug down his jeans and boxers to release his cock. His erection is enormous, and seeing it creates a rush of wetness in my panties. I run my tongue around my lips to moisten them, take the big head of his cock gently inside my mouth and begin to suck.
