by Bethany-Kris
Her cheeks reddened. “So you’re a good fuck—I never denied that, Gian.”
“Try again.”
She blew out a slow breath. “God, you’re insufferable.”
“Try again, mon ange.”
“I know that means you’re calling me your angel. I know how to use the internet, Gian.”
“Try again.”
“Could you try to be a little less arrogant?” she asked.
“I don’t give an inch, because everyone thinks they can take a mile. Try again.”
Cara’s eyes blazed as she turned them on him. “I came because I like you, and you make it hard to say no, even when you’re not asking.”
He’d take that.
Fucking right he would.
“Except right now, you’re making me want to—”
“Make a trip to the closet private space to get me between your legs?” he asked with a smirk. “Because I only actually need to move my chair closer, Cara, to get that job done with one hand. The tablecloth hides what goes on beneath.”
“You are—”
“Are we ready for drinks?”
The sudden appearance of the server made Cara sit straight in her chair while Gian only winked at his companion. “Red wine, and bring it with the food, please.”
“Five minutes, Sir.”
“Wonderful.”
Gian didn’t take his gaze off Cara, but he listened to the footsteps of the receding server.
“What did you order us, anyway?” she asked.
“Poutine.”
Cara repeated the word, and butchered it the way most Americans and Western Canadians did whenever they said it.
“No, not poo-teen,” Gian said with a laugh. “Pou-tin. Or, pu-tsin if you’re French.”
“Isn’t that, like, fries and gravy?”
“It’s a delicacy, invented by the French. Homemade fries, cheese curds, and a dark gravy, piled into one giant mess on a plate. Everybody has their own way of making it, some add different nonsense to it, which frankly, ruins what it’s supposed to be in the end. It’s not pretty, but it is delicious.”
“And what about after the food and wine?”
Gian shrugged one shoulder. “Whatever you want, Cara. I can take you home, and drop you off. I know you probably have classes tomorrow. Or we can go see a movie, maybe a show if you want. It’s up to you.”
“So, a real date, huh?”
“One that ends however and wherever you want it to, bella.”
She smiled a wicked sight.
Gian knew exactly where their date was going to end.
He didn’t mind a bit.
“More,” Cara demanded, her voice thick with sleep and content.
Gian chuckled, rocking her body that was tucked tight against his. “You were supposed to be up an hour ago.”
“Just read.”
“Cara.”
“Gian.”
He made the sexiest noise under his breath. “You know I can’t refuse you when you say my name like that, Cara. That’s unfair.”
“More reading, less nagging.”
“You have terrible morning habits.”
“I also have a gorgeous man in my bed and a study group, first thing, that I can afford to miss. Shut up and read, Gian.”
In French, actually.
He was reading in French, and Cara loved it. She didn’t understand a damn word he was saying, for the most part. There was something about his voice that soothed her and provoked her at the same time.
With a half-hearted sigh, Gian continued reading. Les Misérables, to be exact. She didn’t know what to do with this conundrum of a man. He wasn’t entirely good, but he wasn’t entirely bad, either. He wore shoes and suits that cost more than what most people made in a month, yet ate comfort food and liked cheap beer. He had set a gun on her nightstand the night before, but brought a classic novel in from his car like he needed it just as badly, too. He was educated, high-class, and Toronto elite, but rough, dirty, and full of sin, too.
Cara didn’t know what to do with all the pieces of Gian Guzzi.
Not a clue.
The cadence of Gian’s tenor changed before his French turned to English as he asked, “You don’t even understand what I’m reading, do you?”
Cara shrugged, snuggling in closer to Gian and soft sheets. “Don’t have to.”
“That’s sort of the point of being read to, right?”
“Not right now.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You wouldn’t.” Cara hummed a happy sort of sound, grinning up at the dark-eyed man staring down at her. “It’s your voice. It’s an all the time thing, Gian. The way you sound, you probably don’t even hear it, but I do.”
“And how do I sound?”
She could have said many things.
Sexy.
Lovely.
Comforting.
Arousing.
Deep.
Provoking.
The truth was, Gian’s voice—and him, really—was a mix of all of those things. Settling on one was not enough. It did not do him justice.
“Dangerous,” Cara whispered. “You sound dangerous, Gian.”
For a long while, Gian stared at Cara, never blinking or moving a muscle. It was as though he didn’t quite know what to make of her statement. “I’ve never been told that before.”
“That’s kind of sad.”
“Is it?”
“You should know the way you can affect people, Gian. It’s more than wearing a suit and a sly smile, with a gun hidden at your back. It’s knowing that you only need to speak and people listen. A man with a dangerous voice has far more command than anyone could possibly understand, he needs to know how to use it.” Cara rolled over to her back and reached for her phone on the nightstand. She checked the time, and scowled at it. “I do need to get up soon. The study group was okay to miss, but I have a paper I need to hand in for the class after that.”
Gian didn’t reply, which made Cara look over at him. She found that he was still looking at her, but the intensity she saw in his eyes made her heart stop for a split second.
An appreciation, churned with lust and mixed heavily in his admiration and hunger. As though she was the sweetest, most precious thing to have ever spoken in his presence, and he wanted nothing more than to be right there with her forever. She had seen his many stares before—when he wanted to fuck, his irritation, or his indifference.
This was not the same.
It scared her for a moment.
Something else to add to her rapidly growing pile of confusion.
“I don’t know what to do with you,” Gian finally said, breaking the silence.
“The same thing you have been doing, I guess.”
“It’s not enough. It’s not nearly enough, bella.”
She tossed her phone back to the nightstand, and then turned back to Gian, taking her sweet time to crawl on top of his naked body, under the sheets, until she straddled him. One of his hands landed on her waist, his fingers gripping tight to keep her still, while the other slid from her stomach, up between her breasts, and stopped on her throat.
Cara only smiled at the sensation of her heartbeat thrumming under his hand. “I like that, you know. I don’t really say it, because I figure I don’t have to. But I like that a lot.”
Gian’s fingers drummed against her throat. “This?”
“Yes. Especially when you squeeze hard enough to take my breath away, like I’m floating for a few seconds, all the control is gone, and it’s only a feeling. Nothing else. Just the way I feel.”
“What else?”
She shifted her weight on top of him, attempting to ignore the length of his erection resting between her legs. It didn’t help, really. She only ended up grinding against his cock more, soaking in the silky feeling of his length sliding along her pussy. She used her hands as support against his lower abdominal muscles to keep her steady as she reveled in that simple pleasure.
That voice of his would kill her someday.
She was sure of it.
Her attention was back on him in an instant, and she remembered what he had asked. “And I like the way you talk when you’re fucking me, how you always take and demand, and you rarely ever ask. You don’t push, either, but you don’t have to. It’s raw and it’s filthy and I like it that way.”
“Why?”
His question seemed simple enough.
Except his voice was laced with huskiness and heat.
“Because there’s something about you that’s different,” Cara admitted quietly. “You use me in bed like a toy, like I’m yours to ruin and fuck however you want to; like your own personal little slut. And then you open my doors, you hold my hand, and you tell me I’m beautiful.”
“Of course I do, Cara.”
“Yes, because you’re different. Because there’s more to a woman than how she behaves in a bedroom, but most forget not to bring it beyond the bed, too. You don’t, and I like that.”
She leaned down, close enough that her lips were a breath away from Gian’s as she said, “And nobody’s ever fucked me quite like you do, Gian.”
“That’s a damn good thing, then.”
That was all Gian said before his lips slammed into Cara’s with a bruising, demanding kiss that silenced her mind and made her heart race. His tongue found hers in a familiar dance that came like a comfort, and a battle at the same time. It was only when he pulled away enough to bite into her lower lip that she realized how badly she needed air, but couldn’t get in a good breath.
His hips had started moving with the gentle beat of hers, too. Rocking, grinding—putting pressure in the right spot and then taking it away before she could get more.
Cara was sure her juices had soaked his cock already.
She couldn’t even find it in herself to be ashamed.
“Why?” Cara managed to ask while his teasing mouth traveled over her throat.
“Why, what?”
“Why is it a good thing that no one has ever fucked me like you?”
His arms encircled her then, one curling around her back and neck so that his hand could grab onto her hair. His other arm went between her legs and up over her ass so his palm laid flat to her lower spine. He held her there, forcing her head back so he could look her in the eyes while her body fucking shivered.
“Does it matter?” he asked.
“I answered your questions. Answer mine.”
“Because I like that it’s only been mine this way,” he told her. “The way I fuck you, how you let me have you. Your pussy, your ass, that fucking mouth, and the rest of your body. How you say my name and the sounds you make when you’re about to come but you know you need to wait. You’re greedy as hell when I’m eating your cunt and then sweet as hell in the morning, demanding that I read to you. When you want to get on your knees like you’re about to pray, but all you do is open up that goddamn mouth of yours and suck me dry instead. It’s … it’s insane, but it’s fucking beautiful, Cara. And it’s only been mine like that. Someone else might have gotten something else, but I get this, and that’s addicting. You’re addictive.”
She took a shaky breath. “And you don’t think you’re addictive, too?”
His arms tightened to her body and her hair. “As long as it’s mine, sweetheart.”
She was ruined for anyone else, anyway.
Didn’t he already know that?
Well, how could he know, when she was now realizing it, too?
“Who the hell else could make me fucking crazy like you do, Gian?”
He only grinned—sexy, cocky, and pleased.
“You know what I was most pissed off about, the morning after my car got bombed?” he asked.
“What was that?”
“I ruined my damn phone and—”
“Lost your filthy porn.”
Gian laughed. “Well, yeah.”
“You’ll get more.”
“Of you? I’d say so.”
Cara’s gaze snapped to his fast. “Only me.”
Gian’s grin melted into a smile before he kissed her mouth once more, softer than before. “Who the fuck else?”
Exactly.
“You do have to get up and get ready,” he reminded her.
She was more interested in his mouth, hands, and cock.
They were far more interesting.
“In a minute,” Cara said absently.
He let her go then, his arms releasing her from that snake-like hold so he could grab her face and kiss her mouth over and over.
Cara rotated her hips on Gian’s hard cock once more, determined to get back in her happy place, but he had other things in mind. Better things. His hand dove between their bodies, and the next time Cara ground along his length, he filled her full with one hard flex of his hips, driving upwards against her pussy.
She hadn’t been expecting the move, if only because he was always so careful to grab a condom first, though she had told him before that she was on the pill. But she liked him this way, too—bare and natural, filling and stretching her full, making her ache with nothing but him.
“Shit,” Gian groaned, holding Cara tight to his body so that she couldn’t move. “Fuck, I love your pussy.”
“Because it’s yours.”
His nod answered her back, and his eyes closed as she felt his cock jerk inside the tight walls of her sex. She was wet as fuck as her hand snuck between their bodies to feel the base of his bare cock fitted snug to her cunt. Hot, too, she realized.
Cara’s fingers slid over her clit with gentle strokes, making her inner muscles tighten and release with each touch.
“Could you come like that?” Gian asked, never opening his eyes. “Just stretched full of my cock and playing with your cunt, could you?”
“Yes, but not as fast as I would like.”
“And how would you like it, Cara?”
“You already know.”
Gian’s eyes opened, making Cara still on top of him entirely. “Yeah, I do.”
She hadn’t even blinked before one of his hands tangled into her hair and the other found her throat. The second his fingers tightened, choking and pulling at the same time, his hips thrust upward, driving into her again. Cara let him pull her forward, enough to lift her hips and let him pound into her pussy, deep and hard enough to make the rest of the room disappear. It was only the sound of them—his cock slamming into her, her pussy taking him in, all wet and tight, her whines and his whispers—and nothing else.
“Ride me or take it,” Gian muttered through his clenched teeth. “Fuck me how you want to, or take my cock the way I know you can, Cara.”
“I want both.”
She was greedy that way, too. Greedy enough for him to back her ass into his every thrust, but still needy enough to make him pound into her hard enough to make her fucking crazy.
His fingers tightened around her throat, taking away air and making her fly. She knew what was coming. She fucking vibrated for it, anticipated it, wanting his words to make it sweeter, and better.
“Just fucking come and give it to me, then,” he demanded. “Show me what’s mine, Cara. Show me.”
Shit.
She could do that.
All he had to do was say so.
Cara stepped out of the shower to find Gian leaning in the doorway. “I know, I’m late.”
He held his hands up, grinning in that way of his. “I’m saying nothing about that again. I warned you earlier, you wanted to listen to me read, love.”
“Well, it sounded good.”
“And then fuck after,” he added.
Cara shot him a look. “I didn’t hear you refusing.”
“Why would I?”
She didn’t dignify that with a response, instead drying off with a towel and making quick work of rubbing it through her wet hair. She was going to have to rush to get to school and hand in her paper on time, but she c
ouldn’t find it in herself to give a shit.
Gian had jumped in the shower with her long enough to clean himself up before he jumped right back out. Cara was both jealous and irritated to see him standing there with his suit on and his hair dry.
It wasn’t fair that all he had to do was basically roll over and be ready for the day.
“What do you want, if you’re not standing there to remind me that I’m late again?” Cara asked.
She headed past Gian in the doorway, going toward her bedroom for clothes. It was what he said next that stopped Cara in her tracks.
“Your brother called.”
Cara turned slowly on her heel. “I’m sorry?”
“Tommas—that’s your brother, right?”
“Yes.”
“He called when you were in the shower. He wanted me to ask you to call your mother.”
Nope.
Cara turned back around and went straight into her room without a word. She dug through her closet, while Gian came to stand in the doorway of the bedroom, watching her in that silent way of his.
“Could you give me a ride to the university?”
“You don’t even have to ask,” he replied.
“Great. Saves me time.”
“I take it you’re not going to talk about your brother, huh?”
Cara shrugged. “Tommas is fine. Not my mother, though.”
Gian nodded as she passed him in the door. “Fair enough.”
“And I’m not calling the bitch, either.”
“Ouch,” he muttered behind her.
Cara kept walking, picking up her bag and the other things she needed on the way. Her hair would have to dry like it was, but it wouldn’t be the first time. “It sounds cold because I mean for it to. I have nothing to say to that woman that will be nice, and everybody knows it. Just because Tommas can muster up an ounce of care for the woman means fuck all to me in the end. I’ve looked for something, Gian.”
“And?”
She turned to look at him, unaffected as she said, “It’s not there. Nothing is there. Maybe when Lea was alive, or even shortly after she died, when I was so alone here by myself—maybe then I might have found something. But, now? Now, when I’m almost fully okay and I don’t need somebody holding me up, it’s gone again. I’m not calling my mother. I have nothing to say to Serena Rossi. She can keep drinking away the shit she did to us kids until she drinks herself into a grave. And even then, I don’t care.”
