by Renee Rose
Just be with him.
Too bad life is so damn complicated.
Paolo
Caitlin loses her smile as soon as we’re out of bed. She picks up her phone and goes outside—buck naked and it’s forty degrees out—to make a phone call. I watch her through the sliding door, circling the hot tub. When she opens it up to peek inside, I step outside to pull the cover back. “Hop in,” I murmur, smacking her ass.
She tosses me a grateful smile and scoots in, but the tone of the conversation she’s having is tense. “Listen, it’s all been handled. You don’t need to worry about it, okay? No, the charges were dropped, the money was returned. All’s well that ends well.”
I go inside to give her some privacy. It’s probably her brother. When I scrolled through her phone the first night, that was the only number she called for more than a minute.
I vow to learn more about her life—family, history, everything. Now that I’ve decided to keep my little wildfire, I want to know everything there is to know.
I bring out a towel and leave it for her. When she comes back in, she’s a more sane Caitlin—a side I haven’t seen much of, but I knew must be there for her to be where she is—halfway to a PhD in computer science. “I was supposed to TA my first class today,” she says, like all is lost.
There’s no fucking way this is a problem, though. Not when Dr. Alden is my bitch now.
I point at her phone. “Call your advisor. Tell him you’ll be there tomorrow.”
“Well, it would be next Tuesday, but...” She searches my face. “Okay.” She dials and I step closer to listen in. She’s wrapped in nothing but a towel, and even though I’ve already had her twice, she still turns me on.
She glances up at me again, as if for reassurance as she puts the phone to her ear. “Hi, Dr. Alden? Yeah, I don’t know if you saw the news or not, but—”
“I saw it,” he says tightly. “Are you calling from jail?”
“Nope, I’m out. Charges have been dropped. It was all a big misunderstanding.” She shoots me another look and I nod reassuringly. “So I missed today’s class, but I’ll start Tuesday, no problem.”
“No problem, right,” he grumbles, but then he says, “Fine. Make sure you do.”
“I’ll make sure,” she says.
I resist the urge to snatch the phone from her hand and tell him he’d better sweeten his fucking tone when he talks to my girl, but I leave it.
Caitlin hangs up and falls into me, pressing her body against mine. I wrap an arm around her. But her forehead wrinkles up again. “Um, I need to go home.” She sends me a pleading look. “I’m way behind in my schoolwork and—”
I hold up my hand. “Say no more. You’re not my prisoner, doll. I’ll drive you back.”
I’m annoyed by her relief, even though how the fuck is she supposed to know she’s not a prisoner this time? I’m the kind of guy who purposely keeps people in the dark about where they stand and what my intentions are.
I’ve spent my entire life hiding what’s important to me behind violence and threats. I don’t even know how to let another person in. My family, they just know me. Communication isn’t required.
But a prickly sensation tells me I’m going to fall way off the mark with Caitlin if I don’t figure this shit out.
Trouble is, I don’t even know where to start.
Caitlin
I don’t hear from Paolo for a couple days, which comes as a relief because I have a lot of catching up and explaining to do with my classes and job at the rec center.
That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about him every second of the day. Wondering when he’s going to turn up.
If he’ll be sitting in my living room when I come home. Or if he’s watching me. I had this sense before the FBI picked me up that I was being watched. At the time I imagined it was them, but after the thing with Dr. Alden I’ve started wondering if it was Paolo.
And all this time, I hear the scream of warning going off about this whole situation. I literally got into bed with a killer. I owe him two hundred grand which I am paying off one blowjob at a time.
Things could go south in an instant.
On the third night I come home from my dance cardio class and find my apartment has been completely emptied.
I stand in the doorway, my heart thumping as I try to figure out what happened.
Is this a message from Paolo? Did he feel like I didn’t make myself available so he took all my belongings? Or did the FBI return? No, that doesn’t make sense.
“Oh hey, doll.” Paolo appears behind me, his large hand spanning my lower back. “I moved your shit. Come on.”
“Moved it where?” I say faintly. He takes my bike from my hands and carries it down the stairwell in front of me.
Outside, he hands the bike to some young Italian guy with a shining red Escalade on the corner. “Bring that over, too,” he says to the guy.
“What’s happening, Paolo?”
We get to his car and he opens the passenger door for me. “Get in.”
I wring my hands in the car. Did he move me into his place? It’s way too far from campus, and I don’t drive. Living there would be the biggest pain in my ass. Plus… I’m scared. I don’t know what it means to be consumed by Paolo Tacone.
The drive isn’t far, though. Just a mile away, he pulls into a newly remodeled upscale apartment building where I’m sure the apartments cost five times what mine does.
“What’s going on?” I ask Paolo again, but he still refuses to answer. The guy with my bike shows up right behind us, and Paolo takes it from him and hands him a wad of cash. “Grazie, Adam.”
Seriously, I could’ve ridden my bike over here and he could’ve given me that cash.
“Come on, little hacker.” Paolo carries my bike in and we get on the elevator to the sixth floor. There, he unlocks the door to an apartment.
It’s lovely. Gleaming hardwood floors. Bay windows on the street side of the apartment. A leather couch with dual recliners and a matching chair face a giant flat-screen television. There’s a nice rug in front of it.
My desk and bulletin board are against one wall, with my computer equipment all set up.
“What’s happening?” I try again.
“I moved you. I didn’t like that other place. It was a dump and not nearly safe enough for you.” He walks over and sprawls on the expensive couch. “What do you think?”
Great. I try to erase the frown from my face. Yeah, he does have the right to move me. This guy owns me.
So I should show some gratitude. Credit another $500 off my tab.
I walk over and hit my knees in front of him, reaching for his cock.
He catches my wrist. “Hang on, little girl.”
I look up, checking his face for clues about what he wants. What I did wrong.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to give me head.” He leans forward and brushes some of my hair back from my face. “I always want that, doll. But I get the feeling you didn’t like my surprise. What gives?”
I suck my cheek into my mouth and consider what to say. “It’s definitely a surprise,” I say cautiously. “But the thing is, I could never afford a place like this on my own. So I give up my cheap student housing—and I had to use some serious hacking skills to make sure I won that lottery when it came open—and then what happens when we’re done?”
Paolo goes perfectly still. He never shows much, but I can tell whatever I said upset him. “What do you mean when we’re done?”
And that’s when it hits me—Paolo Tacone might be playing for keeps.
And I’m not sure why that scares me even more than our current arrangement.
He cups my chin and lifts it to examine my face. “Let me ask you something… are you keeping track?”
Keeping track. He means of how much I owe him.
I nod, even though I’m pretty sure it’s going to piss him off.
It does. He releases me abruptly and gets up, stepping over me to pac
e to the window. In the reflection, I watch him scrub a hand over his five o’clock shadow and stare down at the cars below.
Crap.
I am in over my head here. I don’t know what’s going through his mind, or if I even want to know.
But I do get that I just hurt his feelings.
A feat I didn’t believe possible until this moment.
I walk over and touch his arm.
He jerks it up and I flinch, but he was only moving to loop his arm around me. I relax and let him and he draws me close. “You’re scared of me.” He sounds stunned. Like he hadn’t considered that possibility. I guess I’ve done a good job hiding it. My overly-familiar act sucked him right in.
I can’t answer, because I don’t want to acknowledge what’s obviously an offensive notion to him.
He releases me and gives a shake of his head. “You want out of our arrangement?”
My breath stands still. It’s a simple question. And considering I have been keeping track, you’d think it would be an easy answer. But when I open my mouth, nothing comes out.
“No,” I finally croak.
He lifts his brows like he doesn’t believe me. “No? I can find another way for you to pay me back. A couple years working IT at the casino when you graduate. You don’t even have to see me again. Would you prefer that?”
Why is my heart breaking at this questioning? I should be jumping at the offer. It’s far safer. Much more reasonable.
Instead I wrap my arms around his thick trunk. “I don’t want out of the arrangement. But I am scared.”
He burrows his fingers into the back of my hair and cradles my head. He tips my face up and leans his forehead against mine. “But you like to be afraid, right, little hacker?”
A soft puff of laughter leaves my lips. Once again, I’m surprised at how easily he sees my quirks. “You got me.”
His thumb moves behind my neck, stroking there. “I thought we understood each other.” His dark gaze sears my face. “Was I wrong?”
I shake my head. Because my anxieties have fled. It’s illogical and unreal, but in these moments, I do believe I understand Paolo Tacone perfectly. And I believe he understands me.
It’s when I’m away from him I realize none of this is safe, sane or consensual. None of this makes sense.
He runs his thumb over my lower lip, then tilts my head and drops his to brush his lips across mine. “Let’s get this straight once and for all. I play rough. I like to say I own you. Order you around and remind you what you owe me. But all of that makes you hot. Am I wrong?”
“No.”
“You like being owned by me.”
I hesitate.
His eyes narrow as he studies me. “What am I missing?”
“Nothing. No, you’re right. But what I think is hot and what I think is smart or safe, aren’t necessarily the same things.”
He cups my nape. “Baby, I never hurt you.”
“You kidnapped me and held my brother for ransom.”
He drops his head to the side. “Well, you had it coming. You stole from me.”
A giggle escapes my lips. This man is possibly as nuts as I am. “True.” I put my hands on his chest and step closer. “So what are we really talking about? This is more than a business arrangement?”
He releases me and rubs his forehead. “Do you want it to be?”
I cast my gaze about the room as if the answer to this might appear somewhere on the freshly painted walls. “I-I don’t know. I mean, I don’t even know what I’d bring to something more than that. I’m just a crazy hacker who gives good head.”
“I know you're not crazy.” He considers me. “What do I bring to the table besides some money and a mean streak?” He shrugs. “Maybe I need somebody to hurt. Someone to submit. You like pain. And yeah, you give great fucking head. It’s a match made in heaven.”
I laugh and hold his gaze as I lower to my knees. His nostrils flare when I unbuckle his belt. His cock grows as soon as I touch it, lengthening and bobbing when it springs free from his boxers. I take a slow, leisurely lick around the head.
“Caitlin, this isn’t a transaction for me.” His voice is strained—whether it’s from the blowjob or the difficulty in admitting anything to me, I can’t tell.
I take him deep into my mouth as an answer.
But he persists. “Is it for you?”
I grip the base of his cock and squeeze tight, coming off with my mouth. I shake my head. “I missed you after the kidnapping.”
His lips quirk and he grips the back of my head, feeding his length into my mouth again. “I missed you, too, bella.”
I struggle against his hold until he sets me free and I pop back off. “So am I your girlfriend? Are you going to see other women at the same time?”
He raises his brows, and the amusement on his face pisses me off. “Would that bother you?”
I stand up. Blow job is officially over. “I don’t play side chick,” I snap, turning away.
He catches my arm and yanks me into a brutal kiss. His tongue presses between my lips, teeth nip at me. When he releases me and comes up for air, he says, “No one else. Tacones don’t do side chicks. Once we make our minds up about a woman, we’re loyal as hell.”
I absorb that nugget, fascinated by everything it brings up. He comes from a family of violent but loyal men. That’s hot in a raw, primeval way.
To my utter shock, he drops to his knees and yanks down my yoga pants. His tongue delves between my legs and I cry out, grasping his hair. He rubs and flicks his tongue over all my sensitive bits until I’m trying to climb onto his face.
“Clothes off,” he orders when I start pulling his hair. “Go check out your new bed.”
I giggle and kick off my shoes and pants and run for the bedroom. It’s another lovely, large room with a huge four poster king bed in the middle. I grab one of the posts and swing around to face him where he’s stalking up behind me like the predator he is. “Are these for tying me up?”
“You know it.” He slaps my bare ass. “Why do you still have clothes on?”
I scramble out of my sweater, crop top and sports bra and climb up on the bed. “On your back. Spread your legs.” For a moment, he just takes his fill of looking, his dark eyes glittering with promise. Then he produces several lengths of soft rope from his pocket—he must have planned my bondage in advance—and ties me spread-eagle to the posts. Pleasure courses through my veins before he even touches me and when he returns to his exploration of my pussy with this tongue, I’m already half-lost.
Three orgasms later, I’m shaking and begging him to stop.
“No more. Please, Paolo. I can’t take any more. Let me suck your cock.”
He gives a cruel laugh. “Next time I’ll tie you with your head facing the foot of the bed and then fuck your mouth. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, little slave?”
“Mmm hmm.” I’m delirious at this point. But he’s right, I’d love that.
He unties me and climbs over me. I wrap my legs around his back when he enters me and use my heels to pull him in deeper.
He rocks into me, and even though I’m already wrung out with all the orgasms, my body shivers and celebrates the penetration.
“I like the apartment,” I confess. I attempt to focus on my surroundings. “I like the bed, too.” He rolls my knees back toward my shoulders and pumps into me rapid-fire. Then he switches to put my ankles over his shoulders. Finally, he turns me onto my belly and finishes fucking me from behind.
“I can’t move,” I groan after he comes, because my body is as limp as a rag doll.
Paolo sits down on the bed and pulls me face down over his lap. He spanks me hard and fast, which instantly wakes me up. “Ow!” I reach back with my hand to cover my butt.
He grabs my wrist and bends it behind my back, continuing to spank me. “I’ve seen you take way worse.”
“Not after so many orgasms!” I protest. “I’m way more sensitive now.”
“Is t
hat right? Didn’t know that.”
“Yes! It’s a fact.” I try to cover with the other hand, squeezing my buttocks together and kicking my feet with straight legs like a swimmer. “What’d I do, anyway?”
“You don’t have to do anything to get spanked, little girl. Sometimes I just feel like doling out the pain.”
I smile. Because despite my protests, this is total bliss for me. He’s definitely a man who speaks my language. “Good thing that works for me.”
“Good thing.”
This man is every masochist’s dream, but there’s no way I’m going to point him to the BDSM scene to discover there’s a whole slew of submissives like me who would gladly offer up their bodies to this perfect, wealthy dominant.
“I can’t believe some girl hasn’t latched on to you to be her sugar daddy before.”
He pops me twice on the ass—one spank on each cheek. “Is that what I am now?”
I giggle. “Well, you did just get me a new apartment.”
He wraps his hand in my hair and uses it to bow my back up and lift my face. “I’m happy to spoil the shit out of you, doll, if that’s what you like.”
I get wet, even though I’m not the type who goes crazy over money. I’ve made do on very little since I was emancipated at the age of sixteen. But we just said this isn’t transactional.
“I’m just here for the sex,” I say with a saucy smile. “And because you own me.”
He slaps the backs of my thighs, which makes me kick in earnest. “I do own you. And I’m going to take every advantage of that.” He drags his thumb between my butt cheeks and I squeeze even harder.
“What happens if we break up?”
“What?” He tugs me up to straddle his lap and pushes the hair back from my face.
“With the money? The arrangement? What happens then?”
“Then we make a new arrangement.”
I still have all kinds of yellow flags, if not red. My better judgement still thinks I should be running for the hills right now. “Have you ever hit a woman?” I have to know if this guy would get violent with me. Like if he got jealous, or we had a fight.
