Lion

by Carolyn Faulkner

  This was how she learned that she never wanted to be spanked when she was wet – or even just slightly damp.

  Overall, he treated her like a princess, like someone who was invaluable to him. She had a devil of a time trying to remember the transience of the situation. This weekend didn't really mean anything. It was just a fun time – nothing more than that, supposedly, to either one of them.

  Well, to him, anyway.

  Monday morning, after fucking her until she nearly passed out again that morning, before he allowed her out of bed, he reclaimed his cell phone, handed her back her purse and clothes, then rode with her to her house, even though it was well out of his way.

  He was promising her all sorts of things that she didn't believe. She tried not to even count on the small things; like the fact that he would call her tonight. He was leaving from there to go on a business trip that was going to keep him away for most of a week, but he vowed to keep in touch with her, to keep tabs on her as he had all weekend.

  It didn't happen, and she knew she shouldn't have been surprised. A man like that had to have a girl in every port. She had been an idiot to become involved with him in the first place. What kind of behavior did she really expect from a gangster – honesty? Fidelity? Trustworthiness?

  She got exactly what she knew she deserved, not that it helped her accept the reality at all. She moped around her place, depressed, barely eating, and never leaving the house.

  He had not bothered to email, call or even text.

  Nothing.

  Two days before he had said he was due home, she forced herself to get up and out of bed, then out of the house entirely, knowing that if she didn't force herself to do it now, she might just end up spending the rest of her days in her small apartment. Especially, considering the truly dangerous conveniences offered online – she could work there, order pizza from there, even have groceries delivered without ever having to set foot outside.

  She paid a few bills around town, got a few groceries, ate a fast food meal that reminded her of why she didn't eat fast food – except for the fries – then stopped at the new frozen yogurt place to indulge her sweet tooth.

  It was no Browniegasm, but the coconut froyo, with almonds and milk chocolate mixed in, tasted close enough to an Almond Joy to fool her senses.

  When she arrived home, the styrofoam bowl still in her hand and the spoon in her mouth as she exited her car, she didn't notice the Rolls sitting in the parking lot adjacent to her apartment.

  That was until a young man, who looked a lot like a younger version of Nick, strolled up to stand next to her as she fumbled for her keys, trying to balance the spoon, the bowl and her purse, as she fished for them.

  "Ms. Franklin?" he asked.

  She eyed him suspiciously, never more aware than right then that she should have been safety smart and had her keys at the ready before she got to the door. "Who wants to know?"

  He smiled and chuckled softly. "I'd like you to come with me."

  CeCe snorted. "Dream on, buddy."

  The only thing he did was to lean down quickly and whisper, "Mr. Antonelli wishes to see you," before he straightened.

  She glared up at him. "You can tell Mr. Antonelli, for me, to fuck off, Junior."

  The young man looked positively pained at that. "Please don't make me go home and have to say that to him. You know he'll ask."

  She almost reneged, but then hardened her heart. "I'm sorry, man. But you obviously made your bed."

  He grimaced at that. "In a manner of speaking, yes, I did. But if I can't convince you to come see him, my life isn't going to be worth shit."

  That got her attention. "If I refuse to come and you have to go tell him, he'll hurt you?"

  The young man bent down and brought her hand to the back of his head where there seemed to be some sort of a knot.

  "Once, in a fit of rage, my uncle hit me in the back of the head with the wrought iron rod – one of those fire pokers that come with a fireplace? That lump there is permanent."

  CeCe was even more appalled at Nick than she already had been, the idea that he would viciously strike someone who was so obviously his own flesh and blood – but then, she reeled herself in. What could she really have expected from him? If he would do that kind of thing to family, what was to stop him from doing it to a stranger – or her?

  Still, she could hardly have this nice young man's death – or incapacitation or whatever he might choose to do to the poor messenger – on her conscience. She sighed exasperatedly. "All right, all right, I'll come with you, and we'll both go talk to Mr. Antonelli."

  * * *

  The next thing she knew, she was standing – voluntarily – in front of Nick in the office he maintained at home, which was, somehow, much more opulent than the one in which she'd met him originally.

  He greeted her with open arms, but she avoided his touch, blatantly sidestepping him, which she was surprised – and distinctly let down, to her horror – that he allowed.

  In a clipped, no nonsense tone, she informed him, "I'm not here for you."

  He looked surprised but recovered quickly, and CeCe shuddered as he adopted the demeanor she remembered all too well from a week ago – ruthless Dom. She had gotten to know it all together too well in such a short time. "Then what are you here for, may I ask?"

  Before the younger man could say anything, CeCe came out with, "I'm here to make sure that no harm comes to this young man."

  Nick looked startled. "You mean Junior here? What's going to happen to him?"

  "Well, I'm not going to let you hit him – or hurt him, if that's what you're thinking of doing."

  Glaring at his nephew, who was being entirely too entertained by this situation, Nick took a deep breath. "Let's leave aside the very real fact that there is absolutely nothing you could do to prevent me from hurting him, if that's what I choose to do."

  He saw her stiffen even further at that pronouncement, but then he had known that was what she would do, although he felt it needed saying, regardless. "That having been said, I don't know what I can do to prove it to you. And I'm not exactly sure what Junior allowed you to believe about our relationship, but I can assure you that if I so much as thought about laying a hand on Junior, I would never hear the end of it from my sister or my brother in law, who tend to be much fonder of the bastard than I am."

  CeCe looked taken aback, and Junior was fairly howling with laughter from behind her. "You didn't – he let me think that you – his uncle, he said – gave him that enormous lump on the back of his head."

  The big man glared at his nephew, who looked thoroughly unrepentant and absolutely unafraid in the face of his uncle's very real anger. And he was right to, because in the next second, a big smile spread over Nick's face. "Far be it for me to remove that particularly manipulative arrow from his quiver, but I would rather you knew – and he acknowledged – the truth of the matter. His uncle did give him that bump – when they were both about ten years old."

  She looked perplexed.

  "It was a different uncle – my youngest brother, who was about a year younger than Junior here, and who took umbrage to a remark Junior made about him and hauled off and whacked him one with what happened to be at hand at the moment – which was a fireplace poker."

  Realizing that she had just been made a fool of, CeCe executed a perfect about face, even in heels, and turned her own glare on the younger man. "You let me think that Nick had hit you like that?"

  From behind her, she heard a strangely juxtaposed introduction being made. "Cecelia Franklin, this is my nephew, Cesare Bagaduce. Cesare, this is Cecelia Frankin. She's a writer and a good…friend of mine."

  CeCe ignored how his characterization of her to his nephew hurt her. What was he supposed to say? "Let me introduce you to the woman I fucked for a weekend?"

  "Why would you bother to introduce us, Nick?" she asked, her eyes never leaving Cesare.

  She could hear the smile in his voice as he answered, "I figured he
might appreciate knowing the name of the woman who was going to kill him. I'm courteous like that."

  CeCe took a step towards the younger man and he ducked – none too gracefully – out the door.

  Unfortunately, when she tried to follow him out, she found her slim wrist encircled by someone's long, thick fingers.

  "Where do you think you're going?" he asked from behind her.

  "Home, now that I know that bastard's not in any danger."

  Nick stepped closer, retaining his grip on her hand, and she watched his other big paw close the door in front of her with a final click, despite her grip on the door handle.

  "I don't think so."

  She tried to reclaim her hand by jerking on it until it began to hurt, but to no avail. "I don't much care what you think, Mr. Antonelli. Being completely ignored for a week tends to do that, and then you didn't even come to me yourself with any kind of explanation, you sent a flunky to manipulate me into coming to you instead. So thank you very much for your invaluable assistance. I'll get out of your hair if you'll just let…me…go…"

  Despite how her wrist was aching – entirely because of her own efforts, since all he was doing was holding onto her, gently, even, however implacably – she couldn't seem to stop trying to extricate her hand from his.

  Nick moved almost imperceptibly closer to her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. He was frankly worried about just how much he had missed her. No other woman – and there had been more than his share since he was the ripe old age of fourteen – had ever intrigued him as she did. He had spent the entire time he was away having to pry his thoughts away from her ruthlessly and onto the important matters at hand, and that was not good.

  Part of the reason he had not called her – at first – was because he had been frankly alarmed at just how much of his valuable time he was spending mooning over her. He had even tried to persuade himself – through the indulgence in the kind of feminine companionship that was always available to him – that he was mistaken, that she meant nothing more to him than any other female he had been with had.

  But he had been wrong. He had sent the young lady off with a lovely apology, in the form of a diamond tennis bracelet – even though they had not done a thing – he had left her in the middle of a very nice dinner, and he felt badly about it.

  He had tried twice more to see if the spell could be broken, but it couldn't, and it had cost him two more bracelets to make that determination.

  That was Thursday, and he knew he had to get back to her as soon as he could – that he had to do everything in his power to have her again as soon as was humanly possible. He contemplated sending his private jet to collect her, but he knew she would be entirely too much of a distraction.

  If she agreed to get on the plane at all, and he wasn't much a fan of the idea of having to defend himself from kidnapping charges, which he wouldn't put past her, considering how sore he knew she was going to be at him.

  He figured she would be some upset to have been left high and dry, but he knew it was nothing he couldn't overcome, one way or the other. He didn't call her after he had made that great discovery because he knew she was undoubtedly already pissed, and he was trying to cram everything he could into the shortest amount of days away from her as he could manage, and he didn't really have the time.

  Besides, he would much rather deal with her face to face.

  Rather, his face to a much more interesting place on her person…as soon as he could possibly arrange it.

  With or without her express, written consent.

  He knew he could coax that out of her.

  Slowly.

  And with malice aforethought.

  He closed his eyes at that. He had definitely been spending entirely too much time in the company of his lawyers.

  "No." He finally got around to answering her.

  That stunned her into pausing, when little else would have.

  "No?"

  In several quick, fluid movements, he had her trapped against the door, his hard forearm pressing her hands against the back of her head. Not painfully, but not really gently, either, as his big foot kicked her feet far apart, shortening her visibly, and making her even smaller as he pushed the front of his big body up against the back of her much more rounded, delicate one, letting her feel the unmistakable evidence of his desire as he brushed it against her bottom.

  "Definitely not. You seem to forget whose you are, little one."

  He felt her stiffen, but ignored it.

  "I have done nothing of the sort, since I'm no one's but my own."

  With that, she brought her heel down, as hard as she could, on his instep.

  But he didn't move. He didn't so much as flinch.

  And he certainly didn't let her go or ease up on the way he was caging her with his body.

  CeCe couldn't believe that move didn't even warrant a sound from him.

  The throaty chuckle that drifted to her ears was anything but soothing. "A very nice attempt. What was it from? Self-Defense 101? You are going to have to do much better than that, my darling. All that kind of thing is going to do is add to the number of strokes I'm going to give you with my belt for your impertinence, once I've had my fill of you – or rather, you've had your fill of me, of course."

  Despite his blatant threat, she found that he intended something even more nefarious first. In seconds, her hands were bound to innocuous looking hooks embedded into the corners of the wide doorframe, her ankles bound the same way.

  She heard the distinctive snick of a switchblade, and, suddenly, he efficiently sliced off her body every stitch of clothing she'd been wearing – after he tsked loudly at her use of a bra. "This is going to cost you, too, I'm afraid. More strips off that gorgeous hide of yours."

  Why she was allowing him to do this to her, she really didn't know. She was still hopping mad at him, with very good reason.

  She should be threatening him with punishment, not the other way round.

  But, as he stood there, perusing every detail of her, then reaching both hands out to cup her bottom, massaging it anything but gently, she baldly acknowledged in her mind exactly why she was standing there quietly and not screaming her head off for help.

  The powerful thoughts she was having about him easily managed to overpower every bit of the anger she felt towards him, hurtling all rational though aside, in favor of sating her carnal needs.

  The man was dangerous – in an entirely different way to her than he was to – most of – the rest of the population. She remembered – in excruciating detail – exactly what he'd done to her not long ago, every single second of it.

  And she wanted more of it. Her body ached, throbbed, and drove her nearly crazy with her need of it.

  She wanted every single experience he was willing to give her that ended in her screaming her head off for an entirely different reason.

  Chapter Six

  "But before we get to that, there's been something I've wanted to do, something I've missed doing for these past days."

  He startled her by squatting down behind her, where she couldn't see him, which made her very nervous about what he was going to do. He had all the power in this situation – she was bound and naked, and he was most definitely neither of those things. His hands roamed over her as if he did own her, pinching here, patting there; until his hands groped their way over her behind and he did a strange thing she couldn't even begin to discern the purpose of, at first.

  He turned, so that his back was to the door, sitting between her spread legs. She was already so short – made more so by the acuteness of the position of her legs – and he was so tall that he had to duck his head so as not to have his face covered by her –

  When the purpose to his madness became clear, CeCe began to dance within her bonds, but he had tied them very securely, but without hurting her in the least.

  "No, Nick, you can't do this."

  Silence. She could hear him moving around a bit, could feel the back of
his full head of hair tickling her bottom crevasse as he sat forward some, fiddling with something.

  And then, all at once, he sat back, dragging the top of his head forcibly through the sensitive path of her groove until it met the door, and he was, for all intents and purposes, wearing her pussy. He made it a thousand times worse by reaching up to part lips that were already pressed against his, exposing her just that much further, so that all he had to do – quite literally – was to open his mouth, and that hard, swollen nub popped right into it.

  She thought she had wiggled, writhed, and contorted herself to try to avoid his attentions before, but that was nothing compared to what she was doing now. But his two big hands settled on her hips as if they were handles, using his just shy of painful grip on them to keep her still – along with a very slow yet steady rhythm of quite forceful smacks to a bottom that was anything but ready to receive them.

  It took her a minute to realize, too, that one of the things that had delayed him a bit was that he had placed some sort of a mint in his mouth. So that as he suckled and flicked and worried that little bud of hers, she began to feel a couple different types of warmth increasing in that entire area, not just what his lips and tongue were stirring up.

  A long, guttural moan ripped from the back of her throat as he maneuvered that ring of relatively mild mint to press it over the very tip of her little button, holding it there, dexterously, as he continued to flick the little bit of sensitive flesh that shown through the hole.

  "Nickkkk! No! Please – don't!"

  He hummed against her as he chuckled deeply. "Oh, but yes, little one, I can see you need reminding as to whose you are, and I intend to give you that reminder, in spades." He leaned a bit forward, burying himself against her even more as he brought his strong right hand down to add to the attentions he was already bestowing upon her.

  CeCe could feel the pressure of his all too familiar fingers at her opening. She didn't know how many there were, but she was still quite tiny, and she hoped it wasn't more than she could handle.