Point of Release (Point Series Book 2)

by Remy Rose

  He sets the bottle on the coffee table and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped loosely. “Thank you for letting me come to see you. I can't tell you how much I've wanted to talk to you.”

  “You're welcome. But I'll be honest...I still don't know if this is a good idea.”

  “I hope I can change your mind about that. Christ, Cassandra—I've missed you. So much.” He’s looking at me almost hungrily, his eyes beseeching.

  What am I supposed to say? I can feel the tops of my ears start to burn. Self-consciously, I reach up to my hair, tucking a stray strand behind my ear, well aware that he’s watching my every move.

  “But as much as I wanted to come here and talk to you, it's really quite excruciating—to sit here and know I’m not allowed to touch you.” He loosens his necktie, unfastens the top button of his shirt and unclasps the cufflinks, dropping them in his shirt pocket. Then he neatly folds up his sleeves once, twice.

  Fuck. I’m sure he knows exactly what he’s doing, and God damn him for knowing and doing it anyway. I have all I can do not to shift in my chair, but I can’t show him any signs that he’s making me uncomfortable or that I’m wavering in any way.

  I speak clearly, firmly. “Before you start telling me what you want me to hear, I need to thank you again, in person. For giving me Brownie. It was really very kind and generous of you. You know how much he means to me.”

  “Yes. I do. But I didn't want you to think Brownie was any sort of bribe. When I heard from Ingrid that he was leaving, I knew I had to do something. He was actually a favorite of my mother's, so this gives me peace and makes me happy to know he'll be loved and cared for. And I didn't want you to have any more sadness or pain. Everything I've done these past few months has been my way of apologizing for hurting you, even though I know that doesn't come close to making it up to you. I don't even know if I ever can make it up to you. But I have to try. And I knew what I really needed to do was to talk to you and hopefully make you understand how I got so...fucked up.”

  “Is that the psychological term for it?”

  Unexpectedly, he smiles, and my insides feel like they’re crumbling. “I'm glad you still can show your sense of humor to me. I've missed how we used to banter back and forth.” He pauses as he sits up straighter on the couch. There is a distinct bulge in his pants, and I hope to God it’s just the pleats. “I've missed everything about you.”

  Okay, so I feel like I really need to get the focus of this conversation back to where it needs to be. I reach for my water, unscrew the cap and take a quick sip, putting the bottle down quickly because my hand is goddamned trembling. And of course he’s looking at me with one eyebrow raised as if to say, oh, am I getting to you?

  “Carlo—you may have other ideas of how you want this talk to go, but I want to make it clear that I'm planning for this to be...closure. You obviously need to tell me something, and maybe I need to hear it, so we can both, you know...move on.”

  “Move on?”

  “Yes. So what is it I need to hear that's caused you to be the way you are?”

  “Is that what you truly want, Cassandra—to move on? You want honesty from me, and I'm going to give you that, but I'd like to know what you're really feeling. Although it's becoming very evident. You care a lot more than you're letting on.” Carlo's expression brightens. “You're rushing me because you're nervous. You want me to say what I want to say and then leave, because you don't trust yourself alone with me.” His eyes are shining. Triumphant. “I'm right, aren't I?”

  I hold myself rigidly in the armchair, my heart thundering in my chest. “This is very stressful for me to have you here, but it's not because of what you're thinking. It just brings up bad memories of—of the last time you were here.” There. That sounds convincing.

  He studies me somberly. A shadow of guilt crosses his face. “I'm sorry,” he says quietly. “For everything. I've told you that I enjoy being dominant sexually—I always have. But my need to see women as under my control—to feel like I could be with them on my terms, then leave them and keep emotions out of it—this was my defense mechanism, and it came after I lost someone I loved very much. It was my fault.” He sighs deeply and stands up, running his hands through his hair and looking up at the ceiling. “This is really difficult. I don't talk about it.”

  ““I can tell it's very painful for you, Carlo. You don't have to say any more.”

  “Don't I?” He turns to look at me.

  God, he’s so beautiful. I have a wild, reckless urge to get up from my chair and throw my arms around him, but I’ll fight that temptation like hell.

  “No. You don't.” I swallow hard. “We can just leave it like this. I don't want to be angry with you anymore.”

  “Are you saying we're going to be okay?”

  “I'm saying we're going to be...” The word catches in my throat, but I force it out. “Over.”

  “Bullshit,” he says, softly. “I don't believe you.”

  Suddenly, I’m desperate for him to believe it—for me to believe it. “That man I was with last night...we've been dating.”

  Carlo's expression darkens. “Are you fucking him?”

  How dare he even ask? The arrogant bastard! I’m pissed off enough to stand up and face him. “That is none of your goddamned business.”

  “I'm making it my business because of how I feel about you.”

  “You can't control me, Carlo. You don't own me.”

  “Oh, but Cassandra...you belong to me. You have from the moment I saw you.”

  “So you think you can just claim me—just like that? You make me so fucking angry, I can't even find the words to tell you!”

  “You may be angry, sweetheart, but there are other layers beneath that. And I'm going to unwrap you to find them.” He reaches me in two quick strides, making me gasp as he grasps my upper arms and pulls me into him.

  Pressed up against him, it feels like I’m liquefying into a molten mess. “No...I am done with this. Done with you.” Goddamn it, my voice sounds small, too small—barely more than a whisper, for Christ's sake.

  “You want me, Cassandra. I can see it in your face. You want me as much as I want you.” His gaze is fierce, raking over me, as if he’s branding me with his eyes. His breathing is rough and ragged, and he shifts his hips against me. Ohh, Jesus...I can feel him.

  “Look at me.”

  No. I will not. Shaking my head, I put my hands on his chest, trying not to notice how warm he feels, how hard his muscles are beneath the thin shirt, trying to push him away—even as I know I will fail.

  “Look at me,” he repeats. “Cassandra.”

  Reluctantly, I raise my eyes to his and see the brilliant blue with flecks of gray...see the determination and the raw hunger. For me.

  “I am done,” I whisper, and realize these words can have more than one meaning.

  Carlo realizes it, too. “You are done resisting me,” he says hoarsely, his eyes burning with victory and desire. “You are done saying no.” He puts his hands on either side of my face and crushes my mouth with his, parting my lips with his tongue.

  To be kissed by this man, to taste him again, defies description and even coherent thought. It’s as though I’ve been given a powerful drug. My mind is swimming; I am boneless, weightless, dizzy. I feel terrified yet exhilarated, completely blown away...yet exactly where I belong.

  Holy...fuck.

  He is kissing me deeply—almost desperately, still cradling my face in his strong hands. His tongue intertwines with mine. Right when I need to take a breath, he releases the pressure just a fraction of an inch so that I can. And then he returns to kissing me, relentlessly, as I whimper against his lips, fully aware that he is making my mouth yield and soften to his.

  The rest of me soon follows. My hands, which have been curled into fists against his broad chest, relax and open. I feel his arms encircle my waist, pulling me tightly to him and making me gasp when I feel the rock-hard bulge in his pants.
>
  My head tips back as I take his tongue willingly, hungrily. Suddenly, I feel Carlo's mouth leaving mine, and in one quick, smooth motion, I’m swept up into his arms and cradled like a child.

  He buries his face in my neck. “God, I've missed your scent,” he says huskily, nuzzling me and sending shivers cascading through my body as he carries me down the hallway—to my bedroom.

  Random thoughts present themselves to me as we approach my bed. Oh my fuck...he's carrying me so effortlessly...this should be freaking me out and yet it isn’t...having him sit on the couch didn't matter...oh my fuck...

  And the most pressing question: why am I not saying no?

  The possibility of stopping this now is about as remote as touching the moon. But why? Why, after the hurt and anguish he caused me, am I allowing this? This is more than just simple lust. It’s because this is Carlo Leone. And it’s because...

  Now he’s easing me down on my comforter, as gently as if I’m made of glass. Immediately, he climbs on top of me, covering my mouth with his as he deftly unbuttons my sweater and tugs it off, still kissing me, leaving me in my camisole.

  He pulls back and looks down at my chest. “Your nipples are showing me how excited you are, Cassandra,” he tells me softly. “They're waiting to be sucked, aren't they?”

  An instant throbbing between my legs.

  “Answer me, please.”

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  “Something else would like to be sucked as well. Is that true?”

  “Yes.”

  “I want your hair spread out on the pillow. Take it down while I take off your pants.”

  The light from the hallway is illuminating half of him— making him look almost as though he is made of marble—while the other half is still in shadow.

  The light and dark sides of Carlo Leone.

  Obediently, I remove my elastic, unwrap my bun and rake trembling fingers through my hair as Carlo hooks his thumbs in the waistband of my pants, works them down over my hips and pulls them off so I’m only in my cami and panties—plain, white cotton, bikini style panties, because I wanted to convince myself he wouldn’t be seeing them, anyway.

  The cool air in my bedroom is making me shiver. That, and the anticipation of what Carlo is going to do to me.

  Standing up beside the bed, he seems confident I’m not going anywhere. And he’s right.

  I lay here, silent and frozen with my heart flopping helplessly, as Carlo removes his tie and unbuttons his shirt. Looking directly at me, he is breathing hard, his perfectly-sculpted lips parted. My eyes trace the outlines of his chiseled pecs and abs, resting on his belt buckle—and the prominent bulge just below it.

  I watch, wide-eyed and trembling, as he unbuckles his belt. Sliding off his pants and socks, he stands naked in front of me, this incredible specimen of a man. His erection is enormous, and thinking of how that will feel inside me makes me burn with want.

  Carlo moves onto the bed, straddling me on his hands and knees. His dark brows lift slightly and his eyes are shining and gentle as they roam across my face. “This is just what I imagined. So beautiful,” he murmurs. “So beautiful that it’s taking every ounce of my willpower to wait. But I want us to savor our first time.” His voice is low, but his words make me startle. “Are you wet for me, Cassandra?”

  I can’t speak. But oh, God, I am so wet.

  “I'd like an answer. If I slipped my finger inside your panties and touched you, would I find you wet?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want me to do that?”

  I swallow. My entire body is buzzing. “Yes.”

  Carlo leans forward, lifting up the bottom of my cami and planting a kiss just above my belly button as I shudder, then working his fingers inside my bra and finding my taut nipple.

  “Look at me, sweetheart.” His voice sounds mellow, golden—like warm honey.

  As I bring up my eyes to meet his, he rubs a fingertip over my nipple in a light, circular motion, causing an electric sensation to move down my abdomen and between my legs, creating more wetness.

  “Please take off your bra.”

  I quickly comply, letting it fall to the floor, and lay back down.

  “Good girl. I'm going to suck on your nipples while I touch you. I want you saturated the first time I enter you, because I'm not going to be able to be gentle. And I don't think you want me to be, do you?”

  I shake my head. I want him hard. Rough.

  “Good.” As he positions his mouth at my left breast, I can feel small puffs of breath as he exhales. He takes my nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue expertly over the peak...closing his mouth and sucking gently at first, then harder. I gasp as I feel his teeth graze the tender flesh—just enough pain to heighten the pleasure.

  He moves to my other breast and repeats his licking, sucking, nibbling. But this time, he puts his hand down my panties, curving his fingers to sink into my opening, and a low, guttural sound escapes his lips. “Christ, Cassandra—you're so fucking wet and ready for me.”

  I let out a little cry as he plunges his fingers in deep. Does he expect me to be silent? Because I can’t. My pussy is tightening. His touch, and hearing him groan in desire, has brought me to the brink.

  Now he’s sliding out his fingers and rubbing his thumb across my swollen clit as I steel myself not to come yet. Oh. My. Fucking. God. This is agony. He puts his mouth on mine to smother the sounds I’m making.

  Just when I can’t hold back any longer, he withdraws his hand and his mouth. “Take off your panties and spread your legs wide for me, Cassandra.” His eyes are glazed with arousal and his breath is coming in long, ragged gasps, stray pieces of his black hair trembling against his forehead. He kisses me again, sweeping his tongue inside my mouth, and then climbs off the bed. For a split second, I wonder what he’s doing until I see him fishing in his pants pocket and taking out a condom. Protection. Presumptuous as hell of him to have it, but God, I’m glad he was prepared.

  I yank down my bottoms as Carlo rips open the packet, swiftly rolls the condom down his erection and returns to his position on top of me. As he rubs his cock against my opening, I moan again and bunch the comforter in my hands. The head of his shaft feels huge.

  “I'm going to kiss you gently, sweetheart, but I'm going to fuck you hard. Are you ready to take my cock?”

  “Yes, Carlo.” God, yes.

  He takes my hands and pins them over my head. He kisses me hard, groaning against my mouth as he jerks his hips forward and thrusts into me. Oh, God! I can’t keep from crying out.

  Carlo is inside me. He’s inside me, and it’s beyond my wildest fantasies.

  “Ah, fuck, Cassandra—you're so tight. You feel so good...”

  He’s rock hard and huge, and I spread my legs wider to take him all in. He is kissing me softly now—slow, tender—but he is pounding into my slick opening, stretching me more than I’ve ever felt before. It’s like he’s rewarding me with sweet kisses for allowing him to fuck me hard. This is the perfect balance of tenderness and force. Contrasts. This is Carlo.

  I am in absolute awe that he fills me so completely—and it is more than physically. It’s not just what I feel, but what I feel. I can’t describe it except to say it is sheer, absolute ecstasy.

  I can’t hold out any longer. Sinking my fingers into his thick hair, I cry out against his mouth as I climax. Carlo thrusts into me for a final time and explodes just seconds later.

  I am wrecked—completely overcome with emotion. I clutch at his hair as the tears spill from my eyes and trickle down the sides of my face. Carlo is kissing me over and over: my eyebrows, my tear-stained cheeks, my forehead, my mouth.

  And then the world comes to a screeching halt when he pulls away from me, looks deeply into my eyes and murmurs, “Cassandra...I love you.”

  chapter thirty-one ~ Carlo

  Gold's Gym is busier than I like, but this is what I get for going on a Monday night right after work. Regardless, I need to burn off my n
ervous energy so I might be able to sleep better tonight.

  I set my water bottle in the treadmill cupholder and program the machine for a forty-minute interval workout. I haven’t heard from Cassandra since I saw her Friday night. She asked me for space, and as hard as that is, I’m giving it to her. I owe her that much. I know I completely shocked her by saying what I did after we made love—I was blown away, too. Hadn’t planned on saying it.

  But I don’t regret it in the least.

  That night, looking down at her, still inside her just after I came, seeing her eyes glistening with fresh tears, the fragility and femininity of that girl-woman and realizing what she meant to me...I thought I’d burst. The only option was to speak. To release not only the pressure, but what I’d been holding onto for so long. When the words slipped out, I felt something open in me, break free, and let go. Three simple words, but packed with power and promise. Three life-changing words.

  Possibly.

  There is the issue of how Cassandra responded. Her eyes had widened into pools of incredulity, and I felt myself drowning in them, practically unable to breathe until she spoke. Her tears kept coming, streaking down her cheeks, and she squeezed her eyes shut. I brushed the hair away from her face, and then she spoke.

  Don't. Please don't say anything more. This is hard enough for me.

  Christ, my gut had tightened then. I asked her what she meant.

  I've been trying to get over you. I've been proud of myself for learning to be strong on my own. And now this...she had shaken her head against the pillow, her face crumpling in anguish as one hand came up to cover her eyes.

  Cassandra—what are you so afraid of?

  She’d opened her eyes and answered in a whisper. You. I'm afraid of you, Carlo, and the feelings you create in me.

  I tried to press her for more, but she asked me to leave, pulling the comforter around her and looking vulnerable and lost.

  So—reluctantly—I left.

  Making love to her had been beyond my wildest expectations. Physically, I’ve never been more aroused in my life. Her small, perfect breasts, the rosy, pebbled skin around her hard nipples, her flat belly, the curve of her slender hips...and the pink, velvet folds of her sex covered in the finest layer of strawberry blonde. I wanted to bury my face between her legs—lick her relentlessly—but this was superseded by how much I wanted be inside her. Feeling her hot tightness around my cock, I could have come instantly, but I held out as long as I possibly could—not wanting the feeling to end of being inside her, as close to her as I could be, hearing her soft moans and whimpers and knowing she was close to climaxing herself.