by Bethany-Kris
“And you think that’s the same thing?”
“What you feel would ruin you and what would ruin me don’t have to be the same thing. It’s the end result that looks a lot alike if you know what I mean.”
She blew out a slow breath.
He still waited her out.
“Do they know about that?” she asked, nodding toward the floor as though she meant the people downstairs. “Do any of them know you’re like a live-wire wrapped up in a well-fitting suit, but you’re just ready to snap?”
A smile split his lips. “No, just you.”
And he felt it was ... appropriate.
“I have one more thing to show you, that is, if you’re interested in seeing it.”
Cella stepped his way.
No hesitation at all.
He adored that.
“Show me.”
• • •
“Watch your step.”
Cella didn’t even get the chance to look down before he was there to grab her around the waist and help guide her over a particularly rough part of the trail. Her laughter colored up the darkness overhead, and he grinned back at her when she gave him a wink over her shoulder.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see.”
“What if I told you that I hate surprises?”
“Then, I would tell you exactly where we’re going. Do you really hate surprises?”
Cella pressed her lips together, eyeing him as she now walked backward. A feat in and of itself considering the height of her heels and these precarious trails that weaved throughout his parents’ property.
“No,” she finally said.
“Then stop asking questions, donna.”
“You know, I don’t think you’ve used your French nearly as often as you use your Italian with me. And that’s kind of a shame, isn’t it?”
Behind her, he could see a familiar clearing starting to take shape there. She couldn’t see it with her attention on him, but that was just fine.
“Does that offend your sensibilities?”
He didn’t mind playing along with her game.
“Well—”
“Ma chérie, tu es plus belle que le ciel et les étoiles, et je ne te mérite pas.”
Cella’s walk came to a stop, but Marcus continued his until the two of them stood toe to toe, and she was staring up at him. He didn’t touch her, but he didn’t really need to in that moment. He found all that he needed in her eyes—in the parting of her lips and the way her hands trembled down at her sides.
“Will you tell me what you said?”
Marcus wet the line of his lips. “Do you need me to?”
“I think you should.”
“Close your eyes first.”
Cella raised a brow. “Why?”
“Trust me, Cella, and close your eyes.”
She did, making those long lashes of hers fan upon her skin as her head tilted down. He took a second, but no longer, to admire her soft, pretty features, and then he guided her after turning her around to the clearing just fifteen feet ahead. A little further, into the middle, they entered a building made of stained glass and coated on the outside with vines that grew all over the windows that acted as walls.
In the summer, it would be filled with roses.
Right now, it was only just coming back to life.
“Tilt your head up,” he said behind her, whispering the words into her ear. She did, and he rounded to her front, watching her face when he told her, “Now open your eyes.”
Cella stared up at the sky through the glass ceiling of a rose solarium that he remembered his mother spending a good portion of her time in during the summer months.
Another favorite place of hers.
Yeah, Cella stared at the sky.
But he watched her.
“My darling,” he repeated in English, “you are more beautiful than the sky and the stars, and I am not worthy of it.”
The column of her throat jumped as her gaze dropped to him, and he had the greatest urge to find out exactly what that soft-looking skin of hers would feel like under his palm while he kissed her, so he did just that. The palm of his hand found her throat under her jaw, curving tight and soaking in all her silky warmth as he closed the distance between them in a breath.
He’d been lucky enough earlier to find out there was nothing sexier in the world than this woman’s kiss. And the way she gasped against his mouth when he dragged the plump flesh of her lower lip between his teeth just to see if she might like that.
God, did she ever.
Her fingers fisted into the soft fabric of the vest under his suit jacket, and she yanked him close enough that her soft curves molded perfectly to his hard lines. Given how hesitant Cella had seemed to be about the prospect of a date or even the possibility of more with this night and him, there was no shame in the way the woman yanked at his pants, determined to open his belt and fly.
Brazen.
Bold.
Determined.
She knew what she wanted, and she was going to take it. That alone had his cock pressing against the line of his pants when her fingers drifted down to work at his zipper once she’d finally gotten his belt off.
“You have something, right?” she asked.
Her words whispered against his mouth, as he still refused to break that kiss until all he could think about and breathe in was everything that made up her.
From that spiced vanilla perfume that she wore, to the way her skin tasted just like sugar with a hint of salt. The sounds she made when his fingers flexed at her throat, and how her body ground against his without a care but had his cock harder than ever.
“Do you?”
Her hot demand had him putting just enough space between them that his lips hovered over hers as he asked, “What—”
A pink tint heated her cheeks. “A condom?”
Ah.
And there, even in her need and shamelessness that he found so sexy, there was still that part of Cella, he realized, that hadn’t done this type of thing in a while. She’d basically told him that, hadn’t she?
His first thought was to slow this down. Give her a moment. Let her think about whether or not this was really what she wanted to do with him tonight. In this situation and place, no less. But he knew better. She’d been sure of what she wanted a minute ago ... Without even needing to hear what this woman wanted, Marcus already knew it.
And still, he had to ask, “Yes, I have a condom, but is that what you want—for me to fuck you out here where someone might see you backed up against a wall with your dress yanked up to your ass? Allow me that, bella donna, and let me make you scream into my tie when I stuff it into your mouth. Tell me yes, and trust that the rest of this night is going to be all about what you need.”
She didn’t even hesitate when she replied, “And what if I said no?”
“Then it’s no.”
“And what if that turns me on because no one’s ever asked to fuck me quite like that before, Marcus?”
A dark noise fell from his lips. “Then, I’d say that’s a shame, and you should let me make sure you never have to worry about not knowing what that experience is like again. Tell me yes, Cella.”
She did. Clearly, though the word came out softened by the heat in her tone. And still, he loved the way she said that, “Yes, please yes.”
Marcus didn’t need to be told again. His lips found hers against for another hard, burning kiss. The force alone was enough to have her taking several steps backward with him walking right with her until her back met the glass wall. On the other side of it, the vines grew thickly along the wall of windows, but they had yet to reach the top where the majority of the light spilled in during the day.
Though there were still patches where the vines had yet to cover, allowing him a peek at the trail where they’d come from outside. But he wasn’t very focused on watching that when the woman under him was a far more interesting sight.
Especial
ly when he dropped to his knees and bunched her skirt up around her hips in his fist. Her head fell back to the glass as he leaned in to kiss her inner thighs, enjoying the way her skin shuddered under his lips.
Need shot down to his cock.
Fuck.
His balls ached.
“I want to fuck you more than anything,” he told her, looking up to meet her gaze as he spoke, “but I want just a taste of you first. How fast do you think you can come with just my mouth on your pussy, Cella?”
A low whine escaped her.
That wasn’t quite good enough for him, though.
“If you’re going to let me do this to you, then I at least want to hear you use your words.”
“I don’t know how fast, but I want to find out.”
Marcus gave her one of his grins. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”
He kept the skirt of her dress high with one hand, and used the other to drag the black, lace thong she wore underneath it down her legs, his cock still biting against the only half-opened zipper from the sight of that piece of scrap. It’d looked so good covering the apex of her thighs, but now he had an even better view.
She was bare.
Waxed.
With her thighs already open for him, he had the perfect view of her pussy, and the wetness already starting to gather there for him to taste. Pink, and soft, and so fucking hot under his tongue when he leaned in for that first tease with the flick of his tongue against her silt.
She trembled.
Ragged breaths all the way.
And he just wanted more.
To see more.
Hear more.
Taste more of her.
Her fingers threaded into his hair, manicured nails dragging along his scalp as he stopped teasing her all at once. He had neither the patience nor the control to do that with this beautiful woman tonight.
Another night, certainly.
Tonight, he just had to have her.
His tongue flattened against her slit, and then dragged up to her clit to slash back and forth across the taut nub while two of his fingers slipped into her slick pussy. Her sex tightened around his fingers with every twist of the tips against her G-spot.
And her sounds got louder.
So did those, “Please, please, please, oh my God.”
She was so fucking close.
In no time at all.
It kind of made his nerves chaotic at how responsive this woman was to his touch. That made him hotter than ever.
And when she did finally fall over that edge by his mouth and fingers, what a sight she was to see. With her chest and shoulders thrust out away from the wall, her head tipped back to the glass, and her still stained-red lips parted with his name falling to the sky.
Yeah.
All his control was gone.
Although she didn’t seem to mind a bit when he raised from the floor of the solarium, already yanking open what was left of his fly while he dug in his back pocket for the spare item he kept on hand—always—as a just in case. She helped to shove his pants down, taking his kiss one more time while he ripped open that package.
He broke away from letting her taste herself on his mouth just long enough to slip the condom down his length before her hand replaced his to stroke him. Tight and fast. From the base to the tip. God. The groan that came out of him ached all the way out.
And then she was lifting her leg, tall enough in her five-inch heels to be able to accommodate his six-foot-three height, to wrap around him while her knee hooked around his hip. She guided him where she wanted to be, and he took her in one thrust.
“Fuck,” he breathed, settled deep in her clenching pussy while her fingernails dragged lines over the material of his suit jacket. Her moan, louder than even how it had been when he was between her thighs, reminded him that he still needed to keep her quiet, and she only grinned at him with hazy lust in her eyes when he yanked off his tie before using it to gag her quiet. But to see her like that ... “God, look at you.”
She was quite a sight.
Pushed against the wall.
Bare ass to the glass.
Spread for him.
Filled with him.
And all she could do was mumble into the tie, “Fuck me, Marcus.”
He used one hand to keep her leg tight to his hip, but his other found her throat again. Pushing the back of her head to the glass so that she had to look up at him, he got the best view of the pleasure rippling over her features as he fucked her with a fast, deep pace.
“You take me so well, babe,” he murmured, “pussy’s so goddamn wet, huh? You like that, Cella, letting me use you like this—fuck you like this?”
Her nod answered him back, before a broken cry accompanied it with a muffled yell into the tie. One of her hands slipped down his lower back, and under his boxer-briefs to grab tight to his ass when he fucked her a little harder.
With the tie in her mouth, she couldn’t speak.
Not that he was in any better position than her because with each drive and pull of his hips, Marcus came that much closer to his own orgasm. He could feel it in the tightening of his back, and the heat in his balls. Never had he busted a nut so fast with a woman, and yet, Cella seemed to be the one who was going to humble the fuck out of him.
Still, he refused to let himself lose that control until she came one more time. Leaning in, his lips melded against hers when he ripped that tie from her mouth and he demanded, “Come on, give it to me ... show me how good you can come for me again, tesoro.”
She did.
Panting into his kiss.
He swallowed all her cries.
It took all of four more thrusts before he followed right after her, too. Releasing into latex, tight to her and deep inside her shuddering pussy ... best way I spent a night in a long while.
Best fuck he’d ever had, if he were being honest.
They took a moment to breathe, or rather ... catch the air they both needed. With him still inside her, and her leg trembling against his hip, she let out a soft laugh.
He did, too.
Because damn.
“What now?” Cella asked.
Marcus chuckled deeply.
“What?”
He shook his head and dipped down to press a fast kiss against her still trembling lips. “Now you fix your dress, and I’ll help, if you need me to. We’re going to smooth down your hair, make sure we didn’t smudge any makeup, and we’ll walk back to the mansion to say goodbye to my parents before you let me take you back to your hotel, so we can do this again.”
Cella dragged in a shaky breath under his weight still pressing her to the window of the solarium. “Oh, we’re just going to go right back in there then, after this?”
“Believe it or not, but that drives me crazy thinking about knowing I’ll have just fucked you, and I’m thirty minutes away from getting another taste of you, all the while no one gets to know that except me ... and you’re treated like a queen whether or not I’m making you scream with my cock or saying goodbye to my parents. And you definitely want to find out what happens after that.”
“Pretty sure that would be against some rule somewhere. It has to be.”
He lifted his brow once suggestively. “What’d I say about having to break them sometimes, huh?”
“You’re going to kill me, Marcus Guzzi.”
He flashed a grin. “I’ll go down with you.”
6.
It wasn’t the hint of sunlight dancing into the hotel room that woke Cella from her sleep, but rather, the quiet conversation coming from somewhere to her right. She did her best to stay still, and not let her companion know she had woken up during his little chat because ...
Well, how could she not?
“Ma said I won’t have to ride the bus when I start school,” Tiffany explained, her young voice taking on that no-nonsense tone she liked to use when she wanted to sound older than her five years. “Someone will drive me.”
“You do
n’t want to take the bus even once?” Marcus asked.
“It’s yellow.”
She said that as though that should just explain all of her feelings on the matter. Cella had all she could do not to laugh, but she did smile against the soft pillow under her head. Marcus, on the other hand, laughed hard and loud, but quickly quieted.
Maybe because he thought she was still sleeping.
Who knew?
“Well, they’re yellow so people can easily see them,” he said.
“Yeah, well ...”
“No school bus, I get it.”
Tiffany sighed, the phone call she talked on with Marcus only distorting her voice slightly. The girl had learned to use the phone when she was three, and now whenever she stayed a night away from her mother with her aunts or grandparents, she used the phone to call and check in. A lot, although Cella never told her to stop.
Whatever her kid needed to feel safe.
“Do you want me to get your mom to call you back when—”
“We can keep talking,” Tiffany said brightly.
Because of course.
That was her kid in a nutshell.
Never stopped moving those lips.
“Do you work with my mom?” Tiffany asked.
Marcus cleared his throat. “Do you mean with the penthouse?”
“Yeah, making people’s houses pretty.”
Cella dared to crack her eyes open, then, if only because she wanted to see where Marcus was and watch him while he talked to her kid. She wasn’t sure why he picked up her ringing phone, but she could deal with that later.
A quick scan of the space and she found him sitting on the chaise near the window of her Four Seasons’ room. He’d not bothered to get dressed beyond pulling on a pair of boxer briefs. His hair hung down around his dark eyes, the strands damp from a shower he must have taken. How long had he been up? He stared out the window with the phone in his hand, silent.
And what a sight he was.
All those hard, defined lines of his lean form available for her to admire. The way his jawline looked carved from steel and softened only the slightest when he smiled in response to whatever her daughter just said to him. A muscular torso and firm abs that led down to a narrow waist where the waistband of his boxer-briefs rested upon the cut V of his hips.
