The Guzzi Legacy: Vol 2

by Bethany-Kris

  “Fuck, do you feel that, Cella? So wet for me already.”

  Her airless laughter wrapped all around him, tightening against his chest and making him feel more insane than he already was with her near.

  “See what you make me want to do?” she breathed against his mouth. “Look how you make me act, Marcus.”

  “Fucking perfect. That’s what you are.”

  And she was.

  Cella might never believe it, but he would give away every last dollar in his bank account, if it meant he was allowed the pleasure of telling her that for the rest of his life. Because that’s what she did to him. That’s how she made him want to act.

  So yes, he understood.

  All too well.

  She finally got his shirt pulled apart, her impatience earning her at least one popped button from his shirt. Not that he gave a single damn. She could ruin the fucking shirt, and he would thank her for it, quite frankly.

  His mind fell to something else when she grabbed for the button on his slacks. “We need to go to the bedroom. My condoms—”

  Cella’s hands hesitated, her head tipping up just enough for her gaze to catch his. He found the same desperation he felt that currently thrummed through his blood with every beat of his heart was reflected in her stare. He wanted nothing more to be inside her, fucking her crazy while she moaned his name loud enough that he’d hear it for days in his mind. That look in her eye said she wanted the same.

  “It’s just you and me, right?” she asked. “That’s how it is for me.”

  His hand that was still stroking her pussy just enough to tease and toying with her clit to keep her thighs trembling came to a stop. Just for that brief moment when he needed her to hear him the most more than he wanted to touch her.

  “Just you and me,” he promised. “Unless you ever tell me otherwise.”

  “I’m on the shot.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s just down the hall, Cella.”

  “No. I want you to have me like this, too”

  That was all he needed to hear. Two of his fingers thrust into her pussy, twisting into her G-spot when she pulled apart the button on his slacks. He didn’t even care about the bite of the zipper against the length of his cock when she pulled him free from his boxer-briefs without waiting for him to lift a bit to give her more room to work with.

  All he thought about was her.

  How she looked on him.

  How it would feel to slide into her so slowly that she would whine.

  When she came that first time ...

  Those were the things he wanted, and he didn’t care about a little discomfort if it meant getting those things from her. His fingers withdrew from her sex, and still wet with her arousal, he fisted the gusset of her panties and shoved them to the side as she raised higher.

  His other hand flattened to her ass with a crack from a slap, and then his fingers flexed into the pert roundness to get her really feeling him while she lined his cock up to her slit. She rubbed the head of him against her, wetting him with her and teasing herself.

  But then she slid down him.

  He held her tight, listening to the air rush from her parted lips as he made her slow down.

  “Fuck, yeah, just like that,” he told her.

  Cella took him slow.

  Inch by inch.

  His heart thundered so hard in his chest, each beat urging him to just fucking take her; a rhythm demanding he fuck her until neither of them could see straight, and his sleep would be a blissful and dreamless from being spent with her.

  He didn’t, though.

  Couldn’t.

  Not when he enjoyed the sight of her like this, too.

  Cella let out a hard breath, those blue eyes of hers wide and locked on his as she seated down on him entirely. “Oh, my God ...”

  He kept holding her in place on him, even when her hips shifted like she was trying to get friction between them. “How bad do you want it, Cella?”

  “Marcus, please ... just move, or—”

  “Do you feel that sweet pussy of yours trying to flex around me. But you’re so full, my sweet girl. Don’t you feel that?”

  Her hips grinding against him faster, but he let her have that. Not much more, though.

  “You’re going to ride me until you come,” he told her, “while I stuff your ass full of my fingers, and then you’re going to fuck me dry. What do you think about that?”

  Her lips parted, pink and swollen from his kiss. “I want that.”

  Marcus loosened his hold enough to let her move more; to fuck him wild until she saw stars and whispered his name like a prayer. “Fuck me, then.”

  Her lips crashed down on his as she did what he demanded of her. The rhythm of her hips rising and falling against his had her panting into his kiss within seconds. She knew exactly what she wanted and needed to get off on him, and her determination in getting that only made him hotter.

  Marcus’s hand on her ass slid down between her thighs as his other grabbed tightly to her hip. He gathered the wetness she left at the base of his cock to slide up to her ass while their tongues lashed together. He teased the tip of his fingers against the tight ring of muscles as her movements came faster on top of him. He worked at her ass until his fingers slipped in easily, and he could match the pace of her rhythm with his own. When she’d fill her pussy with his cock, he’d pull his fingers out of her ass. And as she came off of him, he’d shove those fingers in deep until she was moaning hard into his mouth.

  “Right there, oh my, God, Marcus, right there, please ...”

  “Give it to me, come on, amour, look at me.”

  She did.

  Still wide-eyed.

  Wildness in the baring of her teeth.

  Truth on her lips.

  “I love you,” she breathed.

  The air came out of his chest hard.

  “Say it again,” he whispered.

  “I love you, Marcus.”

  He kissed her hard, promising those words right back to her as her movements came to a stilted halt and a low, broken cry accompanied the quaking of her orgasm.

  “Love you,” he murmured, his own control gone from the clenching of her inner muscles. Not that he intended to follow her so fast, but nothing felt better in that second than emptying his balls while he held this woman deep on his cock with those words on his tongue. “I love you, Cella.”

  His air wouldn’t come.

  Didn’t move through his chest no matter how hard he tried.

  Cella licked her lips, her gaze a little hazy before he kissed her again. “I felt you come.”

  “Give me a few minutes, and you’re going to feel it again.”

  “I better.”

  Oh, she certainly would.

  Cella wasn’t quite done with him, though. She lifted from him as he asked, “And you love me, hmm?”

  “Apparently I’m not alone in that.”

  “Definitely not.”

  Cool air drifted around his cock when he left the warm silkiness of her sex. She hovered above him, his cock still hard and jutting high toward her body as her fingers drifted down between her thighs. She leaned back just a little bit on the chair. It was enough to give him a view of his semen coating her fingertips and they drifted through the lips of her sex.

  “That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  His words ached.

  He still couldn’t breathe.

  Cella’s light laughter only had him spinning higher. She looked so damned good; his wettest dream come to life.

  And good God, he loved her more for it.

  13.

  The knock on Cella’s office door in Rochester had her leaving the conversation she was currently having with Marcus on the phone to see her assistant standing in the doorway. Not that her assistant was stepping in on something she shouldn’t hear, but that didn’t matter to Cella.

  “Hey, what’s up, Kinsley?”

  “Just got confirmation back that the com
pany for the play equipment will be able to make your deadline as long as they get access to the penthouse within a week to do all the measurements.”

  Cella rolled her eyes. “What, they don’t trust my measurements, or ...?”

  Kinsley shrugged. “That’s what I was told, boss.”

  “Did you hear that, Marcus?”

  On the speaker, the man who had kept quiet during her interaction with her assistant finally spoke up, replying, “I did, and I can make whatever you need to happen. Just let me know when.”

  Lucky for her.

  And that company who would bring in the play equipment to outfit the entire space of what used to be the master bedroom into the ultimate playroom.

  Marcus had really been a life saver when it came to this penthouse project. Probably more than he knew, honestly. Cella had a team that she worked with, sure, and any one of them could have handled staying in Toronto during the entire term of the project but that would have costed more money which in the end, meant less profit. Not that this job was all about the profit to her, but it didn’t hurt and she liked making money. Having a contact in Toronto to be a go-between for contractors or whatever else that she didn’t actually have to pay was a card in her pocket that she appreciated.

  She made a mental note to thank Marcus for that in her own special way the next time she saw him. She was sure he’d appreciate it, too.

  “Get a date from them when they want to go in,” Cella told Kinsley.

  “Will do.”

  “And close my door on your way out.”

  All she saw was the swish of the girl’s corkscrew curls before she headed out of Cella’s office. The door closed behind her, and Cella put her attention back on the phone call that, before this moment, hadn’t actually been about work at all.

  She just liked talking to Marcus.

  “Now, before she came in,” Cella said, “you were about to tell me what you’re up to today, weren’t you?”

  Marcus laughed. “Nothing very important. Handling business, a meeting with an associate or two, a very boring lunch as I have no one to keep me company, and missing you. That’s my long day in a nutshell.”

  Cella grinned, picking up the item she’d placed on the edge of her desk that morning after emptying out the pockets of her blazer. Her thumb pressed along the edge of the key to Marcus’s house in the suburb. The key he’d given her to use at any time. If what he said could be trusted, then she was welcome to use the key whenever she pleased.

  “I just left yesterday,” she said, “and you miss me already?”

  “How can I not?”

  Cella bit her lower lip, murmuring, “Same.”

  “Is Tiffany—”

  “At her pre-K classes. I’m going to pick her up for lunch. I promised her those awful burgers she likes so much. Which means I’ll have to grab a second lunch for me, but whatever makes her happy.”

  “Now that is unconditional love.”

  Her laughter colored up the quiet office. “Something like that. So, over the next couple of weeks, I’m going to work on finalizing the details for the remaining rooms in the penthouse. The other rooms that need their flooring and painting will be finished next week—I’ll send over the details for the contractors so you can go in and check up, if you want to.”

  “Sounds good to me. What kind of timeline are we looking at for everything to be finished?”

  “Depends on these last couple of rooms; the playroom will be the one that’s going to take the longest, probably.”

  “She’s going to love that, though,” he said.

  Cella nodded. “I think so, and the kids, too.”

  “Of course. Can’t forget those little monsters.”

  “And I’ll make the trip to see the rooms that will be ready to finish in two weeks, just to give the okay. They could send pictures, but—”

  “You want to come,” he interjected.

  What was the point in lying?

  “You do seem to make that trip worth it every time I make it, Marcus.”

  His dark, husky laughter had a heat warming her cheeks, and while he didn’t know it, the sound alone was enough to make her shift in her seat to soothe the sudden ache between her thighs. Not that it helped.

  Nothing but that man between her thighs helped with that. It was both a blessing and a curse, but not one Cella would complain about, honestly.

  “I can’t convince you to come back sooner?” he asked. “Because I am sure you could get the same work done here that you do there.”

  “You know I have other clients, right?”

  “I do know this. You’re very much wanted everywhere you go, Cella. And while I might want you for other reasons than your clients do, that doesn’t change the fact I still want you.”

  God.

  This man.

  “So,” he added, tone lowering to that sexy drawl she loved so much, “if there is literally anyway at all that I could possibly convince you to come sooner—say this weekend—then please let me know because I will happily make it happen.”

  She wanted to say yes.

  So badly.

  Cella had every reason to agree, and without a doubt, Tiffany wouldn’t mind at all. In fact, for the entire drive home the day before, her daughter continued to ask when they would be going back to see Marcus again all the while holding her father’s pillow because she was so happy that he had managed to fix it for her.

  Thing was, Cella felt like she had been neglecting the people she cared about here as well. The job in Toronto had taken a lot of time away from her other clients that she had already been working with before she agreed to take the penthouse contract on. So, she worked on her other contracts during the weekends and weeks when she wasn’t traveling.

  When did that leave her time with her family?

  Basically never.

  Or that’s what it felt like.

  Of course, her family knew she was busy and all the things she had going on. Some of them even knew a few details about her relationship with Marcus, although she didn’t give them much more than hints and vague statements to go on. Not that it mattered, as they all gossiped amongst one another, anyway, and basically put all their information together to draw their own conclusions.

  Sure, her parents never said anything about the fact she was coming around even less than she used to. And her siblings, at least the ones who lived in New York, didn’t mind the sporadic phone calls and lack of visits.

  She cared, though.

  “I promised my parents I would do dinner with them this coming weekend,” she said, knowing that wasn’t the answer Marcus wanted to hear. He was enough of a gentleman, however, that he wouldn’t tell her to cancel those plans with her family for him. She decided, along with all the other reasons he had given her so far, she loved that about him. “And next week, Tiffany has her pre-K graduation, so ...”

  “Speaking of your parents. Well, her grandparents, I guess.”

  “What about them?”

  Marcus cleared his throat. “I just realized I hadn’t asked about Tiffany’s father’s parents, or his family. Does she have anyone from his side?”

  “An uncle that lives in the UK. He comes to visit once a year. William wasn’t on great terms with his parents while we were together—they flew in for the funeral and didn’t even speak to me. I didn’t know them to begin with, they didn’t attend our wedding, and he made it clear that was for the better.”

  “You can tell me to mind my own business, but why?”

  Cella laughed under her breath. “He just said they didn’t know how to love their own kids; he wasn’t going to let them try to learn again on his. Given they didn’t seem to care about Tiffany at the funeral, I never bothered. Her uncle checks in occasionally on her when he’s not here for a visit.”

  “Ah, I see. Sorry.”

  “She has my family.”

  “Quite a large family, too.”

  “Yeah, but that’s also why I want to keep my promise abo
ut this upcoming dinner. I feel like it’s just her and I a lot of the time. She needs them, too. My family, I mean.

  “I agree. But next weekend,” he hinted.

  She smiled to herself. “I am all yours, and I was coming to finalize those rooms, anyway.”

  “I think I can work my plans around that, then.”

  Cella’s brow knotted. “What plans?”

  “I promised Tiffany something. I have been waiting to make it happen for her.”

  “You’re too good to us, Marcus.”

  His chuckles rocked through the phone. “Not nearly good enough, actually. Getting there, though.”

  Well, they’d see, wouldn’t they?

  Cella couldn’t wait.

  • • •

  Noise greeted Cella as she pushed open the front door of the familiar home. She’d barely even taken a step inside when voices filtered down the hall.

  “Lucky, you better be sharing with your sister!”

  “I am!”

  Tiffany had already dropped her bag to the floor as soon as they walked into her parents’ home. The long drive had her ready to play with her cousins, and the flyby of Lucky—the closest of Tiffany’s cousins to her own age—running from the sitting room to the kitchen across the hall sent her daughter running after him.

  “Lucky!”

  Lucky, or Luciano, as he’d been named at birth was her brother’s oldest son. The kid was all about having a good time, making as much noise as he could while he did it, and making a mess to boot. Cella swore the kid also got away with literally everything because he was his father’s little mini-me, but she knew better than to say that to anyone.

  “Lucky, that is your sister’s toy!”

  A very tired-looking Siena came out of the sitting room right after the kids, but at the sight of Cella at the end of the hallway taking off her shoes, the woman smiled. The two shared a look that said kids, huh?

  Because yeah, these kids never stopped.

  “Good to see you around,” Siena said.

  Cella laughed and hung her purse on a waiting hook. “I know, I’ve been kind of MIA for the last while, I guess.”

  “Work, right?”

  “That, and other things.”

  Siena raised her brow, leaning against the hallway wall as Cella came closer. Her brother’s wife had always been probably the easiest person they welcomed into their family folds. There was just something about Siena that seemed warm and wonderful.