29. Chapter Twenty-Nine—Carlotta
Chapter Twenty-Nine—Carlotta
Arousal runs through me poker fucking hot, stirred up by Cassiel’s words.
It’s difficult to focus on anything but the heartbeat thrumming between my thighs as Cass and I bid our goodbyes to Genie, both of us promising to come back soon, waving to a watching Fox as he sucks down another nicotine filled cigarette outside the front steps and hightailing it away on the back of Cass’s bike.
Turning my cheek to the side, I rest my head between his muscular shoulder blades as well as I can with a bulky helmet over my head.
I shut my eyes, biding my time, until I finally feel the vibrations die between my legs and Cassiel swing to dismount.
He doesn’t bother to chain up his pride and joy, rather he pockets his keys, with my lacy panties still dangling from them and then taps the Dolcie Reaper sticker displayed on the back, twice.
“Tradition,” he says on seeing me watching him. “Nobody with any sense will mess with a bike with the Reapers on it, but it’s good luck to touch it twice just to be sure.”
“I’ll take your word for it.” Shoving my helmet in the compact compartment hidden beneath the seat, I all but drag Cass away, ignoring the deep throaty sound of his guffaw.
“What are you so eager for, hm, Princess? Something you want?”
“Shut up.”
“Is it something you need?”
Tugging his hand harder, I jamb my key into the lock, fumbling when Cass presses himself into my back, sweeping the hair from my neck so he can lay his lips to the sensitive skin there.
“Wanna share with the class what’s got you all hot and bothered, Princess?”
Rocking back on my heels, I sink into the heat of his body behind me, smirking at the feel of the thick length of him digging into my lower back.
“I’ve been wet ever since we left, when you pinned me to the wall and—oh” —Cass’s groin twitches in reaction— “I guess I’m not the only one hot and bothered… unless that’s your gun trying to fuck it’s way—”
“My dick’s fucking bigger than my gun, Princess, and you fucking know it. If you can’t tell the difference between the two, then I think we’re gonna have to have some serious lessons.”
I shiver, growing warm all over. “Lessons?”
I shouldn’t be picturing me bent over broad knees, my pussy exposed, sodden wet and slick as the tip of a loaded gun slides down my folds until it notches at my entrance.
I shouldn’t be biting my lip, tits aching as I peer up at the face of the man I’m laid across.
And it definitely shouldn’t be Rome Folonari’s face staring back at me.
Shit.
“Hm?” I hum, jumping back into my body and realizing I’ve missed half of what Cassiel has been saying because I’ve been too busy fantasizing about his… boyfriend. His best friend. My fucking enemy.
“Get your juicy ass inside, Lottie. Otherwise, I’m gonna pull down your leathers and fuck you right here in the corridor. Your choice.”
A whimper slips past my lips at the imagine Cassiel portrays.
A thumb glides it’s way along the pulse point beneath my ear, resting there, keeping me there as if I’m going to run off.
As fucking if. I’ve been snared in Cassiel’s grasp and I have no intent in crawling my way out.
“Always knew my little slut was an exhibitionist. I knew it when you’d scream the walls down at Nameless not caring who heard you cumming your brains out. Isn’t that right?”
Practically panting, I unlock the door to my apartment, Cass and I stumbling inside in a jumble of wandering hands until we land on my couch.
Crawling on top, I sink onto Cass’s lap, sealing my lips to his and swallowing down his grunt when my core grazes the hard bulge of his cock tenting his denims.
“Fuck, Lottie, fuckkk,” he groans, hips bucking, throwing his head back into the plush sofa cushions when I move my lips across his jawline, sucking softly on his neck.
He spreads his legs wider, calloused hands joining mine to help yank the dark shirt from his head.
Uncaring where it lands, I throw it somewhere behind me, lips moving lower and lower across the newly exposed expanse of Cassiel’s chest. I mouth at his nipple, swiping my tongue along the rivets of his toned abdomen and the ink tattooed into his scarred flesh.
Pressing light pecks to his smooth, silvery scars, I silently wishing my kisses could make them disappear.
“You’re so fucking sweet, Princess,” Cass utters lowly, when he realizes what I’m doing. “So, fucking sweet and all mine.”
“Yours,” I agree, grinding down in his lap.
His abs tense as he sits back up, squeezing my waist and grabbing at my tits through my top, fingering the crisscrossed lace and leaving the swell of my heavy chest exposed.
“These fucking tits,” he mumbles into my collarbone. “The things I’ve thought about doing to them when I’ve been jacking myself in the shower. You—”
“Do you do that a lot?”
Gripping the curve of my hips, Cass bucks up against my core making my pussy flutter, walls spasming around thin air. “Huh?”
I shift in his lap, panties sticking to my folds with arousal. I feel mad with it—the desire to touch Cass, to feel him move inside me, to mark me and fill me up.
“Do you touch yourself a lot to the thought of me?” I punctuated each word with a pass of my core, rocking back and forth, my heartbeat in my clit.
Grabbing me possessively, Cass shoves his head into the crook of my neck and grunts. “You have no fucking idea, Princess. The amount of cum I’ve washed down the drain or filled Rome up with, picturing you—this fucking tight little body of yours. God.”
“Tell me,” I breathe.
“On your knees, on your back, on your stomach. Fuck, I need all of it. I want you on every fucking surface, inside, outside, on the damn grass. Even thought about taking you over my motorcycle, pushing my way inside your tight wet hole over and over again until you scream. Until your fucking dripping of me and then I’ll shove that back in too so you don’t lose a single drop of me. ”
Cass sucks on my neck, leaving a zap of pleasurable pain behind that he soothes over with the tip of his tongue.
I let him while I catch my breath and then I card my slender, manicured fingertips through his hair and pull.
I pull him away, peering down at his kiss bitten lips and the wild look about his pretty hazel eyes, before I slither out of his tight grasp, landing on the floor, on my knees in front of him.
Cassiel doesn’t say a word and neither do I; simply allowing my body to do the talking.
My hands move to undo the fly and zipper duo of his pants, my gaze fixated on the way he lifts his hips to allow me to pull down his underwear too, yanking the material down, past his knees, until they land at his ankles.
The thick length of him bobs against his lower stomach making saliva pool beneath my tongue.
I take in the pretty flushed red color of him, his balls swollen against his inner thighs, and dusted with downy hairs, begging for my attention. He twitches under my stare, the smooth tip of him shiny with pre-cum.
Licking my lips, I reach forward, wrapping my palm around the base of him. My thumb and forefinger don’t quite meet, but I squeeze him as best I can, slowly working my hand up, gliding my thumb over his slit and back down.
The first time I saw Cassiel Angelo in all his large cock glory, I swore he wasn’t going to fit. Thicker than Rome, but the same length give or take an inch or two, I thought he was going to split me in half.
But he’d worked me into such a frenzy last time, teasing me in the shower, drying my hair, fingering me on his knee until I cried out, that I was a slave to my own body. Allowing her to take the reins and let Cass carve a space for himself inside of my pussy.
My core flutters just thinking about it, my nipples painfully hard and brushing against the cold, smooth material of my lace up top.
Without another thought, I lean forward, my hand still banded around Cass’s length, burying my face into the thin skin behind his balls.
He bucks upwards with a shout, allowing me to lick a stripe from behind, between his balls and up, up, up to his weeping tip.
Smirking when he drips down my knuckles, I do it again, following the same path, but this time I stop at his balls—sucking one into my mouth and then the other.
“Shit, Lottie, please.”
“Please, what?” I ask, batting my mascara laden lashes up at him.
“Please,” he begs again, oh so fucking sweetly. “Please put me in your mouth.”
I don’t answer him, instead diving back to lick at him like a lollipop. From taint, to tip, I lap at him one last time before I blow a stream cool air on his sensitive head.
Cass’s whole-body tenses, his large hands making a grab for me, to put me where he needs me most, but I shake him off.
Locking eyes with him, noticing the slight lines surrounding his hooded eyes, I press a small, close-lipped kiss to the tip of his dick and then I lean back on my heels.
My gaze dips to the silk crisscross laces holding the two panels of my top together, watching as my fingers pluck and pinch until I have a little more room to move.
“Here,” Cass grunts above me, throwing a pillow from the sofa which hits my thighs with an audible flump.
Holding the pillow, I raise a brow, challenging him. “What’s this for?”
“For your fucking knees, Princess.”
Huh. I guess Angelo wants to play.
Game on, then.
I rise up onto the plush pillow, wiggling to get comfortable. It’s better than having my knees digging painfully into the hard floor of my living space, I must admit.
“Scoot forward for me.”
Cass does as I ask without complaint, his lips parted in interest as he watches me gently grab a hold of his dick and slide him between the silk laces, between the panels of my top, and then between my soft breasts.
“Holy shit.”
A smile dances across my lips at his reaction. “Good?”