Chapter 25
CAELIAN
H er scream slashed me to pieces.
I was trapped in my worst nightmare—complete darkness and the sound of Giana’s pain.
My heart was bleeding outside of my chest, rage and fear pulsing deep in my bones. I was ready to shoot when I barged into the penthouse, but she was too close to him. I couldn’t risk shooting her, too. But the second I stabbed Aurelio in the back, my eyes focused on her as she forced that glass deeper into his eyes, relief flooded me.
And, my God, she never looked hotter.
I’m a sick puppy. Demented. Certifiable. Awesome.
I tighten my arm around her as she leans against me in the back seat of the car. I breathe deeply, the scent of her hair mingling with the stench of blood. It's intoxicating and revolting at the same time, a heady cocktail that sends my senses spiraling because, underneath it all, it’s her. Giana.
My Giana.
“I know I’m about to ask this for the seven-hundred-and-fiftieth time, but are you okay?”
She moves, sits up a little, and looks at me. “I’m fine.” There’s a flash of something in her eyes. “I’m actually, really fine. I mean, I feel this…rush. Is that normal? Should I worry?”
I smirk, touching her face and rubbing a smear of blood from her cheek. “The only thing you should worry about is the fact that you gave me a giant hardon when you forced that glass deeper into his skull. I swear, you’ve never looked hotter.”
“Caelian. Be serious.”
“I am. Good Lord, I am dead fucking serious. If Nicoli weren’t there, I would have fucked you right next to his corpse. Have a little rerun of our bloody rendezvous in New York. Remember that?”
“How can I forget?”
I stare dreamily over her shoulder. “One of our finest moments.”
She chuckles softly, her laugh a balm to the gnawing discomfort that’s been living in my gut since the ordeal began. “You have a twisted sense of romance, Caelian. I don't think most people find the sight of blood and murder particularly erotic.”
“Lucky for us, we’re not boring people.”
She tilts her head, studying my face with those brilliant sapphire eyes I've come to worship. “You were right.”
“I’m right about everything, so you need to be more specific.”
“My father,” she says simply. “You were right.”
I brush a finger through her hair, caked with blood. “It’s funny. I thought it would feel fucking awesome to hear you admit that, but somehow, it feels—I dunno—not great. I’m sorry, New York.”
“Don’t be. I should have trusted you.”
“Yeah, you should have.” I shoot her a cocky grin. “Lucky for you, I’m willing to give you another chance. But groveling is required.”
She groans. “The things I put up with.”
“It’s all part of my charm, love.”
“Charm?” Her incredulous snort fills the car. “That's one way to describe it.”
“I’m not sure I like your tone. It's almost like you're not seeing my brilliance.”
“Oh, I see it. It’s blinding, like staring into the sun, or a spotlight hog.”
“Hog? I prefer leading man, thank you. But don’t worry,” I lean in close, fingers caressing her neck, “I’ll save you a seat next to me on my pedestal.”
“How generous of you. Truly, I’m honored to bask in your modesty.”
“It’s tough, being this humble. You’re lucky I let you stick around.”
“Lucky, huh? That’s one word for it. I was thinking more cursed,” she mutters, rolling her eyes for emphasis.
I place a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “You say ‘cursed,’ but your eyes say, ‘take me now, you irresistible god.’”
“Must be the lightheadedness from rolling my eyes so hard.”
“Well, don’t strain yourself too much, love. I still need you around for that groveling I mentioned.” I claim her mouth, challenging any remaining sarcasm. She murmurs against my lips, her hands reaching up to wrap around my neck.
“Must admit,” she says, pulling away slightly, her breath hot against my cheek, “this is not exactly how I pictured groveling.”
“Oh, this is exactly the way I pictured it. In my head, you’ll be sucking my cock in about two minutes and twenty-two seconds.”
“Or,” she murmurs, “you’ll have your face buried between my legs in about two minutes and twenty-one seconds.”
“Dear God, I like a challenge.”
“Hey,” Maximo chirps from behind the wheel. “Caelian, keep your dick in your pants. Giana, keep those legs closed.”
“Spoilsport,” I retort. “Have you always been this boring?”
“I was born boring.” His eyes never leave the road.
“Maybe we should inject a little excitement into your life.”
“I'd prefer you don’t inject anything near me,” he says, and I choke on a laugh.
“I think he dislikes me.” I feign hurt as I withdraw from Giana. She laughs into my shoulder, her body shaking against mine.
“I think he despises us both equally,” she replies, her voice muffled against my jacket.
“Ah, equality. Always a good thing.”
My phone vibrates, and I quickly read Nicoli’s text.
“My father?” she asks as she stares at me holding my phone.
Something burns inside my chest at the mention of the cocksucker. “Nicoli’s dealing with him. As soon as I have you safe at the house, I’ll join him.”
“What are you going to do to him?” There’s a slight quiver in her voice, and I wish there weren’t. It means she still cares, which means I can’t kill the fucker.
I take a beat, pushing my anger way down in hiding. “I’ll make sure you get what you’re owed.” I take her chin and force her to look up at me. “And you’re owed a lot, New York. So fucking much.”
She shakes her head. “Right now, I don’t want to think about any of that.”
I take it as my cue, sliding my hand up her thigh, stopping just as I reach her apex. “I think we both need a little distraction.”
Her eyes flash with excitement. “What do you have in mind?”
“We’re here.” Maximo parks the car. “Thank God. Now, get out so I can go get baby Belucci.”
“You’re bringing him here, right?” Giana stares at me questioningly.
“Yes. Maximo will bring your brother straight here.”
“Thank you.”
I cup her cheek. “Those are just words, New York. How about some physical gratification?”
“Dear God, please get the fuck out of my car,” Maximo whines. “Get out. Get out. Get out.”
I wink at Giana, and she laughs as I take her hand. We both slide out of the back seat. The way Maximo speeds off down the driveway is almost comical, the tires kicking up gravel as he disappears into the night.
Giana starts toward the house. “Are we?—”
I pull her back, her hair whipping around her shoulders, then slam my lips onto hers in a deep, searing kiss that can only be described as cataclysmic. I pour all my pent-up frustration and repressed love for her into that kiss.
Her body is frozen in surprise, and then she's melting against me, her arms winding around my neck as she gives as good as she gets. I tug her even closer, feeling the curve of her spine against my palm that glides over her firm ass, and I squeeze, rolling my hips, grinding my cock into her.
I’m a selfish prick. This woman’s been through hell. She killed a man, and she’s covered in his blood. But I’m possessed with a need to claim her. Maybe it’s the relief and the elation of all this finally being over. Or maybe it’s the murder and mayhem.
Who the fuck am I kidding? It’s the murder and mayhem.
I break the kiss, sliding my tongue down her throat as she cranes backward. “New York?”
“Caelian?” she whimpers, her fingers now entangled in my hair.
I take her chin between my fingers and force her to look at me. “Black or white?”
Blue irises ignite. “White.”
I smile and kiss her lightly. “Run.”
There isn’t a single second of hesitation as she whips around and darts toward the trees—my beautiful creature who loves the hunt as much as I do.
I close my eyes, keeping a vague count in my head as she races off. I’m already thinking about her pussy squeezing, fluttering, milking me for cum.
As I get to ten, I inhale deep. The night air’s perfumed with one of those night-blooming flowers, the scent rich and evocative and almost as good as the perfume of Giana. Her skin, her hair, her cunt, that heady fucking mix guaranteed to make a man rock hard when he’s within range of her.
The moon’s high and mostly full. I know in which direction she went, but the beauty and trickiness of this estate is, it’s huge. But huge can be scary when you’re wearing a dress that’s hardly covering the goods. No panties. No bra. And…I stop.
There on the ground are her shoes. She took them off.
I crouch, pick them up, and stare out before me. If I was a hot as fuck, ass-swaying, tits-jiggling, pert and tight in all the right places brunette, where would I run?
I scan the area, gaze on the trees and bushes, the shadows. Nothing moves, and I don’t feel her nearby, not that telltale prickling on the skin, that surge of heat or the erratic drum of my heart. She’s gone deep, sticking, I’m betting, to the middle, not the wall. The middle is a place that offers some kind of coverage.
Giana’s not going to go too far. She’ll want to track back, maybe sneak into the house while I search for her out here. God, she’s a clever little prey.
Something crunches, and my head whips to the right. I drop the shoes and stand, staring out.
There. Up ahead, a flash of white skin. I grin.
My cock gets harder, the ache there driving upward, along with the need to claim, to find release, to mark her as mine. I know this isn’t a magic fix for everything that’s happened, but it’s a moment, a breather.
I move faster, weaving in and out among the trees, stopping myself from running because I need to track, to heighten this. Giana wants to be caught. She also wants to evade. Just a mash-up of contradictions, that one.
In fact, I’d be disappointed if a part of her didn’t want to be the prey that brought down the predator. Disappointed if she didn’t want to hunt me right back.
She’s the hottest, most annoying, perfect woman I’ve met. She’s the whole package. Perfectly imperfect. Designed for me.
Another flash of skin. This time, I can track her as she runs, the adrenaline pulsing hard, euphoria licking up my spine. Part of me wanted to make this slow, but I’m thinking more catch and release. Fuck and release until I take her down for good.
“I’m coming for you, and I’m going to play with you before I eat you out.”
I walk slowly, scanning, and there. Up ahead, darting behind a thick oak, I see her. I run.
She tries to get away, but I’m faster and tackle her to the ground, then haul her up, hand in her hair, and with one swift motion I tear through the straps of her dress, and it falls from her body as she fights me, kicking, twisting, until I turn her and crash my mouth to hers.
I expect her to try to bite and use the kiss as an advantage to escape, but a thrill races through me as she pushes into me, her mouth hungry, hands in my hair pulling.
Turning us, I walk into the moonlight, and she’s tied about me, legs at my waist, her hot pussy rubbing on my throbbing cock, her mouth now on my throat, sucking, licking, biting. She’s pure fire. Desire personified.
New York bites hard, right on my jugular, and I grunt, sliding a hand down to rub her pussy, but she pushes her pelvis, her cunt against me like she’s trying to get off on my belt.
Fuck, I need her mouth on me. I need to be in her. It’s a fever in my blood, a need to take and claim and be claimed.
“On your knees. I want to fuck your mouth like it’s nothing more than a sleeve for my cock.”
“You’re disgusting.” The need in her voice slides down my spine to my balls. She unravels from me, sliding down until she hits the earth. Her fingers shake as she undoes my belt and frees me. “So beautifully disgusting.”
She licks at the swollen head of my cock, and pure ecstasy spreads along my shaft. She sets the pagan beat in me that takes over. She makes the animalistic side want to break free and fuck her in the dirt and mud, spraying her face and ass with my cum.
I want her dripping, painted in me. I want her to beg. I want her mindless and my complete slave and I want her to fucking fight.
“Giana,” I say as she jerks me off, her tongue licking under the edge of my cock, along the slit and then back around and then she sucks on the head. It’s so good. Too good.
My balls climb, and pure pleasure burns hot down my spine to my cock’s tip, and I crane back my head, just letting myself go in that moment.
She sucks, licks, explores, tugs me. It’s glorious. Mind-blowing.
I grab her hair and pull her back. “Giana,” I say again, unscrambling my head and getting it back from that teetering edge of blowing my load. Don’t get me wrong; I love her mouth. But I want her cunt tonight.
“Giana,” I say for the third fucking time, “I might be disgusting, but you’re the one getting off on it.”
Her eyes narrow, but there’s heat there, and her nipples are hard, and she’s shaking.
I take off my jacket and toss it to her. “Put it on.”
“I’m not cold.”
“You’re shaking.”
“Because you disgust me.”
“Beautifully?” The moon’s bright enough, and my eyes have adjusted to the dark, so I can see her perfectly. The slight darkening of her skin as she blushes, the way she bites her lip. How she struggles to put on my jacket because she doesn’t want to let go of my cock completely to do it.
This woman is priceless. Even her stubbornness and brattiness that drive me fucking crazy are a turn-on.
“You look spectacular naked underneath my jacket. Hot. Mine.”
“Say that again.” Her gaze is etched on mine as she looks up while she slides her velvet tongue along my shaft.
“Mine,” I repeat. “All. Fucking. Mine. Suck me. No hands. All the way down to the back of your throat.”
Her hands fall away, and I weave my fingers through her hair at the back of her head, working her on my cock. Her sips and licks and sucks are beyond good, and being in that hot, wet place is divine. I could stay buried in her mouth forever.
She sucks harder, working herself up and down on my rod. She goes so deep she chokes. Her gag reflex works the end of me, and then she takes me deeper still, until her lips are against my skin and my balls slap her chin. Her gagging works at me like her cunt. And she drools perfectly, so messy, so hot.
She swallows me down, and I almost come.
“Oh, sweet Jesus,” I moan, grabbing her hair and pulling her off me. She goes to grab my cock, but I inch away, breathing heavily. “Just…just give me a fucking minute.”
I’m not ready to come yet. I want to drag it out, but this woman’s got me in a vise.
“Can't handle it?” Her voice is full of smug satisfaction as she sits back on her knees, the glint in her eyes matching the moonlight glistening off her skin. My jacket hangs loosely around her, deceptively innocent.
“You little…”
With a swift, fluid motion, she launches herself to her feet and sprints away. But despite her speed, I’m able to anticipate her movements, cutting off her escape as she rounds a corner.
Her breath comes in quick gasps as she tries to outmaneuver me, but I am one step ahead of her every time.
She attempts a double bluff, feigning left before darting right and slipping past my grasp. Swearing under my breath, I tuck myself back into my pants, not bothering with the zipper as I chase her down.
She’s good. I know I’m better.
We play in the bushes, a sexed-up game of chase. Each movement is filled with an electric tension, building and building until I finally make my move and bring her crashing down beneath me.
I kiss her. Long, slow, sweet kisses that have heat, hidden bite, and when she’s a mess, I kiss my way down, suck on her nipple, teasing the tip with my tongue, then leave a trail of kisses down her stomach. The closer I get, the more I smell her—that heady, musky scent of arousal that drives me insane.
She’s writhing beneath me now, a glorious image of decadent surrender, and I brush my lips all around her sex, purposely avoiding that one area where she needs it most.
“Caelian,” she moans, unable to keep her hands to herself, weaving her fingers through my hair.
I lick and tease and taste, slowly working her up to a frenzy, her hips bucking as she tries to get me to that one spot that will push her over the edge.
Her skin is flushed, glowing in the moonlight as she opens herself wider to me. The scent of her is intoxicating, and I lick my lips, unable to resist any longer and finally drag my tongue up and through her slit, lapping at her clit.
Her cries echo into the night, her fingers tightening in my hair like she doesn’t know if she wants to pull me closer or push me away. It only takes a few strokes and some skilled sucking for her to break into pieces beneath me.
I make sure I give her enough to ride it out, to reach that peak and come back down before I move on top of her, reach between us to line up my cock, and sink into her.
“Fuck,” I curse, burying my face in her shoulders.
She gasps, head thrown back as she arches into me, and I groan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being sheathed in her heat. She’s captured all my senses. She’s everywhere, yet I still don’t have enough of her. I’ll never have enough.
Her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me deeper into her, the sounds of ecstasy spilling from her lips. I know exactly how she likes it—hard and fast but with a rhythm that allows her to savor each thrust. And so, I deliver.
I bury myself into her over and over again, the sound of our bodies colliding in raw passion filling the room. Each time I retreat, she pulls me back, matching my every move, and I’m holding out, keeping my control tethered because she needs to come again. I need her to fall apart just one more time before I follow suit.
“I love you,” I rasp into her ear, my breath rapid, unsteady. “I love you so fucking much, New York.”
“Oh, God. Caelian. I love…” I thrust in deep. “Oh, fuck.” Her pussy walls tighten. “I love you…” Deeper. “I love you…too. Fuck!”
Her nails bite into my ass, and she’s pushing me deeper still, rolling her hips as she comes. It starts in her cunt, and the waves crush and crash into me, setting me off, and my cock twitches into her, and I come.
I let go with a guttural roar, pouring myself into her, pleasure splitting and tearing, and then stitching me back together in a euphoria that nearly blinds me. I’ve never had this kind of sex before her—the kind that binds and breaks, shatters and releases, leaving you satiated yet craving more.
I cling to her, our sweat-slick bodies entwined as we ride out the aftershocks of our pleasure, and I kiss her gently, tenderly, languidly. Everything is heightened, the world around us faded to nothing, and I breathe her in.
She’s my air.
My life.
My everything.