5. Celia
Chapter 5
Celia
As we walk a few blocks down the sidewalk, I’m grateful for Rebel’s leather jacket. The winter chill has set in for the season, which would normally bring a new wave of products into my boutique. Pashmina scarves, knit hats, and woolen gloves, either displayed to match or paired in various color-combinations, all designed to entice the eye in addition to keeping its owner warm. My soul mourns the fact that I’m wearing my worn leather boots and Rebel’s baggy sweatpants instead of a soft cashmere ensemble, awash with gentle cremes and beiges that provide a delicate, fresh look for any woman—and for me especially. White is my signature color, and I always look forward to the first winter frost to show off my latest look.
Rebel’s clothes, consisting of a smattering of dark grays and blacks, faded band logos and soft beanies, is the opposite of everything I stand for. But matching outfits with him as we wander the late night streets in the hazy glow of cold moonlight makes me feel more at ease by his side. We blend in with the night—and with each other.
A few minutes after leaving the diner, we approach a gated lot filled with cars of all shapes and sizes, nearly all of them gleaming to perfection. Sports cars catch my eye first, each one of them beckoning me closer. My ex-husband used to own a sleek black convertible, and when we were at our happiest, he would take me for joyrides all over the city just to see me smile.
I’m sure he took his secretary too.
Thinking of Ted’s affair sours the memories of zipping past streetlights with the wind roaring in my ears, but only for a moment. Rebel works as an easy distraction as he approaches the guard shack at the front of the lot and greets the two security officers with a friendly smile and smack to their shoulders. While he makes small talk, I check out our location. The lot is well-maintained like the rest of the street, the four-story parking garage pristine and damn near shining, even in the middle of a misty night. Not only is every square inch of the property well-lit and covered in cameras, but each parking space is numbered with bright white paint and every car hosts a valet ticket on its dashboard.
When I start to wander too far, Rebel beckons me back to him and immediately drapes his arm over my shoulder. “Boys, meet Celia Monrovia. She’s priority number one, got it? If the lot’s on fire and you can only save one thing, you save her, got it?”
That’s ridiculous. We’re standing next to a Ferrari. A very expensive, twin-engine Ferrari that likely carries more horsepower than I’ll ever experience in my life. If that beauty goes down in a fire, its owner is going to be furious that I was spared in place of their precious baby.
But maybe to Rebel, I’m just as important as that Ferrari is to its owner.
Rebel presses a kiss to the top of my head and leads us inside the guard shack. It’s simply-decorated but oozing money, with plush leather couches, an expensive espresso machine, and a state of the art security system with twelve monitors that seem to cover the entire lot. Rebel gestures to the key rack along the far wall, dozens of key rings and car fobs hanging before our eyes. “Pick a ride, baby. Anything you like.” He kisses my cheek. “But if you choose a four-seater, I’m overruling you. Gotta pick something with style. ”
Adrenaline rushes through my veins as I stare at the endless rows of keys, each one sporting a numbered tag. I know exactly which car I want without having to browse the rest of the lot. The chance to test drive a dream car makes me giddy with excitement, and I bounce over to the wall to make my selection. Rebel smiles as he watches me scan the numbers for the one I want. It doesn’t take long until I’ve found it.
Number twelve: the cherry red Ferrari I spotted just outside.
“Good choice,” Rebel muses, watching me snatch the keys as quickly as I can. I’m vibrating as I lead the way to spot twelve. Sliding into the front seat feels smooth as silk, the interior polished to perfection and wicked soft. Once I push to start, I run my hands over the steering wheel as I listen to her purr.
“Never took you for a car girl.” Rebel props his foot on the dashboard as soon as he’s seated, his lips curving into a smirk. He watches me fondle the stitched leather seat. “It’s hot.”
I don’t advertise my affection for fast cars. It’s not a dainty little hobby for bratva girls to love. “My ex-husband drove a fast car,” I explain, biting my bottom lip. “He’s the one who introduced me to them.”
And took them away when we were trying to conceive. All for the safety of the baby he gave his secretary instead of me.
My heart pangs in my chest, but I beat back the pain with a grin that’s real enough. A silver fox pendant glints beneath the rearview mirror, the only personal item in the cab. “Whose car is this?”
Rebel shrugs. “Don’t know, don’t care. Push the gas, baby; let’s get out of here.”
He doesn’t have to tell me twice.
As soon as we pass the gate and hit the street, I slam down the gas and we go flying. Rebel holds onto the roof of the car and grins, his bright smile warming my heart. “Turn here, baby,” he directs, taking us down a long stretch of road, “and floor it!”
The car punches forward, both of us cackling as we zip across double lines and ignore every local traffic law. We weave in and out of cars, ignore speed limits, and can’t keep our eyes off of each other for a damn minute.
It’s dangerous. It’s reckless. But holy shit , is it fun.
“Damn, girl.” Rebel flicks his gaze from the streetlights back to me, his eyes sparkling with every neon light we fly past. “Who knew you could drive. ” He licks his lips and unabashedly palms his crotch, the thick outline of his dick making me do a double-take. “You’re hot as hell, baby . ”
I shake my head with a tiny laugh. “Who knew you could get me into a car like this. ” I spread my palm across the dash, appreciating her beauty. “I might’ve sucked your dick for a ride like this.” My face flushes bright crimson at the confession, and although I’m not sure if I really mean it, Rebel latches onto my words in an heartbeat.
“Yeah?” He bites his lip, sucking his snakebite into his mouth. “We’ve still got time, if you’re interested.” Flexing his hips, he stretches out as much as possible, giving me a generous eyeful of his abs and the tuft of hair disappearing behind the waistband of his skinny jeans.
It takes effort, so much effort , to keep us from swerving. Giggling and feeling ridiculous about it, I turn on a familiar road that leads up to a hilltop overlooking this part of the city. It’s known as North Side’s Makeout Point, and although I’ve lived in Harlin Heights my entire life, I’ve never actually brought anyone up here—or been invited. Courtesy of being a mafia daughter with a protective twin brother—the boys stayed away all through high school, and I never went to college. The most I’ve learned about running a business came from online courses on Youtube and whatever snippets I’ve gleaned from conversation with my brother. Not foolproof, but good enough with the right amount of money to throw at things.
My lack of dating experience means, however, that aside from my ex-husband, I haven’t really been with anyone long enough for something as cheeky as a trip to Makeout Point.
We park at the midway point, as far away from the other cars idling along the ridge as possible. There are only a few hanging around, but two of them are fogged up on the inside and one is rocking. I’d rather pretend they don’t exist than admit that whatever they’re doing might actually be something I’m curious to try.
Good girls don’t fantasize about having sex inside a Ferrari.
Rebel stretches lazily once we’re parked and settles into his seat. “Never took you for a Makeout Point girl, either,” he muses, a smirk on his lips. He reclines the seat and pats his lap. “Climb on over, beautiful. I want to feel you.”
Okay, maybe this good girl indulges the fantasy a little.
My body is on fire before he even touches me. Somehow, I manage to swing my body over the console and settle onto his lap, straddling his waist while leaning across his chest. He hums happily and plants his hands on my hips, grinning up at me with boyish charm. He flicks the hair from his eyes and rubs his palms up and down my waist, slipping his hands inside my shirt to touch my skin. His fingers are cold, making me shiver as goosebumps trail down my arms. Kissing my wrist, he pins me with a heated stare.
“You’re beautiful, Celia.”
I bite my bottom lip, my nerves ratcheting higher. “Tell me something else.” I’ve always been known within the bratva as the pretty one , and I’m starting to think that beauty isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It makes it easier to run a fashion business when people want to look like me, and it makes it easier to attract men like Rebel when I doll myself up in kitten heels and a little black dress, but tonight, I don’t want to be pretty.
I want to feel real.
Rebel studies me for a moment, suddenly cupping my ass. “You’re a know-it-all.”
Gasping, I smack his chest. “What! I am not!”
“You are! ” He grins. “You always think you know everything, and I get it. You’re used to calling the shots, or whatever. You wanna be Miss Independent.” He slides one of his hands up my waist until he reaches my chest, gently tapping the space over my heart. “I know your ex hurt you, but I’m not— we’re not him. None of us want to control you, baby; we just want what’s best for all of us.”
The electric buzz in the air fizzles out, my happiness fading fast. I sit up, rocking back on Rebel’s obvious erection with the movement, and force myself not to focus on how hot and hard he is beneath me. I cross my arms over my chest, forcing Rebel’s hand away. “How is locking me in a cage not about being in control? How is forcing me to my knees in front of a crowd of people not about control?” I shake my head. “You say one thing, but then you guys do the opposite. You only want me if it fits inside your perfect parameters.”
Rebel raises an eyebrow. “Sounds pretty fucking familiar.”
Warmth blooms across my cheeks as I blush at being called out so easily. “That’s not true.”
Except… Aren’t I the one pushing them out of my life because I don’t think they fit within it?
I cringe, pursing my lips. “Okay, maybe it’s a little true, but?—”
“No buts. Celia, baby, if we’re going to make this work between us, between all of us, you’re gonna have to relax those boundaries and let us in. All this fighting? It’s only gonna hurt. That’s all Rage wants, you know, for you to accept him. Every time you tell him no, he’s gonna hold on tighter and tighter until one of you breaks.”
Rebel sits up and wraps his arms around my waist, tilting his head back to gaze up at me. His eyes reflect the glowing city behind me, burning with warmth that burrows deep in my chest and wraps around my pounding heart. “I don’t wanna have to put you back together. I want to keep you just as you are, whole and healthy and full of life. Because you are beautiful, and not just for that ass.” He squeezes my butt and grins wickedly. “You’re beautiful because you’re so fucking stubborn and headstrong and out of my goddamn league. I could throw my whole life away just to see where your light shines next.” Nuzzling my jaw, he skims his lips over mine. “You’re dynamite, girl, and you blow me the fuck away.”
Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, my heart swelling with emotion I don’t dare name. Falling for Rebel is bad news. I’m supposed to be running away right now, not straddling his lap in a Ferrari!
It’s like he reads my mind. “You wanna run away and start a new life?” He smacks my ass. “Start the engine, baby, and let’s roll.” Rolling his hips for effect, he moans unabashedly, shuddering as he drags in a lungful of air. “But if you want to stay and build a life here—with us—it won’t be easy, and we’re all gonna have to learn to give a little on these boundary things, but it’ll be so goddamn worth it.” The conviction in his voice settles into my bones, giving me strength I hadn’t known I needed.
Could we actually make this work?
“So please. ” He lifts my t-shirt shirt and bends to press a gentle kiss to my chest, directly over my heart. “Stop running. Let us love you—let me love you.”
My heart hammers loudly, willing me to fall. To let go. To say, fuck it , and give him what he wants.
Because in the end, I might want it, too. More than I’ve wanted to admit.
With Rebel, I can picture the future I’ve always imagined.
Cupping his face in my hands, I let myself fall—leaping headfirst alongside the lightning beat of his heart, against the hard lines of his body, and into whatever comes next. Our lips crash together, and the groan reverberating inside Rebel’s chest leaves me buzzing from the sound. “Do that again,” I rasp, my eyes fluttering shut as his teeth skim my jaw.
He chuckles. “Oh, did you like tha— oh, fuuuuck. ”
As I grind down on top of his iron-hard length, he moans loudly, flopping back onto the seat to gaze up at me through half-lidded eyes. Biting his bottom lip, he thrusts up, smirking when I gasp. “That’s it, baby, take what you want. I need you to feel good.” Cupping my breasts, he squeezes, massaging them and pinching my nipples between his knuckles. The thin red lace bra doesn’t hide anything, and within seconds, he’s rolling my nipples into hard peaks. I keen as pleasure ripples through me, soaking my panties and making me writhe that much harder on top of him.
Rebel curses under his breath, both of us panting. “ Fuck , baby, fuck. ”
Slipping off the leather jacket and pulling my t-shirt over my head, I gasp as he suddenly tears the lace down to free my tits. Massaging them in his warm palm, he moans again, lifting his hips as he chases his high. When I reach down to undo his belt, he bucks up into me, hissing as my nails scratch his abdomen. “That’s right, pull me out, baby, feel how hard I am for you.” Lifting my hips, I shove his jeans down as much as I can, finding him bare underneath. His cock springs free, just as hard as promised, hot and silky-smooth when I grab the shaft. Twin piercings, two silver balls just beneath the head, gleam in the lowlight, and I gently brush my thumb over them.
He gasps, tossing his head back as I stroke him hard. “ Fuck. ” Pre-cum leaks from the tip, and I smear it across his slit, making him pant harder. “Don’t tease me, just—just let me feel you, baby.” He reaches for my waistband, but I smack his hand away. Eyes wide, he watches as I spit on his dick and continue stroking, his body twitching every time I pull his skin over the head and rub directly over his piercing. “F-fuck,” he stutters, biting his lip. “You’re driving me crazy, Celia, baby, please. Fuck, don’t tease me.”
My body is on fire, but Rebel looks like he’s about to combust. Sweat breaks out across his forehead and chest, a flush trailing down his neck and across his tattoos. Their colors are muddied in the yellowed streetlight, but the flex of his muscles beneath the skin is clear as day. He thrusts in time with my hand, puffing hot air every time he exhales. “C-Celia,” he moans, biting his lip. “Baby, you’re gonna make me—” His breath catches as more pre-cum spills from the tip of his cock. “So close. Please. Let me— ah! ”
I reach between us and cup his balls, massaging them while I stroke his shaft. My back and shoulders scream at me to switch positions, but I don’t dare, not when Rebel’s clawing at the car door and writhing in the leather seat.
Whoever said that men can’t come from hand jobs was fucking lying.
Rebel comes hard, a whine tearing through his throat as his hips jerk up into my palm, thick ropes of his cum splashing against his abs. I stroke him through it gently, saying the first, unfiltered thing that comes to mind?—
“Good boy.”
He shudders at the praise, moaning as another spurt of cum coats my fingers. Still panting, he reaches for my free hand and squeezes tightly.
I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his knuckles. “Such a good boy, coming for me,” I continue, enjoying the way his cheeks flush. “Do you feel good, baby?” I squeeze his cock, enjoying its twitch in my palm.
He bites his plush bottom lip and swallows. “Y-yes.”
I smile brightly, elated that I can elicit such a strong response from him. “Me too.” I cup his jaw and lean in to kiss the wide-eyed look off his face. We melt into each other, humming with each press of our lips. Rebel runs his fingers through my hair and deepens the kiss, using his other hand to drag my hips higher, trapping his slick cock beneath me. It’s already growing in size, thickening with each flick of our tongues.
As much as I’d love to have sex right now, I don’t know how to handle the backlash if Rage finds out, and that uncertainty is enough for me to break away.
The soft, dazed look on Rebel’s face makes it hard to sit up. “We should head back,” I murmur, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “Thanks for the ride.”
He sobers up fast, huffing loudly as he runs a hand through his sweat-slicked hair. “Not fair. Let me get you off. I bet you’re soaked. ” His eyes travel my body from my tits to my hips. “I can feel how hot you are down there. Scorching.” With a slow thrust, he presses his cock against my core, making me shiver with heat. He tugs at my sweatpants, pulling them down an inch. “C’mon, take these off. Let’s go for a real ride.”
I bite my lip, the temptation tipping the scales in Rebel’s favor. “Won’t he find out?”
“He? Who— Rage? ” Rebel blinks, stunned into silence for a split second, before surging up to kiss me hard, his tongue and teeth working together to make me whine with need. When he pulls back, his eyes are steely. “You’re thinking about my brother right now, when I’m trying to fuck you?” Thrusting his hips into mine, he hisses, “ fuck that. Sit on my cock, baby, and I’ll show you how a real man fucks.”
I hesitate, knowing that it’s a bad idea, but also knowing that my body is begging for release, wound tight from all the kissing and grinding. “Won’t I be fucking you since I’m on top?”
Rebel flashes me a cocky grin. “Time to fuck around and find out.”