24. Constantine
CHAPTER 24
Constantine
C arina meets me halfway as our lips reunite in a violent crash of hunger and desperation. Those lips I have been dying to get another taste of open with no resistance.
I thrust my tongue in her mouth, tilting her head to kiss her deeper, harder.
There’s a rush to my head. Heat runs like lava through my veins and there’s an animalistic need. A need to own her mouth. A need to devour her whole. An archaic need to thrust into her wet and tight cunt and claim her as mine.
Her fingers wrap like vines in my tousled hair as her nails dig into my scalp.
The slight bite of pain has my cock swelling.
My tongue fucks her mouth in a way that has my cock weeping. Without finesse. With a wild abandon and fervor so strong it could ruin us both.
I grind my painful erection against her. I groan as I can already feel the heat and wetness of her cunt through the thin fabric of her clothes. She moans in my mouth and I swallow the delicious sound.
And while I may be called the Devil with her lips kissing mine in an equal fervor I feel like a fucking god.
As our lips finally break apart, panting and swollen, her eyes meet mine with everything I have longed to see.
They’re alive in a way they have never been before. Emeralds shining brightly up at me with clarity, admiration and strength. They’re speaking to me with truths I long to hear from her lips.
There is a gentleness, a tenderness I will never share with anyone else as I press my lips against hers once more.
She sighs against my lips. A happy sound I wish to record to play over and over again.
Holding her with the utmost care I go to brush my knuckle against the flushed skin of her cheek but stop short, remembering they’re busted wide open.
Blood pours from the wounds. And as I come down from the high of our kiss I notice I painted her in red.
And while blood play has never been a kink of mine I can see the appeal of it.
I’ve marked her, claimed her, in the most primal way possible.
It has my cock the hardest it has ever been.
As if a spell has been lifted her eyes grow concerned once again when they see my knuckles.
And fuck if that doesn’t turn me on as well.
Carina Fiore, no, fuck that, Carina Donati, is a walking living breathing aphrodisiac.
Her hands, soft and gentle, take one of mine in hers. She holds it up to eye level inspecting the open wounds. Her eyes then drift to my shirt. Going over all the places the blood was splattered. She’s searching for more wounds but she’ll find none.
Unlike moments before I allow her to care for me.
How long has it been since another soul has cared for me?
Too long to remember.
And I must admit, the affection has me in a chokehold.
Her hands move methodically. They unbutton the material of my shirt with a precision that has my skin being untouched. And when the final button is undone she slides the material away.
I stand before her, chest bare. My heart feels as if it could beat right out of my chest. One touch of her skin on mine will have me undone.
Her eyes take in the sight of me. The mattered dark curls of hair dusting my chest. The many scars concealed beneath them that one can’t see unless they’re up close.
I know what her eyes are seeing. And I take more than enough pride in my physique but the way her eyes are staring at me, with adoration and awe, it leaves me breathless.
She swallows before her hand makes contact with my skin.
A flame roars to life beneath the surface.
“I was afraid,” she begins in a voice that’s above a mere whisper. And I take in account how difficult this must be for her. Opening up. Being vulnerable. Feeling emotions instead of repressing them. “With all the blood I was afraid you were severely injured.” She closes her eyes at the thought, a pained expression on her beautiful face. “I’ve never felt that way before, Constantine.” I will never get over her saying my name. I long to hear it until the day I die. And I’ll haunt her to hear it once more.
“Felt what, mia leonessa?”
“The overwhelming need to make sure you were okay, and that if you weren’t. . .” Her eyes flutter open and I see the pain in her eyes. Even if the pain is for me I wish to not see it.
Reassuring her I say, “I’m completely fine, Carina.”
Unexpectedly she leans forward and presses a soft chaste kiss to the center of my chest. I feel it travel all the way to my soul. “Constantine?” I hum in response. Tilting her head back, her eyes meet mine with a fiery determination. A look of a Queen. “If anything had happened to you I would’ve made whoever was responsible regret it.”
Dio mio.
My Queen has finally risen.
What a magnificent sight to behold.
“I know, amore.” Her eyes alight with pleasure to the new term of endearment. And while she’ll always be mia leonessa, a woman who will never and should never be tamed, she is also and will always be the love of my life.
A new smile takes form on her lips. A small one. A shy one. One of innocence. “Allow me to take care of you.”
With a smirk I reply, “As long as you allow me to care for you.”
Her brows furrow in confusion. And it’s beautiful how she allows herself to show emotions now. “I have no wounds that need tending to.”
Sometimes in the dark world we live in it’s easy to forget her innocence. “Ah,” I register my voice in a low timbre, a seductive tone, “but there is an ache between your thighs is there not?” Her cheeks redden in response. Those beautiful lips part with a sharp intake of breath.
“Constantine.”
Fuck. I’m as hard as ever and her breathy voice isn’t helping.
“I can ease it, amore. With my tongue. With my fingers. With my cock.” Her eyes widen with shock but those pupils of hers dilate with desire. Good to know. My beautiful girl likes my filthy mouth. “Don’t you want to know what heaven feels like?”
She swallows thickly. “Yes.”
“Good girl,” I praise her and she shivers with pleasure. I’ll remember to praise her in the bedroom as well. “Because I’m dying to know what Heaven tastes like.” With her in a daze I lean down and press a chaste kiss to her open lips.
Addicting.
Reigning in the urges to take her here and now I pull away. Her eyes are closed, her tongue slowly tracing her lips.
Dio mio.
She is going to be the end of me.
I swat her ass and her eyes fly open. “I thought you wanted to tend my wounds?”
Her eyes then narrow but I realize quickly it’s all in play. “What a Devil you are.”
I wink at her. “You wouldn’t have me if I wasn’t.”
“No,” she agrees, “I wouldn’t.”
Offering my injured hand she takes it with care. I lead us through the penthouse, up to the third floor where both of our rooms reside.
Instead of us going our separate ways we stand outside the door that leads to my bedroom.
I told her months ago I would never force her. And I have stayed true to my word. I’ve never influenced her nor made her not have a choice.
She has never seen the inside of my room. Never stepped a foot inside of it.
And now she will. Of free will.
“Your room,” she breathes.
I turn my head to catch a glimpse of her. Her ebony hair mused perfectly from my fingers. Those rosebud lips taunting me for another taste. The face of an angel with the body of a vixen. And she captured the heart of a Devil.
“Our room,” I correct her.
“You know,” she begins, her free hand on the handle of the door, “I gained respect for you that night.”
“You shouldn’t have.”
She raises a brow. “Why not?”
“Because any man doing the bare minimum of respecting a woman shouldn’t warrant the respect of a woman.”
“I’ve never met a man like you before.”
“Because all your life you’ve been surrounded by boys, Carina. Not men.” Aside from Gino, who had only been in her life for the past decade and Giuseppe, who was the butler turned father figure, Carina hasn’t had great men in her life. By no means are we good men but we are respectable. My mamma would haunt me in my grave if I wasn’t.
“Says the same man who said he would take pleasure in hurting a woman if she was a traitor.” She challenges me.
I shrug my shoulder. “A traitor is a traitor, mia leonessa. Would be misogynistic if I turned a blind eye because the traitor is a woman.”
Her lips twitch despite herself. Before, her battle with morality would have had her believing it was wrong, that I was evil. Now her world isn’t as black and white.
Twisting the door handle she pushes the door open and takes her first step inside our bedroom with me following her lead right behind her.
She crosses the threshold with measured steps. Her eyes take note of every detail in the room.
The four poster California king size bed centers the room, sitting on a platform. Charcoal painted walls with landscape photos my mamma had taken when her hobby became her heart. Those pieces are the only thing I have left of her. And at times, where the loss of her is too much to bear, I stare at her photography and remember her the way she’d want me to, happy.
I have millions of dollars of artwork framed throughout the home but none of them are worth one of hers.
Mesmerized by the photos she lets go of my hand and goes to stand in front of my favorite one; the lighthouse.
Waves from the ocean strong and tumbling. A black sky with ominous clouds, catastrophic winds and rain crashing down. A lone strike of lightning slashing across the lighthouse illuminating the photograph.
I wait anxiously for her response. If she finds the photograph haunting or destructive. Perhaps she finds it both.
Or does she see what I see when I look at it?
The power of the storm. The strength of the lighthouse. The beauty in the darkness.
Her voice comes out soft with awe, “It’s beautiful.”
My heart thunders.
Dio mio, this woman was made for me.
I curve my arm around her waist and tug her towards me. She falls into me with ease. Her entire body relaxes within my embrace.
“It’s my favorite photograph my mamma took,” I find myself telling her. It’s easy, way too easy to be transparent with her. And while I have always considered myself a confident man I’ve only now become complete.
Her head leans back to rest against my chest. The scent of cherries fills my nostrils giving me a peace nothing else could. “I can see why.” We stare at the photograph a moment longer, enjoying the silence. “Are all of these photographs hers?”
“Yes. Mamma’s photography was a hobby my papa had encouraged. She had a great love for art. A deep appreciation beyond beauty. She could see what others could not. I must admit, I always envied her for it.”
She turns in my arms then, her hands framing my face like I am precious art. “You do, Constantine. You saw me when no one else did. Not even myself.”
“I’ll always see you, Carina.”
A soft smile is my response. Taking my hand once again she leads me across the bedroom to the en-suite. “Where is your first aid kit?” I lean back against the black marble countertop as I point to the drawers that contain everything she will need. She smiles again. A smile that stops my heart and then makes it beat twice as fast.
As she begins to tend to my wounds I don’t even flinch. I’ve suffered worse. The scars on my body are proof of it. As she dribbles the antiseptic over the wound she says, “The first time Giuseppe tended to my wounds I sobbed for hours.” She says it so casually, as if we are discussing the weather and not her trauma. “And although the pain was great it wasn’t necessarily the pain that had me in tears.” Her method is gentle as she begins to wrap my hands in bandages. “It was the tenderness in his care. The affection. He was always so gentle. I couldn’t understand it. I even believed I didn’t deserve it. But my heart ached for it.”
I imagine a young girl in the cruel hands of Savio and Luca. The images before my eyes have me seeing red. Rage burns like an inferno in my blood.
I want to avenge her. The girl who should’ve been showered with love and affection not fear and pain.
We both grew up in this dark world except I was blessed with parents who had loved me. I never had any doubts.
She raises my now bandaged wounds to her lips and kisses my knuckles softly. “Gino also bestowed kindness to me.” Her lips form a small smile at the man I had infiltrated Savio’s soldiers to protect her. “In his own way of course.” Her eyes cast down to my hands, lost in thought. “I never understood him either. He was a highly trusted soldier of papa. The best soldier of his and yet he never showed me his cruelty.”
One day soon I will tell her the truth of Gino. She deserves the truth. She deserves everything. And I promise I will give it to her. Until my last breath.
I intertwine her hand with mine. “Would you like communication with them?” Although Gino is a trusted man of mine I can grant her the connection to Giuseppe. He’s done proved his loyalty to her. How many times has the old man risked his life to care for her?
“You would allow that?”
“There isn’t much I wouldn’t do for you, amore. All you have to do is say the word.”
Her eyes glisten like diamonds. She blinks them away before they have the chance to fall. “I would like that very much.”
Gripping her hips I place her between my spread legs. Her arms loop around my neck as she brings her forehead down to rest on mine. “Consider it done.”
Standing to full height my hands move from her hips to the underside of her thighs to support her weight. Without instruction she wraps those long lean legs around my waist. I feel her heat against me and all the blood rushes to my cock.
“Now,” I say as I press open mouth kisses along the side of her neck, “how about I give you what you’ve been aching for?”
Her voice is a breathless moan as she replies, “Yes, please.”
I carry us out of the en-suite into the bedroom. She tilts her neck, granting me further access along the expanse of her neck. I flatten my tongue on her fluttering pulse. It goes wild before I plant a bruising kiss on it.
I claim her mouth in a searing kiss as I lay her down on the bed. For a woman who has never kissed a man she’s entirely too good at it. She claims my mouth with the same urgency. Gives it back to me as good as I give her.
Sliding my hands down the outside of her thighs I unhook her ankles from around my waist. The emerald dress she’s wearing that perfectly matches her eyes rides up further as I do so.
Humbly and greatly I kneel myself before her. I’ve never been a religious man but I can understand worship, and I’m a man who is going to worship every inch of her.
Propped on her elbows she stares down at me with heady and curious eyes. There’s no uncomfortableness in her posture. No signs showing me she isn’t ready for this. For me.
Building the tension that has been between us for weeks I trace my fingers in patterns along her skin. From her ankle, up her leg, to the insides of her thighs, and back down again without ever getting too close to the place where she wants me most.
Her breathing has turned erratic. And as my fingers inch higher up her inner thighs she lets out a whimper that has my cock straining against my slacks.
“Look at you,” I say as I spread her legs as far as they can go. She whimpers again and my eyes roll to the back of my head at the sound. Her whimpers alone are going to make me combust. I open my eyes after I gained a little composure. This isn’t about me. This is about her. Her wants. Her needs. Her pleasure. I lean in to where my nose brushes against her soaked black thong. Fuck, even the smell of her has my mouth salivating. “All wet just for me, aren’t you?” I run my nose along her scantily covered slit and she shudders.
“Constantine,” she whines. I’ll always love my name coming from her lips, but this way? This way will always have my blood running hot and leave me not thinking properly.
I press my mouth against her and hum deeply. The vibration has her writhing against the duvet. Working her up I press a kiss against her slit. A throaty moan escapes her and I smirk.
“How bad do you want me, Carina?” I pull her dress to where the remainder of the garment sits below her breasts.
Dio mio, she’s fucking breathtaking.
Her hourglass figure is almost on full display for my eyes to feast upon. The slight curve of her stomach flaring out to lush hips I can sink my fingers into. Toned legs adorned by pale white tiger stripes on the inside of her thighs. She’s a gift from the heavens.
I’ll die a happy man with those thighs suffocating me as I eat her out.
“I want you, Constantine,” she whimpers. “So, so bad.”
Hearing how much she wants me gives me the greatest high no drug ever could.
And as much as I would love to tease her more, hear her beg, even I can’t resist any longer.
Twisting the string waistband of her thong it falls apart and I’m gifted the sight with the prettiest cunt I have ever seen.
While I’m fucking mesmerized by the sight of her, pink and wet, for me, I hear her say, “Those were my favorite.”
I glance up at her to find a teasing smile and a dark brow raised. “I’ll buy you more, mia leonessa ,” I promise her. Fuck, I’ll buy her all the lingerie she desires as long as I’m the only man who can take it off. Or destroy it.
“Are you going to ruin them each time?”
“Do you have any objections?”
“Looks as if you’ll be spending a large amount of money on lingerie.”
“Again, are there any objections?”
She shakes her head, an amused smile on her face. “As long as you don’t see it as a waste of your money.”
I grab her thighs and pull her down to the edge of the bed. With excitement in her eyes she follows my lead by hooking her legs around my neck. Without warning I lick her slit with the flat of my tongue. A curse falls from her lips as her thighs squeeze against me. “First, it’s our money.” She watches with baited breath as I circle her swollen clit with my tongue. I watch as her eyes roll to the back of her head. “Second, any amount spent on you would never be a waste.” Giving her just a preview I thrust the tip of my tongue in her pussy. Dio mio, the taste of her is better than anything I could’ve imagined. “And third,” I say, blowing air against her clit that has her twining her fingers in my hair, “I’m going to fuck your pussy until you’re screaming my name.”
Not waiting for a response I thrust my tongue in her cunt and lick like a man who has been dying of thirst.
Her thighs tighten around my head as a tremor wracks her entire frame. The heels of her feet dig into my back. And the most primal and erotic moan fills the air. Tightening my hold on her I sink my fingers in her ass cheeks. There will be bruises tomorrow. The only marks of pain Carina should ever wear are the ones brought by pleasure.
I can feel her cunt tightening around my tongue. Not wanting her to come just yet I leave the sweet taste of her pussy to circle the swollen nub that has been begging for my attention. She pulls my hair then, enough for it to sting my scalp. I tease her a bit more, not being able to help myself. I flick against her clit with fast jabs before I suck it into my mouth.
“Dio mio. Per favore. Per favore.”
Hearing her in our natural tongue has my cock throbbing. Releasing her clit I peer up to find her eyes screwed shut and face twisted with pleasure. Tears leak from her eyes, mascara smudged. I have never seen a more beautiful sight.
I hover my mouth over her opening as I say, “Don’t beg with god, Carina.” I then nip her clit which has her eyes bursting wide open with a sharp inhale. Now that I have her attention I demand, “Say my fucking name as I’m eating this pretty fucking pussy.”
“Constantine,” she cries.
And I reward her by fucking her with my tongue the way my cock longs to. She buries her fingers in my scalp as the telltale signs of her release are imminent. I breathe in her scent, the sweet femininity that tastes even sweeter as her cum smears my mouth and travels down my chin.
Fucking her with my mouth is the most alive I have ever seen her. Her body is so damn responsive. Continuous moans that are incoherent pouring from those damn lips. Her pussy throbbing with every thrust of my tongue. The arch of her back and the way her legs suffocate me. She’s a live wire. Every touch of mine inducing sparks.
She comes alive only for me.
And I want her to realize it. I want her to look in my eyes as I make her come. I want her to look in my eyes and see how very much alive I make her.
I nip at her clit. “Look at me, Carina.” Her eyes fly back open as she peers down at me with eyes glittering. Dio mio, I’m about to come from that look alone. “When you come you look at me. Always.”
Her eyes hold mine and something indescribable to me passes through them. I suck her clit into my mouth one last time before I thrust my tongue back in her aching pussy. It doesn’t take long before my name falls from her lips in a scream that travels the entire penthouse.
Sweet like nectar, I drink from her like one does their favorite wine, savoring the taste until the last drop. I keep my licks up as the tremors in her body come to a stop and her body becomes languid. I press one last soft kiss to her clit before I’m climbing up her body.
The softest of smiles is on her lips. It lights up her face, creating a glow that is heavenly.
And my immediate thought is this is what men kill for. This is what makes men come tumbling to their knees. This is the cause of devastation and beauty.
Her arms weakly come to band around my neck as she enjoys the aftermath of her orgasm.
I frame her precious face in my hands and rest my forehead upon hers. I breathe her in as her labored breaths hit against my face.
If possible the smell of her has become more intoxicating. Cherries mixed with her arousal and sweat is a lethal combination.
I run my nose along hers. “You taste as sweet as sin.”
She hums appreciatively. Then, surprising me, her tongue comes to lick my cum covered chin clean before she pries my mouth open for a carnal kiss. She licks my lips as I’m lost in a heady trance. “Sweet as sin,” she echoes in agreement.
Wanting the last piece of fabric off her flushed skin I straighten her arms above her head. She lifts her back and her dress becomes one with the floor.
And there she is. My Queen in all her glory.
My hands itch to cover every inch of her skin. To connect all the lines of her birthmarks. To lavish her with my tongue and soothe her with kisses.
As I go to place my hands around her back to bring her against me she captures my wrists.
“Carina,” I say her name in hopes that it will relieve the tension in her body. And I know her. I know her all too well. The scars upon her back don’t diminish her beauty to me.
She swallows, eyes filled with apprehension and fear.
I saw her scars before. In fact I saw them on the night we first officially met. And I had wondered even then why her scars were shown for everyone to see in that damning backless dress to tempt even a saint.
Her guard was up then. The woman who saw herself dead, one who wore a mask of indifference as a shield dared anyone to question her about it. To even acknowledge it.
And yet I had. And I remember then as clearly as I see it now the fear that held her captive.
I had my suspicions then, I have the very same suspicions now.
Savio wouldn’t order any of his soldiers to torture his own daughter. And Luca is too much of a sadist to give someone else the opportunity.
The blood on his cuffs when Pietro and I arrived unannounced for a meeting with his papa. The bandages wrapped around her entire torso when I saw her over the banister. The fear that only comes to her eyes at the sight of her dear fratello.
I want to kill him in the most excruciating way possible and then bring him back to life to do it all over again.
“They’re worse than what you remember,” she says to me in a voice so small. I hate the sound of it. Of her belittling herself because of them.
Worse because Luca, and I know it must’ve been Luca, had given her more scars since our dance.
The opening of old scars being flayed apart to be replaced by new. A vicious cycle leaving an even more vicious appearance to the skin.
I only know so well because I’ve seen it.
Rico.
The man who can feel no emotion had suffered a similar fate as Carina.
I run my knuckles along her cheek and her eyes flutter shut. Mia leonessa has been starving for affection. I’ll be the one to make sure she gets her fill. “Are you ashamed of them?”
Her response is immediate. “Yes.”
“Why?”
Her eyes become heated. “Have you seen them?”
“Yes, but this isn’t about the appearance of them, is it?”
She evades me, her eyes looking past me rather than at me. “How is it you know me so well? How is it that you seem to know me better than myself?”
“You’re evading the question, mia leonessa.” Pinching her chin I force her to look at me. “Ah, there they are. Never hide from me, Carina.”
“I never once fought back, Constantine,” she confesses in a gut wrenching whisper. “How can I not be ashamed?”
“You don’t think you fought back?”
“Don’t mock me.”
“I would never and you know that.” I release her chin and dare to handle this the only way I know. The unconventional way. The way others would frown upon.
Slipping my hands underneath her I splay my hands against the scarred skin of her back. She becomes rigid but I don’t let it deter me. I switch her position to where she’s face down on the bed, her scars exposed. She tries to fight back but the attempt is useless. I straddle her, forcing her to lie still.
Her breaths are ragged. Hands formed in tight fists with white knuckles on either side of her head. She’s at her most vulnerable.
The scars before me are not a pretty sight. It’s devastating. Lashes leave the most ragged scars behind, with raised flesh and irregular patterns. The worst of her scars are tainted an angry pink. Reopened wounds that have never had the chance to completely heal.
It’s the entirety of her back. Covered in what must be more than twenty lashes. I wouldn’t know for sure, my anger caused me to stop counting after I had hit twenty.
She keeps impossibly still. And from her eyes screwed shut and a firm line of her lips I know her mind has taken her back.
I bend forward, and with the gentleness akin to a flower petal I begin a path of kisses along her scars.
I plant kisses along all of them until her body becomes languid once again. Until the breath she’s been holding releases all the tension in her body. I plant kisses in hopes they’ll grow renewed confidence and strength within her.
And when I place the last kiss on the center of her back I band my arms around her once again, crushing her to me as we lay on our sides.
Flesh to flesh.
Her body is the perfect fit to mine.
“You’re ashamed of your scars because you believe they represent your weakness. You couldn’t be more wrong.”
“You saw them.” Her voice is hoarse. “How can you believe otherwise?”
I smooth her hair away from her face, resting my lips by her ear. “Fighting back doesn’t always correlate with physical strength. Yet to endure the torture they put you through shows a great amount of it. But you won’t accept that. So, I’ll give you this, and you’ll always remember it, you didn’t break, mia leonessa. They tried to mold you into what they wanted, tried to break you apart, they tried to make you the perfect pawn, but you never let them. You. Are. A. Queen. You’ve never bowed to no one. Never conformed. Never yielded. These scars shouldn’t be worn with shame. They should be worn with pride.”
She turns her body then. And as I place my hand on the small of her back no tension enters her body. There’s a soft sigh that spills from her lips. Eyes meeting mine with adoration. Her pointer finger traces my lips before her palm comes to caress my face.
“I had it wrong from the very beginning,” she says softly. I arch my brow and a small smile plays on her lips. Her leg drapes over mine as she closes the little space between us. “You were never evil.”
I rest my hand on the underside of her thigh, hitching it higher over my leg so her most intimate part presses against mine. Her mouth falls open in the perfect ‘o’.
“I am an evil man, Carina.”
“Yes,” she agrees, “but you’re the devil on my side. Not against me.”
“Never against you.”
She sighs happily. Tipping her head she places a soft kiss to my lips that has me desperately aching for more. “Promise me something.”
“Anything.”
Her lips stretch wider from my response before she turns somber. “When the time comes, because I know it will, promise me I’ll be the one who kills him. I’ll be the one who kills Luca Fiore.”
Dio mio. Who knew talks of murder could be such a turn on.
“With pleasure.” I slant my mouth over hers and seal the deal with a bruising kiss.