10. Francesca
Weekends were supposed to be the universal days when a person could finally rest or have fun. We were not supposed to be haunted by our problems, there was supposed to be some kind of law preventing that kind of stuff.
Problems were only meant to appear and be solved during business hours, from Monday to Friday, preferably from 10 a.m. to 4 p.m. so I could at least have my me time later. But as with everything in my life, the timing when things happened always seemed to be off.
It was seven in the morning, and my head had been pounding from all the alcohol, my body still buzzing from all the physical activity it had endured when my phone rang. I didn’t pick it up, I never answered the numbers I hadn’t registered in my phone. I wasn’t going to risk picking it up and Donato being the person on the other side of the line, so I let it ring.
It eventually stopped but then it started again, by then, my sleep was already interrupted, and I was looking to let out some pent-up rage. I pitied the person who called me by mistake, I even pitied Donato because I was going to unleash hell on him. But when I picked up, I wasn’t expecting to hear that voice.
“Hello? Francesca?” It was boyish yet manly. It was rough, yet still gentle, it was pubescent. My voice got stuck in my throat, and I was speechless. Literally unable to speak.
Four years. That was the last time I heard my little brother’s voice. Not little anymore I realized, Marco wasn’t the little boy I left all those years ago.
“Francesca, are you there?”
“Hmm.” That was the only word that was able to leave my mouth.
“She told me to call you. I—I didn’t know what to do so I called.” He sounded guilty and unsure, and my heart ached to hear my brother like that.
“Okay?” I wasn’t following what was happening, it still took me by surprise that my little brother was calling me at seven in the morning on a Saturday.
“Mother fainted.”
I shot from my bed sitting up, the quick movement making me dizzy, and I had to close my eyes for a couple of seconds to focus on his words. My mother hadn’t told Marco, he didn’t know about the cancer.
“Where is she now? Where is Don—father?” The word was bitter against my mouth.
“At his mistress’ he won’t be back until noon.”
“Shit.” Son of a bitch. I despised the man, I hoped he contracted some STDs.
“I don’t, I shouldn’t have?—”
“Marco. It’s okay. Take her to the hospital, and I’ll meet you guys there.”
Why was he so awkward about this? I was his sister, he was my little brother, regardless of what happened. I left my bed and headed to my wardrobe, choosing the first piece of clothing I found.
“Francesca. Father won’t be… I shouldn’t have called.”
“He doesn’t have to know. Please, just meet me at the hospital, everything is going to be fine.”
It took me a while longer to reach the hospital than I would’ve wished. I had to wake up my neighbor next door, Mrs. Margaret, who was always so polite and nice, and had to beg her to look after Reginald. As always, the old lady was glad to do so.
Once the taxi pulled over at the hospital, I ran from it, almost forgetting to pay the poor man. A part of me was freaking out and wanting to run toward the street instead of toward the hospital. I didn’t want to go in there and learn my mother didn’t make it. As I ran through the oncology center toward Dr. Conrad’s wing, my heart was beating hard against my chest.
The sight of my brother almost brought me to my knees. Over the last few years, I had stopped expecting to see him. Whenever my mother came to visit me in Indianapolis, and promised to bring Marco, I knew it was a lie, he would never come.
The first year after my marriage, we tried to have him come over almost every month, but Donato always refused. He wouldn’t have his son around me after he and Paolo fought. So, when he called today, that same flicker of hope ignited inside of me, but I pushed it aside before it turned into a spark. I didn’t expect him to come.
When his eyes met mine, for a confusing second, I didn’t recognize him. He was my brother, same blond hair, same eyes, and same skin color, but he had grown up, was almost taller than me, and was already more fit than I ever would be. But there was something in the way he stood and looked at me that was too cold, too jaded to be my little Marco. The boy who drove me crazy, whose diapers I had changed and tucked into bed, was no longer.
“Francesca,” he greeted me like a stranger, no hugs no kisses, no I missed you. I stopped and held myself back. Held the urge to reach for him, to hold him. “She’s inside. The doctor won’t tell me anything, says I’m not an adult.” There was frustration and anger in his voice. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to speak to my own brother.
“I’ll talk to him. We can talk later if that’s okay.” He shrugged.
I entered the room where my mother was being kept, she was lying down on a bed with machines connected to her and an oxygen tube coming out of her nose. My eyes darted to the machine monitoring her heartbeats, and apparently her heart was steady but seeing her in that state did nothing to appease my nerves.
“Miss Manci.”
“Francesca,” I corrected the doctor. “What happened?”
“Let’s take a seat, shall we?” Sitting only made it worse. I was already restless, and I needed something to calm me down, so I began to pace the room.
“What happened?”
“Your mother’s body was very weak, and the chemo has made it weaker.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be helping?” I stopped and looked at him.
“Yes, but it also takes its toll. That’s why I suggested the home-care system.”
“That’s not viable.” My asshole of a father–who’s currently fucking another woman–doesn’t want to help his dying wife.
“Then we’ll have to hospitalize her. The sessions will only get worse, and she will only grow weaker. Episodes like this will keep happening. Has she been eating? Taking her meds? Resting?”
“I don’t… know. I don’t know.”
I haven’t seen her since the first few chemo sessions. But looking at my mother resting on that bed with tubes and machines all over her, I knew my answer… no, she hadn’t. She needed people to take care of her, people to be constantly around her, making sure she took her meds, that she ate, and that she rested. That was why she had come to me. So that I could make these decisions. I loved her for trusting me but hated the weight she’d thrown on my shoulders.
“I’ll sign whatever paperwork you need me to. Just… help her.”
“We will, Francesca. I’ll have the papers brought in for you to sign.” He patted my shoulder. It was the right decision, right? She would have help in the hospital, while at home, she would have none, so why didn’t I feel better about it? Why didn’t I feel the weight lifting off my shoulders? I walked toward my mother and took her hand in mine. I was shocked at how cold and skinny it was.
“It’s going to be okay, Mamma.”
Seconds later, Dr. Conrad brought me the papers and I signed them. Some part of me felt guilty for doing it. Like I was giving the responsibility to someone else, but I swore to myself I would be here every hour of every day. I wouldn’t leave her side until she got out of here as strong as a horse.
When I finally left the room, I was surprised yet again, when I found Marco leaning against the wall, that same jaded look on his face.
“Coffee?” I asked. Jesus, he was thirteen, what did thirteen-year-olds drink these days?
Maybe he was a tea kind of person, or he just didn’t like anything, by the look on his face, it felt like he didn’t feel like drinking anything. I dug my nails into the palms of my hands as anxiety filled me up to the brink of explosion. “Or, if you like, we could just sit, you don’t have to drink anything. Or, if you don’t, you don’t have to.” Please say something.
“Coffee’s fine,” was all he said as we walked down the corridor.
“Oh, great.” I sighed.
We sat in the hospital’s canteen; it was my second cup of coffee while he hadn’t touched his first one. I began pulling at my lip when a tiny smile appeared on his perpetual jaded face.
“What?” I asked, smiling too.
“You’re not going to faint, are you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“That you’re nervous?” he inquired, a flicker of light in his eyes. “Yes.”
“Oh,” I chuckled nervously. “At least that’s out of the way. What gave me away?” He stopped and pondered my question.
“Your legs won’t stop tapping, you’ve bitten your lip raw, you’ve dug your nails so deep into your palms they’ll start bleeding,” he explained. “And this is your second cup of coffee in less than two minutes,” he answered matter of fact.
I was a nerve ball, so what?
The boy before me was a complete stranger, to me and I was a complete stranger to him. I had no idea what to say and there was a lot I wanted to. Marco used to be the one person I knew I could speak freely with. Even being ten years younger, we were close, and I missed him so much. So, fucking much, that my heart was threatening to explode right now.
“You’ve grown observant.”
“I’ve grown.” He stated.
Silence stretched between us again.
“I know she’s sick, so there’s no need to lie to me like they have been doing for the past few months.”
“I—I wasn’t.” I totally was.
“Spare me. Everyone thinks I’m a kid, but I’m not, Francesca. I’ve seen things boys my age has never even dreamed of. I’m not scared of death.”
I looked at my brother, his jadedness, his coldness, and his ability to stand still. He had never been like that. He was always running around and causing trouble. What happened to him? What were the things he saw? My traitorous mind took me to the one place I shouldn’t have gone. Had he killed? Had he become a Made Man?
“I didn’t say you were. Mamma asked me to keep it from you and we haven’t exactly spoken these past few years. If you have questions, I’ll answer them. I promise.” He looked at me as if he didn’t really believe me.
“How bad?”
“I don’t know,” I answered.
“What stage?”
“Four.”
“How long have you known?” He grilled me, question after question.
“Marco—”
“How long?”
I sighed in defeat. “A month now.”
He grunted, which sounded like he was somewhat satisfied. I wasn’t going to lie, I meant it. But there were also things I wasn’t ready to talk to him about like the fact that my mother was worse than she had been when I first saw her. That she was only going to get worse, and that there were challenging times ahead of us. Us. It was weird thinking about him here with me.
“I can’t stay any longer.” He looked back at the doors like he was expecting someone to show up. Probably one of Donato’s guards.
“I know.”
“Father won’t allow me to stay. He doesn’t even know I’m here.”
“I know, and I won’t be the one to tell him. He doesn’t know I’m here either,” I promised him.
“I have to go; he will be coming home anytime soon.”
“Oh, okay.”
Marco stood up, and in this moment, he looked like the adult, and I looked like the child, waiting to be guided. Just like before, we didn’t kiss, neither did we hug. He simply started walking off.
“Will you come visit?” I asked. “Mother,” I added, I didn’t want to scare him off right now. If my father found out he was here with my mother, it wouldn’t be as bad as if he was seen with me.
He shrugged, “I’ll try.”
Sunday was the worst day yet. It finally struck me that my mother was truly sick and that she was hospitalized for real. Seeing and hearing those machines in her room had left me dizzy. I spent my day with her trying to make her as comfortable and as cozy as possible. I’d bought her my favorite flowers—purple tulips—and placed them all around the room. Mamma had always loved flowers, just like I did, and it was something we both had bonded over in my youth.
When Dr. Conrad finally sent me home after watching my mother like a hawk all day, I stopped at the flower shop near my house and bought a few more to decorate my place. When I finally reached my apartment, my head was aching, and my body was vibrating with anxiety—in a way I hadn’t experienced in a long time. Withdrawal was the worst part because you craved drugs more than anything, more than life itself. As I entered my apartment, my hands were shaking, and my mouth was salivating. I dropped the flowers on the counter and raced to the bathroom to throw up except nothing came out.
I heaved and heaved bile until my stomach twisted in pain. I sat there resting against the wall, my palms damp and sweat racing down my back. I wanted to use, I was desperate for it, but my last stash had been taken by the police and my prescribed pills were ending. Paolo was the one who usually supplied me with both, so I had no idea how to go searching for drugs. I could hit a club, but I was too tired and too drained to do so. The last thing I wanted was to go out.
After washing my mouth and hands, I headed toward the kitchen to greet my puppy. Dogs were loyal. Dogs loved you. Dogs were always happy to see you no matter what. That’s why I would spend the rest of my life surrounded by dogs and not men. No matter how much I wanted a family, I would never allow myself to fall in love ever again.
Love only brought heartache and pain. The kind of sorrow that tore through the body and destroyed everything in its path. Leaving only blood and destruction in its wake. I was never going to go through that ever again. Love was a rock tied to your feet, that dragged you down, drowning you in the endless sea.
Arranging the flowers into a vase, I set them on the counter and observed my work, then my eyes landed on the pile of boxes I still hadn’t had the courage to open. I needed wine, a lot of it. Except when I opened the fridge, there was none left. Damn it.
With my lack of coke, the alcohol was going faster than expected. I will have to go to the supermarket sometime soon. I needed to do something, I couldn’t stay in here, even if I was tired. My head and my insides were just too alive, and my body would have to deal with it. In the weirdest turn of events, I changed into my gym clothes. Maybe taking Reginald for a walk would quiet my anxiety. Maybe I could find someone to sell me some blow.
Someone knocked at the door.
I frowned at the piece of wood. The knock sounded again, angrier this time. A thousand thoughts cursed through my mind. Tucking my shoulders and straightening my back, I reached for my door. I opened it while the person was about to knock a third time.
“Ugh. It’s you.” It was easy to mask my relief with annoyance.
“Trust me, it is not where I wanted to be either.” Cassio took a step as if he was about to come inside, but I blocked his path. He eyed me from head to toe taking in my outfit, my short shorts, and my cropped zip hoodie.
“Wait a minute, how did you get in here? Please tell me you didn’t kill someone. You didn’t kill someone, right?”
Cassio looked at me for a couple of seconds and didn’t answer. My heart began to beat faster. I always knew what he was, but sometimes I kept forgetting that the man before me was nothing but a cold-hearted killer and would’ve done anything to get what he wanted, no matter the consequences.
“Through the front door like most people do. Can I come in?” He stepped forward again, trying to push me back, but I stopped him.
“No.” Of course not! “Cassio, did you just kill someone?”
“Jesus, Francesca, chill out. I asked your neighbor to let me inside. Which reminds me, you live in a shitty neighborhood in a shitty apartment, what did you expect?” That my neighbor wouldn’t let a stranger into the building.
“Let me in.” He planted the palm of his hand on my door.
“Why would I do that?”
He sighed in frustration. And because he was so fucking polite, he shoved the door aside and stepped into my apartment as if he owned the place.
“Hey, I didn’t let you in,” I complained following Cassio inside.
“This place is a mess.”
“It’s called style, look it up.”
“Thanks, I’m good.”
“Have you come all the way here to criticize my apartment or do you actually have something to say worth hearing? Because, if not, I’m running late for Reginald’s appointment.” Which meant his daily walk that I was about to do before he arrived.
“Reginald?” he asked suspiciously.
“Yes, my baby.” I flashed him a grin. Cassio looked at me, as I smiled at him. His brows furrowed so intensely that his forehead wrinkled.
“Baby?” He asked more to himself than to me. He looked shocked. In that moment, his cold unfazed expression subsided with complete perplexity. He looked at me again from head to toe, lingering on my body with such intent that the room began to turn hotter. I knew I should end the charade there, but I was enjoying the look on his face. Everyone knew my marriage had been a fruitless one.
Tip tapping came from the hallway taking his attention from me. Reginald, my baby, came running toward us. His skinny body wiggling with excitement, he was most definitely the worst guard dog in existence.
“What the hell is that!” Cassio remained paralyzed, looking down skeptically at Reginald. I picked him up in one swift motion settling him in my arms, and he began to wiggle, I gave him one kiss on his cold muzzle.
“This is Reginald,” I said matter of fact.
“That is your baby?”
“Yes,” I answered simply. And I could measure the amount of sudden relief that filled him. Why should he even care? The action made me suddenly very angry. “I really have more important things to do than chitchatting with you. As odd as it sounds. If you’ll excuse me.” I tried to pass him by, but the apartment was too small for the two of us, he was already taking up too much space, and he hadn’t even left the entrance.
“Sit down, Francesca, you are not leaving,” he said with all the calm and coldness in the world, something I imagine he learned over the years. It was incredible what a calm and detached tone of voice could accomplish. People thought shouting was the answer, but it wasn’t. “You better remember who I am, Francesca.”
“Oh, trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” How can I?
He came inside eyeing my apartment with both interest and disdain. Taking in the boxes I still hadn’t opened and the complete mess I’d made of things. What a grand surprise.
He took a seat on my stool, forcing me to stand in my kitchen looking at him. He didn’t sit on the sofa, which meant this wasn’t going to be something fun to discuss. I settled Reginald on the floor and leaned against the kitchen counter putting as much space between us as possible. I hated that he was here for less than five minutes, and I was already nervous. With all that had happened in the last two days, this was the last thing that I needed.
His eyes trailed to something behind me, and Cassio stood, walked toward it, and grabbed one of my orange pill bottles. It was hard to judge at that moment what was going on in his head, but I could tell from his clenched jaws that it wasn’t pleasant.
“What did I tell you about the drugs?”
I didn’t answer.
“What. Did. I. Say?” His voice was deadly calm.
I flinched.
“There would be consequences,” I whispered.
“Shit, Francesca,” he hit the bottle against the counter. “When are you going to get it together?” He growled angrily. “I can’t keep dealing with your shit all the time.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” I argued. “You were the one who came barging in. Why are you here, Cassio? I have more important things to… hey, what are you doing?”
“Who gave you this?” His voice was no longer calm. “Who the fuck gave you this?”
“Paolo.” I snapped. “One of his friends was a doctor.”
“This is heavy shit, Francesca.” He shoved the bottle into his pocket exactly where I would never dare reach.
“I know, that’s the point.”
He picked up a piece of paper and then grabbed a pen from the nearby table and wrote a number. “If you don’t make an appointment by Wednesday, I’ll come back here and force you into a clinic.”
I laughed. “Have you lost your fucking mind?” I crossed my arms.
He spun around so fast that I stumbled back. “I don’t deal in requests, I deal in orders, and you will abide by them.”
“I am not one of your men, Cassio.”
“No,” he agreed shaking his head. “You are much worse. I have given you a choice,” he said with a scary calmness.
“You can’t force me.” I dug my nails deeper into my palms.
“Test me and you’ll find out what I am capable of, Francesca. Speaking of which,” he ran his thumb under his lip. A sign he was pissed. “We have to talk.”
“I have nothing else to say to you.”
“Sit down, Francesca.”
I didn’t.
“How long have you been using?” he inquired coldly.
“That’s kind of insensitive to ask, don’t you think?”
He offered me a look that told me he wasn’t in the mood for games.
“Well, if you wish to know, I started using the day I was married. I took some of my mother’s pills. From there on, I tried other things, I don’t discriminate.”
He was silent for a while, drinking my words in, having him in my small apartment was too much. His presence was too consuming. His scent was starting to cling to the walls around me.
It had been a day since I last saw him, and I needed more time to process everything that had happened. Seeing him fight Gianluca Gallo had been a massive turn-on—which explained how obviously deranged I was. Who would react that way?
And his body… I still can’t forget how perfectly sculpted he was, like one of Michelangelo’s artworks. Focus, Francesca, that’s not important right now.
“What do you want, Cassio?” I snapped out of my trance before it took me places it shouldn’t.
“To talk about your husband.”Well, that was like an ice-cold bucket of water poured over my head.
“Do you want some whiskey? You drink whiskey, right? It’s the only thing that’s left. I would’ve offered vodka, but I drank it.”
I was rambling, but I took the whiskey, and two glasses, and filled them, handing one to him. Cassio looked at me but said nothing, he didn’t even reach for his cup. Fine. I downed both without even making a face, I was that good.
“Are you nervous?”Yeah, after what happened, I was.
“I’m tired, stressed, and annoyed, all I wanted was to enjoy a day with my dog, and you’ve ruined it.”
“Trust me, Francesca, I haven’t even begun to ruin your day.”
“Great!” I cheered. Just fucking great. “Could you get to it then so I can go back to my life?”
He took the bottle and moved it away from me as far away as he could put it. “Paolo Biancini,” he began, “your late husband, embezzled money from the Outfit, meaning all the money that’s currently in your bank account does not belong to you.”
I laughed.
He didn’t. He was serious.
“So, what? You’re saying he stole?”
“Yes and no.”
“Well then, by all means, please tell me.” My blood was beginning to boil. He didn’t seem a bit phased by all of this.
“The money is clean, it was his, but there is no telling where it came from.”
“And how is that my problem?” Cassio tapped his fingers against the table. “Cassio, I didn’t… I didn’t know.” I didn’t steal from the Outfit. I would never do that; I knew what happened to people who did, and it was the kind of horror no one should go through.
“Your father wanted to send our enforcer.”
The alcohol suddenly didn’t taste so nice, and it twisted inside my stomach, wanting to come back up again. Why was I so surprised? Why did it still hurt to hear that my father would’ve sent the enforcer to beat the shit out of me for something I didn’t do? I worried at my lips and wished I had something to do, to hold. My hands were sitting there, idly doing nothing, and I had an impression they were shaking.
“And you didn’t?” I asked.
“I don’t beat innocent women.”
“Who says I’m innocent?” He raised a brow doubtingly.
“Of this you are.”
“So, what now?” I hated how weak my voice sounded.
“That money now belongs to your father, as his daughter you are his. He has every right to take it.”
For some miracle, the alcohol remained in my stomach. My pressure reached so low I almost fainted, thank God I was sitting or else I would have toppled over. Cassio was still looking at me with that same unfazed expression. I wanted to hit him, see if something ever made him change.
“I’m not moving back in with him,” I said outraged. “I’m not giving up on my freedom. He ruined my life once; I will not let him ruin it twice.”
There was no way I was letting go of this small sliver of freedom I had found for myself, even if it only meant I had a year to enjoy it. “Plus, I don’t think my father would like to have a whore in his house, I don’t imagine it would be good for his reputation.”
“Why would you say that?” he asked simply, with… was it discomfort I saw? Did he really look that annoyed by my choice of words? I huffed, annoyed as well. Was he living under a rock? Did he not know what my father thought of me? I bet Donato had made it quite clear to everyone what kind of a daughter I was.
“How many?”
“How many what?”My brows furrowed.
“You know what I am asking. How many since your husband? I know you have a lover. How many since him?”
I choked and found it hard to swallow. I had to hold on to a laugh. Did he really think Ihad a lover? It would be easier to end world hunger than for me to ever be with a man again. This was just too much. “Why?” I crossed my arms.
“How many, Francesca?”
“There was only him.” Despite the fun I was having, I told the truth.
“I don’t believe you.”
“Well, that’s too bad,” I shrugged.
“How many, Francesca?” he snapped.
“I don’t know, I don’t remember, there were so many of them. I was high most of the time, so I don’t really recall.”
He was on me in seconds, he had pinned me against the fridge, one hand on my neck but he wasn’t squeezing or hurting. He just held me as if he needed to hurt me but couldn’t make himself do it. His tall frame was hulking over mine in a dominant way, but it didn’t scare me, he never had.
“Don’t provoke me,” he hissed.
“Don’t ask questions you don’t wish to know the answers,” I answered, dripping venom.
Just then, I realized how close our bodies were. One of his knees was in between mine and his hand was over my head. His muscular body was inches from touching me, but I could feel the heat oozing from him. Even being a cold asshole, Cassio radiated heat like a furnace. My body couldn’t help but react to his, I wanted to get closer to feel his heat, to let myself burn. My breathing accelerated and my breasts felt heavy. Everything began to feel too hot. Too much.
Our gaze met for a single second and for a moment I was transported back to a time when we were only Cassio and Francesca and there was nothing in between us. His cold green eyes grew dark like his irises was bleeding into his pupils.
I licked my lips, hungry for something I had been denied for so long.
“Did they make you scream, Principessa?” His head dropped lower. “Did they fuck you till you couldn’t walk anymore?” His head dropped again until his lips were inches from mine.
I had the urge to lick my lips, but I didn’t have to, he did it for me. His tongue darted from his mouth, and licked my lower lip, biting it gently.
I had been sexually oppressed for such so long that a moan escaped my lips before I could hold it back. Cassio chuckled, like the asshole he was. I was giving him power, power that he was going to wield over me if I wasn’t careful enough.
Cassio dipped his head even lower. “Fuck it,” he cut the distance between us and smashed his lips against mine.
I was so stunned for a second, that I didn’t know what to do, but Cassio kept his lips on mine until he breached my barriers and I softened into him. His lips were warm and wet against mine, just like I remembered. I didn’t hesitate in kissing him back, one of my hands grabbed his hair, tugging it and pulling him closer at the same time. Unsure whether I needed him closer or farther away from me.
Cassio still tasted the same… like all my sins and my dreams, all wrapped up in one. It lasted for what felt like an eternity. I was floating in time as he pushed me harder against the fridge. One of his hands settled on my waist while the other still gripped my neck. With his thumb, he caressed me gently, a contrast between the way he was fucking my mouth. Cassio shoved one leg in between mine and the contact drew fire, my skin burning. He pressed against my core, and I moaned into his mouth. I had been deprived of this for so long it was pathetic.
Sensing my need, he moved his leg higher, so that it pressed against my core in the most delicious of manners. I rubbed myself against it in desperation, seeking the kind of release only he could offer me in that moment. My panties became drenched as wetness pooled between my legs. At the back of my head, the voices screamed for me to stop, but I couldn’t, it was physically impossible right now.
“I hate you.” I kissed him.
Cassio pulled back. “That only makes me harder.” He moved his leg even higher, and I moaned, head falling back against the fridge. His scent surrounding me, his strong arms holding me and his leg in between mine were too much. Still, I begged for more.
“Just like that, Principessa,” he groaned in my ear, “are you going to come for me right here?”
“Yes,” I moaned, and if it were even possible, he shoved me harder against the fridge, the friction between us increasing, and I couldn’t stop myself, it was too late to go back now. “Cassio,” I cried, begging him to stop since I had lost all sense of reason.
He kissed me instead, long, and hard, this time there was nothing gentle about the way he was handling me. His hands were rough on my body, one of them skimming up my waist toward the underside of my breast where he caressed me and then slipped his hand under my top. The moment his calloused hand touched my feverish skin, my back arched, and I moaned into his mouth.
Cassio was playing me like a puppeteer, moving my strings and controlling me with his mouth, hands, and legs.
The start of my orgasm was on the horizon, I could see it clearly. He pinched one nipple and twisted it gently, in contrast to what his mouth was doing too mine. “I’m so close,” I panted.
We broke apart then, I gasped for air, but all I did was breathe him in. Cassio shoved his head into the nape of my neck and nuzzled it, groaning loudly.
Then he stepped away and wiped his lip with his thumb, I almost fell to the floor, my legs hardly keeping me upward. I was panting hard, trying to understand what had just happened between us. The arctic look in his eyes froze me into place. He was fuming.
“You have a month to figure things out or you’ll have to go back to your father’s.” The words were venomous.
Then, like he hadn’t just crashed his lips to mine and kissed me like he was drowning, and I was his oxygen and like he hadn’t just deprived me from my first orgasm in years, he turned and walked out of my apartment. The door closed with a bang, I slid to the floor and placed a hand over my face. My body was still burning, my panties were drenched, and my core still begged for attention.
What had I done? Cassio was the one person I should have never allowed back in my life and here I was kissing him and riding his leg like nothing happened between us.
I tucked my head into my hands. “Oh God.” I was so screwed.