20. Cassio
Isat on the sofa trying to read the files on my phone. I couldn’t sleep, and I knew there was not a chance in the world that I was going to get any work done. Not when there was a woman in my room, in my bed, in my private space. Not just any woman, but Francesca Manci, the girl I used to date. The one I had planned on spending the rest of my life with.
I had never brought any woman to my place; this was my sanctuary and twice already Francesca had stayed here. I didn’t know how to react. The strange thing was it didn’t bother me like I thought it would.
Thank you.
Her sweet words echoed in my head. Fucking her was a gift, not a task. Did she not understand how much I had wanted to? How long I had waited for this moment? A part of me had tried to stay away. Francesca was no longer mine, but thinking about her with anyone else gave me indigestion.
Thank you.
As if pleasuring her had been a hardship.
“Fuck,” I cursed. I made a vow four years ago; this wasn’t supposed to happen. I should have refused her, Francesca was off limits, but I couldn’t. She was fucking promised to another man…again. But no sane man could refuse Francesca, least of all me. Apparently, I had lost all sanity because the moment she walked into my room, there was no way she was ever getting out.
This was dangerous. Francesca had lips of a witch, pouring poison into my veins. Slowly consuming every inch of me. Settling herself into my mind, owning me completely. I was bewitched. This had to stop. It was maddening, this temptation. This need to have her. She was driving me insane.
The sound of footsteps stole me from my thoughts. I turned and found Francesca heading my way, wearing my shirt, and a look of satisfaction on her face. She was so fucking beautiful, like a goddess. I wanted to worship at her feet.
“Couldn’t sleep?” I asked as she came down the stairs.
“I reached for you, and you were gone. Couldn’t sleep?” she asked me.
“Work,” I said simply.
“Do you always work this late in the night?”
“Do you always have trouble sleeping?”
She walked shaking her hips on purpose, my shirt riding up but not enough to show me if she was totally naked underneath or not. I, on the other hand, was sitting buck-ass naked on the sofa, blood rushed down to my groin and my dick sprung back to life.
She pulled the phone from my hand and threw it beside me. Francesca straddled my lap, and I hissed as her heated core kissed my dick. She was naked underneath my shirt. Dear heavens. This woman was going to be the death of me.
“Will you answer my question?”
“Will you?” I tried to sound cold, to push her away. I needed to put space between us or else I was going to lose control all over again.
“What do I get in return?” She moved her hips, causing friction between us.
I placed my hands on her hips trying to stop her, but it was too good. She felt too good against me. “If you want me to fuck you again, all you have to do is ask.” The words slipped out of my mouth.
Francesca leaned into me and whispered softly. “I want you to fuck me, Cassio.” The way she said my name was sultry and dirty, and I fucking loved it. Apparently, she wasn’t as tired as I thought.
I lifted her hips and guided myself inside her again. Francesca was warm and tight and so damned wet, gripping me so hard, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to last long. She moved her hips, and I let her do whatever she wanted. Letting her discover what she liked and what she didn’t. My hands rested on her waist, and I held her tight.
Her chest rose and fell as she rode me, and I couldn’t take it any longer, I removed her shirt. Her pale skin shone in the light, golden and bright. Her pink nipples were tight and begging for attention, I leaned forward and captured one in my mouth and sucked on it.
Francesca increased her pace almost frantically as she chased yet another orgasm. We were on a roll tonight. I couldn’t blame her, neither could I stop her. She felt too good around my cock.
She opened her mouth and let out those breathy moans that were music to my ears. I rested back against the couch and watched as she came undone clenching around me like a vise. Francesca arched her back and called out my name again, and eventually stopped moving. I was about to bend over and fuck her as I wished when something on her skin grabbed my attention.
I had seen it before, but I’d been too focused on fucking her, to stop. She had a tattoo on her chest, it depicted three birds flying. I ran my finger over it and stared at her.
“Francesca,” I traced the scar–hidden by the tattoo–with my fingers. “What’s this?”
“Nothing.” She lied.
Well, it didn’t look like nothing. It looked like someone had stabbed her. My blood boiled to the point I could erupt. This was no small thing. Someone had hurt her.
“Explain,” I bit out. She tried to get up, but I stopped her again. “Stop running.”
“Stop making me,” she begged.
“Fine.” I let go of her. “Go.” I looked away.
Francesca got up and sat on the other side of the sofa, her gaze stuck on the view before us. I didn’t want trouble. I already had enough of it in my life. I didn’t need more of it, and here I was asking for more.
“No one hurt me,” she said after a while. “I did this to myself.” I found her looking at her hands. It was obvious that she wasn’t proud of this, of what happened.“I lost control.”
“Of what, Francesca?” I snapped. She looked up at me for a second and I saw how embarrassed she was.
“I was high, Paolo and I had fought about something, probably one of his whores and I just…I wanted to make him hurt, too.” She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. “He’d bought this new sports car, which cost him a fortune. I didn’t know it was so fast. I lost control and hit the wall.”
I stared at her not knowing what to say. The hurt and the shame were written all over her face. “I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt,” she explained.
“What did he do?”
“He called a doctor and told him I had tried to kill myself and that I needed help. He gave me pills.” The ones I had seen in her house.
“Did you ever talk to this doctor?” She shook her head. “Then how did you know the pills worked?”
Francesca looked at her hands and was silent for a long while. I thought she wasn’t going to answer but then her weak voice startled me. “Because I was numb.”
I sighed deeply. “Come here.” I offered her my hand. Francesca took a while to come but, in the end, she straddled my hips again.
There was nothing sexual about it. I stared at her for a while and played with a golden strand of her hair, wrapping it around my fingers.
“Did you ever…” I didn’t know how to say this without hurting her, so I just said it. “Think about finding help?”
Francesca laughed cynically. “I’m a mess, Cassio. I fucking know that. A month after the accident, I was using and drinking all over again. I know I have problems, that’s not the fucking issue.” She was trembling. “I have daddy issues, mommy issues, relationship issues. My issues have issues, Cassio.”
Without realizing what I was doing, I brought Francesca into my arms and held her tight. It had been ages since I had this kind of physical contact with a woman, the kind that didn’t involve my dick.
“I don’t want to be broken,” she whispered against my neck.
“You’re not, Principessa,” I whispered back. “You’re perfect.”
But deep down I knew she was, and guilt began to eat me up. Paolo wasn’t the only one at fault. Bitterly, I realized that I, too, was to blame for what happened to Francesca.
She was right, I should have never let her marry another man. Now I questioned if I did the right thing, if letting her go was the right choice. I hadn’t been ready to marry her, I had just lost my sister and my father. I couldn’t give my life to her when I hadn’t planned on living. The only thing that kept me afloat had been my need for vengeance.
How could I marry someone, love and cherish them, when I didn’t want to live? If I had married Francesca then, her life would have been miserable. I would have destroyed every beautiful part of her with all my darkness. Francesca was the light that I had always fed on.
I stared down at Francesca and realized she had fallen asleep in my arms. Her chest rising and falling against mine. I ran my hand hesitantly against her hair. It was so soft. The smell was so intoxicating. So undoubtedly her.
How could she sleep in my arms knowing what kind of man I was, knowing the things I did and would keep doing? Yet here she was. Inhaling her scent one last time, I carefully lifted her in my arms and took her to my bed—where she belonged. Some part of me wanted to keep her there forever.
I woke up with a jump start. I reached out for the gun under my bed. There were noises coming from downstairs. I couldn’t recall falling asleep, but now that I was fully awake and alert, I focused only on the sound. Stepping out of my bed, I looked at the clothes dropped all around my floor. Memory of last night came rushing in. Francesca, me, what we did. The best sex of my life. She slept here. I looked back at the bed, but it was empty. The clothes on the floor were both mine and hers. Gun in hand, I made my way toward the noise.
Once I reached the edge of the stairs, I stopped. Francesca was still wearing my shirt; she was flipping something in my pan—pretty sure I’d never even used it. Her hair was tied in a messy bun which gave me the unnatural urge to set it free. It was a pleasant sight. Having her in my bed last night affected me more than I realized.
I would make it so good she wouldn’t want to leave. Fuck. That wasn’t the point here. She was making breakfast in my kitchen. Wearing my shirt. And all I was worried about was how to fuck her in order to make her stay.
Where had things gone wrong? Why wasn’t I thoroughly pissed that she was invading my personal space? If this were anyone else, they wouldn’t have even reached the kitchen. Yet again, there she was, flipping the pancake with expertise and setting out breakfast on two plates.
Two.
I headed into the kitchen setting the gun on the table, right where she could see it. No hiding it, no pretenses. I wanted her to know fully who I was and what I was capable of. Francesca jumped back but something told me it wasn’t the gun that made her do it.
“God, I didn’t see you coming. I made breakfast. I figured you must eat, even the devil must feed on something other than souls.”
I just stared at her. She wasn’t unfazed, not in the least. Not by me, not by the gun sitting centimeters from her. She pulled the plate toward her and began to eat. The one I figured was for me was still in the middle of the island.
It smelled so fucking great, my stomach rumbled. She looked at me but said nothing. It was chocolate chip pancakes…my favorite. And she wasn’t wrong, I did like eating something other than souls. I liked eating her. The thought brought a smile to my face. I pulled my plate toward me and began to eat as well. In silence. Ignoring the fact we were both eating together.
“When did you learn how to cook?” If memory served me well, and it usually did, she couldn’t cook, not even boil water.
“I had a lot of spare time. Paolo traveled a lot, I was home most of the time, and boredom led me to learn how to cook.”
“You must have been very bored.”
She chuckled. “I was, I hated cooking, but then it kind of felt therapeutic. It gave me something to think about other than…well, other than whatever was in my head.”
“It’s good.” I had to give in, it was really good. I loved breakfast food, but anything with chocolate and cherries were a given.
“I didn’t know if you liked it, but I knew you liked anything with sugar so…”
“I do. I like breakfast food.” I added. We got back to eating and as strange as it sounded, Francesca was the most relaxed about all of this. I was the one who was on edge. I don’t think she even realized how uptight I was about this situation.
“Did you cook a lot?” I asked trying to take my mind off the dirty thoughts that kept coming back. Especially about the one where she ended up sprawled on this very island as I ate her up.
“No. Not at all. Paolo hated that I cooked. He wanted a trophy wife, not a domestic one.” She bit her lip and looked at her plate. “I try cooking for my mother though, but she hates it as usual.”
“I like it.” I don’t know why I felt the need to add that, but I did. She gave me a weak smile in response, but it was obvious she didn’t believe me. Standing up, she took her plate to the sink and left it there.
“I should go.” Suddenly she was awkward and blushing. It made her eyes bluer, and her hair looked even more golden as the sunlight lit her up. “I promise I won’t ever call you again. I don’t want to be a problem. I’m not your mess and I didn’t mean to be yesterday. I can’t take back what I said yesterday,” she blushed even harder. “But now that you know the entire truth, I’m sure you’re beyond glad that I’ll be gone.”
Yeah, I don’t think so.
“Sit down.” I simply ignored all the bullshit she just gave me.
“What?”
“Sit.” She did. “Where did you think you were going?”
“Hmm?” she frowned and tilted her head, looking at me as if I was an airhead. “Home, I literally abandoned Reginald, and well, you know, I visit my mother every day.”
I pushed my finished plate aside and stood up. Stretched my legs and looked at her confused expression.
“Come then, let’s go.”
“I’m pretty sure I didn’t poison that thing, so you’ve probably come down with something on your own. Are you feeling well?”
Fan-fucking-tastic.
“Good to know you thought about poisoning me. I’ll add that to the list of things I need to worry about. Now let’s go.” I urged her.
She didn’t realize it yet, but Francesca wasn’t going anywhere. Yes, I heard the entire truth yesterday, and all the unspoken words in between. The hidden truths about her. There was more to her, so much more and I was going to figure it all out. Goodbye, my fucking ass. Not now and not in a million years. This was where she belonged.
“Come on, Francesca,” I said impatiently. “Let’s get that ugly gray rat of yours and visit your mother.”
“You didn’t!” She looked possessed. “Don’t ever talk about my baby like that.”
“You have an ugly baby,” I pointed out and she gasped but was fighting a smile.
“Reginald is not allowed at the hospital,” she said pointedly.
“Who cares, I own the place. Now come on.”
She fought a smile again and finally relented, coming toward me. She stopped right in front of me, got on the tip of her toes, and when I thought, she was going to kiss me, she leaned in, grabbed my balls and whispered against my ear.
“Call my baby ugly again and poison is the least of your worries.” She let go, spun around, and left me hard as a fucking rod. Did she just threaten me?
God. She was trouble.
The best kind of trouble.