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She widens her eyes as a thought occurs to her. “Do you think he’s ever done it to anyone else?” she asks me. “He’s never had a proper girlfriend as far as we know, has he? He’s always preferred to just spend time with us. Or his friend Rocco. Does he get his kicks from drugging and raping women? How could we not have known?” We stare at each other in horror.
“Oh, Connie, I don’t know,” I reply in response to all of her anguished questions. I shiver with disgust at that very real possibility that Raphael may well indulge in dangerous—and illegal—fetishes on a regular basis, if last night was anything to go by. “But he won’t ever get the chance to try anything like that on me again. Michael will make sure of that!”
Connie brightens and places a hand on my arm. “Speaking of the famous Michael Luciano—wow! I’m so happy for you, Cece! Did he tell you what happened in Naples, why he disappeared? Have you finally got some answers after all this time?”
I shake my head, but I know that the reason isn’t as important to me as it used to be. I finally forgive him for sending me away five years ago because I’m now beginning to get the sense that it may have been to protect me.
But from what?
Twelve
MICHAEL
I’m at my desk, replaying Cecelia’s sexy striptease in my head for the hundredth time, working myself up, when there’s a knock at my office door.
“Come in,” I shout, mildly annoyed by the distraction, begrudgingly setting the idea of springing my dick from my trousers and having a quick stroke aside.
There’s no answer, just another knock, and I tut. Crossing the room, I adjust myself and wrench open the door and I’m shocked but very pleasantly surprised to find Cece standing there. She’s wearing a sleeveless green satin blouse, a black pencil skirt with a high side slit, and a suggestive smile on her face. It’s been a few days since I saved her from Lombardi at the hotel, since we spent the night together after professing our love for each other, and it’s been difficult to concentrate on work in the interim. She looks up at me as I look down at her appreciatively.
“Hello, Mr. Luciano,” she says in a sexy, breathy voice.
I step back and sweep my arm out, encouraging her to enter. She closes the door behind her then reaches down and locks it. I inhale her sweet floral perfume as she moves over to the couch and sits down. She tosses her long curly hair over her shoulder, crosses her legs, and hitches up her skirt on one side, revealing black stockings and suspenders. My lips part as I watch her, my eyes on stalks, my cock already rock hard and desperate to take her.
“Hello to you, too,” I reply as I kneel before her, parting her legs and slowly sliding her skirt up further. She leans against the back of the couch as she watches me and begins to unbutton her blouse. As I push her skirt up her smooth thighs, I see she’s not wearing any underwear, just the suspender belt. Beneath her thin strip of dark pubic hair, I can see her pussy lips are still swollen from the last time we made love. I exhale with excitement and look up to see that her blouse is now fully open and she’s not wearing a bra either. Her small nipples are erect, and I reach for one, circling it and brushing it gently with my thumb. She moves my hand upwards, taking my thumb in her warm mouth, sucking it while maintaining eye contact. I extract it from her mouth and press it to her clit, mirroring the movement on her nipple. She arches her back and bites her lip, grabbing a fistful of my hair. To see her so exposed to me, her pussy already so wet for me, right here in my office is an unbelievable turn on. How did I get so lucky?
“I could get used to surprises like these,” I tell her as I bend down to pleasure her with my mouth. She lifts and widens her legs, resting her heeled shoes on my back, grabbing hold of my hair with both hands now, forcing me to move at the pace she wants me to go. I work my tongue against her clit, enjoying the sounds she’s making, my hands sliding under her ass, lifting her even closer to me, tasting every sweet inch of her.
“Kiss me, Michael,” she says, gasping, pulling me up towards her. Our mouths lock and she guides my hand down to take over from where my tongue left off again, and I happily oblige, fingering her just the way I now know she likes it. She holds me tightly, pressing her bare breasts against me, kissing me deeply and passionately as my fingers slide in and out of her pussy, spreading her wetness along her folds and clit. Suddenly, her body spasms and she breaks our kiss to cry out, instantly clamping a hand over her own mouth as she remembers where we are.
Knowing that I’m not going to take long after that, I flip her over so she’s kneeling on the couch, still panting from her orgasm, and I stand, quickly undoing my belt and trousers. My dick is pulsing impatiently as I take hold of her hips to keep her steady, but she teases me, wiggling her ass from side to side, looking back over her shoulder with a wicked glint in her eye.
“Cecelia DeMarco, I’m a man on the edge here,” I say with a growl. “You can’t surprise me like this then not let me finish.”
“Oh, you’re going to finish,” she promises, raising an eyebrow. She turns back around quickly so she’s sitting before me again, removes her blouse completely and then swiftly plunges her mouth onto my cock, taking me all the way in. The immediate pleasure is intense, and I throw my head back with a groan, savoring the long, warm, rhythmic blow job she’s treating me to while desperately trying not to come yet.
She extracts my cock from her mouth with a pop. “Now I want you to fuck me,” she says, repositioning herself on the couch, skirt hitched completely up, legs wide open, stockings and suspender belt accentuating her delicious ass and thighs.
I slide myself inside her in one smooth, slick movement. As always, she’s ready for me. I pump quickly, moving one hand off her hip to grab hold of her hair, pulling it back and making her back arch.
“Harder, Michael, fuck me harder,” she says, and I do as she demands, my balls slapping against her pussy as I pound into her, the couch sliding slightly with each inward plunge. I last as long as I can, but I reach the point of no return quickly and come within minutes, juddering against her with the force of it, grunting with satisfaction.
“Wow,” she says, giggling as we catch our breath. “We’re certainly making up for lost time.”
When we’ve cleaned and straightened ourselves up, Cece asks me to sit on the couch with her.
“Round two already, Miss DeMarco?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
She blushes adorably, bashful despite what we’ve just done, but doesn’t smile. “As much as I would love that, I came here for another reason too,” she says. She looks down and presses her lips together, suddenly hesitant.
I sit forward and take her hand. “Cecelia, what is it?”
She takes a deep breath, her green satin blouse stretching against her breasts. She’s missed one of her buttons and I can see the curve of her breast underneath. I force myself to keep my eyes on her face.
“The other night, after what happened with Raphael, when you said you’ll always keep me safe, did you really mean it?” she asks.
“Of course I did!” I say, confused as to why she needs me to confirm it.
She brings her eyes up to meet mine and I see they’re shining with unshed tears. “Michael, as much as I want to believe you, how can you make that promise? You’ve suddenly reappeared in my life after almost five years. As wonderful as that is, how do I know you’re not going to just disappear again, like last time?”
