Page 61 of Caesar DeLuca
His hand wedges between my thighs, cupping my pussy. I moan into his mouth, arching against him at the feel of his touch. He rubs me through my panties. The palm of his hand slides back and forth, the cotton fabric chaffing my sensitive folds and making me shudder.
“Oh god… Caesar…” I puff out between kisses.
I’m flustered like I’ve been left to bake in the hot sun. I’m distracted by how my pussy aches, so unfulfilled in his absence.
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about having you again, Ariana?” he asks before nipping at my lips. “Do you know how angry it makes me that you’re still putting yourself in danger? You’re out here all alone and unprotected.”
His words come out husky and thick with arousal.
But they’re enough to pull me out of the moment.
Remind me why I’d been so resistant in the first place.
We can’t do this. We’ve already established nothing will ever come of it. He’s dedicated to his lifestyle and I’m dedicated to mine.
My heart barely remained intact the first time I slept with him. If I make the same mistake, I’ll be in shambles. It’ll only be harder than ever to move on…
“We can’t do this. You need to go,” I whisper, turning my cheek to him. “Please, can’t you just go?”
Caesar’s fingers pause from where they’re rubbing my pussy and he draws back to look me in the eye. He’s checking to see how sure I am and if there’s any room to dissuade me. The heat between us cools as he realizes the moment’s over and takes a step back.
“Alright, I’ll leave if that’s what you want.”
I hop down from the console table. “It is. For my sanity.”
“For my sanity, I’ll be making good on my promises. Expect a knock on your door tomorrow. The security company will come by and make your home safe.”
I can tell he means it as I walk him toward the door. He really cares about the safety of my home .
The instant he’s gone, I’m twisting and sliding the six different locks on the door in place. My breathing lacks any set cadence, the air I’m drafting into my lungs is short and shallow.
Almost half an hour passes before I’m able to calm myself down enough. I rub a hand over my face and search my mind for what to do. Instead, for the millionth time, I’m left wondering how I possibly got myself into this mess.
How can I continue to pretend everything is fine when it’s not?
If Caesar isn’t showing up on my doorstep, other surprises are.
I wander to the garage to check out the damage. The sick feeling from the parking lot returns as I set sight on my four slashed tires.
21
CAESAR
ONE MONTH LATER…
I’m on my third glass of brandy when fists beat at my door and two of my guys announce they’ve retrieved what I’ve asked of them.
“Come in.”
I swirl the dark brown liquid some more in my glass, my posture more lackadaisical than usual.
The doors fly open as my guys march inside clutching the delivery between them. They toss him to the floor where he shrivels up into a trembling ball of a man.
Craig Edward Goose, age sixty-four, owner of the barbershop in Kittatinny. He’s lived in the small mountain town his entire life, marrying his sweetheart Mrs. Beverly, one of Ariana’s only friends. The two have supposedly been happily married for decades now.
So why have I caught Craig being a lowdown creepy pervert?
I kick at his ribs. “Stop curling up like a baby. Behave like a man. You are a man, aren’t you?”
