Catherinelle by Diane Portman-Ray

 

15

 

She was an angel, and I was ungodly. While I was holding her leg hooked over my arm, and she was coating my fingers with her juices, it donned on me what I was doing to her. Not only did I have the nerve – the audacity – to put my hands on her again, but we were out in the fucking open. My boss ordered me to protect her, make sure no asshole took advantage or disgraced her just like I was doing right now, but there was no way I could have stopped.

The animal inside of me took over with the same force that happened when I had a fuming gun in my hand. My entire life, I had tried to keep that beast inside, but times like this, it took over and washed all my sanity away. I was unhinged, possessed with the need to possess her.

“Hugo, baby!” she said, and I shushed her.

“Easy, someone might hear you.”

“I can’t help it. You make me want you so bad, Hugo.” To reward her good girl behavior, I stroked her pussy harder, and she moaned. “Enough of that. Fuck me,” she said in between two short breaths.

My brain was telling me I needed to fight my urge to comply with her wishes, that she deserved more than a quick fuck on the side of the road. She wasn’t a woman working the corner that I picked up after leaving the bar at three in the morning; she was Catherinelle. The sweet, precious, spoiled little sister of my friend and my boss, Catherinelle Nucci. I was trying to grasp onto that and step the fuck away from her, get back behind the steering wheel and drive her back to her house when she sank her nails into my shoulders and spoke with blue flames burning in her eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, Monster, but I feel so empty right now. I want you so bad, it almost hurts. Make the pain go away, Hugo.”

There was no fucking way I could refuse her when she was calling for me with that mermaid song in her voice. Letting my instincts and hunger take over, I pulled her until her peach shaped ass was hanging off the edge of the seat, and unbuckled my pants with one hand, without pushing them down. I pulled the waistband of my boxers only low enough to free my cock, that was pointing in Catherinelle’s direction like a magnet next to a pile of metal. Without even thinking about it, I grabbed the base of my shaft and positioned myself at her entrance, penetrating her softness. In a second, we were one again.

The sensation was fucking incredible, and the frozen ice cube in my chest that was there since I left her bedroom, melted. Catherinelle let her head rest on the console, and I started moving while she filled the inside of the car with hypnotizing sounds.

I heard a car honking as it passed us, and I cursed under my breath. From the outside, it was obvious what I was doing. Even if they couldn’t see Cat, someone could still read my movements and maybe spot the slender ankle resting on my hip. She must have felt the way I tensed at the realization of what I was putting her through because right after, I heard her speak:

“Let them know, I don’t care, Hugo. It’s just me and you. No one else matters.”

Fuck. In that moment in time, she was right: no one – nothing – mattered. It was me and her, burning with fucking devastating intensity. No duty, no friends, no family, no obligations. Us.

I felt the orgasm building inside me, and a drop of sweat slid down the side of my head in my effort to stop my cum from shooting too soon. With my thumb, I pressed on her clit and caressed it until it threw her over the edge, and she tightened around me like a dick trap. The next second, I was there with her too, spreading my seed on the inside of her thigh and howling like a hurting wolf.

“Oh, my God,” she whispered with bemused and vivid eyes that were darker than usual, almost cobalt, pinned to the car roof. “I think I heard the sky cracking.”

I wanted to laugh, but my throat was too sore and dry from growling.

“Get in,” I urged her while pushing her legs inside the car and zipping myself up before jumping back into the driver’s seat.

The moment the door closed behind me, Catherinelle’s palm slammed into my chest. Fuck, I didn’t know where she got that force, but it stung.

“What the hell, woman?”

“Don’t call me woman,” she seethed. “And don’t treat me like that. You gave me that big speech about how you didn’t want to touch me, to not dishonor me,” she made air-quotes, “but this is the second time we have sex, and you freeze me out right after. That is degrading.”

“Catherinelle…”

“No, you know what, I don’t even care. First, you turn your back on me like I insulted your mother, then you try to mark the shit out of me, only to talk to me like shit the next second.”

I shook my head and started driving before putting one hand on her knee.

“I just wanted to take you out of the view of the people driving by, Cat. I can’t…I don’t know how to talk gentle.”

She looked at my hand resting on her leg and then at me. The anger on her face started to dissipate like the morning mist when the sun hit.

“I don’t want you to, but sometimes you’re just so dismissive. I know how you are, Hugo, but just because I let you in my bed, it doesn’t mean I’m one of those women who beg at your feet for scraps.”

At least we were on the same fucking page about that.

“I never said you were.”

“But you treat me like it, Hugo. You treat me like I’m one of the pairs of sisters you can call for a quick fuck and then send back to their corners.”

The mention of my past encounters didn’t sit well with me. Having two women in my bed was my kink for a long time, especially if they were sisters. It got my blood pumping and my dick rising, and it was a good fucking distraction from the forbidden fruit that was parading in front of me all day, every day. Catherinelle. Gino and the other men knew and I never cared or gave a fuck about what anyone thought, but now that Cat brought it up, I looked away. I didn’t know what shame was, but I was pretty fucking sure it was what I was feeling right now.

“I would never disrespect you, not on purpose, and you know it. And what’s with the language, Cat? You get worse and worse every day. If Gino hears you, he might cut the tip of your tongue.”

“You make me want to curse you out, stronzo. Mi fai Impazzire!” She turned to Italian, and I smiled in the corner of my mouth.

“I might drive you crazy, princess, but you also go crazy for my cock.”

She looked at me with her mouth hanging open and then pealed her eyes away.

“I’ve always wondered, you know?”

“What about, princess?”

“If you speak Italian or not.”

“I understand it, but I don’t speak. It’s not my language.” One of the pile of things that made me so wrong for Catherinelle Nucci. “Your father taught me, actually.”

“Papa? My dad? He actually stayed with you and helped you study?”

“He did.” I was his little pet project. “Your father wanted me to be the perfect human weapon, and he felt that I was at a disadvantage if I couldn’t understand what everyone said around me. So yes, every time you cursed me out in Italian, I heard you, princess.”

Sometimes, when she got mad, it was like her mind switched, and the sweet, New York raised girl was shadowed by the fiery Italian woman who liked to fight.

“Dad never spent that much time with me.” Her voice was suddenly drowned in bitterness, and I hated to see at her like that, but I was relieved that we were finally stepping on smoother territory. “Looking back, I should be happy, right? He was not a good man to have around.”

My hands squeezed the wheel with a smoldering anger that was flowing through my veins. I knew that disappointment she was feeling very fucking well. Umberto Nucci took me from the streets and threw me a scrap when I was on my way to dying of starvation under a bridge. He groomed me; he sharpened my instincts and my mind, and he made me so dangerous, his own people feared me. I put him on a fucking pedestal, only to find out I wasn’t worth shit to him.

When he got murked, Gino and his grandfather uncovered the shitty truth about Don Umberto Nucci and his wicked secret life. He went against the Nucci code: don’t hurt the innocent. The people in the underworld, your enemies? Whoever was in your way was fair game if they hurt the family but not the people in the streets. Umberto went rogue and made a shit ton of blood money on the backs of young girls, selling them like pieces of meat, some even younger than Catherinelle. Only thinking about it brought a bile taste to my mouth.

Sure, the Nucci family had girls that knew how to offer pleasure for the right price; they were in all our clubs, but they were there by their own free will. Gino always made sure they were getting paid and that they were protected. Those women weren’t hurt; they came to our door looking for work, and they got it – waitresses, bartenders, dancers, they were working and making extra money with the patrons. Umberto, on the other hand, took those girls out of their homes and locked them in a fucking basement.

Yeah, it should have been easy to hate him – Catherinelle should have been able to hate him – but it was fucking torture to hate the man that once stood so high.

“No one talks to me about him, my dad,” she finally said after a long minute of silence. “I know what he did.”

Shit.

“How?” Not from Simona or Gino because they decided to keep her away from all of that toxic bullshit and not taint her image of her father, and I knew that no one who was aware of the truth about Umberto would have dared to go against that decision.

“I found his notes in Gino’s office.”

Ah, the fucking notes! He kept a fucking diary, a twisted and fucked up memoire of how he decided to dabble into trafficking girls and every decision he made. It was in those notes he wrote, ‘If the famiglia catches up, I have a few that will stick up for me, for their hands are dirtier than mine. And if the pigs sniff my business and try to throw me in the cage again, I have the Albanian scum to take the fall, for a dog who I fed scraps will be loyal to me forever, or I’ll have him put down’. Black on white, ink on paper, he wrote the truth. I was walking among them, but I would never be them.

“You should have stayed away from that shit, Cat,” I said bitterly.

I looked at my reflection in the rearview mirror and saw my face was looking like I chewed on a lemon. If Catherinelle read her dad’s notes, then she’d seen with her own eyes that for her family, I wasn’t worth the dirt on her expensive Prada shoes.

“Hugo, do you think it’s fair that they let me mourn a good father when in reality, he was just a villain and a shit husband to mom. He kept a list of women he’d been with.” She took a little pause then threw me a sharp look. “Including Victoria Tori.”

This girl knew too fucking much. When Gino got back, I had to make sure he changed the entry code for his office.

“Stop with the Tori woman.”

“I’m just saying. It’s disgusting for you, and Roman, and Gino to share the same woman that slept with my dad.” She shrugged casually. “But you don’t mind sharing, don’t you?”

Fuck me.

“Stop with that, Catherinelle.”

“What? I’m just curious. I know you’ve been with sisters, and I know you’ve been with twins, but have you tried triplets?”

I couldn’t read whether she wanted to taunt me or just be nosey as shit.

“I’m not discussing it with you.”

“Is that why you turned me down? Because I don’t have a sister?”

That was just stupid talk, right there. The list of reasons why I shouldn’t have ever touched or even looked in her direction was too damn long to go through it right now.

“No, Catherinelle, and you know it.”

She kept talking my ear off while we were surfing through the red brick building in Queens. Catherinelle kept asking about the women that went through my bed. Little curious thing she was, but I couldn’t give her all the answers. I didn’t have it in me to open up to her or anybody. I wasn’t brought up to talk about my fucking feelings. I didn’t trust easy, and I didn’t do my talking with words. I did it with my fists or my dick. I was half man, half animal, and she was looking for a soft spot that just wasn’t there.

I felt at ease because she had moved on from the discussion about Umberto because I didn’t want to be the one to throw more shit on her dead father. That was a discussion she had to have with her brother.

When we finally arrived in Brooklyn at the Nucci house, I pulled right in front of the gate and told Cat to wait in the car for me to open her door.

“When did you turn into a gentleman? You’ve never opened a door for me before.” No, I hadn’t. I was not her doorman.

“You have no underwear.” Because I ripped it to shreds. “I wanted to cover you when you get down.”

She looked up at me and raised an eyebrow, challenging me unapologetically. She put one leg out of the car, purposefully opening up, and my eyes were suddenly pinned in between her thighs. We both knew there were men all over the street, and a lot of eyes were glued to the car, so anyone could see her. She was doing this just to fuck with me. I gripped the door, and I bent to cover her front entirely and growled like a hungry bear. I had no idea if that sound was coming from my annoyance or my desire to possess her right there in the middle of the street.

It took her an eternity to get out and walk towards the house, but she stopped and looked at me over her shoulder.

“Thank you for your assistance, Mustafa.”

This girl was playing me like I was a fiddle and she was a red-headed Irishwoman. Us, whatever the fuck us was, was dangerous enough without all the shenanigans. Her game only added to the danger, but fuck if I wasn’t addicted. She pulled, and I jerked towards her when I should have known better. I was supposed to be her protector, and in the end, I’d be the one to cause our fall from grace.