Lion Page 10

  He bussed their table like a pro when they were through with each course, and the dirty dishes he stacked on the cart outside the door were the signal to the invisible staff to bring the next one.

  He got every single detail right – even down to the desserts, which he proceeded to feed to her, too.

  Around a mouthful of sundae, CeCe confessed, "I feel like this should be an anniversary celebration or something. It's so special – thank you for doing this for me. I've never felt so pampered in all my life."

  He looked mock surprised. "Well, then I'm not doing a very good job of taking care of you, am I?"

  She laughed and swatted his shoulder. "You spoil me horribly, and you know it."

  His nose pressed against her temple. "You earn every bit of it, my dear," and he was rewarded by the loud hitch in her breath.

  As before, they didn't polish off all of any of the delicious treats, but when they were full, Nick helped her off his lap and told her to remain standing.

  She expected that he was going to put the sweets out into the hall for the staff to collect, but she was wrong.

  Very wrong.

  Instead, he very carefully moved them to the perimeter of the table, at nine and three from where she was standing, then came back to stand next to her, taking her hand and putting the back of it to his lips.

  "Do you remember what I said to you that night, Celia, when you made a disparaging remark about yourself?" he asked, watching the light of comprehension dawn in her eyes.

  She swallowed hard. "You – you said that I should be grateful that the table was strewn with desserts that you didn't want to waste or you'd have bent me over it, dropped my panties to my ankles and set my bottom on fire for saying something like that."

  His grin was infectious. "Damned near word for word, darling. Brava!"

  CeCe grinned back at him. "See, contrary to popular belief, I really do listen to you."

  "Unfortunately for you, my dear, that's not going to save you."

  His hand came up, to cup the back of her neck, using his hold as leverage as he did exactly what he had threatened to do that night and she, indeed, found her top half draped over the table as he lifted each foot and placed it exactly where he wanted it – far, far away from its mate.

  Then she heard him reach down and unbuckle his belt and she did exactly what she desperately didn't want to do.

  She squealed aloud in horrified anticipation.

  Chapter Nine

  "Sir!" she whispered fervently. "Sir, you can't do this! Not here!"

  He didn't as much as pause in his pursuit. CeCe could hear the leather hissing through the loops of his dress pants, hear the clinking of the buckle as he palmed it and the other end of it, forming a dangerous, formidable loop of potential agony that he placed across the crest of her buttocks.

  She felt him squeeze a cheek cruelly. "Are you trying to tell me what I can do, Celia? Is that what I'm hearing from you?"

  "No, Sir, please – I-I just –"

  "You just don't want to feel the belt on your backside when you're naked in a restaurant?"

  "Exactly, Sir."

  "And who makes those kinds of decisions for and about you, Celia?"

  CeCe sighed softly. "You do, Sir."

  "And are you telling me that you wish to negate our agreement?"

  "No, Sir!"

  "Good. Then you probably shouldn't have said anything about it, should you?"

  Oh, dear God, he was going to do it!

  "No, Sir. I'm sorry."

  "I know, Celia. I know. You still have lessons to learn, don't you? And I won't have you getting too big for your britches just because I allowed you to spend some time with your friends, or you won't be doing that anymore."

  "Yes, Sir."

  "Now, I'm going to lay this leather to your backside, and you are going to be a very good, very quiet little girl as I do so. You wouldn't want anyone to become alarmed and feel the need to call the police, would you?"

  She shook her head. "No, Sir."

  And he wasn't joking. He gave her as thorough a thrashing as any he'd ever given her before, and all she could do was pant and weep quietly. CeCe grabbed at the tablecloth, until he brought her hands down, to hold them at the small of her back.

  "This is just what you need after you've been away for a while, a good reminder of just who you are – in a fine restaurant, but forced to be buck-naked. Fed wonderful food, then punished while lying on the same table."

  Each stroke was worse than the last. CeCe didn't know how she was going to manage not to scream, but, at the same time, she knew she absolutely could not.

  And it got worse when his hand wandered between her legs.

  "My, my, my, angel. It never fails to amaze me just how wet you get while I'm whipping you like this and you are bawling your eyes out. I told you I'd teach you to love the pain, didn't I?'

  "Yes, Sir," she whispered.

  When he was through, he put the belt on the table by her head as she sobbed and chuffed and hiccoughed, desperately wishing she could reach back to soothe her behind.

  Especially when he turned her over onto her back – and onto her bottom – making her press her fist into her mouth to stifle the groan she made.

  "Aren't you just the most beautiful sight, Cecelia? You are always at your best when you're nude, just after I have punished or fucked you or both. Your skin is flushed, both sets of cheeks are pink, and you look like you should be painted by one of the Masters."

  "Thank – you – Sir," she breathed.

  "Heels on the table."

  She complied immediately as he walked over to pick up the bowl of largely melted ice cream and toppings, taking the spoon and drizzling the mixture onto her breasts. It was cold and she shivered, but she didn't say a word, even when he plopped a concentrated dollop onto each nipple.

  Swathes of cream cheese frosting mashed with carrot cake found their way to her flanks and shoulders, cheesecake decorated her tummy and parts a bit lower, and he saved the Browniegasm for the part of her that was most apropos.

  "Now you look good enough to eat," he said, with a devilish look in his eye. Then he commenced to doing exactly that – slowly, carefully licking every bit of all of the confections off her, most especially that which compelled him to lay her legs over his shoulders and clean every intimate inch of her – twice – as she writhed and bucked her hips on whispered moans."I want you to come, baby," he ordered as he slipped his fingers into her, finding that sweet spot and flicking it constantly as he settled his mouth back over her clit and listened to the sounds of her trying to endure an orgasm as quietly as she could.

  And she did pretty well, especially considering how vocal she usually was.

  At least until, once he had exhausted her that way, too, he stood up and drove himself into her, keeping her legs trapped where they were, spread wide.

  And that was what caused her to groan uninhibitedly, loud and low.

  Seconds later, there was a tap at the door.

  "Is everything all right, Sir?"

  Nick didn't miss a beat, didn't pause in the slightest as he hammered into her. "Fine, thank you."

  "Yes, Sir."

  Her eyes were closed, and he thought she was going to faint from the embarrassment.

  "Open. Your. Eyes."

  They popped open immediately.

  "Never be embarrassed about your pleasure. Anyone who's upset by it is just jealous that they're not getting any."

  That earned him an almost smile as he reached out and grabbed her shoulders, latching onto a bobbing nipple and fucking her for all he was worth.

  He was none too quiet when he reached his own culmination, but she knew he didn't care one whit what anyone thought of him.

  Well, perhaps her, but then again, perhaps not.

  When he withdrew to adjust himself, she felt something small drop onto her tummy.

  It was a small, blue velvet box.

  "May I sit up, please?"

  "Y
ou may."

  He stood between her legs, looking down on her as she rose.

  CeCe stole a peek at him. "Do you want me – may I open it?"

  "Yes, you may. It's yours."

  She did and simply stared at it.

  It was a pretty marquis diamond, some enormous carat weight, she'd guess, and she had no idea what to do about it. She had no inkling that he really thought of her this way.

  Nick cleared his throat. He didn't know what it was that he expected her to do or say about the ring, but he knew that dead silence wasn't it.

  "So. We're getting married, you and I. That's your engagement ring."

  Her eyes peeped up at him, but he looked away immediately.

  "So, you're not going to ask me?"

  "No. I'm telling you. That's what's best for you." He took a step closer and tipped her chin up. "Because I love you. I'll take care of you. It's not going to change anything about how we live."

  "Promise?" she asked, her voice a little tentative and her bottom lip a little wobbly.

  He felt an enormous sense of relief when he realized that was what worried her. "Promise. Cross my heart. Nothing is going to change except your last name, and the fact that you will be my heir, so that, if…something should happen, then you get the house and all of my worldly possessions." He kissed her gently. "And I can't think of a better person in this whole world to have them, either."

  "Sir?"

  He responded immediately to the question in her tone. "Yes, baby?"

  "I love you, too," she whispered, almost as if she couldn't bear for him to know it.

  It was then that he swooped her up in his arms, holding her bridal style as he did so. "Now, that is worth celebrating."

  * * *

  They were to be married shortly, and he did what he had resisted doing all along – because he knew he had to do it – and he began to introduce her to his friends and family, all of whom loved her already because of how happy she made him. They had heard a lot about her already from the men who worked for him and knew her – like Harry – and his nephew, Cesare. But he had kept her under wraps, and most of them understood why.

  Being his wife wasn't going to be an easy thing.

  Her girlfriends threw her a bridal shower at a hotel, and it had been wonderful, except that, as they had walked through the lobby, someone had recognized her and had made a vulgar comment that she had overheard, which, of course, was exactly what they had intended.

  When she thought about it later, CeCe couldn't remember where exactly the rage came from, she just knew that she saw red at that snobby, snotty woman's remarks, and before she could stop herself, she'd hauled off and decked her.

  The woman crumpled to the ground, security was called, and now, here she was, sitting in a cell, waiting for someone – anyone but Nick – to come bail her out. She didn't think she could face him. She'd never done anything like that in her life. She wasn't the physical type – at least she'd thought she wasn't, anyway.

  Regardless, she knew he wasn't going to be at all happy with her – she wasn't at all happy with herself, either.

  He leaned a bit over, so that she could see him, if she bothered to look.

  She practically ran to him a second later, but then he noticed that closer she got to him, the slower she walked, as if she wasn't at all sure she should come to him.

  "Somebody stepped out of line, huh?" he asked with a lopsided grin, wanting to see her smile.

  It was small, but it was there, and it encouraged her to take several steps closer to him.

  "Something like that."

  "You did a great job – knocked some teeth out."

  CeCe's hand went to her own mouth. "Oh, dear God! I'm so sorry, Sir."

  "I know you are, baby. Whatever she said must've been pretty damned bad to make you lose your temper." He had always teased her because she was so easy going – unlike everyone else around him, including every member of his loving but volatile family.

  "She…insulted you."

  He frowned. "I know, honey." He had heard it all from the lawyers. This wasn't going to be cheap. He watched two tears darken the front of her shirt. "I'm sorry you felt the need to defend my name."

  "Of course, I do!"

  He snorted. "There's no 'of course' about it, honey, as you're going to find out when we get home. There are always going to be people like that, people who will bait you by putting me down. You can't buy into it. You can't give them the satisfaction."

  She gifted him with another small smile. "And what about the satisfaction I got from laying her out?"

  His eyebrow rose. "I think I can beat that out of you."

  CeCe frowned fiercely. "No, thanks."

  "You think you have a choice? That's cute."

  "Hey!" One of the other women in the holding cell called out to him, rudely interrupting their conversation. "I know you from somewhere. You're that gangster. You're Nico Antonelli. They call you the Lion."

  "Speaking of which…" he muttered.

  "You going to be bailing her out? Why not bail the rest of us out at the same time?"

  "Are you bailing me out?" CeCe asked, biting her lip.

  "Just as soon as the paperwork's done."

  No sooner had he mentioned it than an officer arrived to unlock the cell. "Cecelia Franklin?"

  * * *

  Although it had been an interesting experience, and she certainly had enough fodder for lots of new stories, CeCe was quiet on the ride home that she spent where she usually did, on his lap.

  Nick held her closely, occasionally kissing her hair. When Harry had called and told him what happened – apologizing all over himself for letting it happen – Nick had been furious at Celia for doing something so juvenile, something that would call attention to her in the press – which he was desperately trying to avoid for her own protection – and something that could earn her a criminal record.

  He had some time to calm down between then and now, and he was really just happy that she was okay. He would miss the money that he was going to spend both on her defense and on the civil suit that was sure to be filed, but he reminded himself that she was the only irreplaceable part of this equation, and she was okay.

  As they were being driven home, he thought he might have come up with a reason why she had done what she did.

  Ever since he'd proposed to her, things had changed between them – not because of something they did, but because of all of the other crap that became necessary once someone said the word "wedding" anywhere near his family. The dynamic that they had very carefully carved out for themselves had been almost obliterated. She spent most days out, with either his family or her friends, looking for things for the wedding or the reception.

  She was no longer being taken care of to the extent that she needed to be, because she spent most of her time exhausted, run ragged by the details and planning of what everyone told them – but mostly her – needed to be some big, extravagant event.

  And it was her wedding – the only one he intended that she'd have – and because of that, he'd been very lax with her, wanting her to enjoy the full experience.

  But that wasn't going very well, judging by the first two-thousand-dollar dental bill he'd been presented with this morning – or rather his accountant had been. And there were many more of those still expected.

  As he guided her into their house, he made a decision, especially once he saw that she didn't – as she always had before- begin removing her clothes once she walked through the door as he expected her to.

  Instead, she dropped into the nearest chair and put her head in her hands.

  Nick stood in front of her and waited for her to notice him.

  And it took much longer than it should have.

  When her eyes finally met his, he didn't say a word. He simply stepped to one side to give her room to stand.

  CeCe's eyes went round when it finally came to her what he was trying to convey to her without actually having to say it, and she rea
ched for the top button of her pretty blouse.

  But he grabbed it in his instead, saying, "Don't even bother."

  She found herself put into the corner of the room that was depressingly familiar to her as he divested her of her clothes.

  "I'm sorry –"

  "Don't speak unless I speak to you first, until further notice."

  Her mouth closed with an audible click, and she heard him rummaging around the room, putting her clothes away and gathering other things.

  When he returned to her, Nick affixed her wrists with her pretty pink leather cuffs, doing the same with her ankle, then putting her posture collar on her, adding drastically short links between the wrist cuffs and the collar.

  Then he pulled her a bit out from the corner, forcing her to bend at the waist, kicked her feet wide apart and used the fingers of his left hand to hold her bottom cheeks apart so that he could insert a plug that was one size up from the one he usually used on her. CeCe whimpered and mewled at its insertion, but none too loudly.

  When it sank home within her, he whispered, "Get used to it. You're going to be wearing it for a while."

  He then inserted a large, vibrating egg into her pussy, which had a softer, form-fitting component that attached to her clit.

  Lastly, he had her to stand up and turn around, and he attached two biting, weighted clamps to her nipples and made her turn around again.

  He disappeared for a long moment, and then seconds later, it seemed, the doorbell rang, and CeCe heard him open the door to invite people inside. She was horrified! He'd never done anything like this before! She didn't want to have anyone else see her like this!

  When he came back into their bedroom, he stood behind her, where she couldn't see him.

  "Celia, we are getting married."

  Puzzled, she agreed, "Yes, Sir."

  "No, I mean we are getting married right now."

  She found her upper arm in his strong grip, and his query had almost succeeded in distracting her from the fact that she was stark naked, plugged, chained and clamped as he brought her into the living room, where another man stood with a woman on either side of him who were decked out exactly the same way she was.