Too Devious to Tame (The Giovanni Clan) (12 page)

"I … I was just making sure you're okay. You were moaning in your sleep."

He shut his eyes as her whispered words flittered across his fevered skin. He had been moaning all right. In his dream he had been buried deep inside her soft flesh, and he groaned out loud as all the blood rushed south. His cock twitched anew at her nearness, and the promise of home.

Anger at himself made her fling her hand away, but not before her eyes had darted to his all too obvious erection. Her eyes widening, her breath hitched, and her brown eyes darkened in arousal. Fuck it, he was doomed.

"Let me help you. That can't be comfortable."

The softly uttered words cut right through his defenses, and this time when her hand moved south he didn't have the strength to stop her. This was just sex; he did this all the time, damn it. All he needed was a good lay, and she would be out of his system. That's what was wrong with him, pure and simple, nothing at all to do with Jemima—just his body remembering how good they had always been at this. His hips rose of their own accord, as her hot mouth closed around him. Her tongue slowly circled the tip of his cock and licked the small drop of moisture there. His groan of surrender caused a smile he could feel all the way down to his toes. Her breath fanned across his tight balls, as she kissed a slow, agonizing trail of heat around them. Her fingers massaged the sensitive skin between his sack and his anus, and he dug his hands into the sheets, as her tongue followed the path of her fingers. Wet, warm heat circled his nether hole, and her hand stroked his cock in slow, measured moves, designed to drive men wild. 
Dannazioni,
she was good at this. But then she would be. Fury ignited his blood anew. What had he called her? Gemstone?
Remember that, man, that's the reason. She's nothing but a whore.

With a growl he pulled a startled Jemima off him. His cock screamed at the interruption, and his gaze locked with hers when he flipped her over.

"We're going to do this my way, so you remember this is me …
Gemstone."

He spat the words at her, ignoring the instant tears in her eyes pulling at his conscience, and he flipped her over again. Sprawled on the bed in front of her he swatted her ass, twice. She moaned and lifted her behind in the air, her hands clutching the bed sheets. Her alabaster skin reddened by his hand was a beautiful sight, and he slid his fingers through her slit, satisfied by the wetness he found there. He pushed one finger deep inside her and swatted her again, with much more force than necessary, but damn it, he wanted to punish her. To mark her as his, to make her forget all those other men she'd been with. She tensed when he spanked her again, and he used her wetness to lubricate her nether hole. He spread her cheeks wide and pushed first one, then two fingers past the ring of muscle. She clamped down on those digits, and mumbled something he couldn't quite catch over the blood rushing in his ears. He scissored his fingers opening her further and drove his cock into her pussy. She screamed, and her silky walls closed around him.  With a muttered growl he pushed himself into her tight heat all the way to the hilt. The other hand fisted in her hair, and he yanked her head back in his fury at himself, at her, at the whole damn situation. Ignoring her small cry of anguish, he pulled out again, before driving home. He set a brutal rhythm, his need to brand her, and to chase away the images burning behind his eyelids overriding any common sense. His breathing grew more and more ragged. Sweat burned his eyes, as he drove on relentlessly seeking his own release. It was just there, just out of reach, taunting him, if only she wasn't so rigid in his arms. He pulled out of her channel, spread her ass cheeks wide, and aligned his cock with her hole. With one last desperate thrust, he pushed into her nether hole, past the ring of muscles, until his balls hit her labia. The firm hold of her muscles as he thrust into her ass was his undoing. His balls grew tight, and his cum gathered and shot through his shaft. He shuddered and groaned, as his orgasm finally hit him, and he released deep inside her ass. He collapsed on top of her, growling her name. If anything Jemima went even more rigid under him, and he pulled out with a muttered curse, releasing her. 
Cazzo,
was she crying?

Jemima curled into a tight ball. Silent tears racked her small frame, and she flinched away from his touch.

What the fuck had he just done?

****
             

Jemima was in a world of misery, desperate to get away from him. What had she expected? This was only what she deserved. He was only treating her the way they all had. The sickening memories she could not hold at bay were consuming her. Oh hell, why did she have to remember all this now? Why could she not have died in that accident? It would have been so much better than this. Hugging her knees to her chest, she desperately tried to get air into her lungs. Why did she push him? He had warned her to leave him alone.

The strong arms lifting her, made her shrink in on herself even more.

"Don't touch me, please, don't."

The low growl of Italian expletives in her ear did little to alleviate her fears. She didn't want to look at him, to see the disgust in his eyes, the condemnation. And she certainly didn't want to hear his justifications either, if there were even going to be any.

Don't fool yourself, girl. Why would he feel the need to justify anything? You're just a whore in his eyes.

The sheet draped around her caught her by surprise, as did the trembling in the arms which held her. One large hand gently but firmly tilted her head up, and his breath fanned her face.

"Look at me,
cara mia
. For God's sake look at me. Forgive me, please. Let me make this up to you."

The butterfly kisses on her eyes, interspersed with Giorgio's murmured Italian endearments had her force her eyes open, and her heart missed a beat at the shimmer of tears she saw in his eyes.

Chapter Twelve

A cold hand squeezed his heart, and guilt gnawed at his insides. He'd been too damn rough, only paying attention to his own wants, and losing her in the process.  Yes, he'd wanted to punish her, but this … this despair and fear … he did not want this. Giorgio swore again and caught her wildly flailing hands in his. He was no better than that Renzo, forcing himself on her, and taking his pleasure without any thought to her needs. He shut his eyes in disgust at himself and breathed a sigh of relief when her struggling ceased. Holding her in his arms, he waited for the storm to pass. Shudders racked her small frame, and he muttered words of nonsense intended to soothe, even as his wayward body responded to her proximity with unerring predictability.

When she finally stopped crying, he knew the minute she noticed his predicament. She froze in his arms, and her anguished whisper sliced right through him. "I'm sorry, I can't."

He willed his body back under control and continued to hold her close. Forcing himself to be gentle, he drew lazy circles on her back. He kissed her hair, her jaw, and breathed a sigh of relief, when she angled her head automatically to give him better access.

The wave of protectiveness hit him out of nowhere. His eyes locked with hers. He had to make it better for her, to help her forget.

"Sssshh,
cara mia
, you can. Trust me." Kissing the new tears away, he felt her sigh of surrender, when his mouth found hers. She opened tentatively, and he wasted no time to swoop in and taste her. The salt of her tears mixed in with the sweet scent that was all her. She tasted of chocolate and vanilla and strawberries all rolled into one, and he took his time exploring her. He nipped and suckled, savoring the taste of her exploding on his tongue, and he barely suppressed his grunt of triumph, when her tongue touched his. They danced together for a while, the kiss growing more urgent, and passionate, only breaking contact to draw much needed oxygen into their lungs, before they delved back into each other.

Giorgio couldn't even remember the last time he'd taken the time to simply make out. It had probably been with her. She had been the only woman he ever cared enough about to enjoy the simple things, to make love rather than have sex. He slid his hands into her hair and gave a small, experimental tug. She moaned and rubbed her breasts against his chest. Her little nipples hardened into bullet points, and he sucked in his breath when she trailed one of her small hands up his thigh. Her fingernails dug into his skin, and his cock surged upwards in response.

He wanted her so fucking badly he ached all over, but he had to take it slow this time. As if to confirm his thoughts, she withdrew, pulled the sheet up to her neck, and shook her head.

"No, you won't want me, not after I tell you what I did, and I have to tell you. You have to know."

"Know what,
tesoro
?" The ache to hold her, to make her his, threatened to overwhelm him, but he let her scoot away. In a halting voice she whispered what he already knew, her face obscured by the silky curtain of her hair.

"I was a fool, a goddamn fool, who thought I could do anything. These guys were charming and made me feel special, and turning tricks—well, lots of people did that back at Uni. When you're not sure where your next meal is coming from, because you've just spent all your allowance on fees, sucking off a guy for some cash is no big deal."

She glanced at him as if to judge his reaction, and when he simply nodded, she blew out the breath she'd been holding.

"I was trying to finish my assignment when I met him at one of their parties. He was French—that's all I remember, and he was filthy rich. He wined and dined me, and he was interested in my art. He said I had real talent and he could introduce me to some people who would help me at a price. I was flattered by the attention, and the sex was great at first. I didn't even mind him sharing me, because that was still fun, at first.

Only it wasn't just the once, and these new guys … they were rough, and they liked to talk with their fists, and he … anyway, we had a huge row, and I tried to get away. His henchmen beat me up so badly, I couldn't walk for a while."

She shrugged her shoulders at his sharp intake of breath.

"He was all remorseful and attentive, not that I believed him, not really, but he took me to Italy on holiday. A fresh start, he called it. Like the fool I was I went along with it, even though I didn't really believe him, and then I lost yet more money at the casino tables. He gave me a month to pay him off, and then I met you. And I thought I'd escaped it all, only I hadn't of course, because he found me again."

It seemed, now she started, she couldn't stop the frantic words tumbling out of her, and, fists balled at his sides, he made himself listen without interrupting her.

"I know I should have told you, but you were so angry when you found me at the safe. But I still owed him the money, and damn there's something else I can't remember."

She choked on a sob and swiped the tears off her cheeks.

"When I ran away from you, I suddenly had no choice left at all. He caught up with me, and I still had to repay him. He sold me on in a slave auction to regain his money. There were five of us in total, and if I didn’t do what they wanted, they punished us all; and some of the girls were so young, so very young. I couldn't let them take the rap, so I always did what they asked. I became Gemstone. It was easier as
her.
It wasn't me then. It was just my body, and I could pretend…"

Again her voice trailed off, and tears splashed onto the bed.

The hot ball of fury sat in his gut listening to the things she described. He wanted to rip every one of the bastards' heads off with his bare hands, for daring to touch her. This was his fault. If he had listened to her explanations back then, she would not have been driven into the life she'd tried to avoid. But he hadn't been able to see past his own disappointment. The envelope with the damning pictures had arrived that very morning he'd found her with her hands in his safe, the family's treasured wine recipes in her little hands.

All he had been able to see had been Luc Beauchamp's hands all over his wife. He'd been past listening to any explanations, and when she'd run away that night, his pride hadn't allowed him to go after her. If he had, he could have spared her the life she described.

A life of drugs and prostitution, of pain and degradation. It was a miracle she'd escaped at all. Too many girls didn't. It didn't matter what had let her to that place. The men involved in that shady world were persuasive and convincing, drawing the girls in until they'd had no choice at all. He should know. The Don ran a shelter for abused women, one of his own daughters having fallen afoul of the persuasive eastern European gang when she had just been fourteen, and on holiday with some of her school friends. Don Luigi had his hand in many pies, but prostitution and human trafficking had never been one of them.

"So, I understand, I really do. It's only what I deserve." Her whispered words focused his attention back on her. She looked up at him, her brown eyes huge and shimmering with tears. "You can't possibly want me, knowing all that."

Her eyes grew even wider at his growled response, and the hand he used to guide her to his rock-hard erection shook wildly. "Does this look as though I don't want you,
tesoro?"

He touched his forehead to hers, his own heartbeat thundering in his ears. He had to make her understand, none of this mattered, not anymore.