Call Me Casanova, Book One: What Meets the Eye Read online

  Call Me Casanova, Book One: What Meets the Eye

  D.C. Chagnon

  PUBLISHED BY:

  D.C. Chagnon

  Copyright © 2014

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in fictitious manny. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Other Books in the Call Me Casanova Trilogy

  Call Me Casanova, Book Two: An Affair to Forget

  Call Me Casanova, Book Three: The Better Man

  ILoveDPG

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One: The Lady of the Evening

  Chapter Two: Cold Light of Day

  Chapter Three: A Likable Fellow

  Chapter Four: Unexpected Turn of Events

  Other Books by This Author

  Chapter One: Lady Of The Evening

  The woman was bored. It was evident by the dull look in her lovely green eyes and how they passed around the room as if seeking something to engage her interest. Her wine glass twisted slowly in her slim hands, the crystal clicking quietly beneath the tips of her crimson nails. Gregory studied her from a distance; always sizing her up before approaching. Figuring them out beforehand to gain the advantage. This one was clearly well bred and properly raised. But, as Gregory Stanton was well aware, no woman is ever truly tamed. And this one . . . a fire burned behind those bored emerald eyes. More so than any of the others he regularly encountered.

  Gregory watched with amusement as Kenneth Mansfield zeroed in on the woman and approached her with a cool, sophisticated air that he reserved for the women he hit on. He wasn't nearly as suave as his exterior attested. If the man ever truly landed a woman such as this, he would be chewed up and spit out in a matter of minutes.

  As suspected, his smooth lines took a dive as the woman excused herself without even making eye contact with Mansfield. Gregory chuckled low and sipped his wine. He remained stationary, leaning casually against the marble pillar, and he followed the woman with his eyes alone. The black dress wrapped her body like a comfortable second skin, contrasted by her platinum blond hair that dropped down her back in soft waves that swayed almost as seductively as her shapely hips with each step she took. His pale gray eyes lingered on her tight, nicely rounded ass as it shifted beneath the dress. She was clearly wearing a thong—or no panties at all. Gregory's crotch twitched at the latter; he would soon find out.

  When she disappeared through the open French doors that led out to the balcony, Gregory finally shifted away from the pillar and followed casually. He waded through a sea of black tuxedos and a myriad of sparkling gowns, diamond jewelry glittering in the bright lights, drawing attention to ample cleavage, flowing necklines, delicate ears, petite wrists and slim fingers. Inviting smiles crossed his path. Lips that would oblige his heart's desire. It didn't matter that most of the smiles were attached to women bearing diamond wedding rings and holding the arms of his father's business colleagues. Business was business. He had no qualms that, while his father stood in the boardroom with his clients, Gregory was fucking their wives behind their backs.

  Nigel Stanton highly disapproved of his son's extracurricular activities, though the man had done his fair share of screwing married women. Gregory really put no stock in his father's opinion. Once upon a time it had mattered, not anymore. Not ever again.

  Preston was the golden boy. Always had been. Why should Gregory have given a fuck if his father disapproved of him? Nothing new there. His access to the family fortune was secure, and his father didn't care how he spent the money as long as his reflection back on the family was controlled. And there was nothing money couldn't buy, though keeping Gregory out of the press spotlight had become an effort. But Nigel had managed, for the most part.

  To the world, Gregory was just another billionaire's son who got what he wanted, when he wanted, no fuss, no questions asked.

  It wasn't as if anyone really cared to know the truth. Anymore, Gregory didn't even care.

  Billionaire playboy—that was his assigned role. And he'd learned to play his part quite well.

  ......................................

  Cassandra discreetly watched the man make his way in her direction. He moved casually as if he had no intended destination in mind, but she had felt his eyes following her all evening. Unlike select other men at the event, he had kept his distance, watching her as a predator watches its prey, choosing just the right moment to . . . attack.

  A smile skipped across her crimson lips; he wasn't the only one with claws. And hers had sharpened since recent events had seemed to rip from her hands her control over her life. Or had she ever had control? She was realizing now that it all could well have been an illusion of control. And now, that illusion was biting her in the ass—and not in that kinky, pleasurable way either.

  With enough wine in her system, her senses had dulled and she was all for doing some biting of her own. And this man stalking her here tonight looked damn tasty. She could play the part of prey. Oh, she could play it very well. And just when he thought she was his to devour—

  “Can I assume you find the event lacking of taste?” His deep voice played across her skin like fingertips. She shivered, her back to him. Just the tone of his voice told her he wasn't one to be chewed up and spit out easily. But neither was she—though she didn't think she would mind him chewing on her some.

  “Hmm” was all she offered in a clearly bored manner while sipping her wine.

  His fingertips danced over the curve of her shoulder, barely touching her, his mouth closing in on the back of her neck as warm breath heated the nape. “I must say . . . so far, you are the most interesting aspect of this whole night.”

  “Am I?” she murmured and gazed out over the balcony. Her nipples hardened and pushed out against her black dress, and a low ache settled between her thighs. She reminded herself that she knew better than to drink an excess of wine. It had a tendency to heighten her libido and cause her to do things she might not normally do. And this mess she was caught up in only added to her need to go wild, forget what her life was about to become, possibly inspiring her to cause a man a measure of harm as a surrogate victim.

  “Indeed.” His lips never connected with her skin. He was teasing her, playing with her, trying to coax her out in the open so he could move in for the kill.

  Oddly enough, it was working. Although she wasn't being fooled by the man, she simply wanted to be drawn out. Let him think he was sly, that she was falling for his game; what did it matter—as long as the end result was him fucking her until all thoughts of her future were vanquished? At least for tonight.

  ......................................

  If there were such a thing as an alpha-female, this woman was it. Or at least that was how she meant for Gregory to see her. She wanted to be fucked, he had no doubt there. Her cool demeanor was her foreplay, pushing him to play his part more effectively. The scent of her need filled his nostrils, hardened his cock, though he doubted any other man here tonight was as in tune with such a scent. Gregory had honed his senses to the point of extreme sensitivity when it came to women.

  This woman carefully put off the air of disinterest, as if it made no difference to her whether or not Gregory took her to bed. But beneath that outer indifference was a woman who needed to be fucked. She was
not just wanting to be—but needing to be.

  His fingertips glided down her dress to her waist where he ever so lightly held her in his hands. He touched his crotch against her just enough to let her feel his own needs and wants, extending his invitation. And when she pressed back a fraction, accepting the invitation, Gregory finally allowed his lips to touch her. He kissed her bare shoulder, soft as silk, an elegant perfume not too sweet or strong drifting up his nostrils and down through his body, strengthening his arousal.

  A barely detectable tremor rippled through the woman and Gregory could almost smell her heating up, growing moist with anticipation. His fingers sizzled with the need to venture between her supple thighs and test his theory, but they never left her waist. There would be time enough for exploring later.

  He rubbed his lips along her slender neck, and she tilted her head just a little as he dropped a soft, sensual kiss on her diamond studded earlobe. “Shall we go somewhere more private?”

  Without a word, the woman set her wine glass on the wide stone wall of the balcony and allowed Gregory to escort her back inside, through the sea of tuxedos and gowns and glittering jewelry, up the curving staircase to the second floor.

  ......................................

  Few words, if any, were spoken as the man closed the bedroom door and locked it, then came to Cassandra and rested his hands on her hips, drawing her against him. His arousal pushed against her lower stomach, solid and persistent. Warm breath flowed across her cheek as he dipped his head and brushed his lips across her skin. “Tell me your name.” he murmured.

  “Cassandra.” she breathed, her name caught gently by his light kiss. Her stomach quivered with shocking sensations that, up until this moment, no man had ever incited in her. Her pulse quickened, startling her, exciting her. “And your name?”

  “Casanova.” He tugged at her lips with his then drifted down to her neck, laying warm kisses on her sensitive skin.

  A smile touched the corner of her mouth. “That isn't your name.” she challenged quietly.

  A stronger kiss pressed against the base of her throat as she laid her head back. “Hmm . . . but it will be your name for me, come morning.”

  Well, aren't you confident, Cassandra mused but found his certainty in his lovemaking ability rather titillating. Was he as good as he believed himself to be? She could only hope.

  His fingertips discovered the tiny, concealed zipper on the back of her dress and slowly dragged it down, then played across her exposed skin as his mouth continued to consume her neck and throat. She let her fingers drift up into his dark, neatly styled hair. Her hips pushed against him, and he pushed back, gouging her lightly with his hard crotch. The longing to let her hands roam at free will was strong, but she didn't want this over too soon. Nor did she wish to appear too eager. She suspected this man was accustomed to eager women, and there were plenty downstairs. But she was certain it had been her nonchalance that had drawn him to her.

  He didn't want to be fed like a domestic pet—he wanted to hunt.

  The dress slithered off her body and sifted down to lay discarded around her high heels. The only thing standing between her and Casanova were a single pair of skimpy, black lace panties and black nylons, neither of which were truly a shield against the man's swelling desire.

  A soft moan slipped from her lips when he traced his fingertips around the outer swell of her bare breasts then brushed them lightly over her hardened nipples. His arousal enlarged, straining against the crotch of his trousers. Her skin began to tingle. The man squeezed her breasts and massaged as his mouth left her throat and traveled lower, down between her full mounds of soft flesh. Warm, slick tongue wrapped around a protruding nipple, then the hard bud was inside his heated mouth, sucked at, tugged on, sending tiny volts of electricity to her core. A more pronounced moan slipped loose.

  He smiled against her flesh, his teeth raking her nipple as he slowly pulled his mouth off her then sank to his knees, leaving kisses down her stomach and planting another firmly on her naval. He caressed back over her firm ass then down the back of her thighs. Another kiss pressed to the crotch of her panties, his strong lips pushing against her moist heat beneath. He slowly licked the sheer fabric, surely tasting her wetness that seeped through. When the tip of his tongue forced her panties between her damp folds, she gasped softly and touched his head, twisting her fingers through his hair.

  “Mmm.” She bit her lip as he taunted her clit through the thin material, rubbing, massaging. Her pulse rising, speeding away. Tightness squeezed her inner muscles, clenching, as she began to burn with an imminent orgasm.

  “Huh!” Her breath sucked in sharp, forceful, her nails gouging into the man's scalp.

  ......................................

  Gregory could feel the woman's climax swelling, rising to the surface. He covered her pussy with his mouth and sucked at her sweetness, torturing her clit until her body convulsed and she gasped loud, sharp, his hair sucked into her fists and pulled as a staggered breath broke out of her and a rush of warm wetness soaked her panties. He sucked more forcefully, drawing it out through the fabric, drinking her delicacy.

  In his pants, his cock throbbed and pulsed and excreted a wetness of its own. He ached to throw her on the bed and just fuck her until she passed out, but this woman was different from the ones he commonly screwed. And he wanted to savor her.

  A slight tremor shook her body, and he could hear her breath shuddering on her lips. He lifted his eyes and watched her lovely breasts rise and fall with her quickened, static breathing, her glorious nipples hard as pebbles and stretching out stiffly, awaiting his hungry mouth.

  Soon, my pretties, he mused. He rubbed his hands up over her hips and hooked his fingers in the thin string of her panties and slowly pulled them down to mid-thigh, revealing her glistening pussy, delicately shaved. He dipped in and dragged his full tongue up through her lightly plump, wet folds, raking across her sensitive clit.

  Cassandra flinched and whimpered. He liked that—hearing her whimper. It was such a surrendering sound. And one that begged for more. Using his thumbs, Gregory spread her pussy and gazed at her prominent, plump clitoris—like a tiny sweet cherry ripe for the plucking.

  Tiny scratching of well manicured polished nails across the surface of his scalp signaled her readiness, eagerness—but not too eager. She didn't grab his head and force his face between her thighs, which had its own level of eroticism. But this one wanted him to come to her. And for Gregory, that was much sexier, more arousing. Few women had enough fortitude at this point to resist grabbing him and begging him to eat their pussy, fuck them senseless. But this woman, Cassandra, seemed to possess all the fortitude in the world. And that just made Gregory want her all the more.

  The slick nub of her clit slid up the center of his tongue as he licked her casually, drawing out a light moan and faint tremor. He opened his mouth and covered her completely and sucked her hot, wet flesh, his tongue tugging and teasing her button until her nails cut into his scalp and her body arched just a bit, her breath catching. “Mmmm . . .” she inhaled deep then released the air with a shudder.

  Gregory slowly inserted two fingers deep inside the tight soft caverns of her pussy and stroked her firmly as he continued to suck her clit.

  “Uuuuhhh . . .” she gasped softly. Her inner muscles squeezed his fingers, began to pulse and tighten. “Yes . . .”

  The control she possessed was beginning to drive Gregory to the edge. He sucked more firmly on her pussy, stroked her a bit harder. It was as if she were deliberately holding her orgasm at bay, making him work for it. Excitement coursed through him and stabbed into his crotch. His cock jumped and drooled; fucking her to orgasm would be no walk in the park. And he welcomed the challenge.

  ......................................

  Oh god . . . this man knows what he's doing.

  Cassandra closed her eyes and let head fall back a bit as his warm tongue and hot mouth sucked her closer and clo
ser to climax. His long, strong fingers worked her g-spot until she had to bite her lip to keep from screaming. Oh fuck, baby . . . make me cum.

  Reading her body had been a skill he had acquired rather quickly. He increased the intensity as he clearly knew what she wanted, that she was ready to give it up. Her fingers tightened, clawing his head, winding up his hair.

  “Yes!” the sharp exhalation burst off her lips, and she came, her breath stuttering up her throat and hitching her chest. “Uuhh!”

  Gregory smiled and kissed her wet pussy, drew his fingers out, then slid her panties down to her ankles and over the high heels. He fingered her thigh high nylons but left them in place as he stood to his feet and kissed her mouth, slipping his tongue in and letting her taste her own sweetness. She sucked at him, moaning lightly.

  When he broke the kiss, he said nothing as he led her to the large bed and set her down on the edge of the thick, plush satin comforter as he stepped back and began to undress. It seemed to give him pleasure to have her watch, as if he were unwrapping a special gift just for her. Surely he believed that's what he was. But Cassandra couldn't exactly disagree.

  Who are you, Casanova? she wondered. Her eyes moved over his body as it became exposed. Who are you really . . . underneath all that ego? Is there a real, living, breathing human being in there?

  She accepted that her question was impossible for her to ever answer. After tonight . . . there would be no more Casanovas in her future. Then don't waste this one.

  The man's cock was beautiful—not so large as to cause discomfort but possessing plenty of substance to take care of her nicely. When he stepped up to her, she raised her eyes to his face as he gazed down at her, a mystery behind his stare that she longed to solve but knew it would be impossible to do so in just one night. If only I'd met you sooner. What fun I could have had figuring you out.

  ......................................

  A flicker of something that resembled disappointment drifted behind the woman's green eyes, like a ghost ship on a dark, troubled sea. A sliver of fear pricked Gregory's mind, barely detectable but present nonetheless. And that wasn't something Gregory Stanton was accustomed to: fear of disappointing a woman.