The billionaire's mysterious lady

Episode 22

He takes another swig from the bottle and pulls the back of my head to feed me again. The alcohol runs freely down my throat. Castro’s eyes are open, and he kisses me, never breaking contact. He kisses a wet trail down my neck, and I feel the urgent need to cool off. I pick up the bottle and take a mouthful. The sucking on my chest stops, and I lower my head to look at him. My lips are still around the glass neck, and his eyes are huge. This was another first he was talking about. I put the bottle back down and nervously suck on my bottom lip. Face to face with me, he rubs his thumb over my lips. I kiss the pad, and he exhales.

“Ever?” he asks.

I shake my head no.

“Good.” He smiles gloriously. It obviously pleases him to know there is at least still one thing pure and innocent about me that will only ever be his.

His hand snakes down to my behind, and his fingers gently play between my cheeks. “Here?” he murmurs.

“No,” I whisper. He strikes quick and drags me close, kissing me with such turbulence and fire, I can feel it right down to my toes.

When he finally raises his eyes back to me, they are dark again. “You’re mine, Nelly. I’m your first everything, and I will be your last. One experience ten years ago doesn’t count, because he will never see you the way I do. Say it, baby.”

Staring deeply into his irises, I know mine will reflect my sadness. One experience ten years ago might not count to him, but it was a debauched act that I will live with forever. Regardless of how much I think I’ve blocked it out, it lies just below the surface. Waiting. Aside from that, he’s right; I am his, because he’s the only one who has ever been able to touch me. Because I have waited my whole life to find that one person who fits me perfectly. I just never envisaged it would be someone like him.

Castro tilts my chin up, waiting for me to say it.

“I’m yours.” “Good girl.”

His hands drift down my waist to hold me, as he slides out and pushes back in. Nudging his head into the curve of my neck, he starts to suck as I massage my fingers through his hair and look towards the fire. Overcome with enlightenment, I’m content yet conflicted by the unspoken truth of my suppressed feelings.

Eventually, my back arches, and I moan as Castro works me into a frenzy. The heat in my body deepens, and I cry out again when he roars and fills me.

The heat of the flames stoke higher and higher, and I’m not far behind them.

“Hello?” Nancy answers on the first ring.

I’m sitting balled up on the bathroom floor, cocooned in a plush, fluffy robe that is saturated in Castro’s unique, unmistakable scent. “Hi, it’s me,” I reply sheepishly. I need to talk to her. I need to tell her what I experienced today.

“Hi, honey, are you okay?” The concern in her voice is amplified over the receiver, and a sigh of agitation drifts across the line.

“I’m fine, really, I am. I just need to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, what is it, honey? Oh, God, is it Maxwell again?”

“No, no, no,” I mumble, wondering how I’m going to get the words out. I bite the inside of my cheek; at twentythree I should be able to tell her that I’ve finally had s*x for the first time. But s**t, they just won’t come out. She waits.

I still don’t know how to say it.

“Nelly? Nelly, what’s going on? Where are you?” she asks full of worry.

“I’m with Castro Desmon.” I don’t think it requires any further explanation - not if her sharp hiss of breath is anything to go by.

“Oh, baby, did he hurt you?” she queries gently, breaking the long, deathly silence. She knows what I’m trying to say without even asking.

“No, no, he was – is – amazing,” I whisper. “Nancy, he can touch me. I let him touch me, and I liked it.” The sound of her content sigh that I have finally found someone, echoes in my ear.

“Honey, that’s great, really it is. Just promise me it was safe…and consensual.” The last words bleed into my heart painfully.

“It was safe, and consensual, and perfect, and I want him, Nancy. I want him so bad, even I don’t understand why. He makes me feel so much; emotionally, mentally, and yes, sexually. From the first moment he touched me, when I came here to collect Maxwell, I’ve wanted him. Does it make me a slut because I’ve only known him for seven days?” I hold my breath, terrified she will think poorly of me. I feel ashamed, and I know I shouldn’t.

“Nelly, no, of course not! Before today, you’ve only ever had one s****l experience, albeit not something that I would personally class it as. Nelly, one real s****l partner in your short life, does not make you a slut. You’re twentythree. There are women in the world your age who have probably been with hundreds of different men! You’re definitely not ones of those girls! You just needed to find the right man for you. Honey, I always told you that one day he would enter your life, and here he is! It’s what you’ve always wanted. I know you’ll never admit it, but I see you. The one thing you want most in the world is unconditional love, and not the type I give you, but the type that comes from someone who doesn’t look at you as damaged. And you’re not, Nelly, I hope you finally see that now. You’re strong and beautiful, and I’m proud to call you mine.” Tears collect at the back of my eyes.

The door swings open, and Castro stands there, smiling, until he sees I’m on the phone. He puts his hand up apologetically and slips back out.

“Nancy, I need to go. I just wanted to talk to someone, and I don’t think Maxwell would be interested.”

“No, I agree. Not that I mind, I’d rather know than not know, but why didn’t you call isab?” My head leans back against the tiled wall.

“Because she wouldn’t understand. Nobody understands.”

“Oh, honey, I love you so much. We risked a lot to get here, but you were worth that risk and more. Now, I’m not the only one who realises how much you’re worth.”

“I love you,” I whisper pathetically. It was something we said to each other very little, if at all. We didn’t need words to confirm it.

“And I, you. Take care and call me.” “I will,” I say, after hanging up.

The door swings open again, and Castro invades the room for a second time. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to walk in.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s okay, I was just calling my aunt.” He takes my hand and leads me out of the main bathroom and down the stairs. He constantly turns and looks at me, as he guides me into the kitchen. He picks me up and drops me onto one of the stools, then turns and starts to rummage through the fridge. He pulls out the large halfeaten cheesecake I had spotted in there earlier.

“Dessert?” he queries, handing me a spoon. I smile as I cut into the biscuit and cream cheese. My eyes close involuntarily, savouring the first bite. I let out a little moan of pleasure at the combined tastes and textures exploding in my mouth. The sound of metal clattering pinches my eyes back open, and I see Castro hastily retrieving his spoon from the dessert plate. I arch a brow, as he gives me a sexy grin and clears his throat.

“How about our third time with a little cheesecake?”

I smile, shake my head and take another slow, laborious bite, ensuring I moan again when the spoonful of heaven enters my mouth.

“I bet I can convince you!” His eyes sparkle beautifully with his statement. There’s no doubt in my mind he can. Reading a magazine, when a sharp knock resounds on the suite door. Castro pads leisurely through the living room to answer it, like he hasn’t got a care in the world. I watch in awe at this amazing man moving with such grace and agility. For someone who has so much, I still find it surprising that I haven't seen someone waiting on him hand and foot these last few days.

Reappearing minutes later, he’s followed by a tall, incredibly muscular, dark-haired guy, who looks, quite simply, plain scary. His features are strong and masculine he looks like a sea human. Like Castro, he’s stunning, but not in the traditional sense. There is a raw ruggedness to his features, yet he oozes confidence. Standing next to Castro, there is an air of seniority in his stance and composure. There is also something about him that I can’t quite put my finger on. It’s the same weird calmness I experienced the first night I met Castro.

“Tony, this is Nelly johnson,” Castro introduces us. Quickly moving back to my side, he places a protective arm around my shoulder. I tug on my robe, feeling slightly awkward in my relatively undressed state. Even though I am fully covered, I feel extremely exposed in this stranger’s presence.

“Hello, Miss johnson,” Tony greets, outwardly appraising me from head to toe. His look isn’t one of s****l interest, more of surprise and curiosity.

A look of unspoken truth passes between them, and I watch them both diligently from beneath my lashes, as a silent conversation is carried out with looks alone. I narrow my eyes, wondering what I’m not permitted to hear.

“I’m guessing this isn't a social call,” Castro finally says to Tony, while pouring a glass of brandy and then taking a sip.

Tony looks down at me, and back to Castro before he answers. “No. I didn’t want to disturb you, but there's been an incident,” he replies, crossing his arms over his huge chest. “There's another one.”

Inspecting Tony closely, I realise he is the same man Castro’s sister was dancing with at the function. It all makes sense now as to why he would let her dance with someone else, especially considering she was a little tipsy at the time.

Not listening to what they are saying, I notice he really is a lot bigger than Castro. His dark hair is cropped close, and there are a few speckles of gold highlighting it. Old scars and stress lines mar his handsome face. I can tell he’s older than Castro’s twenty-seven years, and I peg him at early to mid-thirties, maybe.

Castro sighs out in irritation. His arm then grips my shoulder tighter, and his muscles flex and tense. “The same room? Is she...” He turns to me with concern, gauging my response to what is being openly discussed.

“Yeah, and she's conscious, thankfully. We just can't get to her to see if she's okay. Every time one of the boys goes in, she starts screaming hysterically. I’m out of choices, and don't know what to do with her.” Tony says, worried. “I can get one of the female staff to come up. Your call, of course, except it will cause questions to arise, but it might be the only option we have.”

Castro drops his arm from my shoulder and picks up my hand. I easily identify the look of significance that passes between them again, and I close my eyes, praying they won't ask me to do what I think they’re going to.

“Baby, there's a girl downstairs, and she's not good. Remember how Maxwell was?” he whispers to me, kissing my knuckles.

I chortle. How could I forget?

My gaze drifts over to the sofa, replaying the memory of Maxwell lying there beaten up and broken, knowing now it was Castro and Tony who had bandaged him up. His body is still bruised from whatever had happened to him. Fortunately, he spared me the details of the event itself, either because he didn’t want to talk about it, or he just doesn’t remember. I don’t know which.

“I won't be gone long. Just call security if you need anything, and I’ll be straight back up.” His hands roam over my face. Although it’s affectionate, I sense he is thinking about what he has to go and deal with, knowing only a week ago my cousin was in more or less the same condition. Fear grips me could she be a sea human, what if he finds out I am one?