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I push him, and we both start cracking up. “Dick!”
“I never said I wasn’t.”
When he catches both of my flailing wrists, he kisses my cheek. “Your place is lovely, Gia. Now, since you’re not going to let me take you out, why don’t you show me what you can paint. Maybe if it’s good enough, I’ll get it inked onto my stomach.”
I start salivating again while thinking about his deeply indented abs. The dark side of my mind envisions him hauling corpses to keep his body so tight, but I push that out, because… reasons.
“Hmm. Fine.” I agree to his terms, and head toward my closet to get out a fresh thin brush. As I get to my tiptoes, I feel Castor’s monstrous hand reach around my belly, the touch making the hair stand on the back of my neck.
Without warning, he shoves his hand down my panties and curves two fingers right into my slit. My eyes roll to the back of my head. This was the last thing I was expecting. It’s only been what, twenty minutes? I thought guys needed like an hour to get going again—
His growl is like a lion’s breath on my neck. And the river comes flowing down there again.
“You better not rip these panties—” I attempt to joke before a moan escapes me. He jerks me almost off my feet, and this time I don’t wait to grab his cock. Yeah… he didn’t need any time at all. It’s the same rock he led with before.
Do I turn him on this much?
We go for another round – my art supplies falling all over the place from him railing me inside the closet. He turns me around and drops to his knees – causing more brushes to fall. It’s like I don’t even hear it, because my ears literally ring whenever his mouth suctions over my slit. He’s such a giver in bed, it’s almost not fair. I want to pay him back.
He goes longer this time… for a good hour. I’m sore, satisfied, and pumped with another dose of his cum. I love that he caresses me afterward and holds me in his arms. He’s not in a rush to roll over and be done with me like the shallow men on the apps. It’s a nice refreshing pace.
We sit on the couch after we’re all cleaned up. I’m peering up at him as he reluctantly watches reruns of New Girl with me. I caught him chuckle a few times between mostly groans. It’s funny to watch a stone cold, gold-plated gangster find humor in normal things. A part of me didn’t think it was possible because of how my brother is. But Castor’s different.
At least, I hope he is…
xxx
In a half-remembered dream, I imagine a kiss on my forehead, and in the middle of the night, I snort awake when I realize there’s no one next to me. Slapping the couch three more times proves the same fact.
Castor up and left in the middle of the night. It’s five a.m., and the rumbling of a high-powered engine makes me think I just missed him. I get to my feet and rush out of my apartment in a low top and panties, not even thinking about it.
What the hell would I even say if I saw him before he pulled away?
I whoosh open the front door, wiping the sleep from my eyes in hopes to find that black-on-black Range Rover.
Nope. No such car around.
Across the street, out of the streetlamp’s light, a sports car still rumbles, and there’s a silhouette of a man in a suit smoking a cigarette near the hood.
Marco? God, I hope not.
I narrow my eyes at him, glimpsing a hairy chest over a mostly unbuttoned shirt. Tacky. Weird. That’s not like Castor or my brother. And my block is a dead-end filled with middle-class workers. What the hell would a Maserati be doing here at this hour?
With two hands tightly on my front door, I continue to peek. It’s like this guy wants me to call to him. Eventually, he stomps out his cigarette and struts to the driver’s side.
Is this one of Castor’s guys keeping an eye on me? Or… is this guy after Castor?
Now I’m worried that Marco hired someone to keep eyes on me at all times. Castor’s fears slip into mine, so I shut the door and triple lock it.
This is the whole reason I wanted nothing to do with my family anymore. It always leads to something like this.
Always.
Shit.
Chapter 11
Castor
