13
“STOP,” I SHRIEKED as Christos dove under, pulling me down beneath the warm sea with him.
We kissed under the water, mouths pressed tight, sharing precious air. He’s a risk taker, lives at the edge, and it makes sense when the man never knew the churn of fear in his gut. He dove down deep with me in his arms, kissed me for minutes, daring death as our lungs burned. When I thought I might black out from the pleasure of dying with him in my mouth and all around me, we broke through the surface; both of us panting like mad.
I’m learning things about him. Every day he shares more and more of himself with me. Telling me how he methodically picks apart companies, leaving them no choice but to sell it to him to divide into pieces and sell again. The stories I like the best are the ones from boarding school where he and Alex caused so much mayhem.
I understand both men, now that Christos has told me everything, every dark secret he and Alex shared. Trusting me as his woman, his mate, to keep them safe.
“Hungry, my little mermaid?”
I laughed, floating on my back, letting the sun touch my naked breasts. Skinny dipping is decadent. Being with Christos alone, sheltered by a cove, sleeping under the stars and swimming in the sea by day, is living. I’ve never felt so alive as I do in his presence.
“Yes, I’m starved,” I answered, reaching for him.
“I’ve awoken a sleeping seductress.” He grinned, bending to taste my nipples floating near his face. Just as I reached for him, he dove under, swimming towards the boat.
My fists punched the water, pouting, I refused to follow him. He was sex on a stick and somehow, he programmed me into a woman who wanted nothing else but him in me, 24/7.
I smiled wryly, the irony not lost on me—how days ago, I cringed from his touch; now I lived for it.
I dolphin-dived under. Never have I felt so free. Swimming naked and mating with my man has changed me into a mermaid. A sea siren. I giggled as I came up for air. I’ve never felt sexier, more womanly or powerful as I have, sans makeup, expensive blowouts, and without a single stitch of designer clothing on. I was right and my mother wrong. She is going to flip when she finds out I’m with the world’s most eligible bachelor.
“Hurry, up agápe mou. I have a surprise for you.”
I swam towards him, with a smile lighting up my face. He stood on the bow, skin golden brown with his dark hair dripping down his back. He was a god. A Greek god come to life. I’d never stop wanting him, of that I was sure.
He held out a hand, lifting me out of the water. I wasted no time urgently pressing my wet skin to his.
“Again? Didn’t I take care of you this morning?”
“Yes, but I only came twice. Yesterday it was three times.”
“Tsk. Tsk. How remiss of me.” His hands slid down, to play with me. I bit my lip as he chuckled low in his throat finding me ever ready for him. “How shall we rectify this? Are you ready, do you trust me, little one, to put out the ache that consumes you?”
“Yes, just don’t extinguish it.”
He carried me down below to our room. “Wait here.”
My eyes widened as he came back with a bottle of lubricant and a handful of toys.
“Christos?” He applied lube to a smooth black glass plug.
“Lay on your stomach. Relax, take a deep breath and exhale.” I did, and as I breathed out he slid it in.
“Ah,” I gasped as the warm glass slid inside me. It stretched me; I felt full. A burn started to build in the lowest part of my stomach then increased as it climbed higher. I rocked my hips on the bed, felt the cool sheets chafe against my breasts.
“Put a bikini on. We’re picnicking on the beach.” He slapped my ass, making the plug shift inside me.
“Ah, oh,” I helplessly moaned.
“Feels good, eh?” He brought his hand down again, I buried my face in the bedding, using my own hand to rub myself.
“No.” He jerked my hand away, “she belongs to me.”
“Where are you going?” I asked as he turned to leave.
“To get the launch ready.”
I crooked my finger at him. “Come back here.”
“No. Let it burn, let it ache. The more it burns, the better it will be when I put the fire out. Edging. You remember that lesson, don’t you my dove?”
“Ugh.” My hands punched the mattress. “Can’t you just, help me out here, now?”
“No, my dove, I can’t. I waited weeks for you…I know something about edging, sweeting. Trust me.”
And I did, I trusted him. God, what a fool I was for making that mistake.
“That was delicious.” Warm juice from the fresh fig he just fed me dribbled down my chin. He set up a blanket in the shade, opened a picnic basket full of fresh fruit, different types of cheeses, nuts, and of course, champagne. He looked stunning in his boxer swim trunks. The chances of running into people out here was slim, but the crew on the luxury yachts knew of all the hidden spots to take their guests for private beach time. I knew he was referring to the wealthy men who took their mistresses away from prying eyes so that they could have their trysts. I lounged next to him in a white halter top bikini. Christos had thought of everything when he knew I was still in Capri. He had food, clothing…, toys all delivered to his secret yacht, lying in wait for us.
“Favorite book?” I asked continuing our game of one hundred questions.
“I only read financial reports. No emotions or drama. Numbers don’t have feelings…I can relate.”
I smacked him playfully on the arm. “Be serious; I want to get to know more than your…”
“I read Hemingway in Prep School. He was direct. His talent was writing directly without too much prose. I envied him, how he felt love, how he described it on the pages he wrote. I could understand the text; it helped me imagine what that emotion might feel like.”
I stared incredulously at him. My beast was more human than he thought.
“What’s yours?” He fed me a red grape this time.
I chewed, pondering this. Favorite book? I’ve devoured so many. My face turned red, “Unscripted, by Jax Hart.”
“Who’s that? I’ve never heard of him.”
“He’s my cousin who lives in Seattle. He writes dirty romance books. Favorite movie?”
“I don’t watch movies.”
“What? Never?”
“A few…I can’t connect. Comedies don’t make me laugh; romance is lost on me…”
“I’d say, you’re doing pretty well right now. Well, mine’s Dirty Dancing.”
“I guess, ‘Everybody Knows’ wasn’t that bad,” he shrugs, trying to stop my questions by feeding me more, but I evade the grapes hovering above my mouth.
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“I saw it in Cannes with Alex last May.”
“You went to the Cannes film festival?”
He shrugged, “Alex and I are on the VIP list every year.”
“Favorite song?”
“Chopin. Nocturne in E flat. Listening to it soothes me.”
“We are worlds apart. I like Taylor Swift, Netflix, scrubbing decks, and smut books. You have, ‘I was raised privileged’, stamped all over you.”
“I’d rather have you all over me.” He reached for me, laid back and lifted me to straddle his hips. I tasted the sweet-tart flavor from the cherries he was eating as we kissed. Sitting on his hard thighs increased the pressure in my bum.
“Christos…,”
“Not yet. We need to leave soon. We’re going back to Capri tonight. I’ll take care of you then.”
“I knew this was too good to last forever. Is it work?”
He shrugged, “A combination of things.” He threaded our fingers together, “you won’t run, the first chance you get?”
I hesitated, he’s been so good for a bad boy these past few days. “I-I can’t lie to you. It’s all I thought about when you first captured me. But now that I’m slowly discovering who you are…no I won’t leave you. I’ll stay by your side until we can sort out what this is between us.”
“Thank you.” His eyes burned hot, as he kissed the palm of my hand. We napped under the shade of a tree, listening to the pounding waves as they rolled then broke.
I smiled, tucked safely to his side and dreamt of dark-haired babies with golden skin.
I was sad as the harbor came into view. But as we sped away in his hired car up the cliffs to his villa, I remembered the first night of passion we shared. I was eager to sleep in his embrace and wake with him in that same bed without having to run.
But Christos seemed more tense here. His moods shiftier. When we were out to sea it was just us—Christos and Jessie. But I knew he had work obligations, and I needed to figure out what to do with my life besides being a Greek Tycoon’s mistress.
Me? A mistress? It was funny to me that I was even mistress material, but by the way he rocked into me, the skin over his sculpted cheeks taunt, right before he came like a freight train boosted my confidence to new heights.
El Diablo wanted me; only me and it was empowering. I no longer felt a captive, a kidnapped girl to be used as the devil’s sex-slave. If anything, I wanted it more than him. I found everything about him sexy. He had an urgent call on his satellite phone onboard last night from his PA. I gave him privacy and went to the galley to whip up a late-night snack. When I came back to bed, he was lounging in silk pajama pants and wearing a pair of dark-horn-rimmed reading glasses.
The food was forgotten. I bit my lip, pausing in the doorway. He was so engrossed in the papers he printed from his laptop, he never noticed me eye-fucking him from head-to-toe. His lips were pursed, eyebrows furrowed as he thought about whatever he was reading.
His tan pecs and abs made my mouth water…but there’s just something so damn sexy when a man puts on reading glasses. I unhooked the bra I was wearing, shimmied out of my panties then sashayed over to the bed where I plucked the papers right out of his hands.
He arched an eyebrow as his large, warm hands, cupped my breasts. My eyes never left his as I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He hesitated…not as eager as he usually is.
“Is something wrong?” I had asked.
“Never. You know I like being in control, agápe.”
“Sit back and let me have my way with my sexy devil,” I had taunted.
“I can’t deny you anything, Jessie.” His eyes were soft but hot as he looked at me straddling his strong thighs as my hands took him out to play.
I rode him long and slow, each stroke, each rock of my hips, made me gasp as the thick tip hit my G-Spot over and over again.
We made love until dawn came, then finally slept. It was the best night of my life…it was more than passionate sex. It was love; magical, consuming and oh-so-good. I sighed as Freya—his housekeeper, came in carrying a tray of tea and scones. She’s British, shy and nervous. My presence here seems to scandalize her.
“Thank you.” I turned away from the window, to face her.
Her cheeks were on fire, and she refused to meet me in the eye. I decided we might as well clear the air. “Freya? Have I done something to offend you?”
“No. Of course not.”
“Oh? How come you seem embarrassed? You don’t approve of me being here?”
She set down the tray, ran her hands down her apron then looked up. “I-I was here that night. I heard your screams. He told me to leave…but I couldn’t,” she wrung her hands, “I should’ve stopped him…I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I liked it. I’m here now, aren’t I?”
Her face turned even redder. “So, you are. Will that be all?”
“I’d like to walk into town. Do you need anything?”
“The master won’t like that.”
“Wait. Stop. He makes you call him master, too?”
She bit her lip, eyes darting nervously, “He won’t like it. I-he-I used to be like you. I was broken…couldn’t go home, couldn’t face my friends. El Diablo gave me a job that I’m grateful for. I should’ve stopped him, I saw the condition you were in, but I was scared. It brought me back…”
“What happened to you, Freya?”
“I worked as a housekeeper on a yacht. One season, a group of men from another country came on…they used all the women as sex slaves. It’s what they did. Some of us were sold off…they were human traffickers too, I think. It was degrading, but they broke me, made me believe I wanted it. Maybe I did? My no’s turned to yeses. Maybe they drugged me, maybe I just…”
“Felt sexually liberated?” I chimed in.
She nodded her head. “Christos. Never touches a woman who’s been used like that. I was jealous when I heard how he made you scream. Part of me wanted it all back…everything I eventually escaped from. He hired me, took me in because he needs staff who understands his world and won’t report him.”
I nodded. “That’s exactly how he made me feel too. Don’t be ashamed Freya; if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”
“Thank you.” A tear rolled down her cheek as she walked out. She was beautiful but haunted. Her eyes held shadows, she was nervous in her own skin, and I wondered how I could help her. But first, my Christos needed help. I need to find out what’s in those pills he’s on and what the side effects could be.
The tea forgotten, I grabbed my purse and cell with the pill I took from him. I dialed Andre. Reciting his number over and over again in my head, helped keep me sane.
“California?”
“Yes! It’s me! How are you?”
“Good. Good. I landed on my feet. I’m working on another mega-yacht for the next month. Where are you?”
“In Capri.”
“With him?”
I cringed. “…yes? I’m sorry I cost you your job.”
“Don’t be. It makes me sick that you’re with him. Really California? El Diablo?”
“I know, I know. I…I’m falling in love with him.”
He swore in Greek. “Listen to me, Jessie…there are rumors about him, about what he does with women. It’s no secret what happens on his yacht.”
“I know. He has his demons, but he’s a good man. Good to me.”
“If that ever changes. Come to me. Next time go somewhere he can’t find you.”
“I will, but that won’t happen. Andre—this is a strange thing to ask, but I need a favor. I found a pill. An illegal one, I think. I need to know what’s in it. Do you know anyone?”
“Is this about what happened to you?”
“Yes.” I lied.
“Sure. Fine. Be careful and go during daylight. I’ll text you the address. His name’s Paulo. He’s the dealer in Capri. Knows everyone and everything. His partner is a legit pharmacologist. I’ll have them look into it.”
“Thanks, Andre. I owe you one.” I smiled into the phone, Andre just has so many friends and connections from his years spent crewing on yachts.
“I’ll take you up on that when we dock back in port.”
“Can’t wait!” We hung up, and I hurried out of the house, walking down to town. I wanted to find answers for Christos…help him in any way I could. After I met Andre’s hook up and we exchanged numbers, I stopped in the local library, searching psychiatry book after psychiatry book for any information on alexithymia. I made notes, took screenshots, Googled universities…my heart dropping the more I dug.
His condition isn’t just rare—it often exists with others. Bi-polar disorder, narcissism, and depression. The more I read, the more it snapped into place like a jigsaw puzzle. My dark and gold lover. Two sides of a coin—I never knew which man he was going to be sometimes. His moods changed like the ocean wind.
He needed more than the white pills. He needed help, professional help, and possibly more medication.
I was determined to help him, love him through it all. I don’t always see things through, but I’m someone you can count on when it comes to things like this. I won’t abandon my dark lover, not when he’s so close to being the perfect man for me. But first I need to find out what’s in those pills, make some calls and broach this subject with him carefully. Very carefully. Tip-toeing around El Diablo is not an easy task to begin with.