Gringa - in the Clutches of a Ruthless Drug Lord - 2 (14 page)

‘Um ...’ I place both my hands on his chest. ‘How do you say ‘maybe’ in Spanish?’

‘Maybe? Eh, Quizás?’

I nod
. “’Quizás”,’
I echo.

He chuckles and smacks my butt. He walks to the door, pauses and turns around. I blow him a kiss expecting him to leave, but he strides over and shakes his head from side-to-side.

He places both hands on my shoulders. ‘Say
absolutamente.
’

‘Sounds like a brand of Vodka. What does it mean?’

‘Um ... definitely ...’ he says, his hands sliding down my back and cupping my butt.

‘I see,’ I sigh, quivering at his intimate touch. ‘I
was
going to say that, but I didn’t know the Spanish word for it. But now I know –
absolutamente
.’

‘Good girl,’ he says, kissing me one last time.

Hours pass and he does not return. I spend hours looking at the door. Fuck him! I’m going to bed. I thump my pillows several times and snap off the light.

I’m awakened from my sleep when I hear him whisper my name.

‘Diago,’ I moan.

He plants kisses all over my face before he quietly leaves.

Christa won after all.

I laze in bed and think of Diago and the intimate kisses we shared last night and I hug my pillow. Then I remember the FBI. Fuck! I jump out of bed and stare at the spot housing the listening device. They must have heard all our conversations - about ‘Maybe’ and ‘Definitely’ and that I hated Christa because she made Diago do bad things. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

With both hands on my head, I contemplate my quandary. It’s my fault; I planted those devices for them. I should have just said ‘No’. As much as I want to remove the bug from my room, I know one thing - you don’t cross the Feds. That’s what it’ll tantamount to. They’ll make you sorry you did. The bugs stay, unfortunately.

Around lunch time, Diago barges into my room.

‘Hey Diago!’

He scoops me off the floor, swings me around and we collapse onto the bed laughing.

‘Whoa!’

He cradles my head like you would a baby and plants little kisses all over my face. ‘I think of you all the time,’ he confesses.

‘Yeah? But last night ...?’

‘They don’t leave! I’m sorry.’

I believe him. He’s doesn’t lie – he’s too arrogant to do that.

‘I keep looking at your room last night. I see the light is on. I don’t want you to turn it off because then I know you sleep. But then I see it go off and I get angry with them, with Christa. But what can I do? So ... today ... I bring you a present.’

‘A present? For me?’ I scramble to sit up, shut my eyes and put out my hand.

He sits up, removes a box from his pocket and hands it to me. ‘Open it.’

‘Oooookay.’ I open the box and gasp. ‘Ohmigod! It’s gorgeous.’ It’s a gold necklace with a diamond pendant in the shape of two tiny cupid angels with arrows pointed at each other. It’s heavy and looks really expensive.

‘This is soooo beautiful Diago,’ I say, caressing the pendant. ‘I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ I fling my arms around him. ‘Thank you!’

‘Is a “Sorry” gift,’ he says.

I jerk back and look at him. ‘Sorry?’

‘For eh ...’ he averts his eyes, ‘for ... hurting you … make you …cry.’

I look away, uncomfortable with the reminder that he was my tormentor at one time.

‘Payton?’

‘I ... um ...’ I look at him and grimace a smile.

‘Lemme put it on for you,’ he says, taking the necklace from my hands. Then he reaches for the FBI’s chain around my neck and in true Diago fashion, rips it off my neck and flings it on the table. It lands in a glass of water.

The listening device! Fuck! I look at it but do nothing to retrieve it.

He steps behind me, puts his chain around my neck and runs his hands slowly over my breasts, my stomach, my thighs. ‘Do not take it out, ever,’ he whispers.

‘Okay,’ I say, caressing the pendant.’

‘Now I have to go.’

‘So soon?’

‘Senor Vito, he wait for me.’

‘Senor Vito? Still? What are you learning
now
?’

He averts his eyes.

‘What? What?’

He rubs his chin and jerks his neck around.

‘What? Tell me. Come on, tell me.’

He takes a deep breath. ‘Sex.’

‘Sex?’

He nods and wriggles his eyebrows.

‘What ...? How ...?’

He teach me how ... what to do with women. How to …to please them?’

Really? I didn’t know your syllabus covered sex-education? And “W
omen”
? What “W
omen”
?’

‘You tell me ... I lousy lay, remember?’

I cover my mouth with both hands as I remember my conversation at the rock pool. ‘I ... um ... Christ!’ My face turns beet.

He chuckles at my embarrassment.

‘Well ... then ... ’

He laughs and hugs me. He has a really nice laugh - deep, manly, throaty and I like the way his eyes crinkle when he laughs. ‘I see you later, eh?’

I nod. ‘Are there going to be any practical lessons?’ I tease, trying to picture Senor Vito touching Diago, showing him erotic spots, teaching him how to kiss. Maybe Senor Vito is gay?

‘
Si
.’

‘“
Si
”?’

He nods.

‘Senor Vito … he’s gonna give you
practical
lessons?’

‘
Si
.’ His adamant tone confuses me.

‘Diago, how the hell ...?’

With a gleam in his eye, he opens the door and jerks his head towards the courtyard.

I look outside and turn moss green when I see the sexy Senorita standing next to Senor Vito. ‘She?’

He wriggles his eyebrows at me. ‘
She
my teacher today,
si
?’

‘She … She? That’s not a skirt, that’s a bloody belt she’s wearing as a skirt. And who wears stilettos
that
high in the middle of the day?’

More wriggling of his eyebrows.

‘Mff!’

The senorita spots Diago, sensuously hitches up her bra strap then blows him a kiss.

Diago grins like a fool and waves back.

‘Diago!’ I snap.

His tries to stop grinning and fails.

‘Mff!’

‘You jealous?’

‘No! Of course not! No.’

He chuckles like a naughty schoolboy. ‘
Hasta
la
Vista
,’ he says and steps out of my room.

I almost slam the door on his smug, clean-shaven face as his laughter rings in my ears.

While he’s touching and hugging his skanky teacher, I’m in the kitchen eating ice-cream with homemade chocolate sauce and a generous sprinkle of nuts. Oh and there’s two wafers and some glacier cherries.

Calories? Who gives a fuck about calories?

But I’m wondering – is Diablo going to
kiss
his teacher during his lesson? Will she strip down for the lesson? She seemed so familiar and so happy to see him – do they know each other on another level? How come he’s not so reclusive anymore? I stab at my ice-cream. ‘Fuck!’

‘What is it?
’
Rosa asks, shocked at my outburst.

I didn’t realize I had cursed out loud. ‘Nothing ...’ I say and glance sulkily at the villa Diago’s in.

‘Aaaahhhh! You are jealous, Maria says. ‘Good.’

‘No! Absolutely not. No, no no … ’

The two ladies gossip about me in Spanish.

‘I’m still in the room. Hello!’ I grab the carton of ice-cream and storm out of the kitchen. Damn! I forgot the chocolate sauce. I turn around, grab it and head to my room where I sulk between spoons of ice-cream.

Then I reach under my bed, remove the listening device and fling it out of the window. ‘I don’t give a rat’s ass - I’ll face the consequences later,’ I shout through the open window.

A few hours later, Diago returns.

I scan his face for – whatever – signs he has enjoyed his lesson, wants to have another lesson anytime soon, in love with his fucking tutor...

‘How was your lesson?’ I ask feigning nonchalance.

‘Good,’ he says. ‘Let’s go to dinner.’

That’s it? That’s all I get after stressing for hours? Doesn’t he realize just how much of ice-cream and chocolate sauce I’ve consumed in his absence?

The calories – all adds up, you know.

*

I’m loitering in the courtyard after dinner when Diago sneaks up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.

I chuckle and turn my face to look at him.

He kisses me slowly, deeply causing my knees to buckle. His sex education lessons with Senor Vito have really paid off and I’m benefiting big time.

We neck and Canoodle as his hands disappear under my sweater to gently knead my breasts. Unable to stop him, I sigh and lean my head back onto his chest. Encouraged by this, his hands travel slowly down my stomach and towards my thighs, disappearing between them briefly. Then he stops.

I want more, lots more. Why did he have to stop?

He wants more too, I can tell by his quick breaths and his erection pressing against me.

When we hear voices we quickly jerk apart.

He looks at me with glazed eyes. ‘Ask me.’

I look at him and close one eye.

‘Ask me! Ask me!’

Smiling, I take his hand. ‘Let’s go to my place,’ I whisper and walk backwards.

He beams.

After a while, we turn and sprint to my room, where we collapse on the bed and resume our foreplay.

Slowly, he removes my top and tosses it aside. I smile. He caresses my shoulders before he unhooks my bra, allowing my breasts to spill into his gigantic hands.

Our foreplay really began a week ago and our bodies’ reaction to each other is feral. I rip off his shirt and kiss his tattooed chest.

He tugs off my skirt, as I help him out of his pants.

We lie on the bed for a moment, noses touching. Then he kisses my lips, my neck, which is already angling. His lips travel down towards my erect nipples. Gently he takes one in his mouth and sucks on it, eliciting a sigh of pleasure from me. Then the other. My moans get louder as his lips move downwards and he kisses the insides of my thighs. ‘Diago,’ I whisper in an urgent voice.

His face disappears between my thighs. Suddenly I’m writhing and clutching his head. I’ve never done that before. Such loss of control – that’s not me.

His tongue hieroglyphs my core so intensely that my body threatens to combust.

‘Diago, I want you inside me,’ I plead.

But he ignores my pleas and increases the intensity of my delightful torture.

When I can bear it no more, he sweeps towards me and in one amazing motion, kisses me hard, at the same time, thrusting his rock-hard erection into me, with a force that only deep passion permits.

With him inside me, we rock hard and long. I don’t want him to stop, to end things. I want Diago to exist inside me, to live as one.

‘Payton,’ he murmurs, ‘Payton …Senor Vito… is going to be angry at me, but I can’t … wait.’

Before I can respond, my clammy body shudders over and over again and I cling to him, my nails digging into his back, my face in his chest.

Then I hear his deep groan and I feel his explosion too.

Outside me.

Lucky he did that, I tell myself. We’re practicing unsafe sex. Totally irresponsible.

As we lie in the afterglow of our lovemaking, he kisses my nose, my cheeks, my forehead, then my lips. I’m contented and I don’t ever want to leave his arms. I’ve never felt like this before – so wanted, so loved, so cherished and for the first time in my life, I feel whole. Yet, at the same time, I also feel out of control, unhinged, like I’m high.

He’s deep in thought. I turn to look up at him. ‘Think out aloud.’ I whisper.

He stares at me for a while. ‘
Te amo,’
he finally says and places my hand across his heart. ‘With all of this.’

I’m taken aback with this. Didn’t expect him to say those words and I just don’t know how to react. Do I love him? But then, what about Austin? I love
him
, don’t I? Suddenly, I’m so confused.

He’s kisses me and I get the impression he doesn’t expect an answer. Thank God!

Our happiness is noticeable and we have trouble hiding it. Especially me, I’m ashamed that I like Diago and that I want him. I’m supposed to find him repulsive, but I don’t anymore. I want to be with him all the time. I feel his love in his touch – even long after he has removed his hand from mine - like a residual jolt. I feel it in his kiss, the way he looks at me, the way his eyes light up when I enter a room, the way his voice changes when he talks to me – it’s always softer, caressing.

I’m may be falling in love with him, but it doesn’t feel like
falling
. It feels more like lifting, floating – it feels right.

I walk around smiling and thinking about him all the time, my head in the clouds.

*

Christa eyeballs me, making me flinch under her penetrating gaze. I avoid her eyes and try to focus on my task at hand, but I can’t. Diago and I can’t keep our eyes off each other even though we try.

At night, when we make love, it’s unhurried and lyrical, and I can’t help thinking that Senor Vito is a master. He took a ruthless barbarian and turned him into a suave, generous lover.

The next evening, we’re at the dinner table when Christa zooms in on me. ‘Why you call him “Diago” Gringa?’

‘That’s his real name,’ I reply, flashing Diago a smile. ‘And I like it.’

He cocks his head to one side and looks at me with that gaga look he’s sporting these days.

‘Really?’ Christa snaps. ‘That’s not what you say here, gringa.’

I tear my eyes away from Diago to look at the book she’s waving in the air and gasp.

‘My diary!’ Oh God! It has stuff about Diago and Austin and how much I hate Diago and how much I love …Oh God! Bad stuff - destructive.

Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!

‘Christa!’ I cry, bolting out of my seat. ‘Give that back to me, now!’

She laughs and flips through the pages. The smug look on her face scares me – it’s knowing, determined, as if she won a lottery.