“You,” I say breathlessly.
“I’m yours, all yours.” With one push, he enters me, filling me up all the way. I scream, the feeling a mixture of pain and pleasure, of torture and ecstasy.
I wrap my legs around his waist while he thrusts into me, his pubic bone grinding against me with every thrust.
“Alex…….ALEX!!!” I scream his name, my orgasm taking hold, so intense I feel like I’m going to pass out.
He keeps fucking me, pounding away, our bodies bathed in sweat. Alex groans, a deep, guttural sound, his body shuttering from his orgasm.
We lie in bed together, holding each other, both of us trying to catch our breath. Alex kisses me gently, murmurs, “That was incredible. Every time is incredible.”
We drift in and out of sleep, spooning, my body fitting perfectly against his. Eventually, Alex gets up, slips his jeans back on, pads to the kitchen for a glass of water.
“Have you noticed that black car over there?” he asks, nodding towards the car. I get up, put on a tee shirt and a pair of sweats, and walk over to the sink where Alex is standing.
“No, I haven’t noticed it before,” I shrug, eyeing the black Fiat. It’s parked at the end of the street, in the shadows.
“Mmm.” Alex stands there a couple more seconds, watching. He then closes the blinds quickly.
“Is everything okay?” I ask. He seems concerned. I’m suddenly reminded of the time we met at Portobello Market. When we arrived at the pub for a drink, he had that distracted look – same look on his face right now.
“Alex?”
“Yes? Oh, sorry. Everything is fine.” He embraces me, his strong arms making me feel protected.
I pull back from him, looking him in the eye. “You sure? Because if something isn’t right, you can tell me.”
Alex looks at me, smiling softly. He looks as though he is on the verge of telling me something, but simply shakes his head and says, “I’m sure.” He pulls me back to him, stroking my hair. “I’m sure,” he repeats.
“Okay,” I reply, although I have a vague feeling that something is off. “Well, how about we get back into bed? You’ve worn me out, Mr. London,” I say, teasing him.
“Oh, okay. Now I’m Mr. London, is it?”
“Yep,” I say, giggling as we walk hand in hand back to bed. We crawl under the sheets and fall fast asleep.
*
An hour later, Nick quietly drives away in the little black car, silently cursing. He didn’t think Alex had seen him sitting in the Fiat. Nick was almost certain he had dropped down just in time, crouching as low as he could, before Alex took notice of the car. Still, he wasn’t absolute certain.
Nick arrives to his flat, tossing the keys on the kitchen counter. He sits down on the couch, thinking. Nick would put his plan on hold – for the moment. He’d put the car in storage, keep a low profile for a few days or so. He had come so far, had waited so long, he was not going to do anything to jeopardize his plan. Nick would just sit and wait. The black Fiat was an unmarked car, which is probably one of the reasons it caught Alex’s attention. However, it was untraceable which meant Alex couldn’t look the vehicle up in the government’s vehicle database. Besides, the car was purchased with cash, under a fake name with a fake ID.
Nick thought about Katherine, a welcome distraction. He was looking forward to meeting her. Unfortunately, their meeting would happen later, rather than sooner. Nick sighed. Nice, sweet Katherine. Nick would show her how nice and sweet he could be, too. Eventually.
Chapter 35
“Would you like something to drink, Miss Belmonte?” The flight attendant smiled down at Caprice who was staring out of the window.
“Miss Belmonte?” she asked again.
Caprice turned her head, stared at the flight attendant. “Scusami?” she asks, irritated. She wanted to be left alone.
“Something to drink?” the flight attendant politely asked again.
“No grazie,” Caprice replied, waving the flight attendant away.
Caprice turned back to the window, stared down at the clouds. She thought about how different this flight was compared to the last time she flew to London. Oh, how she hated flying commercially, sitting next to people you’d rather not be sitting next to, even in first class. Not to mention the lack of privacy. Caprice closed her eyes, the delicious memory of fucking Sergio in the back of his private jet playing over in her mind, remembering the pleasure he had given her. She could feel the tears welling up, and quickly slipped on a pair of black Gucci shades, concealing her eyes.
Get it together, Caprice thought. You’ll be in London soon. No time for crying.