Bathroom Encounter

 

Cellie’s pov

As soon as I opened the door to the guest bathroom to relieve myself of all the orange juice and red wine that had come back with a vengeance, I promptly regretted it and wanted to turn back around and find a different bathroom with the help of the cute server from earlier.

But shutting the door and running away would as well announce my defeat because right there, washing the blood of his hand was none other than Demetrio DeLeon.

Dark grey eyes flicked over to me in annoyance as I braved the daunting task of stepping into the bathroom and shutting the door behind me, practiCellie shutting myself in with a literal wild animal.

He let out an irritated grunt deep in his throat and said nothing else, going back to washing his hand. He had taken off his rings and wristwatch and had rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, exposing taut, bulging muscle rippling under golden tan skin.

I hated how attraction for him burned hot and bright and furious in my lower abdomen but I fought to remind myself that I didn’t want a repeat of last time. My bladder felt like it was about to burst open and Demetrio was taking his sweet time washing his hands, thick red blood swirling around the drainage of the sink. 

My throat tightened. Who had he killed this time?

I knew it was probably stupid of me to be alone with a hardened criminal and seasoned killer but my pride and ego far outweighed my common sense.

Dropping my glass of sweet, sweet wine on the granite top sink, I chose the farthest stall away from him and took my sweet time relieving myself but when I came back out, he was still there, drying his hands and putting on his wristwatch.

My face twisted into a scowl but I ignored him and walked to the sink to wash my hands.

I could feel his eyes on the side of my face. It made the air around me thick, heavy and uncomfortable.

“”Did you have to kill him?” I had to ask when the silence became stilffing.

A dark lazy gaze bored into me, “did you know what he said about you?”

I froze. What?

Schooling my expression into chilling nonchalance, I shrugged. “Don’t care.”

“Well I care,” he said, in that deep voice that made my insides jump through hoops. “Apparently, you go to the same school, that you’re easy and you have the sweetest pussy on campus.”

My hands were trembling as I held them together. I racked my brain for a recollection of the terrified young man but I came up short. Did we really go to the same school? Did he really know about me? S h i t!

“You see how that can be a problem, don’t you?”

I shrugged again, feigning nonchalance. “I don’t see anything, Demetrio. And why do you care, even? Just leave me alon-”

The word stuck in my throat because Demetrio was standing behind me, ice and animosity radiating off of him, sinking into my bones and making my teeth chatter. “That’s going to be difficult, micetta, seeing as you’re now part of the family and you have an image to uphold. I can’t have our allies and enemies thinking we can’t control our women.”

My stomach dropped as fury and annoyance took its place. “Hey, what do you mean control? And I’m not a part of you guys, okay? Let’s get that straight. I’m only here because of my mother and after today, I have zero intentions of playing house with your family.”

“You’re not the one to make that call.”

My heart sank. “W- what do you mean?”

“I mean you can’t keep whoring around and you need to pull yourself into the semblance of a respectable woman. You’ll be fending off potential suitors if you don’t.”

“And what if I don’t want potential suitors?” My voice was small, tight, because he was stepping closer and closer into my space. He was so close to me that I could feel his chest graze my back when I tried to stand straighter, I could almost taste his scent on my tongue.

“Well that’s too bad, mia Cellie.”

I swallowed, why did he say it like that? Why did he sound like that?

“I’m serious. I can’t-”

“You can’t keep wearing these kind of dresses that make you look like an easy lay. Although that defeats the purpose of who you really are.”

“And who am I?”

I felt a tight tug on my ponytail. He was wrapping my hair around his fist and something was turning my insides inside out.

Easing out of his hold, I maintained a neutral expression as I turned around to face him.

Jesus, he was even more goodlooking up close, my heart skipped several beats just standing so close to him when his dark grey eyes locked in mine.

I swallowed and reached for his jacket, gently slipping his button through the hole. “Is that what you think I am?”

“No.”

“No?” My hands froze against his chest as I looked up at him. 

“I think you’re far worse.” His accent was thicker, heavier, his voice deeper. 

Hn, I scoffed. My hands stroked down his chest and rested against his abdomen, a few inches above his belt.

“And does that turn you on?”

“You rate yourself a little too high, micetta.”

“Hm, so do you care to explain this?” My hand slipped between us, where his hardened erection was pushing against my stomach and I rested my hand against the bulge.

He let out a short curse, nearly stumbling over, his breath coming up in short rasps. “Cellie.” 

He pushed deeper into my hand as I rubbed him up and down, peering up into his eyes and smirking at the pained and sexually frustrated expression on his handsome face.

He wasn’t stopping me or I would have come back to my senses a long time ago.

There was a hot feeling in my chest, knowing that I was damning us both straight to hell with my actions, but I couldn’t find it in me to care about the consequences when I was pretty much bringing this powerful man to his knees with just a handjob.

“F u ck, Cellie.” He cursed, his hand grabbing the sink and caging me in. He was all I could see now. His delicious scent was all around me.“Don’t stop. I’m going to come.”

Something about his voice, the firm and aggressive tone, the order that demanded to be obeyed made me want to do exactly that. Something told me that this man was used to getting what he wanted. He only had to say what he wanted in that tone and it was as good as his.

So naturally, I fought to disobey him.

Squeezing softly and feeling something in me explode with need at the rough, gravely moan he rasped out, I leaned up on my toes and kissed his cheek as eagerly as I’d kiss his mouth. And when I was done, I brought my lips close to his ears. “You see, Demetrio, the problem is; I like sex a lot more than I fear you and there’s not a single man alive that will tell me what to do with my life and with my body. Looks like I’ll be remaining a slut for a long time to come.”

I dragged his earlobe between my teeth, tugging gently and patted him softly.

He gritted his teeth in annoyance when I stepped away from him and snatched up my wineglass from the sink and before I made my escape, I turned around and flashed a smile at him, although the smile turned into a wide eyed grin when I saw the lipstick marks on his cheek and collarbone, his coat and dress shirt askew, his even harder and more visible bulge and frustrated and enraged look in his eyes.

I tipped the wine glass in a cheers motion, turned around and left the bathroom.