Chapter Fourteen

With Marco gone, I have the beach house to myself again, and I choose to use the time to clean up a bit.

I tidy up the living room and the kitchen after finding a vacuum in one of the cupboards, along with a mop.

I have nothing to do any laundry with, but I find spare bedsheets and leave the dirty ones in the bath.

I've always found that cleaning up helps me clear my mind a bit, and standing in the house, feeling the freshness of the mopped floors, gives me a feeling of control over my environment.

It's an illusion, though, because none of this is within my control.

I'm probably the only person in this messy triangle who doesn't have any control over what happens.

After everything that happened with Marco, I'm still feeling confused.

I wish I had some communication with my brothers so that I could feel a bit more confident about them coming to save me.

Right now, it seems that they're not seeing my situation as a priority, and again, I wonder if they somehow believe that I did this on purpose.

They'd have every right to think that, because I can see how it might look that way from the outside.

Actually, right now, it looks a bit like that from the inside too.

My brothers care about family, but they are also very careful when it comes to their business.

And if there is any doubt in their minds that I might have done this on purpose, they might not want to come and get me at all.

The thought causes a horrible feeling in my chest, and I try to push it away from my mind, concentrating again on my sketching.

The front door squeaks as it opens, and I sit up from my horizontal position on the living room floor.

This is the most comfortable way for me to draw. It always has been that way.

The light coming into the living room is perfect right now, and I can hear the waves crashing even through the locked doors and windows.

There's a sense of peace all around me at this moment—until I realize someone is here.

The only person who could be coming to the house now is Marco, or so I hope, but it's so soon after he left that I instantly worry that something is wrong.

Could he have sent me another package, and this delivery man just chose not to be polite enough to knock like the previous one?

But no. As I listen to the footsteps, I know that it's Marco coming in.

"Hi," I say as he walks into the room.

His face looks so much more at ease than it did when he came in two days ago. Maybe our talk really did help him.

Or maybe there's some other reason for him looking so relieved.

"Good news," he says, as if he's reading my mind.

So, there is another reason.

"Your brothers say they are coming to fetch you. They should be here tomorrow. Maybe sooner, I don't quite know. But we have to get you to my house because I am not giving them this address."

"Oh." I wasn't expecting that kind of news.

Somehow instead of the excitement that I should be feeling, there's a pang of sadness when I think about leaving this house.

Is it the ocean or Marco that has me feeling so attached?

"Okay, I need to pack up. My stuff is all over the place, although I did clean the rest of the house today."

I stand up and gather my sketchbook and pencils. I want to take these with me.

"What are you drawing?" he asks, looking down at the paper on the floor.

I hesitate at first, but there isn't any real reason to try and hide it from him now.

"It's, um, well it's…you," I say, smiling as I hold it up.

I think I've done a pretty good job, so hopefully this is a compliment, and he doesn't take offense to it.

After our long talk, his face was etched into my mind so perfectly that I managed to draw him from memory.

Even as I look from the drawing to his actual face, I think I've captured him well on paper.

The lines around his eyes, the strong jawline and his expression are much softer than you'd expect. I just know how to look deeper at him now.

He looks at the drawing for a long time before handing it back to me.

None of this makes me any less concerned about how he feels about me drawing him, or if he'll agree that it's a close replica of his face.

"This is amazing, Grazia, I've never seen anything like it. Your talent is natural. If this had color, I might mistake it for a photograph. Where did you learn to draw like this?"

Marco is practically beaming at the picture I've given him. No one has ever appreciated my art like this before.

Although, to be fair, I haven't really shown anyone my drawings before now. It just never seemed like something I wanted to share with the world.

But I want to share it with Marco.

He"s looking at me with admiration now, and I can feel my cheeks heating up, probably turning red.

That's not a problem I have too often. Usually, I'd describe myself as a calm person, who doesn't get embarrassed or flustered easily.

But Marco has brought out so many new and different feelings in me. I look back up at him, a smile on my lips, and before I can think about it too much, I'm reaching over and kissing him.

He kisses me back with ease, like we've been doing this for years.

The kiss lasts for what seems like forever, nothing but our lips and tongues doing a dance as our hands find each other's bodies, caressing and stroking.

Every time Marco and I have had sex so far, it's been hard and rough, and each of us has been racing to the finish line.

But right now, we're slowly exploring each other, indulging in the feelings moving through our bodies.

I can feel the hairs on my arms standing up, the back of my neck tingling.

Somehow, with our mouths still intertwined, we step back and slowly lower ourselves onto the couch.

Then Marco shifts our bodies together so that we're both lying on the floor instead, next to my sketchbook. Thankfully, the plush carpet is just as soft as the sofa or bed.

Marco lays me down and pushes up onto his hand so that he's leaning over me, running his fingers up my bare legs, stopping just before he reaches my inner thighs.

I pull him closer to me, caressing his mouth with my tongue and wrapping my legs around his waist.

We make out for a few more minutes, but then I can no longer hold myself back, and I start to pull Marco's shirt off his shoulders.

He helps me, undoing the few buttons that I can't reach, and then unbuckling his belt.

I slide off my robe, the only clothing I'm wearing, since I hadn't expected company.

Marco slips a hand under me and unclips my bra, softly sucking on each breast as it is freed, giving them just enough attention to start my moaning.

He takes off his pants and then my underwear and kisses me again as he wastes no time entering me.

The rhythm now is so much softer than it has been, yet there's so much more passion pulsing through us than I have ever felt before.

He lays on his side, facing me, and keeps a steady pace, going deep and massaging my breasts, then my hips, and finally caressing my face before kissing me again.

After a while of enjoying him fill me and control the tempo, I flip to sit on top of him, doing my best to match his speed, leaning over him and moving my hips with his.

I close my eyes, losing myself in the waves of pleasure washing over me, until I feel that familiar heat streaming down my body, making my breath quick and short, moving my hips faster without me even trying.

I climax loudly, and immediately Marco flips me over onto my back.

He pulls out of me, allowing my body to finish its climax, kissing my clit and causing me to shake even more.

Once my breathing is steady again, he enters me, pulling my legs up and around his shoulders, and pushing himself deep inside me.

Again, I can feel the pleasure pulsing through me. It's about to drive me mad.

I look up at him, but his eyes are closed now, his face twisted in pleasure and slight concentration.

His breath quickens, and I feel his hips moving even faster, causing me to groan every time I feel him hit my G-spot.

I can tell he's coming, by the way his body stiffens and jerks, but his moan is suffocated by my neck, where his mouth sucks and bites down.

Closing my eyes, I lie still, Marco half on me and half next to me.

My chest is rising and falling with my deep breaths, and the beads of sweat on my forehead show just how intense this was.

I don't move for a while, enjoying the feeling of Marco's warmth on my still-naked body.

Opening my eyes, I can feel that Marco hasn't moved. I might have fallen asleep for a moment.

How long have we been lying here?

Outside, I can see it's still daylight, so it couldn't have been that long. Standing up, I pull my clothes on and look down at Marco, who is staring up at me, his face looking much softer than it has before.

I can almost see a smile on his lips.

There's no doubt that this was different. Somehow, we've gone past the sex that was just for pleasure or punishment, and reached a connection that I would never have guessed we could find.

It's too late for this now, though.

That thought almost makes me sad, even though logically I understand that I shouldn't be feeling any of this in my situation.

If only this is what we could have found before Marco felt the need to kidnap me and hold me hostage in his beach house in Mexico.

Now I'm going to be handed over, like someone's property, in order to help him get richer, and my brothers will take me home and likely keep me locked up in my own home, claiming it's all for my own good.

I leave Marco sitting in the living room while I go to pack up all of my stuff.

I have to gather my clothes from the room and the bathroom, and now I wish that I had been able to do laundry, because most of my clothes are disgusting now.

Maybe I'll get some done while I'm at Marco's house.

Looking around the bedroom, I take in the views one more time. I've only been here for a short while, but somehow it feels like I'm leaving a new home.

Logically, I know that's a ridiculous thought. This house is the furthest thing from my home. I have no freedom here.

This is good. My brothers have finally agreed to come and fetch me. I'm going home.

I'm going back to my old life, my childhood home, to everyone who I knew before I became a cartel captive.

And I won't be seeing Marco anymore.

The last thought is perhaps the one that makes all of this feel less exciting than it should. It"s weird.

I've just had sex with the man, and now I'm being rescued from him. That's not the kind of story that you hear in fairytale books.

Nor is it a normal way to explain how I spent my summer. But this entire period of my life has been the opposite of normal.