Soul Mates Cry: Witching Call Part 3 (6 page)

Of course, with the fee he received he wouldn’t dare go against his wishes.

Sometimes, a woman would try to say he should cut it short after a romp in bed. 

But they did not really mean it. 

Nor would he, if they actually did. 

It was the one thing from the old days he insisted on keeping.

Black jeans and black casual shirt, both expensive brands, on a well worked-out body.

Only the best for Nickolas Benson.

A long way from old devil Nick DiAngelo with the old jeans, the filthy t-shirts and the worn black leather jacket.

If he had chosen to wear his usual expensive suits with the matching ties, he knew he wouldn’t have gotten past the first date with Iliana. She looked like a doe caught by the headlights the first time they went out, tugging at his hand like she wanted to run. It had to be the men and women in formal evening attire that made her feel the most out of place. Just one of those silk dresses with diamond laced ribbons could easily buy the entire restaurant she worked at and pay handsomely for its refurbishing.

He knew exactly what she was thinking as she threw glances his way when she thought he wasn't watching, looking over his jeans and his sports jacket, and glancing at his overgrown hair. He had deliberately worn casual clothes on their first date. He wanted to tell her to stop looking at her reflection in mirrors they pass, her eyes critical and trying very hard to look proud.

Even with her rags, she was the most beautiful of them all.

But he didn’t do that.

He knew she wouldn’t believe him. Or if she did, still very unlikely, she would still feel awkward because she wasn’t used to going to expensive places. 

So instead, he tried his best to distract her from her surrounding by talking to her, asking her questions, making her talk, and making her savor the delicious food above all. If there was anything that he wanted her to appreciate in the first restaurants he brought her to, it was the food. 

He wanted her to have something she would enjoy if she chose to go out with him again—the opulence his wealth could bring. 

And first of all would be good, sumptuous, nutritious, yet
irresistibly
delicious food. He wanted to fill her thin frame up. He could imagine just what she stuffed herself with her meager salary. He’s been through one too many sleepless and starving nights long ago, freezing in a place that couldn’t be called a home, and not knowing where he would get his next meal.

He wanted her, first of all, to be healthy.

He knew, though, how delicate it was to bring to attention her desperate need for good clothes to bring out the color of her eyes and most of all, not make her so uncomfortable around this charade of wealth. 

She was so proud, his stray cat. So defensive. She sought to always protect herself so he knew if he wasn’t careful now, she would be on the verge of making an escape.

He worked on making her comfortable with him first by being friendly and donning casual clothes. He worked on making her laugh a lot of times. If she only knew how many times men around them would look their way jealously when she laughed her carefree, melodic laughter. This added a lot more character to her already beautiful frame.

Even with her rags, she still managed to be sexy just by being herself.

And he loved looking at her when she was flushed with laughter and her lips were smiling. 

It was as if she wasn't afraid of loss, the very fear that so many in this ballroom had nightmares about.

And now she was a pleasure to be around.

After a month of dating, she was more comfortable around him.

At least she had stopped looking for an obscure spot above his head every time she talked to him.

For a month now, he had been taking her to the hottest spots in the city: the theater, ballet, dancing clubs, restaurants. She was fed not just by food but by beautiful music and artistic sights. 

Almost every night, he would pick her up from outside her apartment and be the escort of her dreams.

Kind, chivalrous, obliging.

And every night, he would return her at home before twelve and see her safe inside her apartment.

He hadn’t kissed her once.

That was not part of the plan.

She had to feel completely safe before he entered phase two of his plans for the two of them.

Oh yes. The two of them.

A strong, physical… highly sexual attraction persisted between them. He knew he couldn’t kiss her and then just as easily stop. 

It would destroy his carefully laid out plans.

He had to follow the scheme he had charted for them years ago.

He'd lived the better part of his life by planning well, brilliantly, meticulously, so he could arrive at this very point in his future.

A future that was now his present.

He wanted Iliana. He desired to have her.

It was a big shock. There was a time when he’d wanted to get her so he could save her, and so save his soul from the torture it has suffered since he’d destroyed her life.

But since then, his view about his mission has changed.

She has become an obsession.

He could not allow the possibility of losing.

Of losing... her. 

And tonight was the night. He was bringing her to his fortress.

A shiver of anticipation went up his spine. His shoulders straightened as he watched his image in the mirror. He could see the desire and excitement mingling on his polished face.

In his mind, he could see Iliana’s exquisite features. He closed his eyes and he could imagine how she would look in the throes of passion.

He knew she was aware of him. He knew the signs. He anticipated them whenever they were together.

He knew she wanted her hand held when they walked, but lately he’s even avoided that because he was afraid of losing control.

That wouldn’t be a problem tonight. He would certainly welcome the change with relief.

How could they be together in one place with no one around and not touch each other?

It would be too tempting.

He knew it would be, at least, for him.

The wait was over this night.

He just hoped that Iliana was ready... 

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Continue reading The Mating (Wild Cats Part 1)

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About the Author

The moment Sandra Ross held her first romance novel when she was ten, she knew she was going to write romance. At thirty now, a prolific reader and a freelance writer, she's since then expanded her preferences from just romance to romance with a dash of now trending sub-genres--paranormal, fantasy, sci-fi even, and erotica. She loves challenging herself and would write on a dare. On a normal day, she would be found in her herb garden collecting spices for her kitchen or ingredients for her potions; in her huge eclectic Provencal kitchen with the big modern oven cooking pots and pans of food for her family of one husband and three kids (an ardent daughter and two boisterous sons) that'll probably last for weeks; in her library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and an e-reader in her hands as she reads the latest erotic hit; or scribbling pages upon pages of different erotic lifestyles, searching for the one that feels like it was inspired by just the right mix of passion, story line, and sex. Aside from these activities, the rest of the time she'd be found in front of her laptop typing the latest Sandra Ross concoction for her readers.
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About Soul Mates Cry: Witching Call Part 3

By Sandra Ross

Published by Publications Circulations LLC

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, companies and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or the publisher.

The following story is for entertainment purposes only. This book contains sexually graphic scenes depicting consenting adults above the age of 18 engaging in passionate sexual acts. This story is intended only for persons over the legal adult age. By downloading and opening this document, you are stating that you are of legal age to access and view this work of fiction. Mature readers only. Reader discretion is advised.

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