When the door buzzer announced Pedro’s arrival, I was manicured, pedicured, and had the smoothest skin. I pressed the button to automatically open the front door and left the entrance to my flat ajar.
Pedro arrived carrying several bags. He must have noticed my surprise because he said, “Food.”
I didn’t know what I expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. “That seems like a lot. What did you get?”
“Tapas,” he replied, putting them on the countertop. “Mama has been cooking all afternoon.”
It was a good thing he had his back to me and didn’t see the look on my face. I tried to assemble my thoughts, so I wouldn’t appear rude. Pedro and I hadn’t rowed yet. He hadn’t lost his temper with me, and I hadn’t snapped at him. It took all my strength not to do it now.
“It smells nice,” I said as the faint aroma filled my room.
He turned to glance at me. “It’s still warm, though some items need reheating. A few things need to be prepared yet, and, if you go in that bag,” he indicated the one left on the floor, “there is a Grenache. Pour us a couple of glasses, then make yourself comfortable.”
I took some wine glasses from the cupboard and poured for each of us.
As Pedro unpacked, he explained about the Tapas. Some he needed to put the finishing touching to. When he asked, I told him where the pans were.
Before settling on the settee, I selected music from my phone. Soon, Simply Red’s Stars filled the room through the speakers on the sideboard.
Pedro smiled his approval.
Instead of sitting in my usual place, facing the window, I sat side on to the kitchen, as Seb had the previous night. Disappointment for not making him a sexy meal had been replaced with the sight of Pedro at work. He has a great bum. I giggled.
“What?” he asked, picking up his wine glass and tasting it appreciatively.
“Nothing. I’m just enjoying how nice this is.” The atmosphere of good music, sweet smelling food, and a handsome guy overloaded my senses.
“It is,” agreed Pedro. “Mama chose this wine. It’s rather nice, isn’t it?”
I nodded, taking another mouthful. I had to give her credit. There was a spicy taste of cinnamon mixed with the red grape and something more. I smacked my lips. “There’s an aroma almost akin to violet, like a bouquet of flowers.”
Pedro laughed. “That’s exactly what it is. You have fine taste, Cassie Newbold.”
“It has a fine body.” Though I held my glass up, my eyes were on him.
Pedro looked delighted. “We could put the food on hold, if you’d like.”
I was just about to reply the affirmative, thinking how I’d like to get my hands on that perfect bottom, when his phone rang.
“Sorry,” he mouthed as he answered.
I leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and counted to ten. What would’ve been an intimate moment between us, now, wasn’t.
“Yes, Mama.” He answered, then paused. “No, they are fine. I was careful.” He replied, sounding more and more like a youth than a man. “Yes, I know to cook them first.”
I switched off and, instead, listened to Mick Hucknall sing about his babies in a song that I loved. Even though, officially, I hadn’t met her, I wasn’t sure I liked Pedro’s mother simply because she never left him alone. But I had to admit, her cooking appeared to be superb. There was certainly a variety of delicious-looking dishes for us to sample.
I got out the plates while Pedro laid them out on the small table. I wasn’t disappointed; they were as good as they looked. Begrudgingly, I admitted they were probably a lot nicer than what I had planned for us.
By the time we had washed up the dishes and consumed another bottle of wine, we decided to retire to bed. It should’ve been a little awkward, our first time spending the night together, but it wasn’t. We had flirted all evening while we chatted, and this seemed the natural next step.
I had already set a low light in my room, and the music played softly. By now, the playlist had moved on to John Legend and one of his sensual love songs. When Pedro disappeared into the bathroom, I quickly changed into my usual nightwear. The skimpy shorts with a tiny top are what I feel comfortable wearing in bed. No one ever see the revealing garments… well, that is unless they were a hot sexy Spanish guy.
Pedro entered, wearing just his boxers, and I gasped. I stared at him in awe. To say he was handsome would be an understatement. He was absolutely gorgeous with beautifully curved pecs, the best six-pack I‘d ever seen, and naturally tanned-skin that almost glistened in the moonlight as it shone through window..
“What?” Pedro asked self-consciously. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just like looking at you.”
His face visibly relaxed, and he gave me another one of those sensual smiles. “Well, if that’s the case, why are you in bed?”
Confused, I couldn’t answer.
Beckoning me with his index finger, he said with pure lust on his face, “Let me look at you the same way.”
I tossed the covers aside and jumped up. Tossing my long mane behind me, I held back my nervous laughter as I shimmied in front of him. By the look on his face, he liked what he saw, and it encouraged me. I held my chin up, posing seductively, and let him drink me in.
Pedro stepped forward, and I dove back into bed as if he was chasing me – which he was. He leapt and landed next to me, causing the matrasses to dip. His antics made me laugh.
“You are so beautiful, Cassie,” Pedro mumbled as his lips moved around my neck. “I want to see you naked. Fully naked.”
He had seen bits of me, but I had never been fully nude in front of him. The thought was tantalising. “All of me?” I asked coyly.
“All of you,” he confirmed.
Feeling incredibly turned on, I pulled away from him. By the time my feet touched the carpet, I was already pulling off my top as I turned to face him.
Pedro’s head was in his hand and his elbow rested on the bed. He watched me intensely, and it was apparent he was gazing right at my chest.
I jiggled them playfully.
He laughed. “Cassie, you are such a flirt. Has anyone told you that you have beautiful tits?”
I thought about it for a moment before I turned my head to the side and tucked my hand under my chin. “Um, no, I don’t think they have.”
“I want to touch them,” he said, raising his hand and pressing his thumb and forefinger together.
I laughed. “You have to earn that privilege. Why don’t you remove your boxers?”
Pedro looked down with a confused expression. “These? Remove these?” he teased.
There was a bulge that was becoming bigger, and I wanted my prize.
“Yes, those. If you want more, I need to see how serious you are.”
“Oh, I’m serious.” His eyes smouldered, and the corner of his mouth turned up slightly.
“Then,” with a look that I hoped was provocative, I demanded, “show me.”
My lovely Pedro obeyed. He removed his under garment, revealing his glorious manhood.
Oh! He was a sight to behold.
Settling back with his hands behind his head, he said in a husky, desire-filled voice, “Your turn.”
I removed my skimpy shorts and stood naked in front of him. It was incredible erotic how his eye caressed my every curve. I made it easy for him, turning slowly so he wouldn’t miss a thing.
“Come here, my beautiful Senorita.”
I didn’t need telling twice.
What followed was beautiful. His fingers and tongue worked magic on the sensitive parts of me that craved him. In return, my prize was solid in my hands and hard in my mouth. We shared our body’s multiple times before we eventually fell asleep in each other’s arms.
The following morning, my eyes wouldn’t open, not that I wanted them to, I was comfortable in the warmth of Pedro’s body next to mine. “Hmmm!” I moaned as I stretched.
“Good morning!” Pedro breathed against my neck.
“And Happy Easter!” He brought his hand up and perched on his finger was a fluffy yellow chick. Not a real one, of course. Its wired feet were wrapped around his finger, and he bobbed it at me a couple of times. I giggled. It must have been hidden in all those bags he brought in last night.
I focused on it until I notice Pedro’s eyes flicked sideway. I followed his gaze to the dressing table that held a huge chocolate Easter egg with an enormous red bow. I hadn’t spotted that either!
Shrieking, I leapt out of bed and grabbed the egg. Admiring it for a moment, I brought it to my mouth and kissed it. Oh, how I loved Easter! Then, I began to dance around the room while clutching it.
Pedro was sitting up, bare-chested with an amused expression on his handsome face.
Suddenly, I remembered my manners. Skipping back, I sat on him. I wanted to thank him personally for my special gift, just as we were getting into it, his phone rang. Sighing, I fell back against the pillow.
“I have to take this,” Pedro apologised, stabbing the button with his finger. “Hello, Mama.”
Once more that woman came between us. She constantly rang and, usually, at the most inopportune moments. Actually, she didn’t need an inopportune moment. She just bloody rang.
‘Can you bring home some milk?’
‘What are you doing?’
‘When will you be back?’
It was always the same. I was sick of Mama already.
Apart from that day, where I did a quick hop, skip, and a jump out of the back door of his house, I still hadn’t met her. Of course, I didn’t need to to realise I already disliked her. Even him calling her ‘mama,’ Spanish or not, made him sound like a baby.
Maybe I’m being jealous, I wondered, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. On second thoughts, no. If his mama takes all his time, there’ll never be time for me. I pulled out some clothes from the wardrobe.
Pedro gave me an apologetic smile as I dressed.
It just annoyed me more.
Later, in the kitchen, I made us breakfast as Pedro sat on the settee. He suddenly blurted, “Mama wants to meet you.”
My stomach did a flip. “Why?”
“Why not? You’re my girlfriend, and you can’t hide from her forever.”
“I can,” I said, filling two cups with tea before taking them to the sofa. Handing Pedro one, I put the other on the table next to him. Then, I returned to the kitchen to retrieve our buttered toast piled with scrambled egg on the top.
“She wants to meet you properly.” He slurped his drink before placing it on the table next to mine. That seemed to be when he registered the look on my face. “Cassie, we’ve been seeing each other for over a month. I’ve met your brother, so it’s only fair you meet her.”
“I’ve met her,” I reminded him. Once was enough for me.
“I mean properly, not just a wave of your hand as you disappear out of door.”
“Pedro, darling,” I said, turning to face him. “Despite his brotherly instincts, Seb was well behaved, and you seemed to be fast friends. Your mother… well, I don’t think I could look her in the eyes.”
He laughed, “Oh come on. Do you think she’s never had sex? How do you think my sister and I were conceived?”
“That’s not what I meant, and you know it. You’re a mummy’s boy, Pedro, and I’m just competition.”
He looked indignant. “I am not!”
“Yes, you are. How many other twenty-eight-year-olds still live with their mums?”
“A lot. It’s practical, especially since Chantelle vanished. Anyway, she wants you to come for dinner, and I said yes.”
“What?! Oh, Pedro, you didn’t. Why wouldn’t you ask me first?”
“I just did.”
“Except that you’ve already committed me.”
“Oh, stop being a grump.”
I stuck my bottom lip out childishly. I had every reason to be ill-tempered considering that woman was already the bane of my life.
Chapter 9
Pedro’s mama stood before me in a bright yellow vintage 1960s wiggle dress that revealed her slender figure. A pair of twisted gold hooped earrings caught the light through her red backcombed hair. And she’d applied her made-up in a thick coat, creating an age-defyingly smooth mask.
“Hello, my dear. It is nice to meet you at last. Do come in.” Mrs. Parslow began to extend her hand in greeting.
I unconsciously recoiled, taking a quick step backward. It was my nature to avoid unnecessary contact. It was my way to protect myself from potentially triggering my gifts.
Mrs. Parslow’s browed furrowed in disapproval before she quickly turned her attention to her son. “Pedro, mijito.” She kissed his cheek. “There is wine in the kitchen. Please, fetch it while Cassie and I get to know one another. Oh, and do turn down the oven while you are in there.”
Bowing slightly, Pedro quickly obeyed.
Pleased, the older woman focused on me. “Come,” she ordered, gesturing with her red painted nails to indicate the dining room ahead of us.
I fidgeted uncomfortably as I thought of her seeing me in the throes of an orgasm. Brushing off the reminder, I observed the space she’d brought us to. The room was cluttered with dark heavy furniture and the table laid ready for us.
“You will have an aperitif before dinner, won’t you?” She asked it in such a way that it was difficult to refuse the liquid appetizer.
I nodded my agreement and took my seat in the chair she pulled out.
From a sideboard, Mrs. Parslow filled two small glasses with what looked like sherry and placed one in front of me as she sat opposite. She immediately picked up her glass and sipped. Encouraging me, she made exaggerated facial expressions, moving her eyes towards my drink and then, back to my face.
Really? I obliged. It was viscous and too sweet for my liking. Where’s Pedro? I wondered, trying not to pull a face.
“Now, tell me all about yourself, and what you can see.”
She’s doing this, now? I glanced towards the place setting at the top of the table ready for Pedro, avoiding her eyes. “W-what would you like to know?”
“Well, you see ghosts, do you not? Pedro has told me about it, and I want to hear it from you. I’m so fascinated.” She certainly wasn’t behaving like the grieving mother I expected.
“Erm, well, only when they want me to – the ghosts, I mean.”
“Ah yes,” Mrs. Parslow acknowledged. “Perhaps if I give you something of Chantelle’s?”
Here we go. “Mrs. Parslow –”
“Please, call me Amia. Personally, I think my daughter is doing this on purpose. I’m sure she has gone off somewhere to be spiteful…”
Calling from the kitchen, Pedro interrupted, “Now, Mama, don’t bad-mouth Chantelle.”
“Amia,” I addressed as instructed, meeting the older woman’s eyes, “there are no promises I’ll get a read from her items. However, if you’d allow me to take something with me…”
I imagined myself holding the object while Mrs. Parslow waited. The feel of her expectant eyes upon me caused me to shudder. The look on Mrs. Parlow’s, um Amia’s, face told me she’d expect a miracle, which I knew couldn’t be delivered. There were too many emotions in this house – it was more likely I’d be blocked from any possible connections with Chantelle.
“I’m not asking anything of you, dear,” Mrs. Parslow immediately denied. “It would just be very nice if you were able to tell us where Chantelle is. We had a bit of an argument. I’m sure she is sulking somewhere.”
“I have no way of knowing,” I repeated. This woman doesn’t listen!
Luckily, Pedro returned before she could say any more. “Mama, we don’t know that. Leave Cassie alone. You promised you would behave.”
“Well,” Mrs. Parslow said with a wounded expression, taking the bottle of wine from Pedro, “it seemed like a good opportunity.” When her son placed the glasses on the table, she looked pointedly at the third glass. “Oh, we won’t be needing that.”
/>
“Mama, there’s one for each of us,” Pedro said with a nervous chuckle.
She regarded her son sharply. “Aren’t you driving later?”
“Yes, but I’m just having the one,” he answered.
“No, put it back,” the domineering woman ordered. “We’ll have no drunken drivers here.”
“With all due respect, I think Pedro can decide that for himself. He is a grown man, Mrs. Parslow.”
The woman acted as though I hadn’t spoken. Eyeing her son, she simply cocked an eyebrow, extending the goblet towards him.
Amazingly, Pedro returned the glass to the kitchen, like a good mummy’s boy.
Dinner wasn’t much better as Mrs. Parslow continued to issue instructions and contradict whatever Pedro said throughout the meal. Pedro was clearly the favourite by the way she degraded Chantelle, though I wasn’t sure by how much. I think this was a woman who would’ve been better off childless. Lord knows, she didn’t want to let go of her youth.
My phone rang while we were eating.
Mrs. Parslow glanced at me with disapproval.
I saw Seb’s name flash on the screen but didn’t dare answer. I quickly shoved the mobile into my bag before taking another bite. I think I’m in hell.
After we finished eating, Pedro gave an appreciative burp.
“Manners,” the older woman scolded.
“Sorry, Mama.” This was a new side of Pedro, and one I wasn’t sure I liked.
“Pour Cassie some more wine,” Mrs. Parslow instructed.
Pedro rose dutifully to his feet, causing me to mentally roll my eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I don’t want any more.” I covered my glass with my hand. One sip of sherry and two mouthfuls of the wine were more than enough, especially in her company. Wine was supposed to be enjoyed and savoured. At that moment, everything seemed to sour.
“Coffee then?”
I didn’t want coffee, either; I wanted out of there. I’d had enough. I didn’t know who was worse, him or his bloody mother.
The Killer on the Heath (The Cassidy Newbold, Clairvoyant Collection Book 1) Page 6