Claire: The Forced Virgin Of The Billionaire

He dealt with our translator who dealt with the Castillo’s translator and they showed me a live feed of her in a kid’s bedroom on the bed looking at the ceiling with a lost and distraught look on her face.

The feed was open so I kept checking it on my phone. I was assured she hadn’t been touched.

I speak a bit of Spanish, enough, but I just don’t have the f*****g patience right now, not when I want to rip anyone associated with Castillo apart. There were ten of us in the room and countless outside all with guns and I want b***d. I want it to f*****g rain b***d on this shithole. And as soon as I get her out of here, there will be a storm coming. Why the hell were we even involved in this business down here? Uncle and I needed to have a talk about this.

Claire’s POV

I bolted awake. I wasn’t alone. The bedroom lights were still on as they had been the whole time I’d been here. A man was standing over me. It was the Mexican man with the ponytail who’d been driving the car that took me.

I didn’t know how long I’d been here. There were no windows and the lights were always on. I think it’d been two or three days judging by how many times food had been brought in. Too much time alone with my thoughts, with my fears, with my regrets. All that’d happened was that a few times that Flora lady brought food and water. She didn’t talk to me, just came and left.

I don’t think I could ever survive a lengthy stay in solitary confinement. Being locked in this room with nothing to do was awful. But I’d tolerated it as best as I could because I didn’t know what would happen once I left this room.

“On your knees,” he growled at me.

I stared at him, frozen. He grabbed my hair and pulled me off the bed with it until I was on my knees on the floor.

“Clarke says no one f***s you or the deal’s off but he didn’t say you couldn’t suck me off.” He unzipped his jeans.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

Oh f**k no.

Before I knew it he was forcing his thing into my mouth, hanging onto a handful of material at the back of my dress. I started to choke and sputter and then he slapped me across the head and when he hit he hit so hard I saw a kaleidoscope of colors.

He pushed his d**k into my mouth again and I just gagged and then tears were streaming out of my eyes. It was disgusting, he stank like old cheese and sweat and tasted nasty and I couldn’t stop gagging.

He didn’t care; he just kept pumping in over and over around my gagging.

“Bite me, Puta, I’ll knock your teeth out!” he grunted this and then I heard a scuffle behind him and then hollering and then his grip loosened on me and I heard a bang, a gunshot.

He fell beside me. Earl had shot him in the back of the head. Earl had a look of ferocity on his face.

He helped me up and put me on the bed and then disappeared into the washroom. I stared at the man on the floor in the puddle of almost black b***d and his vacant eyes. His p***s was still hanging out of his pants. Earl came back with a wet cloth and started wiping my face.

“That should never have happened, honey, I’m sorry,” he said, then walked me to the bathroom and turned the tap on. I splashed water on my face and scooped a handful of water and spit it out and then repeated it two or three times. The taste in my mouth was vile, beyond vile.

I couldn’t stop shaking.

I looked at him with a hurt and betrayed look on my face. This guy had been assigned by Azriel to keep me safe. It was a joke, of course, because I hadn’t been safe since I’d been given to Azriel but this whole thing had just been so ugly and so so confusing.

From the other morning when Azriel had been tender with me to the incident with his sister and seeing her babies in the car, to running, calling my father, Azriel finding me and being so angry, and then all of this. I wanted…I didn’t know what I wanted.

I felt like I was on the verge of a complete breakdown.

“Let’s go,” Earl said.

I looked at him beseechingly.

“You’re going home.”

Relief flooded through me. Home?

“To Azriel,” he clarified. He must’ve seen the look of hope on my face. I knew my expression dropped. Was home with him? I hated what he’d put me through so far but I hated myself, too, because my actions, my running away had probably made it easy for Earl to kidnap me.

As we headed for the front door I saw Juan Carlos again. He was in a robe, smoking a cigar. He walked up to us and nodded at Earl, “You hand her off to Ricky and his crew and stay. We don’t want the Clarke boys to see you. Claire; your fiancé has been told if he ever gets tired of you to send you back to me.” He winked.

I would’ve gulped but my throat was so dry that I’m sure I just stared at him blankly.

Earl walked me outside and put me in the back of an old cargo van. I sat on the dirty carpeted floor and a tall Mexican guy tied my hands and feet and put duct tape over my mouth.

“I’m sorry. Good luck,” Earl said softly to me and then shut the van doors.

This bad guy had a guilty conscience. I was grateful that he’d at least stopped that filthy pig from finishing with me but he’d been the one who helped bring me here. I trembled hard.

Two guys sat in the back with me with gun holsters on them and there were two in the front. The only one I recognized was the slim black guy who’d done the first aid on Earl’s shoulder.

One of the guys answered a phone, spoke in Spanish, then looked back and said, “Change of plans. You been sold, b***h!” Then he said something else in Spanish and they all started laughing hysterically.

Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no!