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Lorenzo chuckles, as if the question amuses him. “You can deposit it without any issue.”
I nod, swallowing as I tuck the money into my purse. My heartbeat hasn’t slowed even a little. “I work tonight,” I say softly, and Lorenzo nods.
“I’ll bring you the product tonight, then.”
Something flickers in his gaze, and I know men too well not to recognize it. He’s imagining seeing me at the club, in lingerie, made up and styled to appeal to the lusts all around me. He’s imagining me dancing.
And he likes the thought of it.
That heat spreads through my stomach again, curling in my veins, down my thighs, through my ribs, the flush climbing my throat. I feel an unfamiliar throb of desire, very much like what I felt when Lorenzo pinned me against the wall in Alfio’s mansion, before I knew who he was.
This is dangerous. This man is dangerous.
But I have no choice.
“I’ll see you tonight.” I stand up quickly, resisting the temptation to glance over the desk and try to see if he’s still hard. He’d catch me, no doubt, and it would embarrass us both.
But my question is answered the moment I step outside of the office, closing the door behind me.
I pause for just a moment, trying to collect myself, and I hear a sharp intake of breath from inside. There’s the drag of metal—the clink of a belt buckle and the sound of a zipper—and then I hear a low, muffled groan as the sound of flesh meeting flesh vaguely reaches my ears.
The desire that jolts through me weakens my knees.
I would never have thought that hearing a man pleasuring himself would turn me on. There were times when Alfio made me watch him, though I never wanted to. It never did anything to arouse me. But this?—
This is because of me. There’s no reason to think otherwise. I remember the thick line of Lorenzo’s cock, standing out stiffly against the front of his trousers as he pushed his thumb between my lips, and I realize that he was holding onto his desire by the barest grasp, throughout that entire conversation.
I lean back against the wall, suddenly feeling as if it’s hard to breathe. I can still hear the muted sounds from inside, and I have a sudden wild urge to open the door and walk back into his office, catching him at it. To walk to the other side of his desk and wrap my hand around his thick cock, wrap my lips around it, and hear him groan like that for me.
It’s been such a long time since I’ve wanted anyone. Since sex has been even slightly about pleasure and not about the need to survive. There was one of the male ballerinas years ago, and a few hookups, here and there, at parties. But all of that faded, and for a long time, there was no one.
Then Alfio came into my life, and sex took on a different flavor. One I’m eager to forget.
Another low, muffled groan reaches my ears, as if Lorenzo is desperately trying to stay quiet and only barely managing it. The desire to see him come, to taste it, floods me, and I start to reach for the knob for a brief, reckless moment.
And then I stop myself.
He turned me down already. More than once. If he turns me down again, I could lose the other offer that he made me. And then?—
I don’t get to make choices for my own pleasure. All of my choices right now revolve around survival.
A gasp, from inside, the sound of a man gritting his teeth as he sucks in a breath. I close my eyes, my heart pounding. He’s coming right now, his hand around his cock, thinking of me. I feel an answering throb between my legs, an ache spreading through me, imagining Lorenzo stroking himself feverishly, cum spilling over his fingers as he pretends it’s my hand, my mouth instead.
There’s a creak from inside the office, and I stiffen. Shit. I need to get out of here. If he comes out and finds me loitering in the hallway—realizes that I heard him—I still might lose the job, and with none of the pleasure that would have come from interrupting him.
Quickly, I scurry towards the back stairs at the other end of the floor, hurrying out into the bright sunshine. My heart is racing like I’ve run a marathon, my face flushed and my palms damp, and I can feel an embarrassing wetness between my thighs.
That ache persists, throbbing steadily.
Blinking, I make my way towards the nearest bus stop. I feel like I’m in a daze, all the way home, hurrying upstairs into my apartment.
It’s quiet, and empty other than myself. I’m so rarely here alone. I walk through the apartment to my room, closing and locking the door behind me, and fall back onto the bed. Closing my eyes, I picture Lorenzo again.
I don’t know whether to be relieved, disappointed, or scared that things turned out the way they did. I didn’t want to sleep with another mafia boss, didn’t want to belong to another man, being at his beck and call. But I hadn’t expected to feel what I did, when he ordered me down onto my knees.
Slowly, I reach up, pressing my fingers against my lower lip, mimicking his touch. A shiver runs through me, that ache spreading. I graze my fingertips over my mouth, imagining that it’s him instead, that he did take me up on my offer. That instead of stroking himself to a quick and messy orgasm in his office, he took me somewhere else—to a hotel maybe, or to his own apartment—and showed me just how much he desired me.
My hand slides lower, down my throat, fingertip brushing the hollow there before tracing my collarbone. I know I’m being ridiculous—he wouldn’t have touched me like this, tenderly and slowly. He would probably have ordered me to my knees again, demanded I open my mouth for his cock, and fucked my face until he came down my throat.
