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Even with my hand pressed to my lips, I feel certain that someone must be able to hear the keening sound that comes out of my mouth. The second orgasm hits with as much force as the first, and my hips jerk, bucking upwards into Lorenzo’s mouth and hand so hard that I’m dimly worried I might have hurt him. He groans, his three fingers still thrusting, curled inside of me, as he sucks my clit into his mouth and sends a torrent of pleasure crashing through me. It makes me feel dizzy, my vision blurring at the edges as I cling to the desk and try to stay silent, my hand against my mouth and teeth in my lower lip.
He was right, I think dimly, still shuddering against the heat of his tongue and the fullness of his fingers inside of me. I wish we could have done this somewhere that I could scream.
Slowly, Lorenzo drags his tongue once more gently over my clit. And then his fingers slip out of me as he stands, his hand wrapping around his stiff cock as he steps between my thighs. His face is taut with need, his green eyes blazing as he fixes his gaze on mine, and I look down at him dizzily as I see his damp fingers smearing my arousal down the length of his straining cock. His hand tightens around his shaft, stroking hard and fast, and I gasp when I feel his hot cum soaking the front of my leotard.
His jaw is tight, his cock throbbing visibly as his cum spurts over my belly, marking me again the way he did in the club that night. As if I’m his. As if I always have been.
“Mila.” He gasps my name, his hand stroking down over his cockhead as he squeezes himself once more, the last drops of his cum soaking into the fabric as he leans forward and claims my mouth one more time in a hard, burning kiss.
I reach up, curling my hand into the front of his shirt, holding him there. I don’t want it to stop, any of it. I don’t want anything to go back to the way it was before.
We stand there like that for a long minute, until Lorenzo’s breathing slows. He steps back as my hand drops away from his shirt, and I see something go blank in his face as he reaches down and tucks himself back into his suit trousers.
“I made a mess of you,” he says slowly, looking down at my ruined leotard and tights. “I’m sorry.”
I shake my head quickly. “If you go out to my locker—” The words come out thickly. “I have clothes in there. I can change.”
He nods, the movement still slow and deliberate, as if his thoughts are very far away.
“It’s 212,” I add, swallowing hard. “The—the pills are in there, too. In my purse.”
“I’ll be back in a minute, then.” Lorenzo turns away, striding towards the locked door, and I close my legs quickly before he opens it, hiding the ripped tights.
A shiver runs through me as he closes the door, the reality of what we just did rushing in. I went down on him in exchange for the money he tried to give me—and then he put me on this desk and made me come anyway. Twice. And then?—
My face flushes, remembering how I begged him to fuck me. A hot embarrassment creeps through me, and I press my thighs tightly together. I won’t do that again.
I’m not sure I’d be able to stop myself, though. Just the thought of his thick cock makes me ache all over again, wanting him. I can’t seem to stop wanting him, even when he’s just made me come harder than I ever have in my life.
A few minutes later, Lorenzo slips back into the room, locking the door behind him once more. He has my clothes and my purse in his hands.
“I’m not in the habit of going through women’s purses,” he says, his mouth crooking up in a rare half-smile that makes my traitorous heart flutter. “Here.” He walks to the desk, setting both down next to me, and when his gaze slides over my cum-soaked leotard and the ripped tights between my legs, the heat that fills his eyes makes me feel weak all over again.
I want him. I want him so badly it hurts, and if the next thing that comes out of his mouth is this was a mistake, I’m terrified that I might burst into tears.
I know I didn’t mistake the gentleness in his first kiss, or the softness in the way he looked at me. I know I didn’t imagine the way I felt for a moment, as if I could sink into him and be safe.
There’s nothing safe about this man, and I’ve never felt so confused.
“Can you turn around?” I whisper finally, when he remains silent. He raises an eyebrow, as if he’s questioning the need for that when he can probably still taste me on his tongue, but he does as I’ve asked.
I feel too vulnerable right now to let him see me naked. He’s never seen me entirely naked—close to it, if he’s ever seen me on stage at the club…but somehow that feels different. Alone like this, in the silent room, the thought of taking all my clothes off in front of him feels like something too intimate for this moment. Something that could strip me far too bare, if I let it.
I glance over my shoulder, making sure he really has turned around, and feeling foolish while I do it. He is still facing away from me, shoulders tense, as gentlemanly as I could possibly have asked for. Too gentlemanly, really, for a man who is second-in-command in the LA mafia.
A laugh bubbles up behind my lips, and I bite it back. I’m afraid if I laugh, I might cry—or both—and I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop. Too much has happened today, and I feel like I’m unraveling too quickly to grasp at the edges of the threads that are coming undone.
I strip off the leotard and ruined tights, balling them up in my hands. I start to throw them away in the unused wastebasket by the desk, but the thought of some custodian finding them makes my face burn hot all over again. Instead, I shove them into my purse, grabbing my clothes, and hastily pulling them on.
“You can turn around now,” I whisper.
Lorenzo turns, and I’m unprepared for the way his face fills with desire all over again. The only clothes I had with me were what I wore here—the flowered sundress that I wore to his office this morning, and the way his gaze sweeps over me tells me that he’s imagining lifting that skirt and doing unspeakable things to me all over again. On the desk, or maybe bent over it.
“Here.” I reach for my purse, pulling the bag of pills out. My heart is beating too hard, and I can feel my hands shaking.
Lorenzo steps closer, an inch away from me, as he takes the bag out of my hand. “We’ll reassess this when the heat dies down,” he says calmly, putting the bag into his pocket. And then, before I can say anything, he takes out the money that he tried to give me before and slips it into my purse.
“This is not for what you did earlier.” His voice is sharp as he reaches out, his fingers against my cheek to force me to look at him. “Do you understand, Mila? We enjoyed each other, but I am not paying you for it. This is to ensure that you are taken care of while we deal with this new problem. It has nothing to do with what happened in this room.”
