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She's lying on the bed wearing nothing but a pair of super high heels, and I can't help but look at her with envy. Glancing down at my body, I'm reminded that I'm a lot curvier than this girl. She seems like she's skin over bones, but I have hips and definitely have a pretty large ass. Pushing my self-doubt aside, I continue to watch.
Giovanni looks just like he always does – strong and beautifully lean, his tattoos glinting in the low light. I watch the scene unfold. He's eating her pussy and pinching her nipples while she takes her heels and digs them into his back, sliding them up his back and leaving red scratches. He's licking her so intensely; it's obvious that he's enjoying this.
And then he works his way down to the shoes. He's kissing and licking her ankle, and then he takes the shoes off and starts sucking on her toes. I remember what that felt like when he did it to me, and she definitely seems to enjoy it as much as I did because she's moaning a ton – I can tell, even without any audio.
Then he takes her feet and she wraps them on either side of his cock, rubbing him with her feet. He's clearly loving it, and I can see his mouth move in what appears to be heavy curses. Then he's flipping her over, as she slides the shoes back on, and he starts fucking her hard. I can tell that she's struggling to take all of him, and I feel a slight swell of pride that I can take him and handle his rage and intensity better than this skinny bitch.
And then he's flipping her back over and stroking himself. I think she might kneel in front of him to catch his cum, but she doesn't. Instead, she lays back on the bed, plays with herself, and puts her legs up slightly so that the shoes are right in front of him. And then he leans his head back and comes all over what looks to be her extremely expensive shoes.
The video stops, and I can't believe it. I click another one open, and it's a different girl, naked, this time in a pair of thigh-high boots. I watch the reel faster this time, and it follows the same pattern: Giovanni always worshipping her feet, her giving him a footjob, and then him coming on her feet or shoes.
I look around the room desperately. This is exactly what I need. I find a USB drive and quickly put all the videos onto it, then encrypt it. I shove it down my bra and feel a sense of exhilaration over what I just found.
This is going to give me what I need to blackmail him into letting me go. It's not even just porn that he can deny is his – he's in these videos. I shut down the computer, and I'm about to leave the office when I realize I'm not done yet.
I feel turned on and over-the-top aroused. I just hacked into Giovanni's computer and found his porn, watched him fuck probably prostitutes, and come on their feet. It intrigues me as much as all of this excites me.
I want to feel completely in control and leave my mark on this moment. I make my way over to the bookshelves and grab the red stilettos out of the back corner, sliding them on. They fit just right and feel amazing as I walk in them. Filled with a newfound sense of power, I walk back over to the desk.
I slide my hand over the smooth surface of Giovanni's desk, lingering on its cool touch. Closing my eyes, I let my imagination take over, picturing myself pressed down onto the glass, vulnerable and exposed.
The fantasy strengthens, consuming me as I pull my clothes off and over my head, letting them fall in a disheveled mess at my feet. Stepping out of the pile, I lay myself down on the desk, shivering as the cold glass connects with my warm skin. I imagine myself as one of those girls from the videos – naked except for the shoes he seems to adore.
My fingers dance across my body, circling my clit and teasing my nipples. Soft moans escape my lips as I envision Giovanni eating me out while I slide my heels against his strong back. I can almost feel the tantalizing pressure of his tongue on my clit, inside me, driving me closer and closer to that mind-shattering orgasm he's so skilled at providing.
"Shit," I whisper, lost in the fantasy. I picture myself playfully resisting him, wanting him to demonstrate his strength and dominance. He would pin me down effortlessly, his firm grip holding me in place before he'd start fucking me brutally hard. My cries would be met with a stern command:
"Shut the fuck up and take my dick like a good girl, or I'll punish you even more."
The thought of his dick filling me again sends shivers racing down my spine. In my mind, he pulls out, his mouth finding my toes and sucking on them until he's stroking himself above me. My own fingers work furiously, bringing me closer to climax as I imagine him coming all over the shoes while I drench his pristine desk with my juices.
Panting, I lay there, my sweat mixing with my cum on the desk. It feels empowering to be in control like this, to assert myself in such a daring way. Slowly, I get up from the desk and put my clothes back on, glancing at the evidence of my actions glistening on the desk. I take off the shoes and place them right in the center of the desk, a bold statement of what transpired.
I kiss the little thumb drive in my hand, filled with power and anticipation, and tiptoe my way back to bed. As I climb into the covers and let sleep claim me, I know Giovanni will come to find me tomorrow after leaving that calling card for him. And honestly, I'm excited about it.
ChapterTwenty-Nine
Shivering, I meet Primo at the docks. The early morning air wraps around me like an icy embrace, and I dread what's ahead. The Irish have become increasingly difficult to deal with due to their missing income, and they blame us for it. Primo and I arranged this meeting with their leader and second in command, hoping to find a resolution. When I took over the family business, I didn't think it would be this hard to turn things legitimate.
"Are you alright?" Primo asks, his eyes filled with concern.
"Yes," I reply, but he's right—I'm distracted. My mind keeps drifting to Lulu, the way she moaned beneath me, how she never told me she was a virgin. I should've known, but I got so wrapped up in her that nothing else mattered. Her words about her father, her hunger for male attention—it was all so obvious. Clenching my fists, anger simmers within me as I remember the whole situation.
Primo clears his throat, drawing my attention back to the present. A man approaches us, and I force myself to focus on him.
"Are you Seamus?" Primo asks the newcomer.
"No, I'm Declan O'Leary, second in command," he replies, a smug grin on his face. I can tell Primo is annoyed by this revelation. "I'm surprised you don't recognize me, Primo. We've met before. Our first in command sent me in his stead."
"Of course he did," Primo mutters under his breath. Aloud, he continues, "Well, we're here to talk and come to a resolution that works for both families. We're not here to prostrate ourselves."
Declan's expression sours. "Because of your sudden and unreasonable refusal to purchase guns, our family has suffered a significant loss of income. This has made other aspects of our operation very difficult, and we expect you to cover those losses."
"Look," Primo says, his voice firm and steady. "We're not going to cover those losses. We gave plenty of notice before ceasing the gun trade, and as you know, we're not exactly ruled by standard contract rules here."
My thoughts race with various scenarios while Primo stands his ground. I know that this meeting must end with an agreement, but my mind keeps betraying me, pulling me back to Lulu. Her touch, her scent, the vulnerability in her eyes—everything about her makes it near impossible to concentrate on anything else.
"Fine," Declan says, his voice dripping with irritation. "I agree that we need to make things right. So, what do you think making things right looks like? What number do you think is acceptable?"
