6. Florence
6
FLORENCE
I follow Lorenzo into a sleek black sedan for the second time in as many days. This time, however, I have Sprinkles to rescue me if necessary. As if reading my mind, the cutest little flat-faced Persian cat that ever existed purrs from his comfy spot in the travel bag I have for him.
Lorenzo has my small duffel bag I hastily packed with several outfits and the essentials. Everything happened so fast, from peeking out of my window and seeing Lorenzo sleeping in his car to arguing with him about the documents… and then there was the almost kiss. Or maybe I’m just making that up.
Not that any of that matters right now. I’m still not completely convinced that Lorenzo isn’t just protecting me as an extension of protecting the files. Then again, he could have easily overpowered me and stolen the documents already or even snuck in last night and rummaged through my apartment until he found them.
Right now, however, I don’t really care. As long as Sprinkles and I are safe.
Lorenzo opens the passenger side door for me and I slip inside the vehicle. He tries buckling my seatbelt again, but Sprinkles hisses at him. The tall, ripped, gun-toting man recoils and holds his hands up in surrender. “Spiteful little thing,” he mutters.
I can't hide my grin. Knowing he's intimidated by my eight-pound fluffy white cat makes me feel even safer. My boys, fighting over who can protect me the best.
Not that Lorenzo is mine or anything. I just… I just want the fantasy to last a little longer. Yesterday, he was my fake boyfriend, swooping in to ward off the creep in the alley. Today, he’s whisking me away to a safe house. If it weren’t for the stupid case file, our meet-cute could be in a movie.
The sexy, mysterious, and possibly dangerous Lorenzo circles around the parking lot of my apartment building, then does a few trips around the block before heading toward the freeway. We ride in silence aside from the occasional mew from Sprinkles.
I’m still processing everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. I knew I had discovered something big when I found the discrepancies between the print and digital files, but this? Dirty cops, money laundering, Mary Hanson using her accounting firm to cover everything up? I wouldn’t believe it if I didn’t stumble upon it myself.
My head is spinning as I wonder how many cases I’ve handled with falsified numbers. Am I liable for the fallout of everything? Would I go to prison? Would the Las Vegas Police Department take me out to the middle of the Mojave desert and leave me for dead?
I look out the window, hoping to distract myself. Lorenzo takes the next exit off the freeway, then turns left, heading back toward my apartment. Did I miss something here? He takes another left, followed by a complete U-turn. The car weaves through traffic, Lorenzo seemingly taking random side streets and then popping back onto the main strip before circling around the block.
I’m about to ask what he’s doing, but I’m not sure I want to know the details. He must sense my question, because Lorenzo murmurs, “We were being tailed but I shook him off. I needed to make sure we didn’t have more company.”
My stomach turns to lead and I squeeze my hands into fists to keep them from shaking. I feel like I’m going to be sick. Sprinkles rubs up against me from the inside of his carrier that I have resting in my lap.
I close my eyes and try taking a deep breath, fighting off the panic attack threatening to consume me from the inside out.
A warm hand covers one of my balled-up fists, squeezing gently and keeping a firm hold on my shaking hand. I peek one eye open, looking down at Lorenzo’s hand and following the calming motion of his thumb brushing over my knuckles.
He doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t have to. Lorenzo’s actions speak for themselves. This man is comforting me, which has nothing to do with getting the files. It’s only for my benefit. As terrible as the timing is, I can’t help but fall for him just a little bit in this moment. Even Sprinkles allows the hand-holding without so much as a single hiss of protest.
Finally, after what feels like hours of driving, Lorenzo pulls the car into a small, nondescript Adobe-style house in the middle of nowhere with miles and miles of desert and tumbleweeds. He said the safe house was on the outskirts of town, but this feels like a completely different planet than the streets of Vegas.
Once inside, I see the house isn’t all that much bigger than my studio apartment. It has a larger kitchen area, but no separate rooms other than the bathroom. Unlike my apartment, this place has a bed. Singular. As in… Lorenzo and I would have to share it.
Heat flashes through my body, making me blush. I shake off whatever inappropriate scenario I was about to play in my mind and focus back on Sprinkles.
“I’ll get the litter box and food and water bowls set up in the bathroom,” I tell Lorenzo. He’s staring at the singular bed in the corner of the room, apparently coming to the same conclusion I just did.
“Yes,” he suddenly says, blinking a few times as if clearing his mind. “Good. I’ll see what they stocked us up with for food. You should eat. It’s been a long day already.”
I nod and we part ways, each off to do our tasks. As soon as I let Sprinkles out of his carrier, the fluff ball begins sniffing everything and prancing around like he already owns the place. The adorable little king finds a laundry basket sitting right outside the bathroom with freshly folded towels inside.
I smile and shake my head when the cat jumps inside, circling a few times before curling up in a little ball and tucking his nose under his paw. At least one of us appears to have no worries in the world.
By the time I get back to the kitchen, Lorenzo has a peanut butter and jelly sandwich cut into quarters on a plate for me, along with barbeque chips and a stack of Oreo cookies. When I look over at him, he has remnants of his own sandwich and cookies sprinkled on his black suit.
“Thanks for lunch,” I say, not sure how to break the awkwardness of the situation. Lorenzo looks up from the message he was sending on his phone, nodding once in acknowledgment. “More like dinner, I guess,” I say more to myself when I see the clock on the microwave. Nearly six in the evening. I guess we really did drive around for hours.
I eat half of my sandwich and two Oreos before I can’t stand the silence any longer. I have more questions, dammit, and I deserve answers. If Lorenzo thought it was important enough to hide me away in this remote location, I deserve to know his role in this whole mess. I’m especially curious as to why he was so against releasing the damning information to the media.
“Who do you work for?” I ask, not for the first time. Back at my apartment, he never got a chance to answer.
Startled by my abrupt question, Lorenzo straightens up in his chair and then runs a hand through his thick brown locks. I've noticed he does that when he's trying to think of an excuse. I'm not in the mood for excuses; I need answers.
“The truth,” I clarify before he can come up with a vague, unsatisfying response.
“It’s complicated,” he starts, getting up from his seat and pacing around the small living area.
“Uncomplicate it,” I reply, standing up as well. Lorenzo may be nearly a foot taller than me, but I won’t let him think he has the upper hand here. I cross my arms over my chest and hold my head up high, not backing down.
I can practically see the thoughts racing in his mind as he tries to settle on something to appease us both. Lorenzo turns the full power of his deep, dark gaze on me. He takes a deep breath, the sharp look in his eyes giving way to something more vulnerable. He’s asked me to trust him a dozen times by now, but he’s trying to figure out if he can trust me .
“I work for the mafia,” he says, not breaking eye contact.
The mafia? What the actual fuck…?
“What?” I blurt out, feeling like I’ve been sucker punched.
“The Capparellis, to be more specific. I’m their top enforcer.”
I open and close my mouth a few times and then tilt my head to the side. I have no reason to doubt his answer, I just... I don't know how I feel about it all.
“Say something,” Lorenzo finally blurts out. “Are you afraid of me?”
Everything in me softens toward this man. He fought with himself over what to tell me about his profession, and now that he’s admitted the truth, all he really wants to know is if he makes me uncomfortable.
I shake my head no and uncross my arms, moving closer to where Lorenzo has been wearing a path in the hardwood floor. He stills his pacing, watching me approach him. I’m not entirely sure what I’m going to do until my hand reaches out for his. Our fingers weave together and he pulls me against his body, letting me feel his solid chest and abs against my soft curves.
The hundreds of questions I need answers to suddenly fade away, leaving just me and Lorenzo alone in a remote location. Our hearts race together as our breathing grows shallower with each inhale.
The fire from this morning’s almost-kiss rushes to the surface, our eyes locked on each other while our breaths mingle. “I’m not scared,” I whisper, letting him know I’m not afraid of him or what’s happening between us.
“Good girl,” he hums, his voice deep and making my stomach flutter with his dark tone.
I tip my head up and lift myself up on my tiptoes, swaying forward and hoping like hell I’m not about to make a fool of myself. Our lips touch, softly at first, like we don’t know if we should.
Half a second later, caution is thrown to the wind and Lorenzo slides his tongue between my parted lips, licking into my mouth and kissing me like he owns me. I feel his kiss everywhere, filling me up with liquid pleasure, so much so, I feel some of it trickling down my thighs. I’m so, so incredibly wet. More than I thought possible. And the man has barely touched me.
One of his hands trails down my back, settling right above my ass and pulling me closer to him. Lorenzo’s other hand tangles in my hair, tilting my head up to deepen the kiss. I moan when his tongue tickles the roof of my mouth, trembling in his capable hands.
The kiss goes on forever and still isn't enough when we finally break apart for air. I'm struggling to breathe as Lorenzo nibbles and kisses down my neck. I tilt my head to the side, making him growl as he continues to lick and suck on my delicate skin.
His mouth finds mine once more, his hands roaming over my body, causing me to squeeze my thighs together to find some relief from the almost unbearable pressure. Lorenzo groans, pulling my bottom lip through his teeth before resting his forehead on mine.
“Fuck,” he breathes out, his hands still caressing my skin, my hips, my back, like he physically can’t stop touching me. I don’t mind. “I shouldn’t… I… Need more of you.”
I want that, too. More of him. More of everything.
Lorenzo walks me backward a few steps, pressing me against the wall and caging me in with his arms on either side of my head. I look up into his golden-brown eyes, seeing a desire so bright and hot it should scare me away. Instead, it heats me up from the inside out, making me bold in my desperation for more.
I loop my arms around his neck, my fingers digging into his slightly mussed hair. Pulling him down, I initiate the kiss this time, breathing him in and melting against him. Lorenzo growls into my mouth, dropping his hands from the wall to cup my ass. He helps me grind against his hard cock, creating just enough friction to drive me insane. It’s not enough. I need more.
Whimpering into his mouth, I cling to him, molding myself against his body, trying to climb this beast of a man. He growls again and lifts me up with two hands on my thighs, using his body to press me against the wall as he rubs his thickness against my core. I let out a moan, tipping my head back as I shamelessly squeeze my thighs around his hips and grind my pulsing, dripping pussy against him.
“Jesus,” he grunts into the side of my neck before kissing me there. “I can feel your heat.”
All I can do is whimper as he takes my mouth once more in a searing kiss. The next thing I know, I’m being carried and then placed on a hard surface. Breaking the kiss, I look around and realize I’m sitting on a desk. Lorenzo steps between my legs and nuzzles into my neck, his hands gripping my hips in a bruising hold. I love it. I want his mark. I don’t even care how messed up that sounds.
Lorenzo breathes against my mouth, his thumb pulling my chin down. He fills my mouth with his breath once, twice, then a slow, rolling lick of his tongue. A shudder wracks his body and he grabs my knees, spreading them wide and jerking me to the edge of the desk.
“Your lips are so fucking sweet,” he murmurs before diving back in. His hands trail up my thighs, pushing my dress up higher and higher. I whimper into his mouth, then gasp when his thumbs brush against my lacy panties.
“M-more,” I stutter out, unable to hide the desperate tone in my shaky voice.
“So wet for me,” Lorenzo grunts. His lips brush against the shell of my ear, making me shiver. Even just that light, teasing touch makes me ache for so much more. “Can I touch you, beautiful? Can I make you come?”
I nod my head and wiggle my hips, trying to get him right where I’m hurting the most. “Please,” I whisper, fisting his shirt.
Lorenzo doesn't waste a single second. He presses his thumb against my panty-covered pussy, rubbing my clit in light, teasing circles. The lacy fabric scrapes against my sensitive bundle of nerves, making me jerk forward and press my face against the side of his neck. Lorenzo grunts in approval, then slips his hand under the waistband and touches me for real.
I bury my face deeper into his neck, muffling the loud moan that escapes my lips. His fingers slide through my soaking wet folds, stroking me up and down but never quite touching me where I need him the most. I tilt my hips, seeking relief, but Lorenzo just chuckles darkly.
“You need something from me?”
“Mmhm,” is about all I can say at the moment.
“Need me to fingerfuck this tight, wet little pussy?”
“Y-yesss,” I moan.
“Need me to make you come?”
I nod my head, then gasp and fall forward into his chest as he rubs the rough pad of his finger over my clit. Lorenzo grunts in approval before crashing his lips down on mine. I immediately open up for him, letting him take control. I’m at his mercy, completely surrendered to the pleasure only he can bring.
When his thick finger circles my pulsing entrance, I cry out, the jagged, broken sound echoing around the tiny room. I feel myself tense and release, more of my arousal dripping out of me and coating his hand.
“God, Florence. So fucking responsive,” he whispers, more to himself than to me.
I have no idea what I’m doing, but my body does, some primal instinct taking over as lust trickles through every vein, every cell, hitting me deep in my core. Releasing my hold on him, I lean back, setting my hands down on the desk behind me. I open my legs wider and tip my head back, letting him do whatever he wants to me.
He growls, the savage sound rattling my bones and making me impossibly wetter for him. Lorenzo leans over me, biting down on my exposed neck as his finger thrusts into me, stretching me wide open.
“How are you so damn tight?” he groans.
I don’t have a voice, let alone an answer for him. Lorenzo slowly slides in and out of me while grinding the heel of his hand against my clit. I arch my back, shoving my cunt down on his finger, silently begging for more. Lorenzo gladly obliges. He shoves two fingers inside me, curling them up and stroking some incredibly sensitive spot over and over.
“Oh, god,” I whimper. “Fuck, Lorenzo, fuck…” I hardly ever swear, but how can I control my responses to this man?
“That’s it, Florence. I feel you. I feel this tight little cunt squeezing me so damn good. I know you want to come for me.”
All I can do is whimper and nod. One minute I was yelling my frustrations at this man and the next, he’s turning my heated passion into the most unexpected and drugging pleasure.
My soft, urgent cries grow louder and louder as the pressure deep in my core expands and pushes all the air out of my lungs. Lorenzo leans over me and winds his fingers in my hair while still owning my pleasure and my pussy with his other hand.
He tugs gently but firmly on my long locks, forcing my gaze to meet his. Hungry, almost feral brown eyes stare back at me. Our heavy breaths mingle, his lips barely touching mine.
“Come for me, beautiful. Come on my fingers. Fill my hand up with your release. I want it all. It’s mine.”
His dirty words make me shiver and spread my legs wider, wanting that. Wanting to obey him. Wanting to give him everything he demands of me.
“I-I-I’m…”
“Yes, fuck yes,” he groans right before swallowing down my cries of pleasure.
There’s a deep tugging in my lower belly, followed by an incredible, painful, blissful rush of liquid heat. All at once, my orgasm erupts from my core, wave after wave of molten lava flooding my body, singeing my nerves as I spasm and jerk and gasp for air.
Lorenzo groans, his fist tightening in my hair while his other hand never lets up its assault on my pussy. He doesn't slow down, doesn’t let me catch my breath before a second orgasm splinters into the first one. My arms and legs shake and then go numb. All I can feel are his fingers scissoring inside of me, stretching, stroking, owning me completely.
I’m drained of every damn thing when he pulls his hand out of my pussy, nearly collapsing on top of the desk. Lorenzo grins, a dark, satisfied gleam in his eyes. I’m shocked when he lifts his fingers to his lips and sucks off my juices. A whimper falls from my lips when he closes his eyes and growls.
Lorenzo pulls me up and kisses me, letting me taste myself on his tongue. I’m still out of breath and trembling when we break apart.