Chapter 6
Flora
“My godfather is dead,” Enzo says after ending the call.
His face is a still lake. There isn’t a hint of emotion on it. He stands and walks away from the computer to the longest sofa in the room and plops down with a sigh.
I walk over there to join him. “I’m so sorry, Enzo.”
He shrugs. “You didn’t kill him. The police did.”
“But why?”
“They’re aligning with some other family,” he replies.
“I’m not yet sure which.” Now his jaw tightens.
A storm is brewing beneath the lake. “They didn’t even let him have his day in court.
They knew he’d have gotten off. So they killed him, probably slaughtered him like an animal, like he was nothing. ”
I place a hand on his shoulder, not exactly sure what to say to him or what to do.
“They don’t want to stop at betrayal,” he says. “They want to annihilate us.”
The recording is probably useless to him now. Proving Franklin Benetti’s innocence isn’t going to bring him back to life.
I caress his shoulder gently, hoping to offer him whatever comfort I can with my presence or my warmth. It’s a wonder how calm he still is, the direct opposite of my state of emotional wreck after Richard Wells was gunned down.
“Everything will be alright,” I tell him.
He turns to me with a quizzical look. “How?”
For a moment, my head is blank because I have no idea why I said that. “I, err… I… don’t know,” I stutter. “I just know that things always even out eventually.”
“They don’t, Flora. You know enough not to really believe that. We iron things out; we don’t sit and hope they’ll even out.”
I give him a quick nod. “I’ll put out the story about Carter’s real murderers. I’ll dig deeper into this whole thing, find a connection. I’ll do whatever it takes to expose them for this.”
He stares at me for a long while without a word.
I can’t quite put a finger on what I see in his eyes, but I know I don’t want him to look away.
There’s something in those eyes that reaches out to me in a way that words cannot convey.
It’s like a quiet call for help from a man who is not allowed to be vulnerable or to ask for help.
For all I know, he probably has a target on his back right now, put there by some corrupt elements in the police department. He might be a highly capable man, but having to contend with cops is a challenge I’m sure he isn’t keen about.
Weirdly, it makes me want to protect him, even though I’m the weaker one, alive tonight solely by his efforts. I want to do everything possible to make things easier for him.
“I have a contact who can help me track the movement of the car that day,” I tell him and lean on his body in a half hug. “from Raymond Carter’s house. If it ends up at the warehouse, then we have more to go on.”
He nods slowly in acquiescence, but he doesn’t take his eyes off mine. “It’ll end up at the warehouse.”
Somehow the air feels thicker. Breathing takes more effort, so I only permit myself shallow inhalations. “You’re sure,” I say.
“I am.”
The wrong ideas float around my head. This is the worst possible time for them. I should fling them out immediately, but I can’t, not while he has me locked down with his eyes and his lips are so close.
I want to look away, to pull away, but I can’t. I sit there next to him with my hand on his shoulder and my breasts grazing his arm while holding his gaze and waiting.
At least, he heaves a sigh and turns away.
Disappointment floods my being.
He rises from the sofa. “I’m going to shower,” he says. “Nobody in the building ever comes down here. So if anybody knocks on that door, let me know. I don’t think Jacob and the others can find us here. But I don’t want to take any chances.”
“Sure.”
Regret mingles with that disappointment. I sit there on the sofa and watch him walk away, peeling off the shirt he’d just put on minutes ago.
After he walks into the bathroom and shuts the door, I realize my heart had been beating fast. It thuds hard now against my rib cage after completing its last sprint.
You did the right thing, I tell myself. Yet all I can think of is the wrong thing. I want to do it so badly that nothing else matters, not the glumness of this situation or the danger that hovers around me, around us.
I stand up and unbutton my pants. Slowly, I roll them down, past my thighs and then down my legs. Even as I step out of them, I still nurse the hope that I’d be able to stop myself in time. But I don’t. The shirt comes off next. I take much more time to undo the buttons.
The walk to the bathroom is the longest I’ve ever taken. I can’t say if it’s because I need it to be long, long enough for me to find the willpower to change my mind.
At the door I take a moment to think about what I’m about to do. My thoughts are incoherent but punctuated by wild erotic images. They burn out the hesitation and prod me to open the door.
I reach for the knob and twist and push. The door gives way.
Enzo is standing under the shower with his eyes closed, naked. Those eyes spring open the moment I push the door all the way. He steps away from the water and wipes his face in surprise.
My eyes stray momentarily away from his face, down his body, over his broad chest and the dark hair that reaches down to his toned midriff, and lower to the member that dangles between his legs. Even in its limp state it’s impressive.
I swallow hard and step into the bathroom. He stands there, watching me as I draw closer to him. When I get to him, I reach up to kiss him, balancing on the tips of my toes. Thankfully, he lowers his head to meet me.
To my surprise, when our lips merge, his kissing is urgent and insistent.
Unlike the first time, he isn’t asking for permission first. I’ve already granted it.
He’s simply taking everything my lips have to give, everything my mouth has to give.
He cups my chin and deepens the kiss, dragging me out of my frozen state.
I reach up to wrap my hands around my favorite place: his neck. Now my body is mashed against his as we kiss; it’s a precursor of what is to come.
He reaches down to cup my ass and pull me in even closer against himself. My skin is tingling; little fires are coming alive in different parts of my body.
The feeling of an enormous stiffness pressing against my lower belly startles me. I don't need to look down to know that it’s his arousal. I reach down for it instead and trace a finger along its length.
Dear lord! Where does it end?!
I'm certain my pulse rate has already doubled by the time I get to the gentle tapering that brings me to its tip.
How can a single person be this ginormous?
I wonder how we can fit all of him inside me. Still, this uncertainty doesn't douse the flames flickering in my hearth. Rather, they burn brighter. The thought of him plunging all of his shaft inside me is insanely exciting as much as it is frightening.
Its girth fills my hand as I begin to massage it gently.
Enzo moans into my mouth. It’s more like a warning growl from a predator roused from his sleep. But I'm prepared to take whatever comes.
I continue to massage him. The soap suds yet to be washed off his dick serve as lubrication. They enable me to pump up and down his engorgement slowly at first, and then faster and faster.
I slow only to tease the sensitive glans, and it makes him shudder. Seeing such a dangerous man at the mercy of my hand gives me a heady feeling. Sadly, he takes that power away from me too soon by pulling away.
He lifts me up, higher this time, above his waist. Now my tits are in his face. He tastes them, one after the other, licking one nipple with the tip of his tongue and gently tracing the other.
A thrill chases down my spine, and I fight off a moan that rises to my lips. However, my effort only lasts momentarily because he wrings it out when he begins to suck on my left nipple.
I throw back my head in silent exultation and embrace the moment.
Even as he leaves the left nipple to play with the right, flicking his tongue quickly over it, again and again and again, and sending a tidal wave of pleasure surging through my body, I know that the memory of everything happening right now will be burned into my head.
The feeling of his wet skin against mine, the unyielding steel that are his hands padded only by his flesh to provide a comfortable seat for my ass, the feeling of his ebony hair when I bury my face in it with my arms around his neck—they’re all deeply etching into my memory right now.
As he suckles shamelessly on my breasts, he moves slowly back into the shower. Jets of water cascade all over my face and my body, washing the night off me and preparing me for the intimate tango that is to follow.
A small gasp escapes my lips when I feel his right hand reaching between my thighs. He navigates that valley like he owns it, tracing a line along my slit. The sensations that erupt make me shiver, and I cling tighter to his neck, pushing my breasts into his face.
I’m almost certain I’ve sealed off his access to air, but it’s impossible for my brain to react to that. My head is spinning with pleasure, and a volcano that has laid dormant is coming back to life. Nothing else matters.
Enzo is as good with his fingers as he is with his lips. He homes in on my clit. I cry out when he begins to circle it, to tease me as I teased him, all the while assaulting my breasts with oral pleasure.
“Fuck me,” I plead with him. “Please.” The appeal tumbles off my lips of its own accord, long before I can take a pause to consider its appropriateness.
Enzo does not grant it. He continues to circle my magic bean, a pleasurable wickedness that frustrates me.
“Enzo, please.”
I think I hear him chuckle... I’m not sure. What I know is that he’s intent on prolonging my torture and leaving me a sopping wet mess.
Now he finds that spot on the hood of my clitoris and begins to rub it lightly but firmly.
“Fuck-fuck-fuck,” I blabber, rapidly losing control of my senses.
Within, molten magma is boiling over between my legs, building up quicker than it should, quicker than it ever has.
I'm drowning in a sea of pleasure, absolutely incapable of doing anything to stay afloat. My descent into its erotic depths is way too fast. One moment I'm flailing about its surface, the next I'm sinking deep into its depths, drunk on pleasure, utterly bereft of senses.
Now the volcano erupts.
It’s sudden, rocking me violently with a million sensations that blank out everything else.
My mind is no longer capable of thought.
My body is no longer mine to control. It is now Enzo's plaything, and he's overrun it with zillions of sensual needles, each pricking every inch of my body with mindless pleasure.
“Oh, Enzo,” I cry, shivering like a leaf in the wind.
His lips leave my breasts, and he lowers me a little, enough to bring our faces to the same level. There’s a mischievous smile on his face. “Yes, Flora?”
I don't have any words. I lay my head on his cheeks, still breathing shakily.
He moves his lips closer to my ears, bathing them with warm breath. “Now I'll fuck you.”