3. Elio De Luca
Chapter 3
Elio De Luca
I inhale the city—exhaust and a faint floral hint. I glance back at the glass hospital facade against the grey sky as we walk to the car. The sun is setting, but Nica and I still have some work to do at the De Luca downtown offices.
At least my mother and the baby are safe, for now.
Nica links her arm through mine. “That was kind of amazing, Elio, watching new life being brought into this world,” she says. “She’s cute, your baby sister— Celeste.”
“It was. I mean, she is—she’s perfect,” I agree, forcing a smile.
I want to share her joy, I really do, but I’m just not there. My sister’s life… it’s hope, yes, but it’s also a target. Vulnerability.
We walk in silence to the waiting car, a black sedan. Marcus is already behind the wheel, giving me a nod as we slide into the back seat.
Nica settles in beside me as Marcus pulls into the street, the city slipping past in a blur. I steal a glance at her—hair tousled by the wind sneaking through the half-open window, her expression calm. My pulse quickens, like it always does around her.
The city hums outside—honking, chatter, the usual chaos. I shift my focus to the rearview mirror. There’s a black Mercedes behind us, holding its distance but not backing off.
It’s too close for my liking.
My eyes dart to the rearview mirror again, my body tensing as the car sticks to our tail. The tinted windows hide whoever’s inside.
Is someone following us?
I lean forward slightly and whisper. “Marcus, the Mercedes behind us—been there too long.”
I keep it to myself, making sure Nica doesn’t catch on. She doesn’t need more to worry about right now. She’s finally relaxed. The visit to the hospital—I’ve never seen her smile like that in a long time.
Marcus grunts in a brief acknowledgment and smoothly changes lanes. The Mercedes mirrors our move seamlessly, with no hesitation. Definitely not a coincidence. My pulse rises, every instinct screaming that this isn’t random.
Beside me, Nica hums softly. She gazes out the window, her profile catching the light. I wish I could shield her from all of this, but the reality is crashing down too fast.
Marcus makes another turn, sharper this time, trying to shake them. The Mercedes follows, still matching us move for move. My mind races through possibilities.
Who could it be? An old enemy resurfacing, or a new one? Vinny?
I tap out a quick message to Gio at the hospital: “We’ve got a tail. It’s a black Mercedes. Check the license plate number AT-67002.”
The city blurs past, and my grip tightens on the edge of the seat, trying to appear composed.
Finally, Marcus makes a hard right, taking us down a quieter street. The Mercedes doesn’t follow.
I exhale slowly, the tension releasing slightly but not entirely gone. I know they’ll be back. Whoever they are, this isn’t over.
Nica turns to me, her eyes sharp, like a hawk that has spotted its prey. “What’s going on?” she asks.
I know that quiet intensity all too well.
“What just happened back there?”
I shake my head, a small, almost involuntary movement. I run a hand through my hair. “Nothing you need to worry about,” I say.
She leans forward, her eyes narrowing. “Didn’t we go over this a million times, Elio?” she says, her tone clipped. “Don’t wrap me in plastic, I can handle things. Now, who followed us?” she demands.
I glance at Marcus in the rearview mirror, but he’s silent, his expression neutral.
“I don’t know—”
“I lost them, Miss Galli. Don’t worry,” Marcus says from the front, but his words do nothing to soothe the burning tension in the car.
It was too easy to lose them, I think to myself. Either they weren’t trying very hard, or it was a warning. Either option is shit.
Nica’s gaze bores into mine like she is trying to figure me out.
“You just looked so…happy,” I say, my eyes fixed on the car floor, avoiding her eyes.
She scoffs. “Happy doesn’t mean I can’t be included,” she says. “You’re being overprotective.”
“Well, I’m sorry for loving you that much,” I say, my defenses rising. I reach up and grab the back of my neck, my muscles tight and tense.
She looks flustered. “Yeah, well,” she says, her voice softening. I love you too, but that’s not how we handle things. Together, remember?” She says, “No secrets.”
“Right,” I say, my gaze finally meeting hers. I see that fire again.
She doesn’t look wholly convinced, her brow furrowing slightly, but she lets it go. Her hand slips into mine, and I squeeze it gently. This is what we have. A connection that is stronger than anything. I can’t give into my own fear and destroy this.
We pull back into the traffic flow, and Nica breaks the silence. “Jackson came by the office this morning while you were at the hospital,” she begins. “He brought a new—clue.”
Another one of Jackson’s goose chases?
“What clue?” I ask, though I already have a feeling.
I know about Jackson’s new obsession, his endless search for answers. Another one of his revelations about who supposedly murdered Carol or where in the world Vinny could be. These clues are a lifeline for him, something that keeps him going, but they are mostly a distraction, a rabbit hole.
She brushes a stray strand of hair from her face. “He uhm—” she pauses. “He brought me a note—from some safe house. I don’t know where he got it from, to be honest. But it had the initials B.C. written below. Do you know anything about what it is?”
B.C.? The letters are unfamiliar they don’t ring any immediate bells.
“No,” I reply. “I’ll need to look into it. But it’s probably just another one of Jackson’s stories. I love the guy, but we can’t keep chasing every random lead he finds.” I try to sound light, brushing it off.
“I know,” she says softly, hesitating. “It’s just that—”
“Just what?” I lean in, my attention fully on her.
She lowers her voice, glancing at me with unease. “I found some expenses on a De Luca account within the last year, which were made out to B.C. Elio, it’s not small numbers—it’s a lot.”
I tilt my head, my brow furrowing. “Okay—so is that all, or is there more?”
The more I know, the better prepared I am. That’s just the way I am. That’s how I operate.
She shakes her head. “No, that was it. But Jackson looked... tense.”
She looks back at me, a silent question in her eyes.
“Doesn’t he always?”
I exhale slowly, the weight of her words sinking in. I’ll have to look into it, though I’m sure it’s nothing, like always.
My thoughts drift to Jackson, my friend, my mentor, now trapped in a spiral of grief and paranoia. We need to help him and pull him back before he loses himself completely. Get him back on track—back with his kids, back on the force, and out of this endless loop of chasing shadows.
I scan the rearview mirror again, this time more deliberately. All clear. I exhale, letting out the breath I didn’t know I was holding.
We finally reach the De Luca Jewelry offices, the car gliding into the underground garage beneath the building. The garage is cool, damp, and cavernous.
Marcus parks in our designated spot, and I take a quick glance around. The Mercedes from earlier is gone and there are no other cars around.
As we step out of the sedan, I instinctively wrap my arm around Nica’s waist, pulling her in close. My hand finds her cheek, my thumb brushing lightly against her skin before I lean in to press a kiss on top of her hair. She tilts her head up, eyes sparkling with that damn beautiful smile, her lips curving just so.
“What was that for?” she asks, smirking.
“For you being you,” I reply, and I mean it. Every word. My cold, dark heart means every damn bit of it.
The parking garage’s automatic doors slide open, revealing a lobby of polished granite and glass. We step into the brightly lit space, the floor a sleek pattern of black and gold. The lobby is quiet, almost serene.
I nod at the receptionist, a young woman with perfectly styled red hair and a calm, unreadable expression. She nods back. “Mr. De Luca, Miss Galli. Driver.”
Marcus scoffs, heading toward the coffee stand. “Name’s Marcus,” he mutters, pouring himself a cup. “You need anything else, Mr. De Luca?”
“No, you can head home. I’ll drive us back to the mansion later,” I reply, nodding my thanks. Marcus gives a small shrug, sipping his coffee, then makes his way out.
We walk to the elevators, the chrome doors shining under the lights. With a soft chime, the elevator arrives. Inside, the walls are dark wood, and the floor is covered in soft carpet. We step in, and the doors close. The elevator moves up smoothly, and the doors slide open onto our floor.
We walk down the quiet hallway, the sound of computers growing louder as we near the offices. I glance at Nica, her steps are steady. I wonder what’s going on in that beautiful mind?
“Your office?” I ask, breaking the silence.
“Figured you’d want the better view,” she says.
“Always,” I reply with a small grin. At least she’s not mad.
We enter her office, the space bathed in a soft glow from the city lights outside. She moves to her desk, fingers already flying over the keyboard. I drop into the chair opposite, the feeling of being watched still lingering.
A soft rumble breaks the quiet. Nica’s stomach? She shoots me a quick, embarrassed glance before focusing back on the screen.
“Hungry?” I chuckle.
She shrugs. “Maybe a little.”
I lean back, watching her for a moment. “Let’s order something disgustingly greasy,” I say.
Her lips twitch into a smile, the corners of her mouth curving upward.
“Alright. But you’re picking the artery clogger. I’m too tired to think.”
“Deal,” I say, my smirk widening. “You deserve the best in culinary regret.”
“You know how to spoil a girl.”
“Only the best for you,” My smirk grows into a full-fledged grin, my eyes locking onto hers.
Fuck, she’s fantastic.
Pulling out my phone to order, I steal another glance at her. Nica, my storm wrapped in silk, and I can’t help but feel a sense of pride that she’s chosen me.
Before I can even settle in and order, the door opens, and Fiona walks in, carrying a tray piled high with takeout containers.
“Dinner is served, Miss Galli, Mr. De Luca,” Fiona announces, setting the tray down on the coffee table with a flourish. The smell of garlic and spices fills the room.
“You’re here late, Fiona,” Nica says, pushing her chair back and getting up from her desk. She walks over to the coffee table and begins unpacking the containers. “Did you hear our stomachs growling from down the hall?”
Fiona’s eyes dart to the clock, then back to Nica with that calm, robotic demeanor of hers.
“It’s 8:17 PM. Statistically, most individuals experience hunger around this time if their last meal was six to seven hours prior. Given Miss Galli’s departure from the office at 1:03 PM without lunch and the lack of any further food deliveries, it was a logical assumption.”
I raise an eyebrow, fighting a grin. “You deduced our hunger based on statistics?”
She nods and pats down her blonde strands. “Correct.”
Nica tries to hold back a smile but fails miserably. “Well, we appreciate your... precision, Fiona.”
“If there’s nothing else, I’ll be heading home,” she says.
I can’t resist. “Do you want to join us for dinner, Fiona?”
She gives me a look so sharp it could slice through steel. “I trust you’ll manage without me, Mr. De Luca. Goodnight.”
As soon as the door clicks shut behind her, I catch Nica’s eye, and we both lose it. Laughter bursts out, filling the room. I don’t remember the last time I laughed like this. It’s a release, shaking off the tension.
“She’s like a walking, talking AI,” I say, trying to catch my breath. “I half expected her to print out a graph showing our hunger levels.”
Nica wipes a tear from her eye, still giggling. “I swear, she could scare off a whole mob with that look alone.”
“She did,” I say with a wink. “I’m terrified.”
I move to join Nica at the coffee table, my stomach suddenly reminding me that I’ve barely eaten all day. We settle onto the couch, the takeout containers spread before us—a feast of familiar flavors.
“This smells amazing,” I say, picking up a container of pasta.
“It always does,” she says, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. “She knows us too well. Maybe we should keep her around.”
“Were you thinking otherwise?”
“It’s just that—” She looks down.
“What?”
“It’s stupid, but I feel… inadequate around her. Like she looks down on me.”
The corners of my mouth lift. “You? Insecure?”
I can’t believe it.
“Don’t be so surprised, Elio. We didn’t all grow up in fancy mansions with tons of self-esteem.”
“You’re being silly. Besides, you grew up with me, remember?”
She’s quiet, rubbing her Chi-Rho tatoo. I know what that means. She misses him . Her father.
“Maybe I did—but right now, I don’t feel the slightest hint of confidence. Besides, that was your family. I just came over to play with your fancy toys.”
“Stop it. You were as much a part of the family as Mattheo was—” My eyes flicker to the window.
I miss him. He was like a father to me, too.
“Mmhmm,” she grunts. I know she wants to change the subject, so I let it be.
The food is warming my stomach, and Nica’s eyes are warming my fucking soul. I can’t help but fixate on her mouth as she licks a bit of sauce from her lips.
She’s so fucking beautiful, it’s almost maddening.
“You’ve got a little—” I lean in, swiping the corner of her mouth with my thumb. She flushes, her cheeks turning that soft pink I can’t get enough of.
My hand slides down her cheek, my fingers grazing her neck. She tilts her head slightly, her breath hitching, and I can feel her pulse quicken under my touch.
I brush my lips against hers, a soft, teasing kiss, testing the waters. Her body responds instantly, leaning into me. My hand tightens around her waist, drawing her in closer. I press my lips to her neck, trailing small kisses along her skin.
I love the way she melts into me. The way she reacts to me.
“Elio, the food,” she chuckles, her voice breathy.
“Screw the food,” I murmur, capturing her lips again, deeper this time, letting my hunger for her take over.
Just as I’m about to pull her even closer, a sharp knock at the door makes us both freeze. We pull apart reluctantly, her lips swollen and her eyes wide.
“Perfect timing,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair as Nica bites back a laugh, straightening herself. “Who the hell is it?”
“Oh shit, I forgot—I called Tuvio,” Nica says, raising a hand to her mouth in surprise.
I groan, rubbing a hand over my face. “Tuvio? Seriously?”
“Sorry!” she says quickly, a guilty smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I needed his help with a few things, but I didn’t expect him to show up this late.”
I straighten up. “Great,” I groan. “This was exactly what we needed—my freakin’ uncle.”
My mind flashes back to the past like a sting in my gut.
His boy violated Nica.
She sighs. “Elio, he’s family. Don’t be like that. He’s been helping us for the last eight months. He loves Maria… and you.” She looks at me. “It’s time you get over what his son did.”
She stops.
My mind flashes back to the basement, to the sweat and fear, Dante’s dirty hands on Nica, and his eyes. My fist clenches the memory, a sharp, visceral pain. I hate the fear. Even if Dante is dead, Tuvio is the spitting image of his no-good filthy son.
Another knock comes, louder this time. “Elio, we need to get it over with,” she says, already walking toward the door. I stay silent and watch her go.
The office doors slide open, and Tuvio fills the doorway with his broad frame. He’s dressed sharply in a perfectly tailored suit, crisp and dark, the gold tie clip catching the light. His face is warm, and his presence fills the room like a heavy coat you never want to take off.
Before I can react, Tuvio pulls Nica into a tight bear hug—the kind only he can give.
“My kids. Famiglia.” His voice is thick with emotion. “You’re both okay?”
I hesitate for a second. There’s something about him today I can’t quite shake. Maybe it’s the past. Maybe it’s something else.
“We’re good, Tuvio,” I say.
He pulls back, his smile softening. “Did you see my sister?” His voice wavers slightly. “I, uh… heard she gave birth today.”
He and my mother still aren’t speaking, and honestly, I don’t care to know who’s at fault. I just know I don’t particularly want him near Celeste—or my mother, for that matter. Not that my mother is a saint. I don’t need to pick sides; I’m just happy they’re kept apart.
“She’s fine. Healthy. And the baby is too.” I force a smile, picturing my mother’s tired face.
Tuvio’s eyes mist over, and his voice cracks. “That’s fucking beautiful,” he mutters, shaking his head. There’s something he’s holding back. “A new life in all this mess.”
My smile fades. “It’s fucking trouble,” I say under my breath, pushing down the rising worry.
“Always so dramatic,” he chuckles, slapping me on the back. “Sometimes good things do happen, my boy.”
“Her name is Celeste,” Nica adds, grounding me with a gentle squeeze on my arm.
That gut feeling tightens again when she says my baby sister’s name. It’s like invisible hooks are pulling us toward the edge with her birth. And yet, she’s so beautiful, so innocent. All I want to do is wrap my arms around her, protect her, never let go.
“Celeste, huh? Fucking beautiful name. Maria came up with that, didn’t she?” Tuvio asks, locking eyes with me.
There’s no evil in those eyes, Elio. You’re being paranoid.
I nod slowly. “She did.”
Nica notices my unease. Without missing a beat, she steps closer to Tuvio, lightly touching his arm.
“Tuvio, I didn’t just call you for no reason. I knew you were in town and wanted to ask you something.” Her voice is steady but sharp. “Do you know anything about the initials B.C.? It could be a company—maybe something called the Broad Corporation—but I’m not sure.”
She strides over to the computer, opening a folder and gesturing for him to come closer.
“Look at these expenses from the De Lucas to them. It’s strange. And there’s no trace of the company. I think it might be a front.”
“Like money laundering?” I ask.
Nica nods.
Tuvio’s expression flickers—just for a second. The warmth in his eyes dims, replaced by something unreadable. “Maybe it’s... I don’t know. I’ll get my people on it.” He shrugs.
Is he acting suspiciously? Or just surprised? Everyone seems suspicious today. Even my own reflection feels off.
He claps both of our shoulders. “Children, I just remembered—I have something to take care of. Gotta run. You two take it easy, huh?”
“Wanna stay and eat?” Nica offers.
“No, I got some stuff to do. Sorry, sweetie. I’ll call you about that company. Broad Company, was it?” he grunts.
“Broad Corporation,” Nica corrects.
“Yes, yes,” he mutters, and with a final nod, he walks out. The door clicks shut behind him.
That was quick. Too quick.
My shoulders tense, the muscles knotting up like ropes. I rub them, trying to release the tightness. My fingers move to my temples, pressing into the bone as the familiar throbbing pain builds behind my eyes.
I look at her. “That was weird, right?”
She exhales, meeting my gaze. “It’s been a long day,” she murmurs. “We’re all… wired.”
“Tell me about it.”
My fingers press harder against my temples, trying to keep the headache at bay. Nica turns to me, her expression softening. “Want me to help you release some… pressure?”
She knows me too well. She knows what I need, even when I don’t.
A slow, predatory grin spreads across my face. “What did you have in mind?”
“I’ll show you.”
We move toward each other, slow, deliberate, eyes locked. My fingers trace the curve of her jaw, tilting her face up before I claim her lips in a kiss that’s been burning between us since we sat down to eat.
She pushes me back against the wall near the door, her hands skimming over my skin, her mouth trailing heat along my neck.
A pang hits me deep—a hunger, raw and buried, my darkness stirring.
Her eyes meet mine, blazing with need. Those eyes that undo me every damn time. And that mouth.
I fist the back of her hair, pulling her closer, devouring her. Her lips part, and I feel the sharp inhale before her hand tightens against my back, pressing us flush together. My tongue meets hers, slow and demanding, making sure she feels just how badly I need her.
She’s drives me crazy.
Leaning back, she slides her blouse down, giving me a full view of her breasts. She takes my hands, guiding them over the smooth skin of her chest, pulling me back into another searing kiss.
The heat between us is electric, ready to detonate—her dark, wild hair, those full, irresistible lips, her perfectly imperfect body. I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her tight, lifting her in one swift motion. She wraps her legs around me, straddling me in the air.
I can feel how wet she is through the thin fabric of her knickers. My hand glides up her thigh, savoring every inch of her. I take her in, letting my eyes rest on her—her long, muscular legs wrapped tightly around me, her head tilted back, unapologetic and confident in her body.
She’s so damn beautiful it’s almost painful.
I commit every detail to memory: every curve, every dip, every line.
“Did you say pressure, Miss Galli? Maybe I’ll take care of yours instead,” I murmur. I bury my face in her hair, breathing in her fucking cinnamon scent. Her body is taut and ready against mine as I trail slow kisses along the soft spots on her neck, watching the goosebumps rise on her skin.
“Elio,” she moans under my touch.
Her full breasts press against the thin fabric of her shirt, her nipples hard and straining for attention. They’re practically spilling out of her bra—leaving me fucking breathless. I grip her hair, pulling her back, arching her body against me. My kisses grow slower, trailing lower down her chest.
I need this. I need her.
I groan into her mouth, kissing her harder, needing her, wanting her. My tongue delves deeper, forcing her to take it, dominating her, making sure she knows she’s mine.
She gasps, pressing closer, unapologetically hungry, matching my intensity.
My cock is painfully hard as her body quivers against mine, pushing me to the brink. Her breathy moan is like a match to gasoline, sending a jolt straight to my cock. She bites her swollen lip, her dark eyes locked on mine.
I need to be inside of her now.
With her legs wrapped around me, I carry her across the room, not breaking our connection until we reach her desk. One swift motion clears the clutter, and I set her down.
“Stand up and turn around, Nica. Bend over the table,” I rasp. “Let me show you how we get things done around here. You wouldn’t want to disappoint the boss, would you?”
“No, sir,” she complies.
She turns around slowly as if teasing me. She positions her as I slowly pull off her skirt and knickers, sliding them down against her soft skin until they reach the floor.
“You’re mine to play with, and you’ll do as I say,” I demand.
“Yes,” she says in an innocent voice that almost makes me spill.
It’s fucking amazing to see her ass on display, and I adore it. I bring my hand down hard on her backside, the slap reverberating in the room, bringing her to a gasp.
“It’s Mr. De Luca,” I correct her.
“Mmmhhh,” she moans, unable to speak.
“If you behave, I’ll reward you,” I groan.
“Please–” she is out of breath, “Please reward me, Mister De Luca.”
I start with her ankles, moving slowly upwards, adding gentle kisses on the inside of her legs. I hold my breath and bite into the inside of her thighs near her apex, making her moan hard. She’s naked from her waist down, exposed, and ready.
For my pleasure. To do with what I please.
The bulge in my pants grows larger by the minute. “Spread your legs, Miss Galli.”
She reveals her soft pink folds, and I can’t help but admire their beauty. “Fuck, Miss Galli, it’s glistening wet down here.”
My tongue rolls from her upper thigh up to her clit, causing her to tense up and tighten. Smiling, I lick my lips while staring at her opening. She tastes just as good as she smells. My tongue swirls over her clit again as my other hand smacks her backside hard, leaving a red mark I know will last.
My mark on her.
“Elio shit—-l,” she says but spreads her legs further apart, moaning, gasping for air, as my tongue moves rhythmically over her swollen clit.
The other hand strokes down her back between her ass cheeks, just lightly touching until it reaches her exposed pink entrance.
With every touch, I watch her shiver and open herself more, spreading her legs wider and inviting me in.
I can’t help myself, she’s so— delicious . In a single motion, I insert two fingers into her entrance, burying them deeply inside before curling them around expertly, as I know she loves.
I’m not just doing it for her. I’m doing it for me.
My fucking heart melts when I see how willing and ready she is, how she fulfills all my needs right here. Her reaction drives me to my knees, driving the dark fire within me to burn even brighter.
With my tongue unable to take enough of her, my fingers curl and move faster and harder. Her muscles tighten as I bite down on her clit; she lets out a gasp.
“Ouch, fuck, yes, yes, don’t stop,” she pants, gripping her desk edge.
While I finger-fuck her in and out, I suck her apex until it turns crimson, making sure to let her know who is giving her this pleasure. She squirms under my touch.
“Say my name,” I growl.
“Eli—Mister De Luca,” she gasps, trembling.
“That’s right. Don’t you ever forget that. I own you. You’re mine.”
She nods, unable to speak.
With a flick of my free hand, my fingers crawl up to her tight hole, and, just for a moment, I insert a wet finger, teasing her second entrance, poking at it. Probing it. Checking if she’s ready for me.
She always is.
“Elio, I’m coming. I can’t wait—” Her breath is ragged, her hair dissolved.
She looks fucking amazing.
“Wait for me,” I say as my fingers leave her channel. I rub her clit between my thumb and index finger until it’s sore and I can feel her tense up.
I get up behind her and open my zipper, letting my cock out.
I need to be inside her now.
I pinch her clit and twist it while she moans and then without warning, she explodes. On me. Shit.
She clamps up and lets out a scream while I feel the pulsations as she’s bent over her desk, coming in a full flour orgasm all over me and the clean floor.
“Shit, Elio–” she screams, and her hands grab the edge of the desk to stabilize herself.
The feeling of her body releasing like that while she screams my name just turns me on even more.
“Fuck Nica,” I say, not expecting it but grinning from ear to ear.
She relaxes after the last wave of her orgasm; her body looks sweaty and perfect, bent over like that for me.
“I-I, “she moans. “I couldn’t wait.”
She gasps, struggling to catch her breath, the vein in her neck pulsates.
“You’ll be punished for that,” I say. It’s a promise laced with something darker. I did enjoy her release, but she shouldn’t come without my permission. I grab a fistful of her hair and forced her down onto the cluttered desk. Leaning over her, my mouth close to her ear, I whisper.
“I’ll fuck you so hard the desk will smell like your pussy for weeks,” I hiss.
And with that, I thrust my cock deep into her, making her let out a deep moan.
She’s so right, so wet. Gripping me like a glove, I feel her inner muscles stretch around me as she arches to meet me.
It’s goddamn breathtaking to watch.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I drive my cock so deep inside her she gasps for air. As slick as she is, I can penetrate even deeper.
The angle with her bent over like that is perfection, and the cameras behind us just make me want to fuck her harder. For everyone to see this. This fire, us. I don’t care.
I’ll give anyone who watches a real fucking show. Despite how much Nica whimpers, I drive my cock relentlessly into her, impaling her. Making her scream.
I’m giving her that pleasure . I’m making her scream.
“Who’s your boss, who’s fucking your wet pussy?”
“You are, Mister D-de Luca,” she pants.
When I slam into her tightness again, I can feel her arch up and the n stiffen.
“Is it too much for you?” I groan.
Continually shaking her head, she presses harder against my cock, matching my rhythm. Joining it. In and out, in and out, until we are both sweaty and out of breath.
I’m close, so fucking close.
I can hear her nails scratch across the desk as I grab her ass, letting mine sink into her skin, leaving a mark. She’s mine and looks perfect with my red spots on her.
My little fighter, my lover, my Nica.
“Good girl, taking me like that,” I say and slam into her again, pushing the desk forward with the sheer force of our movements.
She gasps as I run my hand over her exposed back, up to her mouth, and stuff the two fingers that were inside her into her mouth. I drive them in and out. Mouth-fucking her with her own wetness.
“Taste yourself, you’re fucking amazing,” I pant.
She squirms under my roughness but takes it like I know she will, as she always does. Bending to my needs. Craving them. Getting lost in them like I get lost in her.
The darkness, our darkness.
I hit that spot deep inside her channel that makes her cry out in pleasure, clawing at the wooden desk. Watching my cock thrust in and out of her like that, her wet pink folds getting used by me, almost has me spilling before time.
I can feel myself building up to the finish line as I slam into her again. Sweat runs down my forehead, but I don’t care. All I care about is her and me together, our bodies moving as one.
Still sucking my fingers, she tilts her head upwards, her dark locks flocking down her back, making her look like a fucking goddess.
“you're so tight—come with me,” I say and drive my cock into her without mercy
I’m not expecting her to comply. She already finished once not long ago.
But I feel it coming, I feel her body responding, and after a few seconds she screams out another release into the empty office. Her body shakes as she grabs onto the shed of the desk, her pussy clenching around me so tightly.
Fuck yes.
Driving myself deep inside her, I roar with my own release and finally allow myself to let go, my cum spilling into her, filling up her channel. She whimpers and squirms as she pulsates another release matching mine.
Panting, she quivers under me.
“Shit,” she moans and relaxes her body into mine.
“Yeah—” I grunt, trying to catch my breath.
I pulsate a few more times, and then slowly slip out of her. My cock is glistening with her release, and it’s fucking hot.
“Elio, that was—” she gasps, her breath hitching.
“—fucking. Amazing?” I finish for her, a boyish grin spreading across my face. It’s the most relaxed I’ve felt all day.
She sends me a smile back, a knowing one, baring her teeth in a smirk that always manages to kill me inside, and I let it.
I pull her close, both of us still partially undressed, and press a gentle kiss to her hair while zipping up my pants.
“Put on your skirt,” I say, my voice rougher than I intend. “I don’t want you to get cold.”
She nods, her eyes sparkling. “As you wish, boss,” she teases, winking.
Another smile melts whatever resistance I have left inside me. I turn away as my phone vibrates in my pocket.
It’s Gio:
‘I ran the license plate through Jackson’s contact. The car belongs to some unknown company.’
My fingers move fast.
‘What company?’
The dots appear. My breath hitches. A cold feeling spreads through me as the response comes back:
‘Broad Corporation.’
Behind me, Nia gasps.
I see her jaw drop—just before mine.