8. Dante #2
He followed moments later, burying himself deep while his release pulsed inside me.
For a dangerous moment, we stayed connected. The reality of our intimacy threatened everything I’d built to survive in Salvatore’s world.
It rattled me enough to push at his chest, breaking the spell. “Get off me.”
He complied, pulling out before sitting back on the edge of the desk. I sat up, ignoring the mess on my skin.
“Are you okay?” Shaw asked in a hoarse voice.
I laughed, the sound harsh in the quiet room. “It takes more than that to hurt me.” I had the deep scars on my back to prove it, which I angled my body to keep from his view. He didn’t need to know about that part of my life.
The pain in his eyes should have satisfied me as proof that I could maintain distance to protect us both. Instead, it was another crack in my carefully constructed walls.
Our shoulders touched as we stared at the blank whiteboard in front of us. Shaw suggested, “You should write something on there.”
“Like what? Welcome to Sex Ed 101?” I glanced at him with a smirk.
His head snapped toward me, eyes narrowing. “I’m not exactly a beginner, you know.”
“Oh? You’ve fucked two whole times, and suddenly, you’re an expert?” I raised an eyebrow, enjoying the way his cheeks flushed. “Should we put ‘Advanced Studies’ up there to make you feel better? Would you prefer ‘Doctorate in Bedroom Physics’ instead?”
“You’re such an asshole,” he muttered, but I caught the reluctant smile tugging at his lips.
“An asshole who gave you the best sex of your life.”
“According to you, that’s not saying much, considering my limited sample size,” he shot back.
I chuckled. “Touché. Should I make a chart ranking your sexual prowess? I could draft a quarterly performance improvement plan with actionable goals.”
“I’m being graded now?” Shaw asked, fighting a smile. “Is this going to affect my GPA?”
“Oh, definitely. And your final’s cumulative.” I gestured at the cum drying on my stomach and chest. “The proof of your performance evaluation is right here. Want a gold star for a job well done? Or maybe a participation trophy? Your KPIs are looking impressive.”
“And what key performance indicators are you using to judge my merit?”
“My primary KPI for you is Key Penetration Indicators,” I clarified with a wicked grin. “Your depth metrics are solid, but we should schedule additional sessions to evaluate your consistency and stamina variables.”
“Fuck you,” he said with a hearty laugh.
Teasing him was so fun. “Though I must admit, you’ve earned yourself at least a B-plus. Not bad for a sophomore effort.”
He huffed indignantly. “Only a B-plus?”
“What can I say? I’m a tough grader.” I traced through the sticky mess on my stomach. “Maybe we should reconsider giving you gold stars since you can’t put cum on your homework to show everyone how well you did.”
His cheeks flushed again, but there was unmistakable pride in his eyes as he watched me touch the physical proof of what we’d done.
“Want a taste?” I offered, holding my cum-coated finger toward his mouth. “It’s your handiwork, after all.”
Shaw’s eyes widened, his flush deepening as he stared at the glistening evidence hovering inches from his lips. He swallowed hard, torn between desire and embarrassment.
“I…I don’t know,” he stammered.
His innocence was far more appealing than I wanted to admit. “Don’t tell me you’ve never tasted it before.”
He wet his lips as his gaze fixated on me. “But I haven’t.”
I raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Not even your own?”
He shook his head with a sheepish expression.
“Consider this research for your advanced studies,” I teased.
After another moment of hesitation, he leaned forward and took it between his lips.
What I expected to be a quick, embarrassed taste turned into something else.
He hollowed his cheeks as he sucked deeper, his tongue flattening against the underside before curling around it.
He worked his way down to the knuckle, then back up, mimicking an unmistakable blow job.
“Fuck,” I whispered in shock. The wet heat of his mouth, the deliberate pressure of his tongue, the way he took me to the knuckle and swallowed around me was an exciting preview of what I had to look forward to someday.
My mind flooded with images of his mouth stretched around my dick, his green eyes staring up at me while he took every inch down his throat.
When he released me with a soft pop and a final flick of his tongue across the tip, I had to force myself to breathe. Where the hell had that come from? The shy college boy had vanished, replaced by someone who knew exactly what he was doing.
“Was that advanced enough for you, Professor?” Shaw asked with renewed confidence.
I cleared my throat, thrown off-balance. “As much as I’d love to hear you moaning ‘Professor’ under me, playing teacher will have to wait for another visit. Our session is almost over.”
His shoulders slumped at the painful reminder that he only bought me an hour at a time.
Ishi’s knock broke the silence.
Shaw got dressed, but I remained naked and unabashed. I watched him struggle with buttons, his fingers trembling from what we’d done. The knowledge that I could reduce him to such a state of disarray filled me with a dark satisfaction.
He fidgeted when he finished, avoiding looking at my nudity. “Um, have a good weekend.”
“You too.” The reappearance of the almost virginally shy side of Shaw amused me. It made me want to do untold perverse things to him.
“I guess I’ll see you Monday?”
As much as I wanted to prolong the experience, I couldn’t do it without risking repercussions that weren’t worth it. “As always. Have a good night.”
“Yeah, I doubt that’ll be happening.”
I arched an eyebrow at the unexpected response. “Why?”
“The guys came here tonight, too.”
Although it was none of my business, I had to know. “What poor woman had to put up with Jace’s incompetence?”
“Secretary Dominique. He was with her last time, too. It was his idea to visit.”
Her real name was Natalia, and she was the only other ally I had in the brothel besides Ishi. I hated the thought of someone so unworthy defiling her.
Making a mental note to check on her later, I focused on the latter part of his comment. “You accompanied Jace to make sure he didn’t choose me, didn’t you?” It was foolish logic, but Shaw’s protective instinct intrigued me. “Why are you so convinced he’d hire me when he’s homophobic?”
Shaw looked down at the floor as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m worried he’ll try to confirm whether you’re actually you, hoping to use it against you somehow.”
“How? You know he can’t afford my rates.”
He shrugged, clearly uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. “That’s true. I guess I wasn’t bringing logic into it when I’m so worried about him trying to use you being here to hurt you. Sorry.”
Pushing myself off the desk, I tilted his head up to initiate eye contact. Only when his uncertain emerald gaze focused on me did I say, “Thank you.”
It was cute how flustered I made him. “That’s not the only reason I came here tonight. I wanted to see you, too.”
“I know.” He wasn’t the only one eager for another encounter. I placed the softest of kisses on his lips, lingering longer than I should have in a rare moment of tenderness.
We were getting into dangerous territory, so I put walls between us once more for both of our sakes. “You should leave before they charge you a late fee.”
Opening his mouth as if to say something further, Shaw shut it. He settled for a last lingering look before leaving the room.
Left alone, I remained where I was as I sorted through emotions I shouldn’t have been having. I couldn’t shake the dread settling in my gut. I’d let Shaw see too much, let him push me too far. Worse, I’d enjoyed it.
The last person who’d become attached to a client had disappeared without a trace.
Salvatore had made everyone watch the security footage of his enforcers dragging her from her bed in the middle of the night.
We never found out what happened to her, but the bloodstains they couldn’t quite remove from the basement floor said enough.
“Loyalty to the family comes before all else,” Salvatore had reminded us afterward. “Emotional attachments to clients undermine our business. They compromise our intelligence gathering. They make you forget where your true allegiance lies.”
He’d looked at me as if he could already see the seeds of my future betrayal. “Every time you choose a client’s interests over the family’s, you spit on that name. On my name. And I won’t stand for such an insult.”
The unspoken message was clear that we weren’t mere sex workers.
We were soldiers in Salvatore’s information war against his enemies.
Our bodies were weapons, and our relationships with clients were strategic assets.
Developing genuine feelings was to become a liability, a potential traitor.
And the Gennaro Mafia had only one sentence for traitors.
I had carried out that punishment myself countless times, with the knife in my hand and Salvatore watching to ensure I didn’t hesitate.
The weight of a garrote wire around a throat.
The sound a body made hitting water after falling from the Brooklyn Bridge.
Each execution served as a test of loyalty, where each death was another piece of my soul traded for Raphael’s safety.
If Salvatore caught even a whisper of genuine feeling for Shaw beyond being a client, he wouldn’t grant us the mercy of quick deaths.
He’d drag Shaw into his private room where screams never escaped and make me watch as he dismantled him piece by piece.
Then he’d place a gun in my trembling hand, stand behind me with his breath hot on my neck, and force my finger against the trigger for the killing shot.
All while whispering how it was my fault for forgetting his cardinal rule.
In Salvatore’s world, love wasn’t weakness. It was suicide with collateral damage.