11. Ophelia
OPHELIA
“What might you be doing in here, Miss Bennet?” asks Salvatore, arching his brow.
“I was…” I gulp, digging deep in my brain for an explanation as to why I’m in the male restroom when I’m meant to be sorting through schedules.
“I thought you were extremely busy this morning,” he adds, staring at me intently.
“The female restroom was… out of order.”
Digging a deeper hole here, Phee.
“The cleaner must have removed the sign while you were in here,” he says, playing along with my lies.
I slip the polaroid back into the folder—like that makes a world of difference.
“Who told you to come in here?” says Mr. Moretti, stepping closer.
“N-nobody,” I stutter, but that begs the question—are other people here investigating the Crows?
Mr. Moretti pins me a glare and reaches over me, taking the folder back. He clamps it under his arm, his gaze never leaving mine. “What game are you playing, Miss Bennett? Please speak freely.”
“I don’t enjoy games.”
“But you do enjoy snooping around when I’m out of the building.” His electrifying eyes send me up in flames as he glances down at me like I’m prey, something small that can be devoured in one mouthful.
Sapphire was right—this man is incredibly dangerous, but my body enjoys the thrill.
The thought of being punished, of being made to feel small in the presence of a king, has my pussy burning with an ineradicable need to be controlled.
To be put in my place—right at the very bottom of the food chain.
I work as an executive assistant, but who am I kidding? Men have never seen me as anything important. My own father fucked off while I was still in the womb.
You can base your worth on your career for a time, but nothing ever changes. Even if I ran my own business and was at the very top of the corporate ladder, I would still be the runt of the litter, the unwanted one in the group.
Mr. Moretti looking down at me, seeing me as his next meal, makes me feel wanted, because even though I have been caught, I’m still being noticed.
I frown, noting his tense jaw. “What’s the big deal here? I found a folder in the bathroom stall. Someone probably misplaced it,” I state.
Something has to be running in the background. The tense look written across my boss’s face proves that he’s lying about something, keeping cards very fucking close to his chest, so close that he refused to remove his shirt the last time we fucked.
I swallow my next question, afraid I might be out of a job for real this time if I ask about the Crows. I have to stay employed under this man so I can learn about his secrets, but I’m pretty sure I have just ruined this for myself.
I wince, biting my lip. “Is this the part where you fire me?”
Mr. Moretti angles his head to the side, shadows curling over his face as he stands under the light, looking more like a monster than a man.
I stare into the depths of his green eyes, curious to know what this guy has seen.
Building an empire takes work. Nothing good ever comes easy.
Working for the Crows must have been torture.
I’m sure Salvatore has seen unimaginable things, gone through hell and back several times, like a modern-day Odysseus.
The more I stare into his eyes, the more I become intrigued with Salvatore as a person as opposed to the Crows as a whole.
“Why did you break that man’s nose?” I ask. “What did he do?”
Salvatore chuckles, shaking his head. “You think I punched him?”
“You didn’t?”
“No, Miss Bennett,” he says, the smile fading.
“Who did?”
Mr. Moretti regards me for a moment, lines forming between his dark brows. “If you’re not careful, that curiosity will eat you alive.”
“What if I want to be eaten?”
Salvatore stares more intently, leaning into the sink, his gaze fixated on me. “The world is a wide, wondrous place, but some things are better left unsaid.”
“I disagree.”
“Of course you do,” he says, leaning closer.
“You like to know all relevant information before making an informed decision. You scribble notes down in that writing booklet of yours, covering all details, leaving no stones unturned. I like that about you,” says Mr. Moretti.
“In fact, Miss Bennett, your meticulous approach to work is one of the main reasons why I hired you. Going against the grain, carving your own path regardless of other people’s opinions, generally leads to success, and you have proven to be a good assistant.
” Mr. Moretti continues watching me. “You can ignore all the opinions in the world, Miss Bennett, doing the opposite of what your family and friends tell you to do, but as your boss, you must listen and take everything I say as gospel.” Pinning me a look, our faces inches apart, he says: “Focus on the work in front of you and do as you are told. In this instance, I need you to forget about the details and stay on the path I have carved out for you. Not all roads lead to success, Miss Bennett, especially this one.” He taps the folder in demonstration.
“But it was just an old polaroid,” I say, feigning confusion. “Why does it matter?”
Mr. Moretti cages me into the wall, his dark figure looming over mine. “Do not take me for a fool, Miss Bennett.”
“I’m n-not,” I stutter, his spiced cologne wrapping around me like a blanket.
“Yes, you are.” Pinning me a dark glare, Mr. Moretti takes a step back and rips his shirt, buttons raining to the floor like hailstones.
White cotton shreds around hard muscles as he tackles off his shirt.
I hold eye contact, but curiosity eventually takes over, my eyes lowering to the faded crow tattoo stretching across his chest. I take note of the rigid wing edges, the opened beak, the eyes…
Nothing about this is a coincidence.
My gaze wanders to other parts of him. His shoulders look strong enough to hold up the entire world, his chest contorted and filled out. Scars line his body. The large one streaked across his torso grabs my attention.
“What kind of fights have you been in?”
“What did I tell you about asking questions?” groans Salvatore, his hot breath sending wisps of shivers down my spine.
Before I can reply, he takes control of my hips, spinning me around and slamming me into the wall.
A gasp escapes my lips, desire settling between my legs as Salvatore reaches under my skirt, grabbing my pussy.
He shoves my panties down, lifting my ankles as he encourages me to step out of them.
“Open wide.” He taps on my jaw, placing the panties inside of my mouth. “This should teach you to be quiet,” he says, flashing me a smirk as he reaches between my legs, hoisting my skirt up.
Once he has me right where he wants me, he slaps my pussy.
I groan, electricity shooting through my entire body. The panties muffle the sound as I bite down on the material, using the lace as a vice to keep myself contained.
“Taste yourself, Miss Bennett,” grunts Salvatore while unbuckling his belt. “Do something more useful with that tongue and lick the wetness from your own panties. Questioning my motives will only get you in trouble,” he warns, slapping my pussy a second time.
White-hot electricity shoots through me. “What if being in trouble excites me?”
“Oh,” says Salvatore, cackling lowly. “It shouldn’t, sweetheart.” He reaches between my legs, strumming my pussy while looking deep into my eyes.
My vision fades, darkness taking over as my eyelids close. The weight of gravity changes around me, my back sliding down the wall as I lose the will to live, and the ability to breathe. My boss controls the air, choosing when I get to breathe… and when I get to orgasm.
He releases my clit, sticking his fingers into his mouth as he sucks my juices.
“Good girl,” he affirms. “Your skirt looks better lifted.”
Pinning me a glare, he trails his finger toward my clit, stopping right at the top.
A mischievous smile crawls onto his face as he stares me dead in the eye and says: “You’ll finish when I want you to.”
Unfortunately, his voice, along with his hard, contracting shoulders, only pushes me closer to the edge.
Desire removes my ability to speak, or even think for that matter.
My orgasm and the handsome man standing in front of me are the only two things that matter.
The rest of the world can fuck right off; my judgmental co-workers, even the Crows.
Nothing can come between me and my feelings, and very profound ones are shifting inside of me right now as I stare into Salvatore Moretti’s haunting eyes, breaking laws, boundaries; breaking myself, all to feel something real.
Since Mr. Moretti won’t finish me off, I touch myself.
I find my clit, rubbing, craving punishment for breaking his rules.
I want to be disciplined, to know how it feels to be put in my place. Lots of men are always rushing to do that, especially in this industry, but only one can put me in my place.
“What do you think you’re doing?” says Salvatore, taking a step back, his gaze wandering between my legs as I rub my pussy.
“Take your hands away, Miss Bennett.”
That would be like asking the ocean to change tides. Some things are too powerful.
My vision edges away, Mr. Moretti’s face becomes a blur as my arousal reaches its peak. A sweet burning sensation rushes through my body, landing in my core, where my orgasm is budding.
“Miss Bennett—”
“I can’t.”
Salvatore swoops in, tearing my hand away. Flashing me a look, he grabs my wrists, pinning my arms above my head.
I gasp, my mouth gaping open as my vision returns. The man is heartbreakingly beautiful, everything I need, and yet everything I will never be able to have.
Salvatore is short-term fun. His inability to tell me the truth reinforces the fact that this man cannot be trusted, and trust is the foundation of every relationship.
Of course, what do I know about relationships? What does he?
This dude has had more affairs than properties, which says a lot.
Me on the other hand? I never stick around after sex with a man. Will I ever get over this man? Giving your body to the devil is a recipe for disaster, but temptation is far too sweet.
“Keep your hands there,” instructs Mr. Moretti, taking a step back.
He shoves his pants down to his knees, boxer shorts following. His cock, laying thick against his toned stomach, twitches as he takes in my partly naked form, eyes drifting between my legs.
“Actually,” says Mr. Moretti. “I changed my mind. Come and stand next to me, facing the mirror.”
Oh no he doesn’t…
My legs move on their own accord, heels scraping the ground as I obey my master.
I stare at my reflection, comparing our sizes. Mr. Moretti stands over a foot taller than me, and I’m wearing heels.
“Look who is dripping wet for their boss,” he says, swiping his finger through my pussy folds, opening them in demonstration, encouraging me to watch.
“Take a look at yourself, Miss Bennett. Don’t be shy.
There’s no need to be ashamed of your body.
” He finds my gaze in the mirror. “I suppose there’s an element of shame, doing something you probably shouldn’t, showing your pussy to your boss even though he’s bad news. ”
“I never said—”
“But you have been thinking it, haven’t you, sweetheart?
Why else would you be logging into my computer, highlighting web addresses and snooping around in the male bathroom when you know for a fact only four people have access to this room?
Whatever is going on in that complicated head of yours is your own business, but you’re defying yourself, getting yourself in trouble, getting wet.
” Mr. Moretti unravels my folds, encouraging me to look between my legs.
“Look how much you want your boss,” he says.
“You’d be a fool to keep snooping around, going above your paygrade.
You will learn to behave, or this will be the last time I ever touch your pussy. Understood?”
Is that a threat?
“Miss Bennett?” he says, his voice booming through the restroom. “I asked you a question. Answer it.”
“Yes, I understand.”
“Good,” he says, shuffling toward me, curling his hands around his cock. “Stand over there.”
Like a helpless dog obeying his master once again, I walk back until my back hits the wall.
“Hands at your sides, Miss Bennett,” he says, standing in front of me. “If I see you touching yourself, you’ll spend the rest of your life thinking about what we could have had.”
“What we could have had, sir?”
“Fun,” he whispers in my ear before standing back, massaging his cock.
I stare at his length, imagining him inside of me, drooling at the thought.
My pussy burns, clit red from how much I have been stretched to my limits today—and not in the good way.
I zero in on his cock. A thick vein cords all the way up his shaft, pulled tight when he reaches the tip, foreskin unravelling to reveal the part of him I want most in my mouth.
I lick my lips, really taking this dog narrative to the fucking extreme as I salivate like an animal, staring at my owner as he holds my favorite treat in the palm of his hand, refusing to give me a taste.
“This is so unfair.”
“So is my assistant going behind my back.”
I glance at his chest, biceps contracting as he smooths his incredible hands over his cock. The clenched jaw tells me he’s reaching the end. Salvatore releases a choked moan, the most beautiful sound in all the world.
Muscles move in his chest, bringing the tattoo to life.
I watch his chest, staring at the crow, letting everything sink in, the boy with the bleached face, the rags to riches story; the overly expensive three-piece suits Salvatore wears every day; the green eyes, even more expensive than the suits he wears.
He should be a walking red flag. Instead, his eyes scream, yes please.
Before I can take my next breath, Salvatore grabs me. He slides his cock all the way into my mouth, finishing.
Warm liquid squirts to the back of my throat. I savor the taste, swallowing every last drop, aware that he’s watching all of this unfold.
“Swallow your boss’s cum,” he says, praising me. “Good girl.” He then stands back, eyes lowering to my pussy, which is still drenched. “Get dressed.”
“But—”
“You heard me,” he says, folding his arms over his chest. “Let this be a lesson. That pretty face might have saved you in the past, sweet darling, but when you play with fire around me, you get burned. And your weeping pussy will pay the consequences for the rest of the day.”