I shudder in his grip and ride out the brunt of his savage thrusts.
It’s true. It’s completely true. Only he can draw this out of me. He strips me down and turns me into a woman wanton and unafraid.
We come seconds apart. Salvatore first. With a growl and a final punishing thrust, he plants himself deep as he reaches his release. The feeling of him throbbing inside me as he comes is enough to make me follow suit. A strangled scream rips out of me as he lets go and I fall forward against the counter.
My body tremors, enraptured in blinding pleasure for seconds I don’t want to end. If this counter wasn’t here to hold me up, I’d lose my balance. I’d collapse onto the floor. When the orgasmic high passes and I open my eyes, I become acutely aware of how hot and erratic I feel. My heart’s beating out of control and the entire kitchen has become an oven.
The kettle on the stove is whistling and quaking, producing rolls of steam. I hurry to twist the knob and turn it off.
Behind me, Salvatore buckles his belt. His breaths are even louder and rougher than mine. His eyes are undoubtedly on me.
I go back to refusing to look at him. To giving him nothing but my back.
“Go,” I say. “For real this time. Get out.”
“That shame comes quick,” he taunts, moving to the trash and disposing of the used condom. “What’s the matter, Phi? Embarrassed you keep giving in? You should be better than this. You should be better thanme, isn’t that right?”
“I told you what this was. It’s just a moment... it doesn’t mean any—”
“Your lie about volunteering at old folk’s homes was more believable. Good night, Phi.”
The door slams shut with me still in the kitchen, my palms flat on the counter. Frustration needles away at me. I should’ve known better. I should’ve kept distance between us and threatened him with building security when he refused to leave.
Salvatore has always been my dirty little secret. The man in my life few knew about. But it’s become dirtier and darker the more time passes. How much longer can I give in to what exists between us?
My campaign for district attorney has already started. Tomorrow I have a charity event at the local community center for Fuel the Child. I’ll be giving a speech and promising citizens I’ll make their lives better. All with the knowledge that twelve hours before I was being dicked down by one of the city’s deadliest mafia bosses.
I’m as much of a fraud as any other high-ranking official in Northam. The only difference is I’ve pretended I’m better than them when I’ve always been the same. I’m as fucked up as they are. My corruption is simply of a different kind.
My mind drifts to my earlier activities tonight…
I get ready for bed like always. A shower, some skin and haircare, and then a few unwinding minutes leading up to lights out.
These few minutes consist of me doing quick research here and there on my next target.
Skip Little is a sixty-two-year-old Grammy-nominated producer who rose to fame decades ago for his pop hits. These days, he’s remembered more for his high profile trial, where he was accused of murdering his eight-year-old stepson. He was acquitted after the star witness in the trial, Skip’s housekeeper, suddenly recanted her testimony.
The public didn’t buy Skip’s innocence and I never have either. I’ve done enough investigative work to comfortably conclude Skip lucked out that day in the courtroom… or he and his millions got to the housekeeper.
Regardless, he’ll soon be receiving his long overdue guilty verdict and sentencing. Since the judicial system failed to do so, I’ll do it myself.
Satisfied with the new notes I jot down, I turn off the lights in my bedroom. I’m plugging my phone into the wall charger as an email alert pops up on my screen. Normally, I’d just ignore it until morning, but the subject line is too jarring to unsee. Sent from someone named [email protected]
, the subject line feels like a nightmare realized.
the truth about u is going to come out eventually…
Club Nirvana overflowswith life no matter how late the hour. I turn up at half past two, to crowds of partiers gyrating to bass-heavy beats. Curious heads turn as I walk by and ignore each and every person. Not a single one is deserving of my time.
The club has always been a means to an end—that end being my revenge against Lucius.
But the closer that time comes, the less focused I’ve been. I’m losing sight of the finish line. I can’t afford to fuck up during the last stretch, only months away from the highly anticipated meeting with the Five Families. A crucial event that only happens once every five years.
And yet the only thing on my mind barging into my office is frustrated thoughts of Delphine.
Instead of being smart and composed, I’m livid and impulsive. I pace the length of the office, my breathing ragged.
I shouldn’t be so affected. I shouldn’t struggle letting her go.