Page 53 of Malevolent Secrets

I keep kissing him as I sink onto his cock, filling myself one delicious inch at a time. I start rocking slowly back and forth, the pressure against my clit making sharp jolts of pleasure race along my spine. He starts thrusting again, but gently this time, murmuring my name against my breasts.

The sweetness of the way he’s holding me is my undoing, and I come abruptly, shouting his name as the waves of pleasure make my legs shake.

Lorenzo grabs my waist to keep me from tumbling off the bed and follows me over the edge. I feel the heat of his release within me, mingling with the mess I made when I came all over his thighs and the bed. I clutch at his shoulders, panting.

I can feel his lips press against each of my breasts before he leans back a little. I look down at him, then at the bed and the floor.

“I made another mess,” I say, and we both laugh. The companionship between us feels familiar and welcome to me now, even though a corner of my mind says that this should concern me.

“Let’s take a shower,” he says to me, lifting me off of him.

“Thank you for the clothes,” I say sincerely to him.

“Thank you for the sex,” he replies, pressing a soft kiss to my lips and then tugging me by the hand into the bathroom.

Chapter Sixteen

Daniella

As I settle into my new routine at The Garden of Eden, the days start to blur together.

The work is demanding but manageable and the people, while guarded, are professional and courteous.

I spend most of my time poring over financial documents, trying to piece together the complex web of transactions that keep the club running. I spend my nights being pleasured from every angle in Lorenzo’s bed.

One evening, as I’m finishing up some last-minute entries, my phone buzzes on the desk. It’s Mark, the journalist I’ve been working with to uncover dirt on the Duretti family.

“Hey, Mark,” I answer, keeping my voice low.

“Daniella, how’s it going?” His voice is a comforting reminder of the outside world.

“It’s...complicated,” I reply, glancing at the door to ensure I’m alone. “I’ve been going through the financial records here, and I’ve found some things that don’t add up.”

“Like what?”

“There are a few transactions that seem unusually large and vaguely described. I think they might be using the club to launder money. And I found some records that suggest Jeremy was involved in these transactions before he died.”

There’s a pause on the other end as Mark processes this information. “That’s big, Daniella. We need to get more concrete evidence. Can you dig deeper?”

“I will,” I promise. “But I have to be careful. They’re watching me.”

“Just be safe. We’ll need to meet soon to go over everything you’ve found. Let’s plan for the end of the week.”

“Okay. I’ll keep you updated.”

As I hang up the phone, a wave of exhaustion washes over me. The weight of everything I’m dealing with feels overwhelming, but I push it aside and focus on the task at hand.

I need to stay sharp if I’m going to uncover the truth, but I’m starting to wonder if I even want to know what happened at all.

***

The next morning, I wake up feeling queasy, It’s the same lingering nausea that’s been plaguing me for weeks.

I decided yesterday that it was finally time to see a doctor. I had slipped out at lunchtime, saying I had an errand to run. I had gone to the local Planned Parenthood. They had taken my blood and done some other tests and then told me they would call me to come back and talk to someone when the results were in.

I walk through the sterile, white corridors of the clinic, the linoleum floor slick under my shoes. The brightness of the fluorescent lights makes everything seem stark and cold. I grip my appointment card tightly, trying to anchor myself amidst the rising anxiety.

At the reception desk, a young woman with her hair in a tidy bun and glasses perched on the edge of her nose looks up with a professional smile. “Good morning! How can I help you?”

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