Page 132 of Knights Game

He kisses my ankle, nibbling and sucking all the way up to my inner thigh, as his hand roams lazily on the other side. My skin is feverish as wetness pools between my legs, while he takes his time over it, over me. Driving me into a frenzy, but also giving me the most erotic and sensual moment of my life.

And then he’s there, licking devilishly slowly across my folds and I groan in relief. His finger pushes in, and my eyes roll back. This is what I needed.

He adds another finger, hitting the delicious spot inside me, and just as I’m about to crash over he puts the perfect amount of pressure with his tongue on the bundle of nerves, and I detonate,screaming incoherently. But he doesn’t stop, no, he’s lapping and sucking at my hot skin and soon I’m erupting again.

My hands go to his head, holding him there as my legs grip his shoulders and he milks every ounce of pleasure from me.

I collapse back onto his desk in a heap, eyes closed, panting. I open my eyes to smile at him when my mouth forms a O and I feel his hard length at my opening, and he slides in.

It’s slow, he leans forward and kisses me gently, I can taste my arousal on his lips. The pace is leisurely and languid until suddenly he pulls out. Pulling me up, he spins me, then pushes me back down, so my bare arse is in the air, my stomach flush against his desk as he slams back into me. One hand grips my waist almost painfully as the other holds me against the desk.

He pounds into me, the sound of our skin slapping and our grunts fill the quietness of the office. He continuously drives into me, all control lost, when he releases his grip and slaps my arse. The surprise of the movement shocks me.

“Again!” I shout.

And he slaps me again, hard, the warmth spreading from my cheek as he fucks me with abandonment. He’s deep, deeper than he’s ever been, his thrusts and hard cock feeling like he’s hitting my ovaries.

He slaps me again.

“Fuck!” I shout, as pleasure erupts through me, every nerve ending lights up and I scream out my release. It comes out of nowhere but it’s no less powerful than the previous and he tumbles after, his own shouts of pleasure following mine as he collapses onto me panting against my neck.

We lay there, his weight holding me down on his desk. “I hope these papers weren’t important,” I say eventually.

“Fuck the papers.” He nestles into my neck and kisses it, then pulls back and places a soft kiss on my cheek before removing his weight from my back, and slowly pulls out. He falls back intothe chair, naked from the waist down. I push off from the desk, papers stuck to my skin, and I slowly turn around, leaning up against the desk, he inclines his head back, closing his eyes.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He opens an eye. “I could ask you the same thing, sunshine.”

I stand from his desk and peel a piece of paper from my skin placing it on the desk behind me. I start to dress myself, as Luca watches me. I pull my underwear on quickly, then my jeans as Luca stands and pulls his own trousers back up, tucking himself in.

“I’m…” I’m not even sure what I am. “I need to show you something.”

He doesn’t say anything, just sits in his chair, pulls out a cigarette and flicks his zippo. The flame creates shadows that dance over his beautiful features.

I pull out the case file, and set it on his desk and pour us both a drink from his drinks cabinet.

Maybe he can help me make sense of it and lead me out of this nightmare.

45

Luca

“I’ve also got this.”She reaches into her bag and pulls out a black external hard drive which is no bigger than my phone.

I hold up a newspaper clipping.

“Whose writing is this?” I ask, my fists barely able to stop clenching the paper in my hand, my body jittery as I desperately try to remain calm.

“My grandfather’s. My parents were government agents, Luca. Did you see the writing.”

Yes, I saw the fucking writing, the scribbles, the names.

The fucking pictures.

“Have you seen what’s on the hard drive?” I ask, wondering why the fuck there’s a picture of my mother with Layla’s parents in the folder along with a newspaper outlining her death in gruesome detail. I’ve never seen the article before. “Do you know this woman?”

I push the photo across the desk and watch carefully as Layla picks it up and looks at it. She shakes her head.

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