Page 10 of Corrupting Lily

“The other.” Dominico doesn’t ask. He demands.

“The other is made out to a woman, Amelia Anna Esposito,” I respond before flipping to the next page. It appears to be for another company, and the bank statements show the corresponding transfers. The references match those of the deposits made into the two accounts over a seven-month period.

“It’s bank statements reflecting the deposits. A holding company made some of the payments. NextGen Pharma Tech.” My frown deepens as I sift through my memories, wondering why that name sounds so familiar.

“Daisy,” Dominico says quietly, commanding my attention. His hand is open, and he flicks his fingers, gesturing for me to pass him the documents. Once I do, he stands up, indicating that I should take the chair he has just vacated. I wonder if he intended to get up or if he was indeed being a gentleman by offering me the only chair that seemed untainted in the room.

“Mmm, you thought I didn’t know. How arrogant. I’ve been onto you for a while now. With the proof in hand, Uncle, I'm hurt that you've chosen to betray me like this. Betray thefamiglia. You know what I do with traitors.” Dominico’s words leave the older man stumbling forward, pleas escaping his mouth as he mumbles words in Italian that I don’t understand.

Famiglia? The word repeats in my mind over and over, followed by another one. Mafia. This man is part of the mafia. They all are. What the hell have I gotten myself involved in? Who have I gotten myselfinvolved with?

“Take him to the warehouse.” Dominico’s order is immediately followed by his bodyguard escorting Lorenzo out of the room, a trail of urine running down his leg and onto the black carpeted floor. This is Dominico's superpower. Making people piss themselves. I suppose with everything else on the floor already, this is just par for the course. I know this reaction to fear. I have had personal experience with it. Even now, when I get anxious or scared, my bladder will react, taunting me with the need to relieve myself.

Dominico turns slowly to face me, extinguishing his cigar on the already trashed carpet with the heel of his shoe, while I rise from my chair. His stare is intense, and I am suddenly fully aware that we are alone. Alone in a room where one man fucked another while I watched.

"Did you enjoy the show,il mio fiorellino?” His voice is so deep and seductive, it wraps around me, stroking a fire that seems to always be burning when around him. The way he stands there, all muscle and hardness, wrapped in a fancy suit and tattoos, makes me wet. He is dangerous, I know this. But that danger appeals to me. It shouldn't. Yet all I want right now is for this insanely attractive, utterly menacing man to bend me over that table and fuck me so hard that it feels like I might leave an imprint of my body in it. My eyes drift from him to the table and back again.

Instead of answering his question, I ask one of my own.

"What doesil mio fiorellinomean?"

He approaches me slowly, every step causing a misstep in the beat of my heart. God, I am so turned on that I might come just from anticipating what he might do. He closes the distance to the point where I must arch my neck to look up at him. A neck that is quickly encircled by a large hand. I moan. He growls. The sound causes atingling between my legs as desire slicks my cotton panties.

He leans forward, his mouth next to my ear.

"My. Little. Flower." Damn. The possessive way he says it while he gently squeezes my neck makes my clit throb.

"Now. Answer my question. Did you enjoy the show?" He pulls back slightly, his gaze locking with mine as I bite my lip. Anything but the truth, and he will see it on my face. But I want to defy him. I want to be punished.

"No." He smirks, his gaze dipping to my lips.

"Naughty, naughty. I told you not to lie to me." In a heartbeat, he spins me around, an excited squeal passing my lips, followed by shock as his large hand cups my overly sensitive and thoroughly lubricated nether region.

"Let's see if you are lying." Slowly, he rubs, my body betraying me by pushing into his palm. Like putty on a potter's wheel. My head falls back as another traitorous moan leaves my body as I revel in the feeling of this man I desire touching me. I am so mesmerized and distracted that I don't even realize he has undone the button on my jeans until his hand dips into my panties. One long, thick finger slides over my clit, making me jerk in response before sliding through my utterly drenched folds. The truth to my lie.

"You lied to me," he whispers in my ear, his finger circling my clit and making me realize that I actually won't need much stimulation to come. I'm so worked up that I can already feel an orgasm coiling, building, each stroke of his finger bringing me closer to a release I want so badly, I beg for it.

"Please. I'm so close." He chuckles, and then, as suddenly as everything happens, I stumble forward as he releases me, my jolt from being on the edge of an orgasm to being robbed of it, jarring to say the least.

I spin on my heel, my lust-filled gaze finding his.

Ever so slowly, he raises that same hand he used before placing the glistening, wet finger in his mouth.

Wow. The hunger in his eyes as he tastes me while staring right at me is a moment I will never forget. I've never been so turned on.

"Don't lie to me again. Come." And just like that, he turns and heads to the door, leaving me an unfinished mess. This is my punishment, and I don't like it. I feel like a live wire, ready to spark at the lightest touch.

"Daisy." I'm jolted out of my stupor by the command in his voice, my feet finally moving.

With dimmed lighting, I can’t see where the trail of urine Lorenzo left behind is on the carpet. All too late, I feel it seep through the worn sole of my shoe, soaking into my sock. Hopping back, I lean against the doorframe, pulling my foot up as I contemplate what to do. I don’t want my foot squishing around in another human’s bodily fluids, but I also know the state of the floor in the club is no better.

“What is it?” Dominico asks with what almost sounds like genuine concern, the harshness in his voice when speaking to Lorenzo gone. Embarrassment washes over me as he peers down at my worn sole, thankfully seeming to understand my situation without me having to voice what has happened.

What I don’t expect is for strong arms to swoop me up, my legs dangling over his muscular forearm while he cradles my upper body against his chest. Geezus. I can’t remember the last time someone held me like this. It feels so…nice.

Chapter 8

Dominico

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