Charles calls me his secret weapon, his golden ticket to taking down the worst criminals this city has to offer. They think he's a genius, always a step ahead, but they don't know it's me who does the dirty work.
The music in the car is barely audible over the sounds I'm making. Ricardo's head is buried between my thighs, with his hands gripping my hips like he owns me, he is eating me out, leaving me gasping for air. My back arches against the seat, with my fingers tangled in his dark hair. I can't stop the moans spilling from my lips, they were loud and shameless.
Up front, the driver is uncomfortable, his eyes are fixed on the road, but when I let out another cry, he fumbles for his earbuds and jams them in, pretending we're not even here.
When the car slows and pulls into the driveway of a five-star hotel, my legs are trembling. Ricardo sits up, straightens his jacket like nothing happened, and steps out of the car. Cool. Composed. Utterly infuriating.
I follow, adjusting my silver dress, trying to gather what's left of my dignity, but he grabs me before I can take another step. His hand takes my waist, pulling me close as we walk towards the entrance.
We barely make it through the doors before he starts kissing me again. His hands roam my body, and I shudder from pleasure.
"Sir," a security guard approaches, trying to mask his discomfort. "This is an establishment. That kind of behavior is—"
The man freezes when his eyes land on Ricardo.
"Mr. Borrelli," he stammers. "I—I'm so sorry. Please, forgive me."
Ricardo doesn't even acknowledge him. He brushes past with a smirk, his hand still firmly on my lower back.
Inside, the receptionist at the desk glances up, her eyes widening. She recovers quickly, putting on a nervous smile. "Welcome, Mr. Borrelli. Your usual suite is available. Here's the master key."
Her hand shakes as she slides the key across the counter. Ricardo takes it without a word, as his attention is already back on me.
We head towards the elevators, and as soon as the doors close, he's on me again. He's kissing me, touching me, almost like he can't get enough of me. By the time the elevator reaches the top floor, my dress strap is slipping down my shoulder, and his jacket is discarded on the floor.
When we step into the suite, I pause. The room is stunning. But Ricardo doesn't seem to notice. His eyes are on me, burning with desire.
I smirk, leaning back against the massive bed. "Are you some kind of god?"
He laughs. "You could say that."
Before I can reply, his hand is on my neck, firm but not quite rough, tilting my head back to meet his gaze. "Take off your fucking clothes," he commands me.
I do as he says, letting the silver dress slide to the floor, leaving me naked before him. His eyes scanned over me, like he's savoring every inch.
He undresses himself slowly. "Do you want to see what a god's dick looks like?" he asks with arrogance.
I bite my lip, nodding slowly. "Yes, daddy."
He pushes me onto the bed. He's rough in a way that fills me with adrenaline. But then it happens—too fast. His breathing is heavy, and he shudders against me. The room goes quiet for a while.
I lay there, my body still buzzing, but something feels... off. I glance at him, and it's all over his face. His jaw is clenched, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, he is frustrated.
For all his confidence, his climax comes too soon. It's clear he's not satisfied. Neither am I.
Just then, Ricardo's phone rings, breaking the silence. He pulls it out of his pocket, his expression shifts as he checks the screen. He answers, pacing a few steps away from the bed.
It's not on speaker, but his tone is low and he speaks with frustration. I pick up fragments, enough to piece together the conversation.
"Angelo, what the fuck do you want now?" Ricardo snaps, running a hand through his hair.
I shift quietly, slipping my hand under the pillow where I've hidden the tiny recording device Charles gave me. One press of a button, and it's on.
"Calmo, Calmo brother. I know, I know." Angelo's voice is muffled, but I catch enough to hear the panic in his words.
Ricardo yells into the phone. "But we're stuck. The senator's daughter? Having that bitch amongst the other girls has ruined everything. We can't move the other girls' until we figure out what to do with her."
"No, we can't kill her, Angelo. Do you have any idea what that would bring down on us? Charles Gregory's already sniffing around. You think we'd survive that kind of heat?" Ricardo's voice rises, then he drops his tone. "This is our punishment, remember? We're cleaning up someone else's mess, and we don't have a choice."
At the mention of Charles's name, I felt fear. My fingers tighten around the recording device as I hold my breath, praying Ricardo doesn't notice.
Angelo says something else, something that makes Ricardo exhale harshly.
"Look," Ricardo mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose, "once this batch is gone, we're out. That was the deal. We just need to keep everything quiet for a few more days. That's it!"
The call ends abruptly. Ricardo tosses the phone onto a nearby chair, dragging a hand down his face.
I stop the recording and slip the device back under the pillow, it is terrifying.
Ricardo stands there, silently. I kneel on the bed, moving towards him slowly. My fingers trace his chest, it is soothing for him I can tell.
"What's wrong?" I ask softly, with a sweet and curious tone. "Everything's going to be alright... if you tell me."
He clenches his jaw. "I don't even know you," he mutters. "Why the fuck would I tell you personal information?"
I nod, as my fingers trail lower. "You don't know me, but you can trust me." My tone turns hushed. "I've done some pretty bad shit myself."
My hand finds him, stroking his dick slowly. He moans softly from my touch and his defenses falter. "It's not my mess," he says, with his head tipping back slightly. "It's a punishment."
I tilt my head, feigning sympathy. "Punishment?"
He groans, with the words spilling out as I keep stroking him. "A deal went bad with someone... someone influential. They gave us a choice: deal with this... or lose everything. So, we're stuck with it—for now."
I hum softly, nodding as I keep stroking his dick. "What's this punishment, exactly? It has to do with girl's, right?"
"Yeah, lots of 'em." Ricardo replies.
"And… where are these girls?" I ask as I stroke him.
"They're in a safehouse... just for a few more days," he admits reluctantly. "After this batch, I'm done, fortunately. I just need to get them to him, and then I'm done."
He sighs. But just as I think I'm in control, his hand shoots out, grabbing a fistful of my hair. I gasp as he leans down, searching my eyes. "And nothing," he says, "can go wrong."
I swallow hard, nodding incessantly. "Yes, daddy. Nothing will go wrong." I whisper with my voice carrying just the right amount of conviction to make him believe me.
"I mean it," I add, stroking his dick with every word. "You're not the kind of man who lets things slip. I can tell—everything about you screams control. Power. Success." I let my hands drift down his chest. "I'd bet on you any day."
He seems to relax slightly, and his grip loosens in my hair. I smile at him, keeping my tone sweet. "Whatever's going on, daddy... you'll get through it. You always do, don't you?"
Ricardo nods. "You're fucking right. You know what, let's get some rest, it's getting late."
As I watch him sleep, I can't help but think how I'll ruin his life by the next morning. And I'll continue doing this over, and over again, 'cause this is what I am.
But deep down, I know one thing: debts always come due, and one day, my luck will run out. What I don't know is how soon that day is coming... or how unprepared I am for when it'll happen.