Chapter 21

Benedict

I head home after a long night at the club, and before I even make it fully through my front door, I unzip my pants, freeing my cock.

I slam the door shut, leaning back against the hardwood, stroking my cock in my hand. “Fuck,” I grunt out.

The image of Eva’s body, the feel of her pussy on my fingers, the way her whole body shook when her orgasm hit has me fisting my cock with speed. The way she looked tonight has me harder than iron. I keep stroking my dick, my breathing picking up. I picture her on her knees, taking my hard dick deep down her throat. Her blue eyes staring up at me.

“Take it all,” I say out into the darkness. “Take my fucking cock,” I say, wishing she were here. “You know you want it.” And she does want it. I can tell.

She has to fucking want it. Does she get wet every time she sees me? I know I’m always hard in her presence.

Fuck.

I’m so close to coming. So close to coming to visions of Eva on her knees, her long blonde hair tumbling around her perfect fucking tits. I bet they’re exquisite. I try to imagine them, wishing I could catch one glimpse of them.

I keep jerking off, my dick ready to explode. Would she suck me? Would she swallow me whole? I bet she would. I bet she’d do whatever it takes to get me off. To make me come. I picture coming on her face. I picture coming on her tits. On her ass. On her fucking pussy. I picture it all with her.

“Fuck,” I roar out, my release slamming into me like a ton of bricks. “Fuck, Eva.” I need this woman badly.

I don’t even care anymore.

I don’t care if she thinks I’m a priest. I’m fucking not.

I’m not a man of the cloth, and next time I see her I’m going to show her how wicked I can be. How I can own her body.

I clean up my mess, trying my best to concentrate on anything else, but how can I?

My phone rings in my pocket, and I check the caller id.

Vin.

“What?” I say into the phone, still a bit out of breath.

“Whoa, what’s up with you?”

I breathe in deep, letting it out slowly before I begin, “I’m just tired, man. I want to be done with this assignment once and for all.”

“I get that. Listen, I looked into that Christopher Matthews like you asked. Do you know who his number one client is?”

“Lazarus?”

“Not quite. He’s got only one client, and it’s some shell corporation called Blackfriar.”

“Never heard of it.”

“We’re looking into it, but guess who’s the managing partner listed on the company’s paperwork.”

“Lazarus?” I ask again.

“Enzo Gabini.”

“No fucking way. I think Enzo may have killed Gregory Saunders.”

“What makes you think that?”

I shake my head, not quite sure of where I’m going with my thoughts. “Lazarus said at the club tonight that they were celebrating, and said Enzo took care of a problem.”

“Things are happening quickly. I know they’re moving a shipment of girls, so keep your eyes peeled.”

I scrub a hand down my jaw. “On it.” I hang up with him and I slump back into my chair.

I want to know everything I can about Christopher Matthews, and there’s only one person who I can talk to about him. Only one person who at a time knew him best.

You up?

Eva: Yes, why?

Can I come over? Have some questions for you.

Eva: Sure.

I strip out of the suit I wore at the club, the fabric heavy with the scent of smoke and spilled drinks. Tossing it aside, I grab a pair of worn jeans from the dresser and tug them on. I pull a gray t-shirt over my head, the soft cotton clinging to my skin, grounding me in the simplicity of the moment.

I head out the door, the night air cool against my skin, crisp with the scent of autumn. The moon hangs low in the sky, a glowing crescent that bathes the streets in a soft, silver light. It’s late—too late for most people to be out—but the quiet only heightens my awareness. Every sound, every breath, seems amplified in the stillness.

I mount my bike, the metal frame cold beneath my fingers as I grip the handlebars. The ride to Eva’s place isn’t long—just a mile or so—but it feels like an eternity. Each pedal stroke carries me closer to her, my mind racing as fast as my heart. The rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath my tires fills the air, the moonlight guiding me along the narrow roads that twist through the town.

As I ride, shadows stretch across the pavement, dark figures cast by the trees lining the street. Their branches sway gently in the night breeze, their leaves rustling softly like whispers in the darkness. The streetlights flicker in the distance, one by one, marking the path toward Eva’s house. The closer I get, the tighter the knot in my chest becomes.

I don’t know what I’ll say when I see her, but I know I have to be there. The uncertainty churns in my stomach, twisting tighter with every passing moment. I need to know about Christopher, need to unravel whatever connection he has to Enzo. But the last thing I want to do is spend the whole night talking about her ex-husband. The mere thought of him lingers like a bitter taste in my mouth.

What I’d rather do—what my entire body is screaming for—is to feel her. To close the distance between us and let every inch of her skin press against mine. The thought of touching her ignites something primal in me, a fire that’s been smoldering for too long. My hands ache to trace the curves of her body, to pull her close and feel her heartbeat syncing with mine.

I want to kiss her. Long, deep kisses that stretch into the night until we’re breathless and aching. The kind of kisses that leave no space between us, that drown out every thought except for how much I need her.

My body is a living, breathing temple. A shrine to her. Every muscle, every breath, is attuned to her presence. She’s the one thing that makes sense in this mess of a world, the one thing that grounds me in the chaos. My heartbeat quickens just imagining her lips on mine, her hands in my hair. It’s more than just desire —it’s an all-consuming need that won’t let go until I’m wrapped up in her, until every barrier between us is shattered.

Talking can wait. Right now, all I want is her.

As I approach her apartment, I spot one faint light glowing in her window, casting a soft, golden hue across the shadows of the night. The sight of it stirs something deep inside me, a quiet reassurance that she’s still awake, still there, waiting. My bike screeches to a halt as I park it along the side of her apartment complex, adrenaline surging through my veins. I barely register the cool night air against my skin as I take off toward her building.

The stairs loom ahead, but I don’t slow down. I race up, taking them two at a time, my feet pounding against the steps as my heart hammers uncontrollably in my chest. It’s as if the rhythm of my pulse matches the urgency in my head—the need to see her, to be near her, to forget about everything else.

I barely pause when I reach her door. My fist slams against the wood, my breath ragged from the rush. The seconds feel like hours as I wait, my mind a blur of anticipation, need, and uncertainty. And then, the door creaks open.

There she stands, framed by the dim light from her living room, her silhouette almost ethereal. Eva, looking as breathtaking as ever. Barefoot, dressed in a sweater that clings to her curves in all the right ways, her long, tousled hair framing her face like a halo. Her eyes lock onto mine, wide with surprise but laced with something else. Something deeper.

“Eva, I…” My voice comes out as a whisper, barely audible above the pounding in my ears. My words falter as she steps aside, her silent invitation pulling me in. She doesn’t need to say anything; the way she looks at me, the way she holds the door open with a soft gesture, is enough.

I step inside, the air thick with unspoken tension as the door clicks shut behind me. The world outside fades, and now it’s just her, and me, and the unyielding pull between us.

“Benedict,” she whispers, her voice a breathy mix of hesitation and longing. The sound of my name on her lips sends a shiver down my spine, electrifying the space between us. I can’t hold back any longer. My hands find her waist as I push her gently against the cool, solid wood of her front door, caging her between my body and the world outside.

“We shouldn’t,” she murmurs, her voice shaky, barely more than a plea. The words hang in the air, fragile and uncertain, but I see the way her eyes flicker, the way her breath hitches as I lean in closer. It's all she can manage to say before the tension snaps, and I’m claiming her lips with mine.

The moment our lips meet, it's like a spark igniting gasoline. Her taste, sweet and intoxicating, floods my senses. I press her deeper against the door, my hands sliding up to cradle her face as I pour everything I’ve been holding back into the kiss. Her soft gasp sends heat coursing through me, and her hands grip the front of my shirt, pulling me closer, her resistance dissolving with every second.

The kiss is hungry, desperate, like we’re both drowning in this moment we’ve tried so hard to avoid. Her lips part for me, and I lose myself in the warmth of her mouth, the way she fits perfectly against me. My hands slide down her sides, feeling the softness of her skin beneath her sweater, the way her body trembles slightly against mine. She tastes like need, like desire, like every whispered promise between us finally coming to life.

The world outside blurs and fades. Nothing exists but her—her lips, her breath, the way her body responds to mine. The door presses hard into her back, but neither of us care. The only thing that matters is the connection between us, the fire we’ve been trying so hard to ignore, now burning too brightly to extinguish.

She’s wearing a soft sweater and pink sweatpants.

“Tasting you at the club wasn’t enough. I need to drink right from the source.”

Her eyes widen as I lower myself to my knees, taking her pants completely off. She steps out of them, her white-lace panties the only thing covering the lower half of her body.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, my hands racing up her legs, wanting to get to her pussy. “I bet you’re soaked for me.”

She bites her lower lip as she closes her eyes, leaning her head back against the door. “Dripping,” she moans out.

I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties, dragging them down her long legs. “Show me.”

She blinks at me, not understanding my meaning. “What do you mean?”

“I rise to my full height, towering over her. “Show me how wet you are. I want to see this dripping pussy.” I move away from the door, heading over to the couch and taking a seat. “Show me,” I say again.

She moves closer toward me. “Benedict, this is so wrong,” she whispers.

“If this is wrong, then I don’t ever want to be right. I know that’s some cheesy line, but it’s the truth. I want to live in sin for the rest of my days. With you. Now show me your fucking wet pussy.”

Her eyes lock onto mine as she crosses the hardwood flooring of her apartment. She stands right in front of me, staring down at me. “See,” she says, and I cluck my tongue with disapproval.

“Show me, Eva. Bury my face in it.”

Her eyes flicker with a heat I’ve never seen before. “Lie down,” she whispers, and a smile splits my face.

“That’s my naughty girl.” I do as she requested.

She moves her body over me, straddling me. And I’m so fucking here for it. I couldn’t be more turned on if I tried. “Oh, Benedict,” she moans as she moves her pussy closer to my face.

I grab onto her hips, dragging my tongue through her wetness. “Ride me like you did earlier. Come all over me, Eva.”