by Kelsey Hodge
“You won’t,” he says, and I feel him pushing against me
“No,” I try again.
“Fuck me, Wyatt, please.” The pleading tone in his voice breaks all the resolve I have, so I pull out slowly and slam back in. I hear my balls hit his ass. At the same time, he yells out, “YES!!!”
He’s so tight around me. I won’t last long, so I change the angle of my thrust, so I hit his prostate with a pounding rhythm. My balls slap against him with each thrust in. When I feel my orgasm building, I take his cock in my hand and pump him, matching my thrusts. Lorenzo lets out moan after moan. Soon, I feel his ass tighten around me, and he shakes his head from side to side. His orgasm will hit any second. I thrust into him harder and faster, loving the way he fits around me. Suddenly, my orgasm hits, and I pump jet after jet of cum into Lorenzo’s hot channels. The sensation of me coming pushes him over the edge, causing him to shoot cum up his chest. I collapse on top of him, panting, with my cock still buried inside him and not caring that it’s spreading Lorenzo’s cum between us.
“Wow,” he manages to get out between pants.
“You’re telling me,” I reply, carefully pulling out of him and rolling to the side.
“That felt so amazing. I’ve never had someone bareback before,” Lorenzo says to the ceiling.
This statement makes me so happy, knowing that he trusts me that much. “Thank you,” I say. It’s a lame-ass response, but it’s the most heartfelt one I can give him. “I’ll grab a cloth and wipe us down.”
I slowly get off the bed and make my way to the en-suite bathroom, my legs feeling like Bambi on ice when I walk. I dampen a hand towel, grab a dry one, and make my way back to the bedroom to see Lorenzo stretch out in bed, a massive smile on his face.
“You look like the cat that got the cream,” I say, smiling at him.
Without missing a beat, he replies, “I definitely got creamed.” We burst out laughing because he’s one hundred percent right.
Once I’ve wiped him and myself down and dried us, I pull back the covers and climb in, pulling Lorenzo into my arms so that his back is flushed to my chest.
“Thank you for today. Your family is amazing so welcoming. You’re fortunate,” he says quietly, sleep taking over him.
“I’m lucky, and I think you won them over pretty quickly.” I say, but his breathing has grown deeper. I think he’s asleep and hasn’t heard my words, so I kiss his head and whisper, “I love you,” and close my eyes, ready for sleep to pull me under, safe knowing he hasn’t heard me.
Then I hear, “I love you too,” before he snuggles into me and falls asleep.
I smile as I remember that night and the first ‘I love you.’ I’ve never regretted saying it; it had felt like the right time, especially after the trust we had given each other. Then it dawns on me. That night, there had been no questions asked about whether we were lying, and I must believe in him now. I need to look past the betrayal and lies and blindly trust him like I did that night.
Chapter 15 - Lorenzo
The banging on the front door wakes me from my sleep and the beautiful dream I was having. I had been curled up in Wyatt’s arms, naked from a mammoth sex session, all sated and happy. I get out of bed, grab my robe, and tie it around me as I walk to the front door, shouting, “I’m coming.” I can’t stop the embarrassment from racing up my neck when I open the door and see Wyatt standing on the other side, raising one eyebrow.
“Do you need me to come back later?” He smirks.
“So funny, Wyatt. What can I do for you at this ungodly hour?” I say. I sound grumpy, but the dream has made me realize what I might lose.
“Lorenzo, it’s nine a.m. Most people are in work, and normally, you are too. So cut the ungodly crap.”
Sullenly, I reply, “Sorry,” and open the door wider and open my arm out, inviting him in and closing the door behind me.
“I’ll get you some coffee,” he states, walking to the kitchen. “What’s made you so grumpy this morning?”
“I was rudely awakened from a very nice dream, which I wouldn’t mind going back to.” Even as I say this, I walk over to the couch and sit to watch Wyatt brew the coffee and ask, “Why are you banging the door? This is still your place. You have a key.”
“After how I left, I wasn’t sure if I should use my key.”
I’m not sure what to say to this, so I decide to ask, “Why are you here?”
The reply to this question surprises me. “I’ve been thinking about when you met my parents for the first time.”
I remember that day; it’s one of my happiest memories. His parents, brother, and sister had been so welcoming; a close bond was seeded that night and has since grown stronger and stronger. So, he says, “And?”
“I think we should talk. You said you were willing to help. I’m willing to listen, and we’ll take it from there.”
“I’d like that. Where do you want to start? I need you to know that this is dangerous for me.”
“How? Hasn’t your dad kicked you out of the family?” Wyatt asks.
“Even now, if he discovers that I’m still alive, and that I’ve talked, he’ll make sure the job is done right next time,” I say.
The look of confusion on his face is almost comical for a cop and when he says, “The right way…” I almost want to burst out laughing.
“Seriously, and you call yourself a cop?”
“What!”
“The right way…” I emphasize, “In that I would be dead.” The moment the words register, it’s like a light bulb has gone off. The shock appears on his face, but then he giggles… actually giggles!
“I was about to say, ‘Really? His own son?’ but then I remembered who he is. Sorry,” Wyatt says, explaining the giggle.
His explanation makes sense. “I was a little concerned with that giggle.”
“Hey, it’s a normal reaction. Most families don’t kill their children,” Wyatt says and smiles.
“Most families don’t have a drug lord as their dad,” I state honestly.
This time, Wyatt smiles at my reply. “That’s very true.”
“So, is there anything else we need to go over,” I ask.
I’m surprised when Wyatt asks, “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you want to do all this?” Wyatt asks like this is the most straightforward question in the world, but the answer isn’t simple.
“You know I never wanted this life, but I felt that I had no option. I always thought life would keep on going, that there would be flowers and drugs. I never imagined myself as a killer until I was, and I feel that my soul will never be the same. I have to live for me now, for us, and the only way I can do that is to get away from my family.”
“Is that possible?”
“Honestly, I don’t know. Dad hasn’t learned that I’m not dead; he would have tried to contact me. He doesn’t know where I live, so he cannot trace me here, but I’m not sure about when I’m at the shop,” I tell him but don’t admit how much that thought scares me.
“But he cannot take the shop, can he?”
“No, he can’t touch the shop. Everything is in my name and above board and legal. All the profit’s mine.” I cannot help but feel pride in myself when I say, “It does very well.”
When Wyatt says, “That’s easy to believe; your flowers are beautiful.” My pride escalates.
“Thank you. That was my dream, and they railroaded me into naming it after the family. I plan to use some savings to rename the shop.”
“You want to rename the shop, why?”
“That name is linked to my family, and I want nothing to do with them. This will be a clean start, and it shouldn’t affect my customers.”
“Why do I feel like you’ve had this plan for a while?”
“I have.” The hurt on his face at this is almost too much. “Look, I should have come clean a lot sooner. I broke your trust in the worst possible way, but I hope you understand that I had my reasons.”
“Believe me, Lorenzo, I understand your reasons,” Wyatt states. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less or lessen the betrayal I feel.”
I’ll have to show Wyatt I’m serious, almost make a grand gesture, something that proves I know what I’m doing. He needs to know he can trust me and the information I give him will be useful. We’ve fallen into an awkward kind of silence which is an extraordinary feeling for us. We’ve always been so comfortable together, but I need to think.
“Wait here,” I say to him, jumping to my feet and running towards our bedroom.
Very confused, I hear him answer, “Okay, but why?”
Shouting back, I say, “I have something for you.”
I don’t hear his reply as I’m going into the bedroom closet. I remove my gun holster from a secret compartment, and hold them in my hand for a second. I remove the gun from the holster and stare at it. Dad gave me this gun on my eighteenth birthday. He was so proud that day. As far as he was concerned, I joined the business that day. This is also the weapon that ended the lives of men, yet in the pit of my stomach, there’s this small bit of sadness at what I’m about to do. I’m shocked that I feel this. Five minutes ago, I thought this idea was brilliant, but the sadness still lingers.
“You okay back there?” I hear Wyatt asking, confusion lacing the question. He never noticed this place, so he would have no idea what I’m doing. With a deep breath, I place the gun back in its holster, hold it in my hands behind my back, and make my way back to the couch.
When I re-enter the room, before I lose my nerve, I quickly walk over to him and kneel in front of him.
“What the fuck? You better not be proposing,” he says, and this settles my nerves.
“Even I’m not that stupid considering everything… Anyway, it will be you who asks me, if or when the time is right,” I say with a sly smile on my face. Thankfully, he smiles back, and I’m relieved.
“I will, will I?”
“Yes, you will.” This conversation has grown a little too jovial. I need to get it back onto a serious track. “You need to learn to trust me again, and that will take time. I also need to show you I’m not lying anymore.”
“I know you’re not lying,” he says, but I cut him off.
“Shhh, I haven’t finished.” He holds up his hands like he’s surrounded.
“Please continue.”
“As I was saying, I need to show you I’m not lying.” I bring my arms to my front and lay the gun in its holster on his lap. “This was given to me on my eighteenth birthday. Dad sees this as the day I joined the business,” I explain. Wyatt looks at me, but his face is devoid of emotion. I continue, “This is the weapon I used to end the lives of men. I can’t say good men, other than maybe Tony, but it still made me a murderer. I’m giving it to you.” This last sentence finally causes Wyatt to have a reaction; it’s a mixture of shock, disbelief, and anger.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
“I want you to know how serious I am. What better way than to give you the very thing that defined me as evil.”
“You kept a gun in the apartment? Where?”
“There’s a secret compartment in the closet, like your gun safe.” Wyatt has his own gun that he keeps in a visible safe on his side of the closet. One I’ve never known the combination to.
“I can’t believe you kept a loaded gun in the apartment.”
Ahhh, I now know why he’s angry. “The gun was never loaded while inside these walls.”
“Pardon,” he asks, confused.
“I always made sure the gun was unloaded. I never kept bullets in the apartment either.”
Wyatt’s anger seems to have eased at this, but the next question will be where the bullets are kept. I decide to tell him before he gets a chance to ask. “Frank always gave me the bullets. Dad keeps them with him. It’s another way he has of controlling us and keeping himself safe.”
“Okay, what am I supposed to do with it?” he asks.
“That’s up to you, Wyatt, but I would prefer it not go into evidence.”
He stares at the gun for a while, not saying anything. Then he slowly rises from the couch, steps around me, and walks to the bedroom. I soon hear the familiar sounds of his gun safe being opened. I can’t say how relieved I am that he’s keeping it here.
I pick myself up off the floor, sit back on the edge of the couch, and wait. It must take him five minutes before he’s back in the living area. I’m pleased to see he’s no longer angry, but there’s still confusion. As he sits next to me, he turns to face me.
“Why the gun, Lorenzo?” he asks.
“Because of what it represents. This is my way of confirming that I mean everything I’ve said.”
“I’m not sure what to say, other than thank you.” He pauses for a second before saying, “It means a lot to me but gives me a lot to think about too.”
Now that everything has been said, he has accepted that it’s time to start the more dangerous conversation, but there’s no hesitation or nervousness. Now, whatever comes of this, I’m happy with my decision.
“Do you need a notepad or anything? I would prefer that nothing is recorded,” I say to Wyatt. For a second, he blinks at me, not hearing what I’ve said. He’s still rooted in thought.
“What?” he says.
I repeat, “Do you need a notepad? But I don’t want to be recorded.”
“Oh right,” he says, finally understanding what I’m saying. “I was going to record you but considering what you’ve told me, I think making notes is a good idea. Do we have a notepad in the apartment?”
I can’t help but shake my head. “How long have you been living here?”
“Hey, it’s the twenty-first century—shoot me if I use modern technology.”
I raise a single eyebrow and look at him, noticing that he hasn’t realized what he has said, so I can’t resist saying, “Can’t shoot you—you have my gun.” The look on his face is priceless, but we both break down into a fit of giggles. It’s what we need to break the tension.
“Oh my God, Lorenzo, seriously! Now, where is the notepad?”
“Top draw, side table,” I tell him and point to the table next to him. He shifts in his seat and pulls out the notepad and pen that I keep in there.
“What happened? When we first met, you carried a notepad and pen with you.”
“What can I say other than I’m off duty and moved to the twenty-first century,” he says while opening the notepad to a clean page. “Where do you want to start?”
“Before I start, there’s something I need to let you know.”
“Oh God, what now?” After everything that has gone on, I’m not surprised.
“This is nothing about me, but there was a diary I was going to give you, so you could copy it. They’ve already removed it from my possession.”
“How do you know?”
“Anonymous text. Oh, that reminds me, I’m going to be changing my cell number and getting a new phone—when I’m a little more mobile. I want to make sure the family has no way of contacting me.” This thought makes me a little sad. Even though I’m more than happy not to hear from my parents, I’ll miss being with my brother.
“Once we finish, I’ll get it for you. I want to make sure you’re safe.”
“Thank you, but you can’t. Phone company won’t let you; security and everything.”
“In that case, cancel your number. I’ll get you a number on my contract. If anyone tries to trace you, there’s no trail.”
I hadn’t thought of that. “That would be pretty awesome. I’ll pay you for it, of course.”
“We can sort that out later. Now, let’s get back to it. Do you know who this anonymous person is, and why they keep helping you?”
“I think it’s Frank,” I say.
“Frank, you said he was your driver? Why is helping you?” I’m almost surprised that Wyatt remembered who Frank was. At least it proves that he has been paying attention to everything I’ve bee
n saying.
“I have no idea, but he has taken a huge risk. He’s a dead man if it’s ever found out.” Saying this pains me to no end. Frank is a good man and doesn’t deserve to die because he decides to help me. “Without the diary, there’s nothing to back up what I’m saying. Hopefully, it will help.”
I take a deep breath and start talking. I explain about the drug coding and how we know where the drugs need to go. Wyatt scribbles down any of the information that’ll be useful. I tell by his face he knows without the diary, there isn’t a lot he can do. I can’t remember the last order entry, but I keep going, telling him anything I think will be important.
“Okay, I understand that the diary would’ve been useful, but this information is good too. What we need to know is how the drugs are getting into the city.”
“Dad still dealt with that side of everything, and he would keep it close to the vest. Very much a need to know basis. It was another way of keeping himself in the game. Nobody could overthrow him. He’s only started to tell me things in the last few years before his retirement, but I’m sure there’s still more. Dad determined a pattern to the ship inspections, even though it appears to be completely random. The ship we use is called the Fiore Rosso.”
“Yeah, Liam worked out the same pattern, but it took him some time. We figured out the Fiore Rosso was involved,” Wyatt informs me.
“Is this how Liam worked out the connection to me?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Sorry. I didn’t have the courage to tell you.”
Hearing this hurts more than I thought it would. This should have been my story to tell. I should have been the one to tell Wyatt everything. I should have done it when he was warning me about Dad that day. He shouldn’t have heard this from his best friend.
“The ship visits a flower farm in South America. If you’ve been investigating the ship, you would know this.” Wyatt nods his head in agreement. “But what you won’t know is that the ship always makes an unscheduled stop before getting to the farm. A few miles up from the farm, an unused factory has a dock; this is where the drugs are loaded on the ship in crates used at the farm. They have false bottoms and place in very thin layers, so the bottoms don’t look off. They also cover them with the same flowers that will be going into the crates, hoping to mask the smell. We normally go for the stronger scented flowers. I think Dad has even tried to get drug dogs to sniff them to see, but I’m not sure if it worked or not. Anyway, the ship is never more than a few hours at the dock before moving on to the farm. Sorry, but I don’t know how the drugs get to the factory. That would have been the next part of my training, if you want to call it that. The ship then returns to the US and is unloaded at the flower wholesaler.” I look over to him and say, “I guess you’ve figured out that Joe’s involved.” Again, he nods his head. “Thought so. Anyway, the unique flower crates are removed, not all the crates contain drugs. There could only be about ten to twenty at a time. I think there’s a stockpile somewhere but once the next stock is confirmed, the drugs go out to the areas that are needed. I have no idea if this is true or even where it would be.”