Stalking Ginevra (Morally Black Book 4)

The shower’s hot spray washes away the sweat and semen, but nothing can scrub away the shame. That masked bastard went too far, making me lick his cum off the floor. I’ve more than compensated him for sparing my life. The next time he comes to me for entertainment, I’ll make him bleed.

Minutes after the stalker left, I called a cab from Martina’s apartment, not wanting to endanger my friend. I was too shaken to operate a vehicle and needed to go home.noveldrama

I turn off the water, step out of the shower, and wrap my hair in a towel. How the hell did he track me down to my best friend’s place when I left directly from work?

The only plausible explanation is a tracker.

If he inserted one beneath my skin, then wouldn’t I feel the difference? Even if he did it while I was asleep, I’d wake up with itching or inflammation. I stand in front of the mirror, checking my body for marks. Twisting around, I run my hands down my back, but it’s smooth.

Apart from the circles under my eyes, and the throbbing around my asshole, I look perfectly untouched.

After getting dry, I move to my walk-in closet. The morning sun streams in through the window, reminding me that I’ve barely had three hours’ sleep. Mom wasn’t in her bedroom when I knocked. She must have listened to my advice about moving in with Bossanova. I don’t want her to be home alone until I can get this pervert off my back.

The phone buzzes as I pull open my lingerie drawer. It’s probably Martina, wondering where the hell I disappeared to in the middle of the night. Walking over to where I left it on the counter, I check my message.

Unknown: Skip the panties.

My breath hitches. It’s him. The sexual terrorist. How does he know I’m about to put on my underwear? My gaze darts around the open closets. When there’s no sign of a large lurker, I rush into my room and check beneath the bed.

Is he watching me from inside the house or from a distance? Either way, he needs to go to hell.

Ignoring him, I rifle through my drawer and pick up a pair of period pants. They’re the largest pair I own, more like boy shorts, and are so bulky that I only wear them in bed. This asshole can go fuck himself, preferably with the butt plug he left up my rectum.

As I slide on the thick panties, the phone buzzes again. Determined not to give him the satisfaction of my attention, I slip on a bra and walk to the wardrobe to select a shift.

He messages over and over, presumably with threats of what he plans to do tonight. I continue dressing, acting like he and his phone don’t exist, until it rings.

My spine stiffens. What if it’s Martina? Or Mom?

I turn back to the phone, finding it lit up with a number that isn’t in my contacts. Chewing my lip, I contemplate whether it could be Bossanova regretfully informing me that Mom has fallen down the stairs.

Fuck it.

I answer. “Hello?”

“Ignore me at your peril, little kitten,” says the dreadful voice from last night.

Panic spikes at the confirmation that he’s watching. I glance around, looking for where he might have hidden the cameras, but they could be anywhere.

“Don’t call me that,” I hiss.

“Would you prefer cum licker or dirty slut?”

I grind my teeth. Maybe kitten isn’t so bad. “What do you want?”

“Take off those panties.”

“Or what?”

He falls silent, making me wonder if he’s hung up. I pull the phone away from my ear, only for it to buzz with an incoming message.

It’s a photo. Of Mom. Lying in a bed, clad in her new green cocktail dress. My breath catches, and dread coils in my gut.

“This is fake,” I whisper.

“There was a shooting at the boss’s welcome-back-from-prison party. Your mother was injured, and she’s staying in the mansion overnight.”

My stomach plummets. “You’re lying.”

He sends another picture, this one of a wider shot of her in bed with Valentino Bossanova. A tight fist of alarm squeezes my heart, making me fight back a sob. Why the hell did that decrepit old bastard transport her into the jaws of our enemy?

I want to scream. Tell him I used to be engaged to his boss. Tell him Benito will fire him the moment he discovers he’s harassing his former fiancée, but the memory of his cold dismissal forces me into silence.

Benito hates my guts. Despises me for breaking his heart. And he’s moved on to another woman— the type who appreciates his devotion.

“What the hell do you want?” I hiss.

“Put me on speaker.”

With a trembling hand, I comply.

“Good girl,” he says. “Now, slide off those oversized panties.”

Gulping, I obey.

“I left some gifts for you in the back of your lingerie drawer. Find them.”

Dread seeps into my bones as I obey his command. My fingers close around another butt plug. It’s smaller than last night’s monstrosity, with a heart-shaped jewel set within its base.

It would be beautiful, even touching, if I didn’t need to shove it up my ass. Without waiting to be ordered, I run its bulbous tip under warm water, rest my foot on a stool, and slip it into my anus. The stretch is uncomfortable, but a pulse of unwelcome heat flickers low in my belly, igniting a sensation I refuse to acknowledge.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Now pull out your second gift.”

Grinding my teeth, I extract a silicone U-shaped device with a rounded body. One end is bulbous, and the other is elongated and thin.

“Slip it in your pussy,” he says, his voice breathy.

I grind my teeth, hating this sadistic, controlling bastard. “Don’t you think two toys are overkill?”

“Speaking of killing⁠—”

“Alright,” I snap, and shove the thicker part of the toy into my pussy. My muscles grip around the thick object, creating a teasing pressure. It swells into a heat that coils deep in my core.

“Adjust it so the thinner part covers your clit.”

Resentment burns through my veins like acid. I can’t allow this to continue. He doesn’t get to sneak in the shadows, threatening the people I love to obtain sexual favors. What kind of desperate sicko goes so far? He probably has no teeth or an unfortunate-looking face.

Shifting the object in place, I shoot my phone a glare. “Anything else?”

“Keep that toy where it belongs until I give you permission to remove it.”

My lips tighten. He doesn’t need to voice the unspoken threat. Before I can even complete that thought, the sex toy rumbles. Of course, it does. Because he’s determined to dominate every aspect of my life.

The sensation is maddening, a slow, insidious pleasure that’s subtle, almost bearable. But with each pulse, the vibration creeps deeper, sending a humiliating warmth pooling between my legs, no matter how fiercely I resist. The thought of his control makes my jaw tighten. I loathe how my thighs clench, craving more, even as my mind twists with horror.

“I have a question,” I say, my voice wavering. “Did you murder my father?”

There’s no answer.

An hour later, I head to work, feeling like everyone knows my secret. The toy seems sound-sensitive, buzzing with every spoken word. My talkative Uber driver, with his endless chatter, nearly drove me to the brink of climax.

Mom won’t answer her phone, and I don’t have Bossanova’s number. On the journey downtown, I messaged my stalker, demanding an update on her situation, but he went silent.

He only replied when I tampered with the toy in the bathroom. The bastard sent a photo of Mom speaking to Benito at the mansion’s double doors along with a message about following her home.

I can’t concentrate. Not on the court documents, not on client phone calls, not even in the privacy of my cubicle. Julian won’t stop chattering. Every time he leans over to offer his condolences, the toy vibrates.

Nick Terranova calls me into Dad’s old office for a meeting with Salvatore Bellavista, the owner of the largest casino equipment manufacturing company in North East America.

He’s a jowly, corpulent man, resembling a bloated version of an old-school mobster.

Dad used to manage the Bellavista account with Julian, Martina and his trusted team. Now that he’s dead, Mr. Bellavista wants to work with me. I can barely concentrate on the meeting because their raised voices keep aggravating the toy. Each word spoken seems to sync with the pulsing between my legs, the buzzing more insistent.

Sweat breaks out across my skin and trickles down my back. I shift in the seat, my fingers tightening around my pen. Its plastic bites into my palm, grounding me for just a moment the sensation becomes overwhelming. The room disappears as the buzzing intensifies, blurring my vision and scattering my thoughts.

“Loyalty is very important to me, Mr. Terranova,” says the old man. “As such, I would like to continue my relationship with your firm, working with Joseph’s heir.”

Biting my lip, I stifle a moan. This conversation is relentless. As is that fucking toy. My hips shift, trying to avoid the protrusion vibrating against my clit. Heat surges up my spine, making it impossible to stay still, as every small movement heightens the maddening sensation. I roll my eyes, my body teetering on a dangerous precipice. Martina gives me a hard shove, forcing my attention back to the meeting.

Terranova’s lips tighten. “Miss Di Marco is a capable attorney, but her expertise is in research. Possibly even drafting. May I suggest Miss Mancini?” He gestures at Julian. “Or Mr. Riva?”

Bellavista’s gaze lands on me. “Do you think you can handle my account, Ginevra?”

I clear my throat. “Um… Yes, sir. I’m… Oh…” I blow out a breath, trying to disguise a moan. But the vibration is unforgiving, and I can barely remember what I was about to say. “I’m fully versed in contract law. Taking on your account with the help of my colleagues… Ah… Won’t be a problem.”

The old man frowns, his jowly features wrinkling with concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes.” I give him a trembling nod.

The heat crawling up my neck is unbearable, every second drawing me closer to the edge. This is insane. I need to get a grip. Working closely with Bellavista might be the answer to at least one of my problems. The man is related to the Bossanova brothers. He could tell Valentino to stop sniffing around Mom.

“Miss Di Marco is under a lot of stress,” Terranova says. “She lost her father and fiancé within a space of days.”

I swallow. Not to mention the law firm I thought I would inherit. The toy ramps up its vibrations, making me moan out loud.

All eyes turn to me. My heart pounds as heat crawls up my neck, my face burning under their confused stares. The unending thrum drowns out their words, and all I can feel is the mounting pressure. I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Can’t do anything but will my body not to react to the thing terrorizing my clit.

Terranova clears his throat. “Mr. Bellavista, I implore you not to pressure my employee at her most vulnerable. Julian Riva worked closely with Mr. Di Marco. He’s more than capable of taking on the work.”

“Fine,” Bellavista says, casting me a concerned glance.

The toy hums, pushing me to the verge of orgasm. I bolt from my seat and dash out of the room. Footsteps pound behind me, but I sprint to the bathroom, my vision blurring with tears, desperate to escape before climaxing in front of my colleagues.

The hallway stretches ahead, and it feels like everyone’s eyes are boring into my back. Each step drags me closer to disaster, the tension coiling so tight I can’t hold it together much longer. Every passing glance, every whispered conversation, seems to be about the fact that I have a sex toy buzzing inside my pussy.

Just as I reach the bathroom door, a large hand clamps down on my shoulder. I whirl around to find Julian staring down at me, his features pinched with worry, which only amplifies my humiliation.

“Let go of me.” I shove against his chest.

“Ginny, you’ve got to believe me, I didn’t steal your client,” he says. “You must think I’m a backstabber, but I’m not. I value you too much as a colleague and a friend. I didn’t… I would never. Please, listen to me, Ginny.”

Blood roars through my ears, drowning out his incessant chatter. I throw myself backward, but his grip on my shoulder holds firm. The toy pulses again, pushing me to the precipice. Every nerve battles to fight the inevitable, but the sensations are too intense. My face twists, muscles locking, but it’s useless. The pleasure overwhelms what’s left of my resolve, rippling through my body like an unstoppable wave.

I slide down the door, the orgasm reducing me to a shuddering heap.

“Ginny!”

I can’t believe it’s happening here. In front of him. Not like this…

Humiliation scorches my entire being with searing shame. I come hard, my body trembling with the force of this unwanted pleasure, my lips releasing breathless moans.

When I finally look up, there’s a tent in Julian’s pants.