“I have to admit,” Maximo grins, “I did not think she’d agree.”
“All she needed was a little nudge. The moment I withdrew my offer, she realized she wanted it.”
“She’s desperate, yet cautious.”
“Never make decisions when backed into a corner,” I say as I walk to the door. “Desperation has a way of clouding one’s judgement. She has no idea what world she just stepped into. Now, since that’s taken care of, let’s go find my brothers and tell them the news.”
Maximo and I leave the house. I’m confident Mira will be the perfect hostess and make Leandra feel at home, and they’ll probably end up braiding each other’s hair or some shit.
It’s been weeks since my last visit to one of our city’s largest, most elite private clubs and casinos. Only the cream of the Chicago crop knows about this club, and a select few who have the privilege of calling us their friends. That is why this club was aptly named Myth. Everyone’s heard of it, but ninety-nine percent of those people have never seen it. A club where monsters get fed, and addictions indulged. A place where the rich flaunt their wealth and partake in the fantasies of their fucking dreams.
We turn off the street, down a long path that looks almost deserted with tall oak trees flanking the sides of the road. The last rays of sunlight break through the yellowing leaves. Dusk is the best time of day. A time when excitement starts to bubble in your belly, knowing the dark is about to descend so your demons no longer have to hide from the judgmental eyes of hypocrites.
High double gates slowly open as we drive up, the brass-plated iron barrier glinting as the night lights switch on.
Brushing my fingers down my silk tie, I stare at the double-story Victorian-style mansion that comes into view. This elegant estate draped in luxury and wealth is the epitome of sophistication and serenity, while the thick concrete walls and white pillars hide the sins of corrupted men and women inside.
The front driveway is packed with expensive cars, not a single chauffeur in sight. One of our rules is absolute discretion. No chauffeurs. No personal assistants. No bodyguards, and sure as fuck no goddamn Uber. Your ticket to entering the estate, a six-figure monthly deposit into one of our twelve off-shore accounts. The only way to waive that fee is to make a contribution to the club—the living, breathing kind. Only then will you be guaranteed VIP status at Myth—that and your ability to keep your fucking mouth shut.
Your silence or your tongue.
We round up the back. Nicoli’s red LaFerrari is flanked by Caelian’s white Lamborghini and Isaia’s black Audi R8 Spyder.
Flashy motherfuckers.
Maximo opens my door, and I straighten my tie as I get out, walking up the stairs toward the entrance meant for only the Dark Sovereign.
“You going to have some fun for a change?” I ask Maximo as we approach the double doors.
“I think I just might.”
I smiled. “Good. If anyone deserves a night off, it’s you.”
He clutches his hands in front of him, his white shirt a stark contrast against his black leather jacket. Maximo doesn’t ask for much; his only request is that we don’t ask him to wear a suit and a tie. Between him and Isaia, they had enough hate for formal attire to burn down every fucking tailor in the city.
“I’m sure Mira is enjoying the company of a girl for a change.”
Maximo smirks. “She’s probably playing dress-up already.”
Both of us snicker, and Maximo pulls down the gold handles, opening the door and revealing the motherfucking Garden of Eden.
High, coffered ceilings with crown molding are illuminated by the double-story chandelier, golden light scattering from its shiny and flawless rows of crystals, each hanging at different levels as it descends.
My Italian leather shoes touch the white marbled floors, and I can already hear the buzz of voices while I walk down the stairs flanked with gold rails boasting intricate lines of steel filigree.
Men wearing their best tuxedoes and women flashing their most expensive dresses step to the side as I take the last step. Everyone here knows never to approach a Del Rossa for conversation upon arrival. If we do not make eye contact, you do not even whisper a motherfucking greeting in our direction.
“Left, right, or straight?” Maximo asks, and I glance at the two arches on either side of the foyer—the one on the right leading to the luxury gambling hall while the other takes you to the dark and opulent quarters where you are free to drown in the sins that blacken your soul.
And then there’s the heavily guarded door right across from us.
I raise a brow at Maximo. “Where do you think we’ll find my brothers?”
“Straight it is.”
I quickly glance through the arch on the right, and I can see every poker and blackjack table filled with people who mingle and laugh while dollar signs flash above their fucking heads. Every single client in this club doesn’t need a dime. They don’t need to gamble. This is all fun for them, a way to escape the social standard set out by a society that thrives on restrictions. In this club, there are only golden rules.
If you play, you pay.
If you don’t pay, you don’t touch.
Touch what’s not yours, and you’ll lose a limb.
Simple.
I nod at the men guarding the doors to our personal quarters within the luxury club that has the Del Rossa name stamped all over it. Mingling with the clients on the main floor was another rule set out by my father. Drugs, sex, and alcohol never mix well with business relationships. Someone is bound to lose their shit when it does, and enemies will be born on our ground. In turn, there would be expectations for us to pick sides, and that’s one thing we never do. Pick sides. We’re motherfucking Switzerland in the mafia world, our own cause the only thing that matters.
The double high-walled doors are thick and adorned with brass hinges. Our symbol is carved on the polished solid oak, and the smell of expensive whiskey and cigar smoke lies thick in the air as we enter.
Caelian walks up to me, cigarette hanging from his lips. “Well, well, well. Has my oldest brother, the crown prince, decided to grace us with his presence?”
“Fucking smartass.” I grab the drink from his hand and shoot it back down my throat, loving the way it stings as it settles in my stomach.
Caelian isn’t the least bit annoyed by me drinking his whiskey. He merely grabs a fresh glass from the waitress who walks up to us, her blonde hair tied in a bun, revealing the slim lines of her neck while her tits and shaved pussy are on full display. All the girls in this room are naked, beautiful, and willing. Some serve us our drinks from our private bar while three stand on Roman pillars like statues so our eyes can feast on their naked bodies.
I saunter around the circled room, taking in the exquisite sight of a girl locked in a cage suspended from the ceiling. Around her neck is a black collar with six rings, chains hooked to it and tied to the gold bars of the cage. It makes it impossible for her to move while she sits on her knees, hands tied behind her back.
Complete. Fucking. Submission.
The sight of her full, round tits makes my cock twitch—especially since I know firsthand how flexible her slim body is and how wet her cunt is for me every damn time I fuck her. We bought Tarina more than three years ago from a man who had no use for her anymore. If we didn’t take her off his hands and fill his bank account, she’d be nothing but a pile of bones buried in the dirt with no headstone. So, we took her in, and I was the first to sample her—as with every new girl who enters here. Of course, being the firstborn sometimes does have its perks.
Our eyes meet, and her dark irises flash with desire. I snap my fingers at the suited guard standing against the wall with his arms crossed. “Lower the cage, let her out.” I lick my lips. “But leave the collar on.”
Caelian moans in appreciation as he watches the cage get lowered. “Tarina sure as fuck is the prettiest girl in this goddamn place.”
“Forget about it,” I warn. “Tonight, she’s mine. You can have her when I’m done.”
“You know, brother, this is the only place I envy you being the crown prince.”
A sly grin pulls at the corners of my mouth, and I turn to head toward the back where I’m sure I’ll find Nicoli.
The brass rings scrape along the pole as I swipe the heavy red curtain back, not the least bit surprised to find Nicoli lounging on the leather sofa while watching two naked women, one eating the other’s pussy and moaning like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted on her tongue.
“You’re so predictable, you know that?” I sit on the couch across from his.
“Just enjoying the spoils of life as a rich fucker.”
I rub my chin. “I need to talk to you.”
“Is it going to take long?” He adjusts the visible bulge in his pants and shoots me an unamused stare with ice-cold irises. “I was just about to join them because creaming my pants is not my style.”
I snap my fingers, getting the girls’ attention, then nod toward my brother, sipping his bourbon. There’s no need for me to spell it out for them.
The blonde, who just had her head buried between the thighs of the pretty Asian girl, wipes her lips, her cheeks flushed as she strolls toward Nicoli. The other one starts to dance around the stripper pole, the blonde swaying her naked hips while tying her hair in a high ponytail. Her breasts are far too firm and far too perfectly rounded to be natural, but it’s fucking beautiful, nonetheless.
Leaning down over Nicoli, she spreads her legs, her wet cunt glistening in my direction. My cock hardens and stirs with the need to fuck as I watch her move her ass from side to side, those long, sexy legs and slim calves accentuated by the black stilettos on her feet.
Nicoli places his arms along the headrest while she unzips his pants and fists his cock. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
I keep my gaze on her as she goes on her knees. “I’m getting married.”
“Jesus,” Nicoli moans, and at first, I think it’s because of what I just said, but when the pretty blonde’s head starts bobbing and Nicoli’s eyes roll closed, I know it’s because she just started sucking his dick. “Married?” His breaths come out labored. “Why? Who? And what the fuck?”
I adjust my cock, my shaft pressing painfully against my zipper. For some, sitting here while your brother gets a blowjob right in front of you might be weird, but when you’ve shared women with your brothers as much as we have, we just don’t give a shit.
“Dad insists I marry.”
“Why?”
“He thinks it will strengthen my position as leader once I take over from him.”
Nicoli grabs her ponytail, forcing her head down so she takes him deep. He bites his bottom lip. “Okay, I’m going to pretend to be interested here. Are you considering it?”
“I have no choice.”
“There is always a choice, brother.”
“Not for me. If I don’t do this, Uncle Roberto will take over, and there’s not a chance in fucking hell I’ll allow that.”
“Agreed. The last thing we need is for that fat bastard to be in control. The first thing he’ll do is rape the rules by bringing in other alliances.” He groans. “Jesus, woman. Remind me to cut out your tongue and take it home. I want to keep it in my motherfucking shower.”
I curse under my breath, wanting to experience that skilled tongue of hers licking along my shaft. My groin is hot, my body electrified with lust while I watch her suck Nicoli’s dick. The way he forces her head up and down, going faster and letting her take him deeper, I know he’s close to squirting his jizz down her throat.
“Stop,” I demand, and she stops immediately. “What’s your name?”
“Anna, sir.”
“Jesus Christ,” Nicoli curses. “Are you fucking for real?” His glare is as deadly as a gun to my forehead. Being the crown prince sure as hell does have its perks, like overruling everyone around me, my presence instantly taking their authority down to fucking zero.
“Come here, Anna.”
“Oh, my fucking God,” Nicoli laments while craning his neck and staring up at the ceiling when Anna gets up on her feet, making her way toward me. “You are such a motherfucking son of a bitch, you know that?”
“Surely you know by now that no one loves playing more than I do.”
“What I do know is you’re a fucking asshole.”
A sly grin tugs at my lips, and I drag my gaze down Anna’s hourglass body perfectly curved in all the right places. She moves her palms up my thighs, her red nails digging deep enough to let my skin erupt with chills of anticipation. Her tits are big, her nipples hard, and I reach out to feel their weight in my palms while she unzips my pants, pulling out my cock.
“So, where are you going to find a wife?” Nicoli asks as he lights a cigarette.
I pinch her nipple, and she sucks air through her teeth. “I already have.”
He snorts. “Of course, you have.”
“Hmmm,” I moan as Anna wraps her warm mouth around my cock, her spit coating every inch as her velvet tongue laps around my length. Every muscle in my body pulls taut, my insides coiled tight and ready to fucking burn.
Unlike my impatient brother, I don’t force her to suck harder, deeper. Instead, I let her do her thing, work her magic by taking her time to savor my taste while I watch her red, plump lips move around my dick, her spit coating my hard flesh.
I swallow and breathe in deep, allowing pleasure to travel up my spine and down my legs. “I found a girl from the other side of town. A loner with no family, no friends.”
“In other words, boring as fuck.” There’s a quiver of annoyance in Nicoli’s voice as he relaxes in his seat while watching Anna give me a blowjob instead of him.
“No. Desperate.” I hiss as Anna grazes her teeth along my shaft, sensation bursting through my veins. My nostrils flare, and I watch her wrap her fingers at the base of my cock, her cheeks hollow while she starts to suck harder, faster, her moans filling the air between us.
“Does she at least have a pretty face?” Nicoli blows out a cloud of smoke.
“Yeah.” An image of Leandra slithers into my mind while Anna fucking swallows me whole, her mouth reaching the base of my cock. Leandra has this uncertainty in her eyes, and her dark amber irises seem to glimmer with insecurity. Yet her gaze speaks of silent confidence—something that’s starting to intrigue me.
The way her body trembled with me standing so close to her in her apartment, yet she refused to look away—her tits perfectly palm sized. The vein in the side of her neck pulsed rapidly while we stood there, breathing in the same air. “She’s definitely pretty.”
“Great. Then maybe I’ll grab her off your dick and make you watch me stuff her mouth.”
I’m no longer listening to him. Anna is sucking my dick so fucking hard, so perfectly, I can feel her breathe around me, how her lungs expand and deflate as she exhales through her nose.
Tightening her hair around my fist, I force her to stop, lifting her head slightly so she can look at me with green eyes all teared up from deep-throating. “When I come, you do not swallow. Do you understand? You keep my come inside that pretty fucking mouth of yours until I say you can spit it out.”
She nods, and I bite my bottom lip as I force her head down and keep it down as my cock hits the back of her throat. I can feel her gag, see the tears run down her face as she tries to hollow her cheeks. Red nails dig into my thighs, her tongue slipping around my length because she doesn’t fucking know where to put it as I fill her fucking mouth to the brim.
I can hear Nicoli curse in the background as my orgasm starts with a flicker in my groin, trickling up my spine, crashing against the back of my neck and catapulting down to my balls. A groan vibrates from my throat as I come, shooting my pleasure inside her mouth. I watch her the entire time, how she struggles not to swallow—her eyes wide and panicked. Cum escapes the sides of her mouth, dripping down her chin. It’s a big fucking load she has to keep inside her mouth, but she handles it…just like all of them are taught to handle whatever we expect of them.
“Keep it in your mouth,” I order as I slowly pull out, a few drops of cum dripping from her lips. “Now, get up, walk backward without taking your eyes off me.”
Like the good little pet she is, she obeys, and after putting my dick back into my pants, I get up and fasten the button of my suit jacket. “Now sit on my brother’s cock.”
Nicoli grabs her hips from behind and pulls her down on top of him. The way her eyes roll closed, her jaw ticking as she struggles to keep my cum in her mouth, it fucking thrills me. The power. The authority. The fucking ownership we have over these girls, it’s fucking addictive. My brothers and I have a select few girls who no one else has access to. Call them our elite girls—the ones who service only the kings. There’s no need for condoms. We fuck them bare, and we fuck them raw. Once we’re done with them and the scent of new blood fills these halls, they move down the ranks and become available to the highest bidder.
“Now fuck my brother until he comes. Let’s see what you look like with your mouth and pussy stuffed with jizz at the same time.”
Anna lifts herself before sinking back down, taking Nicoli’s cock inside her. There’s a guttural groan that tears from his throat and echoes off the walls. I step up, settling right in front of her, looking down and taking her chin between my fingers. Her green eyes are heavy-lidded and sexy as fuck as drops of my cum seep from her mouth. “Fuck him hard and fast.”
Nicoli grunts as she rides him, her tits bouncing up and down while her cheeks flush with heat. Every second of this has her riled up, and there is no way she can hide the lust that radiates from her every pore. With his arms spread along the couch, Nicoli leans his head back, cigarette still trapped between his lips, enjoying every fucking second of her riding his dick as if it’s the last time she’ll ever have her pussy filled.
Suppressed moans vibrate from her throat and crash against her tight lips. Her eyes beg me to say it, to give her permission to either swallow or spit, but I tighten my hold on her chin. “Keep it in your mouth, or you’ll be going to bed with an achy pussy and tied hands.”
I glance over her shoulder at my brother, thick veins pulsing and roped up his neck, his jaw ticking and hands balled into fists.
“You close?”
“Fuck, yes. If this bitch stops now, I’ll cut off your dick after I slit her throat.”
I snicker, knowing Nicoli’s worst fear right now is me telling Anna to stop. “Don’t worry, brother, I won’t do that to you again. At least, not now.”
“Thank you for your kindness, motherfucker,” he sneers, followed by labored breaths.
I reach out and cup Anna’s tit before squeezing her nipple between my fingers, pinching hard, and she loses her rhythm, her mind no longer in control of her body.
Nicoli growls, and I know he’s coming, with Anna about to follow. I grab her jaw and hook my thumb into the corner of her lips. “Open your mouth.”
As if relieved, she parts her lips and lets out a whimper as my cum pours down her chin, spilling down her throat. It’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve seen in a while.
“Good girl. Now you can come.” Reaching down and between her legs, I apply the tiniest amount of pressure on her clit, and she erupts, her body shuddering, followed by her cries of ecstasy as she cranes her neck, coming on Nicoli’s cock.
We’ve played these games so many times, enjoying the same girls together. Some of our best nights are the ones when all four of us share the same woman.
Good fucking times.
Caelian walks in just as Anna slips off Nicoli’s lap and onto the floor, complete and utterly fucked. “Did I miss out?”
“You sure did,” I reply, straightening my tie. “Seems like I won’t need Tarina tonight after all. You can have her.”
Caelian saunters in. “I guess this is the part where I thank you for your hand-me-downs?”
Nicoli laughs, his cigarette dangling between his lips while he zips up his pants.
“So, this is where the fun’s at?” Isaia slips in behind Caelian and sits down on the couch with a smirk on his face.
With a simple nod, I order Anna to get her naked ass up and leave, Nicoli’s cum dripping down her thighs while mine still stains her chin. We have one condition when it comes to new girls—if you want our money, our security, and our cocks, getting sterilized is not negotiable. That one goddamn percent chance of birth control not working is a risk none of us is willing to take.
“Since everyone is here now,” I walk up to the podium and lean against it, “there’s going to be a wedding in the next two weeks.”
Caelian frowns, his amber eyes confused as fuck. “Whose?”
“Mine.”
Nicoli snorts as Isaia and Caelian look at each other with giant goddamn question marks flashing above their heads.
“Let’s just call it one of Dad’s dying wishes.”
“Why?” Isaia brushes his hand through his short, dark hair. “Is there a reason he wants you to get married?”
I cross my arms. “Dad is of the opinion that I’ll need a wife once I take his place, that a wife is a reflection of a man’s power and authority.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me.” Caelian leans back in his seat. “If he appoints you in his place, you don’t need anything else to prove your status.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Isaia places his elbows on his denim-clad thighs, wearing jeans and a white shirt. “I haven’t heard of any of the other families marrying to enhance power. To merge alliances and make bank, sure. But we don’t want any other alliances, and we sure as shit don’t need more money.”
“I don’t think it has anything to do with any of that,” Nicoli starts, staring out in front of him with a pensive look in his eyes. “This isn’t a Familia or Cosa Nostra thing. It’s a Vincenzo Del Rossa thing.” He shrugs. “Just look at him and Mom. Without her, he would have lost his fucking mind a long time ago.”
I straighten. “What makes you think that?”
“Have you seen how Dad can go from nuclear to ready to sign a motherfucking metaphorical peace-treaty after being in the same room as Mom for less than ten minutes? It’s like she has this superpower when it comes to him and knows exactly what to say to him, what he needs to hear whenever he’s close to losing his shit.”
“That’s true,” Isais blurts. “I’ve seen that firsthand. My ass can still feel the leather of Dad’s belt from the beating I should have gotten if it wasn’t for Mom.”
“What did you do?” Caelian smirks.
“I stepped on one of his Rolexes and broke it.”
“What?”
“It was under the pillow on the fucking floor. I didn’t see the damn thing.”
“How the fuck did it get under the pillow?” I ask.
“I put it there.”
“Why?”
“Because I was playing hide and seek with it—why the fuck do you think I put it there?” He leans back. “I wasn’t supposed to play with it but I did. So, when Dad walked in, I hid it under the pillow on the floor.”
“And then you stepped on it,” I say, deadpan. “Because in the span of ten seconds you forgot you put it there.”
Caelian slaps Isaia against the back of his head. “Fucking idiot.”
All of us chuckle at our little brother, and I glance down at the plush red carpet, thinking back with the memories of a boy who loved his father yet witnessed more moments of disappointment in his eyes than pride. There were times when he would preach and shout and curse while he reminded me what a selfish child I was, moments I thought he’d finally lose his patience with me. That’s when my mother would walk in demanding to see him privately. I would sit there with a knotted stomach, sometimes triggered with anger and other times induced with the sadness of wanting nothing more than to be the person my father wanted me to be. Ten minutes later, my father would return, his eyes softer than before, his expression no longer hard but caring. He never apologized with words, but a game of cricket in the backyard always sufficed.
“Nicoli is right,” Isais says, rubbing his palms together. “Mom always seems to calm him. Be the mediator if needed. In a way, I think she’s the one who kept him grounded all these years and to not lose sight of what’s important.”
“Are you all saying that the reason Dad is hellbent on me taking a wife is because he thinks I’ll need the support?”
Nicoli takes a sip of his drink. “Not that I give a shit, but probably, yes.”
“Dad’s always showed an immense amount of respect for Mom,” Isaia chimes in. “And so do all the men in our family.”
“Of course, they do,” Caelian says, one eyebrow slanted inward. “She’s the boss’ wife. He’ll slit their throats if they don’t respect her.”
“Sure. But I think it’s more because she’s the one with the most influence on him, so it’s safe to say he’s the man he is today because of her.”
“Okay.” I clap my hands together, eager to get the fuck out of there. “This conversation is annoying the fuck out of me. But to make it clear, I do not need a wife, nor do I want a wife. I’m simply granting a dying man’s wish.”
Caelian clears his throat. “Who are you marrying? Because I’m pretty sure Tarina out there will jump at the chance of permanently riding your dick.”
Unamused, I cut my glare to him. “I already found myself a wife.”
“Really?” Caelian rubs his fingers along his stubble beard. “Who’s the lucky girl?”
The room smells like sex, testosterone, and bullshit, so I walk toward the exit. “I can promise you one thing, brother. She ain’t lucky.”
