Page 19 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

And this is not what I want to discuss with him. This is a mission. Not an opportunity for him. “Patty.”

“You have what you need,” he says. “If push comes to shove, use it. You’re the underboss, Heaven. You don’t take shit from anyone.”

The entire reason we’re here in the first place.

I’m one step away from the crown.

I look at Patrick. “Remember, we’re on a mission.”

“Do me a favor and try not to be such a control freak tonight. Just be a, you know, freak. You might enjoy it.” He chuckles and gives me a nudge, then takes off into the crowd.

He’s never coming back in thirty minutes.

Maybe thirty days.

I need to start somewhere. Luckily, what’s distracting Patty is distracting everyone else, so poking around should be easy. Maybe downstairs… But I spy a man in leather down there leading another on all fours with a black leather tail sprouting from his ass.

A naked woman with a lot of piercings heads that way, and she’s glistening and I’m not sure I want to know with what.

Maybe…maybe I should start somewhere else.

But if Villani is anywhere, it’ll be down there. I take a breath as I descend that set of stairs, the music changing into a lower, more hypnotic thrum. I’m in a wide space, with a bar in one corner, complete with sofas and chairs. There are other rooms and halls leading off the main area. I’m not sure where to start, as men and women, most in leather with piercings, openly ogle me. There are collars and leads and men and women on their hands and knees. This is where the serious kink happens. My gaze is drawn to a dusky rose room to my right. Inside, couples and throuples writhe together to a low, sensuous beat. A woman barely wearing a white dress is being fingered by one man, while another sucks her nipples, and yet another kisses her with erotic, open-mouthed kisses. I stop, stare, unable to help myself.

It’s hot. And my skin starts to prickle as though I’m being touched, watched, wanted.

I’m not even sure it’s them causing that feeling. Part of it is, but as I stand there, something electric passes through me, and a hand whispers against my bare arm.

That touch is a cascade of sweet fire, and there’s a lick of deep arousal inside me. I spin, but whoever it is has moved on.

Breathing out, I decide it’s just all the sex getting to me. I mean, it’s a lot of boobs and balls and tongues and things?—

“For you.”

I look up at the impossibly gorgeous, naked woman holding a matte black tray with a crystal glass of amber liquid.

They read minds, apparently. Because a drink is what I need. I murmur thanks and take the highball, downing it. Whiskey. Good Irish by the taste. It burns a path to my belly and does nothing to put out the fire there.

The woman takes the glass, and I walk farther into the large space, passing the orgy room. I might only be twenty-four, but I’ve seen way more than most my age. This is a cakewalk. A sexy, naked, sweaty cakewalk, but still, a cakewalk.

Sex clubs aren’t my scene. How could they be after?—?

I swallow, burying that pain and anger and guilt back where it came from. I don’t need my past biting me when I’m on a mission.

I place my hand on the cool wall near another open door and pause, unable to help myself.

The room is entirely lit by candles that line the perimeter, flickering wildly as the show on center stage heats up. A hypnotic, pagan beat vibrates the floor beneath my feet, and I try not to gape at the scene playing out in front of me.

Two naked women are tied to a long pole that stretches across the room. Silky fabric winds around their wrists and ankles as they sway to the music pulsating throughout the space. Two other women kneel in front of them, licking their pussies.

My breath hitches when four men in full-length black capes appear from the corners of the room. The capes fall open in the front, exposing their hard cocks and washboard abs. Two of them kneel behind the girls eating out the ‘captives’ while the other two position themselves against the captives’ backs.

I swallow hard. The main act commences and the men drop their capes. The women who have been going down on the other two rise, and they’re wearing strap-ons. They part the thighs of the captives and thrust in, just as the men do the same to them from behind. The other two men push into the asses of the bound women, and it’s full on.

Every thrust and move of the double fucking is designed to torture the captives in a way that makes them beg for orgasmic release. The women are displayed in lewd eroticism so the people watching can see everything, and then it all spirals down as one of the men gestures to the audience for them to begin, and soon others are joining in, and it’s a full-on fuck fest. It isn’t long before their howls and screams and moans pierce the air and drown out the haunting melody.

I clench my hands, my pulse rocketing into the vaulted ceilings.

Blood rushes between my ears as the performance reaches its climax.

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