Page 1 of Vicious Heir

Chapter 1

Lucy

I’ve never been to an orgy before.

The situation just never presented itself until now. Nobody’s ever been like,hey, Lucy, let’s go to an orgy!And I’ve never really wanted to go search one out.

Which is why this is so bizarre.

Normally, Velvet Echo is an upscale nightclub. It’s one of the more exclusive venues in Philadelphia, and I’ve actually been here a few times over the years. Right now, though, it’s totally unrecognizable.

There are beds everywhere. Some are empty, but more of them are full of bodies. Like the bed to my right: a very attractive older woman is getting fucked from behind by an enormously muscular man while she sucks the dick of another well-built guy. She’s making these moaning, gagging noises while the guy ramming into her keeps slapping her pink ass. Apparently, she’s loving it because she screams in bliss as the guy in the front comes on her face, his mouth hanging open.

Everyone’s sweaty and naked. Half of them are wearing masks and the rest don’t seem to care. There are so many different bodies: big ones, small ones, skinny ones, and full ones. Many of them are involved with someone, or a few someones. Dicks in mouths, dicks in pussies, and a few dicks in asses. There’d be dicks in dicks if they could make it fit. There’s one couch of exclusively women, and I watched them viciously reject at least three different guys that tried to get in on their group. Another couch is all men. They’re more welcoming.

I’m extremely thankful for my wristband. So long as I have it on, nobody will bother me. It’s marked with a blue line, meaning I’m off-limits unless I approach someone. There are other wristbands with various different colors, some denoting kink, some denoting sexual preference.

A woman with a black wristband is pleasuring at least six different men. One dick in her mouth, a dick in each hand, a dick in her pussy, and more dicks waiting for their turn. It looks more exhausting than anything else, if I’m honest, but she looks like she’s in mindless bliss, so good for her.

I sit at the bar and drink. It’s all I can work up the nerve to do. I’m not here to partake in the fucking. No, I have a very specific task, but so far, I’m basically failing.

Grandmother’s voice plays through my head:find your future husband and figure out what he likes, then use it against him.

Leave it to my fucked-up family to make attending an orgy an act of espionage.

Adriano Marino should be here somewhere. Velvet Echo is his club, and he’s the one that throws this little gathering. Once a month, this place turns into a den of sin and excess, and only therichest and most powerful people in the region get an invite. I’m not sure where Grandmother found mine, but I’m not surprised she managed to procure one. Helena Willing-Morris is one of the most conniving and dangerous people I’ve ever met in my life. And she basically raised me.

A few feet away, a gorgeous black woman rakes her fingernails down a skinny pale man’s chest. He’s not wearing a mask, and I’m pretty sure I recognize him, but I quickly look away when the woman starts slobbering on his dick. It’s actually hot and impressive, but I’m feeling overwhelmed by all the bodies. I thought I’d get desensitized after an hour, but nope. Whenever I feel like I’m getting used to it, some new coupling smacks me right in the face.

I start to feel overwhelmed. I down my wine, head spinning. My mask is too tight, like it’s trying to choke me, even though it only covers the top half of my face. That was also my grandmother’s decision.Show the lips, girl, it’s one of your very few good features.

I get away from the bar. Four women are taking turns servicing a guy on a bed to my left; a group of six people are intermingling, legs and arms tangled, sucking and licking and fucking each other. I walk faster, past two attractive men going down on a masked woman while she sucks a third’s dick, past two men taking turns fucking a woman while another woman licks her nipples, past too many more combinations of sweaty bodies until I find a staircase. I take it up, hoping beyond hope to find some freaking reprieve from this nightmare.

Only to find the VIP area. Except tonight, it’s the bondage area. A man’s tied up and leashed while a woman’s whipping him lightly and calling him a pathetic loser. A woman’s wearing intricate ropes like a dress while a man glides his dick into hermouth, using her like a doll. I turn toward a quiet hallway and practically start running; too much stimulation really messes me up, and this orgy is basically nothing but.

There’s a door ahead. I grab the handle, yank it open, and duck inside. I’m hit with quiet the second it closes behind me, and I stand there breathing hard and trying to calm myself down.

This was a terrible idea. Grandmother never should’ve sent me here, and I should’ve been strong enough to refuse. But I’ve never been able to tell that woman a damn thing, and she doesn’t care about anything beyond her own plans for the family, and so here I am, having a very minor panic attack at an orgy.

Not my finest moment.

“Normally, there’s a guard at the door,” a man says, sounding amused. “I’m going to have to fire Luca now. He’s probably off sampling the wares.”

I look up, shocked to the point of freezing. The room comes into focus. It’s an office, richly furnished, not quite modern but not antique either. Books on shelves, a comfortable leather couch, a bar cart in the corner, and a large executive desk.

A man watches me, leaning back in his chair, a slight smile on his face.

“Sorry,” I finally manage to say. “I didn’t know anyone was in here.”

I don’t turn around, though.

Because it’shim.

We’ve never met before right now, but I’ve seen a few dozen pictures of my future husband. Grandmother practically drilledme on this guy. I feel like I know him, even though he’s still a total stranger.

Adriano Marino. Age thirty-three, ten years my senior. Tan skin, athletic body, dark hair. Extremely handsome. Even better-looking in person, actually. A slight scar crosses his lips, puckering them, which somehow only makes him that much more attractive. He’s got an air of sin and danger to him, an aura I never could’ve known about without seeing him in person.

He’s bigger than I thought he’d be. Taller, more muscular. I can tell that man is practically bursting out of his tight dress shirt. If he stands, he’ll loom above me. I’m barely five-foot-four, while he’s well over six feet.

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