Romeo The Mafia Casanova

A hush fell over the crowd and the lights along the outer rim of the den dimmed until the room fell into hushed darkness.

Glasses clinked as the bartender loaded their trays for the third time that night. “Thanks, Carlos.”

“De nada, Mija.”

By memory, she eased around the room toward the center where guests awaited their orders.

Samuel-a muscular man with beautifully dark skin who looked mouth-watering under the moonlight-led Megan, a busty brunette across the room, their naked bodies bathed in nothing but cool silver light.

She’d seen this scene a couple of times, so the third who joined them added an erotic surprise.

All the unwanted desires she suppressed moments ago returned with a vengeance.

She licked her lips, unable to look away.

One of her dream fantasies prowled behind Megan. Ripped muscles marked with vibrant tattoos draped across his chest and poured over the full length of his arms. His long black hair loose hanging below his shoulders

Roman.

Maya had been right about an owner taking the stage. But why?

Rhia mentally combed through the details she had on each of the kings. Roman drew a huge blank with nothing online and no records to speak of.

Unlike Sevastyan, Roman preferred a new woman every week. Blonde, brunette, busty or petite, Haven’s supposed playboy didn’t pick and choose, it seemed. He loved all women and they loved him right back and willingly gave them their bodies.

Or so the hushed rumors went. All hearsay as far as she could tell. In her time at Haven, she couldn’t prove the hushed whispers were true or not because she’d never witnessed him with anyone.

But all that was about to change, it seemed as he prowled across the stage, his gorgeous, heavy cock bouncing between his legs, thick and ready.

Rhia’s gaze traveled over the crowd to find Sevastyan. Like a gorgeously muscled and formidable wall encompassing Volkov, his other two partners stood off to the side, heads bent talking over something. Matteo, a beast of a man with arms thicker than her thighs, had a mean stare that kept people at bay. In contrast, the man she recognized as Lucian appeared as much a ladies’ man as Roman was rumored to be.

Rhia eased to the side and brushed against a stone column as warm lighting enveloped the threesome in the middle of the room. All eyes drank in the erotic scene. Hidden within the shadows, she dared a glance into the darkness beyond the menage.

As though he sensed her awareness, Sevastyan immediately found her gaze. Moonlight penetrated the vast room enough to highlight the sharp angular jawline and the crisp white of his dress shirt peeking out from beneath a dark jacket.

A cry broke her gaze from his, and she looked on as the woman arched against Roman’s palm as it landed across her bare ass cheek. She heard the broken moan and the soft encouragement from her partners caring for their woman’s pleasure.

She shouldn’t look, but an invisible force drew her gaze away from the withering woman. Yes, as if lured, Rhia’s gaze drew back to Sevastyan’s and she felt the seconds tick by, unable to look away from the amber depths of his gaze. Half a room separated them, yet the pull felt as though she stood within inches of his touch.

A premonition of danger clung to her like a thousand silky strands of a venomous spider’s web.

Lethal to her in every way if trapped, yet alluring all at once.

Yet heat permeated her skin. What did that say about her?

She should pull back to the shadows where she would be safe and unseen. But an invisible thread of need, desire, lust… she didn’t know what had her taking a step in his direction as if she could want the enemy. Since walking through their doors she’d craved to feel the heat of his fingers on her body, the soft touch of his lips against her skin as his partners licked and tasted her body.

She wanted men she couldn’t have, yet still, she dreamed. Night and day, she fucking dreamed.

Before dumping her off on her father’s doorstep, her mother had warned the twelve-year-old version of herself about men like Volkov. Like them all. Men who appeared perfect on the outside in every way, but were ultimately broken on the inside-damaged beyond repair.

Her gaze traveled. If there was one thing Rhia knew about the man that had robbed her of every sense she possessed, it was that Volkov hid soul-bruising secrets. It surrounded him like a black aura, and from her experience, bled over to anyone who got close enough.

Growing up, her brothers called her ability to sense these things about others a gift. Sister Helen of St. Margaret’s Academy had called it her burden and punishment for being born outside of wedlock.

She considered it part of her like someone’s aptitude for multiple languages. Only hers was a silent language.

On the stage, Samuel claimed his beauty. Fucking and stretching her in every way a man could possess a woman’s heated channel, and Rhia’s body was not immune to the lust-filled cries.

Roman wrapped a length of hair around his thick fist, and Rhia’s scalp tingled with curiosity. She looked on as he lowered a fat dildo to Megan’s mouth, working it over her tongue again and again.

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He trailed the fat head of the fake cock over the dip of her back to her rear and gently, ever so gently, worked the thickness into her ass inch by inch to the sound of applause and hushed groans at giving his partial lover an instant orgasm.

A sigh rolled over the onlookers and twined around her senses like a lover’s caress.

What would Roman’s fist in her hair feel like?

Sadly none of the lovers she’d taken had the balls to claim a woman with the dominance or confidence she saw between these men. Did Volkov play rough? Matteo? Lucian?

Or were they gentle lovers? Something told her they knew both ways and would carry a woman beyond simple orgasms.

She watched, ached for the attention, the devotion, but to give someone so much control over her body who could easily snap her neck? Not likely.

Her stomach twisted, and she let her gaze slip to where Samuel took the woman from the back in time with Roman’s strokes. The total eroticism of the show drove her heartbeat up, and her chest tightened from the lack of air.

And as before, her gaze sought him.

Every chord in her body strummed with a simple glance from him, and the truth settled over her like a balmy heat every night. The effect any king had over her started the moment either entered the space she occupied and lasted until they left. Which, she had to admit, seemed to gradually extend beyond the customary single hour. Especially this past week. She hoped like hell the pattern held one more night.

As embarrassing as it was that her body responded to little more than a glance from any of them, the struggle against the pull seemed futile. Like swimming against the current.

Rhia’s thighs clenched against the unsolicited throb of need, her senses held captive by the dual penetration and the pure bliss on the other woman’s face one second and Roman’s in the next.

Thigh-clenching erotic sounds filled her ears as her eyes drank in the forbidden, seductive looks from the men she couldn’t have.

Her senses were overloaded with the sights and sound filling the den, but it was the way their eyes flashed with smoldering desire in her direction that had her heart in her stomach. Her veins burned with more than just excitement.

The looks weren’t for her, she told herself. Roman was caught up in the scene and Sevastyan was affected by the visual stimulation, like herself. That was all. It had to be.

She pressed a hand to her face and hugged her empty tray close. Burning hot to the touch, she willed herself to turn. To put one foot in front of the other and walk out and not stop until she was safely back in New York City tucked behind a computer screen and the safety of her numbers.

Numbers didn’t lie, cheat, or get you killed.

But reality cemented her feet to the plush carpet beneath her feet. Not because of the scene that played out between them, but from Sevastyan’s hypnotic stare. The way shadows played off his angular jaw. Everything about him screamed dominance. Head tipped forward, he curled thick arms over his chest and spread his stance, all the while his gaze locked on her. A smart girl would read the look for what it was and run.

What did it say about her that she opted to stare back?

A predatory look overtook his expression with, dare she call hunger?

Bloodshot straight to her clit, and Rhia’s thighs clenched as cries of ecstasy mixed with moans. Others sought their pleasure along with the performers, lending the night a raw uncontrollable wildness that caught everyone in its silky web.