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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.

But why not just take her?

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 heart beat 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 overloaded on the sights and sounds 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?

Blood shot 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.

She braved one last look at the lovers and recognized the satisfaction of completion on the woman’s face. While Samuel’s spent shaft was still intimately connected with her, Roman stroked his cock once, twice and while she held his eyes with her own, he unloaded his seed on the woman’s back. Spurting his load down her column and onto her ass.

Rhia held her breath, caught.

Samuel pulled free, his cock slick with girl-cum. Each man caressed the woman’s smooth curves, their touch romantic yet only Samuel’s was possessive in the way he cupped her face in his palms and lavished her lips with tender kisses.

One by one she tightened her fingers on her now empty tray and backed farther into the shadow until it swallowed her whole.

As the scene came to a full close, the lights dimmed to a half-toned glow that blanketed a blue-gray tinge over the room while another couple awaited their time to perform the second show of the evening. Wait-staff glided from small nooks to fill clients’ orders and then just as quietly absorbed back into darkened surroundings, almost undetected, as not to break the enchantment. A technique she’d picked up the first week working here and one she would put to use for something she bet her employers never intended it used for.

She eased from the room and into a hushed hallway, her veins pure fire. She had a job to do and one that did not under any circumstance involve slipping between the enemies’ sheets.

A hard fact she needed to tattoo across her brain was that the four kings were criminals. Ones she would take down if it was the last thing she did on this earth.

But she couldn’t shake the feeling the hunter might have become the hunted tonight.


Tags: Penelope Wylde Dark Mafia Dark