Mafia Romance Bundle

• Hot mafia bosses.
• Sexy older men.
• Steamy affairs.

Roleplay, sexy shenanigans, and shocking twists amid the twinkling lights and holiday cheer.

From Halloween to Christmas, boundaries are pushed and all bets are off.

Let the games begin.

Merry!

“I’m not sure about this, Merry. Who puts an exclusive sex club out in the open like this? It’s gotta be full of creeps,” my friend Tasha said with a shudder as we got out of the Uber. In front of a place that looked like it might have once been a gym located uncomfortably close to Skid Row in Los Angeles.

Not like me to be in a place like this, but bear with me for a moment. I will explain.
I sighed as I regarded my roommate and best friend’s deep frown and pursed lips. Even annoyed, she managed to look dainty and sweet—blond hair tied up in a ponytail, big blue eyes, angelic features. Totally a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but what would I do without her? She was loyal, bold, funny, and a certified crackpot. “We’re gonna have to see. But we made it all the way here… Maybe we can try?”

Okay, maybe I was the crackpot this time around.

We stood staring at the building for a while. All the windows were blacked out, so at least anyone scrolling by couldn’t see inside. People fucking in front of the whole wide world just wouldn’t cut it for me unless they were performing on SXTube and I had my trusty ten-speed rabbit with me—but then, what did I really know about sex clubs? Did people still value their privacy when they had their candy canes and nether tinsel exposed for everyone to see?

I heard this place was infamous for its New Year’s Eve orgy bash, but I was a get-naked-in-private kind of girl, and that’s what I hoped to get tonight.

And I will say this again: the ‘I’ in this case had to be batshit crazy to even entertain this idea. I truly was desperate.

I rubbed my hands together, having seconds thoughts. I was supposed to be in the library, studying for my last exam before the holidays, but here I was, doing something completely insane—although I wouldn’t say impulsive. I had been thinking about it for months, fantasizing about a sexy holiday present to myself.

Of course, no one except Tasha, the one person who’d seen me at my worst since we first shared a dorm room three years ago, had a clue what I was up to.
No one but she knew I had never done anything like this.

I also had never had an orgasm with a guy, period. Never had anyone make my hoo-ha play Vivaldi’s four seasons by angels on harpsicords. And I wouldn’t count a climax achieved with my battery-operated BFF—everyone knew it wasn’t the same.

Pathetic.

So, I might as well have called myself a fucking virgin, considering that no penis had ever played an Oscar-worthy role in this penis fly trap. No stiff pole had ever made the muff happy. You get my drift. A few robotic strokes—imagine C-3PO awkwardly jerking back and forth, lost in a vast, unknown landscape—doesn’t a lover make (sending this PSA to all my exes).
Yep, none of this ass had been kicked, touched, poked, teased, licked by anyone experienced enough to claim a mere quarter-notch in his belt. For the most part, Netflix dates came cheap but the chill part consisted more of a dartboard game where no one had ever ever ever hit the bull’s eye.

I reckon there’s no more doubt at this point about the seriousness of my situation.
Sounds unbelievable, I know. But as I said, I’d never gotten my best jollies.

In short, I was a ball of nerves ready to pop. A complete mess.
My sexual encounters with the few boyfriends I’d gone to third base with had been brief and forgettable. So much so, I tended to avoid dating in general. And the only thing that had ever caressed my ass in a pleasing, satisfying manner was my Victoria’s Secret and Fruit of the Loom underwear, depending on my mood.

I had no idea why it had been hard to find someone who could actually get me off and convince me there was nothing wrong with me. That I wasn’t just a walking piece of ice with limbs and clothes on. Maybe the boys I’d met in my folks’ world had been too afraid of them to truly be themselves with me—it was like asking Little Red’s grandma to get her groove on with the wolf, like that would be normal. Yeah, more on that a little later.
Fact was, after meeting too many clueless frogs who seemed to permanently glitch after a clumsy fumble that never got me anywhere near a sliver of anticipation, I decided I had to do something about it. Besides, nobody here knew who I really was—including Tasha—and I wanted it that way.

In truth, I’d made it through almost all of pre-law without sowing one measly wild oat. I could run for office and for once, a candidate’s record would be squeaky clean. I’d probably reduce any of my rivals’ campaign managers to snotty tears on the election trail.
But you know what I really wanted to do? I wanted to ruin all my chances at an unblemished political career. I wanted to do what any other self-respecting student went to college for: get laid good and proper—with all the off-the-chain sexy bells and whistles—and come screaming like a Valkyrie woman leading her warriors to battle.

Merry, Merry. Might as well live up to my name now.

I looked up at the huge poster hanging on the wall next to the door of the building: “Merry Balls … Jingle all the way! Come inside and suck your way to Santa’s naughty list.” Bold as you please.
Merry Balls … you might say it sounds tacky and ridiculous but I say it had to be a sign and I was supposed to be here.

I looked above the arched doorway at the establishment’s name: TOP D. Again, I sighed.
“But I see your point, you know,” I told Tasha.

Because who in the hell would call their club ‘TOP D’? Is it someone’s initial? Top Dog? Dick? And in that case, what if the owner had a small pecker? The irony…

Still, I was ready to jump in with my arms, legs, and everything in between. Heart clearly trumped head, for I was ready to walk through those doors and stroll out hours later a changed—blissful—woman.

It was just after six, so the night was at its youngest. A few people had walked inside already. I counted two women and an older guy who looked like a male version of Dame Judi Dench, without the class.
Did I say I was desperate?

Enough to rope Tasha into this craziness. She’d been to a sex club before of course, freaky as she was, so she felt somewhat responsible for me. She made me sick…

I had to nip this in the bud.
“Fine, this sucks, I agree,” I continued, “but it’s one of these places where no one will know who we are. If we go somewhere else, like that other famous club downtown, Tasters, I dunno, your mother might find out somehow,” I warned her. And other people might recognize me, which would be an entirely other layer of fucked-up.
Tasha stared at me as though I’d forever lost my ever-loving mind and suddenly sprouted pustules on my face. She clicked her tongue.

“As traditional as she is, Mama would rather burn a Bible than go to a sex club,” she stated, and then laughed. “And how on earth would she know we went to a sex club, huh? Or even where the sex clubs are located in this city. She lives in rural Idaho, for God’s sake.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help a laugh, for what she said was true. I’d met the woman once when I joined Tasha on summer break and stayed with her people on the farm. Her mother was the type who would feel compelled to go to confession if she ever accidentally ran a red light. That said, she was a lovely lady who loved her family, and I didn’t want Tasha to get in trouble because of me. I didn’t have anyone to shock—my mom had passed years ago after a long battle with cancer, and my dad … well … he was gone too, but that was another story.

So back to what I said about my family. I was somehow glad Tasha didn’t know much about them or the fact my father used to be the head of a Maltese mafia family in LA. No lie. Admittedly, such a thing as a Maltese mafia family hardly existed in California or elsewhere in this country until Dad had put it on the map. He was pioneering like that. A veritable Elon Musk of the city’s underbelly. After his sudden death not too long ago, my stepmother had taken over.
Until now, I’d been afforded some freedom to follow my career aspirations until it was time for me to be married off to some stuffy old boss who couldn’t tell a clit from a bullet. Luckily for me, my stepmother believed a woman should be educated and above all, shrewd.
So you see, my friend didn’t need to know just how ‘different’ my upbringing had been—at least for the time being. Miraculously, I’d managed to spend years living low-key, away from the glitz I’d been around all my life. One could afford a small degree of anonymity in a big city inhabited by people from all over the world. Not everyone would have heard of the Camilleri name and what it entailed.

Time, however, was running out, for when I was done with my studies in a few years—something my family begrudgingly tolerated me doing—I’d have to go back into the fold, and I’d risk losing Tasha, who might or might not understand why I kept her in the dark.

So now that you have the picture, you must think me pretty sick, and not in a good way. If you only knew…
So here I was, standing fifty feet from some junkyard, searching for a clue to the mystery between my legs. This was the time for me to see what all the fuss was about. Bullshit, or truth? I had to find out.

Also, it was painfully embarrassing to be in my position at age twenty-one—a freshman in the orgasm department, and not much better in the down-and-dirty sex department, either. I mean, while other girls giggled at each other’s stories about carnal adventures and discussed how often they squirted, I was the one who sat listening, with nothing to contribute. Before you start wondering if I look like one of Cinderella’s ugly sisters or am covered in scales or something—just no, okay? Don’t go there. Tasha often told me I was pretty, with my dark hair, green eyes, curves and height, and she was a blunt bitch so I had no doubt she wouldn’t lie to me.

Tonight didn’t have to be difficult. The goal was for me to be with someone who knew his way around a woman’s private parts without need of an instruction manual and achieve my first ever orgasm with a man. This is why Merry Frey—a fake last name as a nod to one of my favorite Norse goddesses—had reserved a special session with not one, but two, studs. Better safe than sorry wasn’t just a phrase. Apparently, this deed could be a hundred times better if freaky shit was involved, so I was doubling my chances at a great outcome.

Tasha shifted on her feet, arms crossed, obviously still not quite convinced. I knew she’d cave though. Decked as she was in a schoolgirl skirt and a Santa hat, she was as ready to jingle with some random hot hunk as I was. Only, she didn’t book a ‘Jingling Trifecta Package Experience’ like I had. She’d pretty much wing it, as she did with everything in life. Including her sudden, mid-year, three-hundred-sixty-degree switch from pre-med to a Bachelor’s program in Mythology, when she got fed up with her first choice.

I stared at her, wondering if I should have put on a naughty Mrs. Claus costume, but instead I’d gone for a body-hugging short black dress that showed off my curves and long legs.
When I took a hesitant step forward, a tiny voice in my head reminded me who I was, that I was still the daughter of a man who’d been one of the most notorious mobsters in Los Angeles, so I had to be careful. People might be watching me at random times, but I had been careful to cover my tracks. I was usually so well-behaved, and so absent from family drama, they often forgot about me.

Mostly though, I was so done with dating losers—they were everywhere. I had started to wonder if I was cursed.
Suddenly, the door of the club opened, the sound making me jump, and a guy walked outside. About as tall as my five-foot-ten and built like a brick house, he wore a black t-shirt with tattoo sleeves on his arm. I trailed my gaze over his strong jaw, down his wide chest, to his large hands. He had a ruggedly dark, attractive vibe to him that made my pulse quicken and my belly flop. You know, like when you see your favorite hot actor on your favorite streaming service and you feel your vajayjay tingle. Then you need to squeeze your thighs together because you suddenly imagine his sexy butt in full Loki costume lying there between your legs, feasting on the goods, licking around your clit and sucking on the nub like a ravenous beast. Yeah, you know who I’m thinking about…

From the symbols this man had tattooed on his neck, I pegged him to be part of the Bulgarian mafia. I didn’t really know much about that world. Before he married my stepmother during my middle school years, Father had always told me how this life wasn’t for me, but over the years I did pick up a few things about it.

The man put a cigarette into his mouth and lit it. He inhaled deeply, then released the smoke, all the while staring at both of us.
His gaze rested on Tasha for a moment before he shifted it to me, slowly scanning my body, then stopping on my lips while my heart began fluttering uncontrollably inside my chest.
“Are you ladies going in or are you just going to stand there?” he finally asked.

He had a perfect American accent, so he was probably born here. Tasha yanked on my arm, giving me that look again. I tossed my mahogany hair behind me and straightened my back. Fuck it.

Besides, I knew my stepmother was already scouring for a potential husband for me. I was my father’s eldest and I should have been married to some hot shot family ally long ago. It was surprising I’d held off this long, but each day of borrowed freedom brought me closer to my destiny. Would they even allow me to finish law school before they sold me off to some geezer? And if not, would my new husband let me continue my studies?

The thought made me both sad and pissed off. It wasn’t like my stepmother hadn’t been fucking her way through the LA male population already, yet for some reason everyone closed an eye because her people were so powerful. Really, thanks to her we could continue living a good life.

Besides, to be honest, I also craved a family of my own. Babies to hold. A stable life. Partying and sleeping around wasn’t for me. I wanted more.
“Yes, we are coming in,” I said to the stranger.

I grabbed Tasha’s hand and proceeded to drag her inside. The guy nodded, smirking, and then opened the door for us. Another huge man built like an even bigger brick house, came outside as we entered and stood there like a statue, hands together in front of him. When the door closed behind us, he was chatting with guy number one.

Soon, we found ourselves in a large open space. The red lights and Christmas music were a bit of a distraction, but after a tough year, everyone wanted to get into the holiday spirit again.
“Welcome to “Top D,” a fake-boobed, fake-smiling hostess dressed in a Mrs. Claus costume welcomed us by the stairs. I was suddenly glad I hadn’t opted for that getup. I wanted to laugh when I read her name tag:

Candy. Could this have been any more cliché? “We have a naughty elf strip show that starts in about an hour and if you would like to watch it then please let me know as soon as possible. Are you ladies looking for a male or female companion tonight?”
“Neither for me. I like to do my own hunting. For her now…” Tasha hitched a thumb at me,

“you gotta ask her.”

I kicked her in the shin for I was already uncomfortable as it is. She didn’t have to announce our plans to the whole fucking block. Sweat tickled my brow as I spoke in as low a tone as I could muster, and still have her hear me.

“Er … I reserved the ‘Jingling Trifecta Package Experience’ for two men and maybe one who could … possibly watch us.” I quickly rubbed on my belly, which now felt like a warzone.
“Name?”
I coughed into my hand. “Merry,” I said, wondering now if my real name was common enough. “Merry … Frey,” I stated my assumed last name. Better safe than sorry—I had to protect myself, just in case. “I said I’d pay in cash.” I handed her the exact amount and she thanked me. Oh boy. This was really happening.
“I see your details here,” she said sweetly, reading through my booking page where I’d explained about my ‘problem.’ Heat rose to my face as everything was becoming very, very real. “Hmmm … okay. You explained well what you wish to get from the experience, and our job here at Top D is to make your fantasies come true.” She grinned way too hard and my stomach roiled. Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. “Go and have a seat at the bar and you will be notified as soon as everything’s ready for you.”
Then she was off, disappearing somewhere down the dark corridor and I took that moment to gather my wits. I convinced myself that this would be way easier and more fun than climbing Mt. Everest in sub-zero conditions, but I wasn’t so sure.
Tasha snickered and dropped a kiss on my cheek. “You’ll be fine,” she said, then grabbed my arm and dragged me to the bar.
“Come on, let’s get you a drink to loosen you up a little. If you get any more tense, I could snap you like peppermint brittle,” Tasha coaxed me.

“All right, but please let’s be a little discreet. I don’t want to attract more attention than necessary. I just need to get in some room, do the deed, get off and get out. That’s it.”
“…Leaving me here alone with all the sharks.”
I snorted. “As if. I’m more worried about everyone else in here with you around, roaming the place.”
“Nah. I’ll just sit here at the bar. How long is it gonna take you, anyway?”
I bit on my lip, no idea what to expect.
“Oh, okay,” she added. “Just for fuck’s sake don’t start talking about nerdy shit on law and history if you want to blend in. All you have to do is be someone else for a minute, get outside of yourself. Not that there’s anything wrong with the real you, but this is different. Just relax! You’ll be fine!” She jiggled my arm and affectionately flicked my chin with her forefinger.
“Okay,” I said as we sat down. We were the only two women in this area. I wondered where that guy with the two women had gone off to. This place had to be huge with private rooms and even a massive orgy room in the back, according to what I’d read. The barman smiled at us. He looked quite in his element wearing nothing but red shorts and a Santa hat. He was handsome, clean and nice looking, but not my type. Probably gay, too. “Can we have two vodkas with orange, please,” Tasha ordered. “Make both double.”

“Coming right up,” he said, giving Tasha a wink. Her face turned red and I rolled my eyes, wondering if she’d end up banging the bartender by the end of the night. She was such a worldly woman and I couldn’t think of a better person to bring with me here. I needed all the encouragement I could get. Oddly enough, despite a bit of nervousness and apprehension, I was more than ready.

Ready to jingle.

I knew I gave people an odd vibe sometimes, especially since I had photographic memory and loved nerdy stuff. I enjoyed living in my own predictable world of facts, textbooks, and various causes, where I had a degree of control. Still, despite what people thought, I could let my hair down like the best of them. Although in these times, being a nerd was the height of badassery, too, so I wore that badge proudly.

Still, tonight, I’d just have fun, for the sake of the Elusive Orgasm with a Sentient Being—that’s what I was calling it these days. Only not aloud, or Tasha would hit me upside the head with a pan.

We both had our drinks and I ordered another double round because the first wasn’t enough to calm my nerves.

That made me a bit tipsy, so when Candy eventually returned, I inexplicably wanted to hug her.
“Ladies, I hope you’re enjoying yourselves.” She turned to me. I smiled big at her. “Ms. Frey, your room is prepared so if you will follow me…” Before she started heading back with me in tow, she added, “Will you both be going in together? It wasn’t in the booking…”
“Oh, no, no. I’m only here for moral support,” Tasha said. “I will just have a looksie right—”
“She’s going to find someone out here,” I said boldly. “I’ll be alone.”
“Certainly, Ms. Frey. Let us proceed.” Another over-the-top grin made her face look like the Cheshire Cat’s.
I looked at Tasha and she gave me a reassuring nod. “Go have fun. I’ll be okay out here.” She grabbed my hand then leaned over for a hug. “Call me if you need me, is that a deal?”
“Deal,” I said, swallowing. “I should be back soon.”
“Dammit, girl. Take all the time you need! You earned this. Off you go.”
After doing some research late last night, I calculated that normally woman needed an hour to fulfil all her needs in a sex club, but since I had never had a proper orgasm, I didn’t know if this applied to me. On the other hand, I wanted to believe it could.
I followed Candy through another long corridor bathed in dim lighting, with doors on each side. Whoever owned the club really enjoyed Mariah Carey as her Christmas album had been playing on repeat since we’d entered. As we walked, we were flanked by large Nutcracker soldier figurines lining the walls, and reindeer shaped decorations trimmed with small LED lights. It could have seemed too much, but it really wasn’t. I’d have described it as cute, actually, and rather tasteful, considering we were in one of the underground jizz palaces of LA, as I liked to call them, in a spot bordering one of the dodgiest neighborhoods in the city.
“This way. The guys in there will explain everything to you. Wishing you the best,” she said, sounding genuine.

My stomach made a funny jolt, but I kept going until I walked inside a large room with black walls and red furnishings. I mean, there was literally no other color anywhere. Not even a decoration or light fixture on the wall or piece of furniture that wasn’t black, and no furnishing or upholstery that wasn’t a rich red—in either velvet or damask. This included the black and red Christmas tree and garlands framing the windows covered in heavy curtains.

Everything looked like I might have imagined if I’d thought about it long enough. There was a large bed in the middle that could fit an entire family of giants and some long chains hanging above it that would make the Ghost of Christmas Past green with envy. Several sexual toys, lube, and other accessories sat on a small table nearby. There was also a large black leather sofa facing the bed—currently occupied by two of the hottest men I’d ever seen.
My throat went dry, and I found myself rooted to the spot. This was it.

These two men sat waiting for me. I recognized the one from the outside with his smoldering gaze. Both had familiar features, but the second seemed like the opposite as he was a blond with amber eyes and slightly longer hair. The first, who I’d met, had much darker eyes and hair, cropped close to his head. He gave me one of those intense looks that cut through skin, but his expression remained impassive—a man of a few words, apparently. They were both dressed in a black t-shirt and red pants, matching the room.

Damn, they had this planned to a T, with uniforms and everything.
“It’s you,” I said, feeling overwhelmed by the alcohol that ran through my system and my nerves. I’d paid a ridiculous fee for this experience, so I hoped I wouldn’t blow it. Although money wasn’t really an issue, I hated to waste it, and more importantly, I didn’t want to have to explain how I’d spent several thousand dollars.

My stepmother would be furious, I was sure. Not because she cared about what I did, but she was banking on me making a good match. When she’d taken charge of the estate and the business, everyone thought she wouldn’t be capable enough, but she proved them wrong. She was tough, ruthless sometimes, but she treated me and my little sister well, so I couldn’t complain.
Still, I didn’t want to find out what she’d do if she learned about my shenanigans. She might see it as a slight, a blemish on my reputation, which might affect her plans for me. My world was not for the faint of heart.
“Hi,” I finally found my voice and met their gazes. “I’m Merry Frey. I imagine you read my notes about … what I’m looking for.” The tall, blond one curved his lips in response. “You two look like you could be related?”
“Yes, Merry. This is my brother Emilio and I’m Gregory,” he finally introduced himself. “And we’re here for you.” A lopsided smile exposed a dimple on his left cheek, then he stood from the sofa and walked up to me.
He brushed my hair away from my face and caught my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Would you like a drink? We have wine, or anything you could possibly want.” The meaningful look in his eyes told me that indeed, he—they—did have what I want, thank you very much. He caught a strand of my hair and played with it. “You are so beautiful. This is going to be fun.
And then, taking advantage of my distraction—I mean, Brad Pitt had nothing on this guy—he leaned down and kissed me, his lush, full lips incredibly soft and hard at the same time.
I froze for a moment because what’s a woman to do when one of the sexiest men alive walks up to her and shoves his tongue down her throat? Pull back?

Mumble a muffled thank you? Jump his bones and hope he’s as well-endowed down there as he is out here? I left out the ‘slap him’ option because hell, I’d sort of asked for this.
I mean, take that movie—‘When Harry Met Sally.’ Hadn’t Harry deserved to be blindsided by his friend Sally’s fake loud orgasm in that infamous diner scene?
At least, that character had a point of reference.

Which I did not. But as he pulled me close and I felt his huge hard-on press against my stomach, his muscled arms snake around me, my panties got soaked on the spot and I wanted to scream out loud all right.
Jingle holy amazeballs!
I’ll take door number three, please. Bone-jumping it is.
Heat rushed through my toes when his hand cupped my ass cheeks and squeezed. His kiss was sensual and unhurried, exploring, urging me to trail my palms up his chiseled pecs and wrap them around his neck. He brought a hand up leisurely to the underside of my breasts and my nipples peaked from the touch. I moaned against his mouth when his tongue danced around mine. He tasted like mint and bourbon—such an intoxicating mix.
As I started to let go, kissing him back, he pulled away from me. Panting, I stared at him in confusion and considered hanging him over the flaming pit of Hell simply for stopping what he had been doing.
Why? The word hung on the tip of my tongue.
He pressed his forehead to mine, which was strangely comforting. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I’m going to make you come like never before and then it will be my brother’s turn. We made a deal to get you off before the evening show.”

My lips tingled and felt swollen from the kiss, but after the initial wave of frustration, I felt oddly calm. These two didn’t come across as amateurs and surely they were going to take care of me.

That said, although Gregory seemed confident enough, he wasn’t the first guy who’d assured me he could. I had been with several and each and every one had failed the test, so I wouldn’t get my hopes up too high just yet.

I nodded, my boldness soaring as his hand trailed languorously up my arm. I leaned over to catch Emilio intently staring at us, lounging on the couch with his arm spread across the back. “So … is it just two of you?” I let the question hang between us.
In the past year and a half, I’d been having these dark and twisted dreams on occasion, of me being fucked by three monsters on a four-poster bed. They were all deformed and ugly, but they had enormous cocks and in all my dreams, I always came out fully satisfied and more alive than ever.

Maybe I wouldn’t have three monsters, but I could score a couple of guys, right?

“Our father should be here in a moment,” Emilio stated with a wink. “He will be watching us.” He was now standing behind his brother.
I blinked. “I’m sorry, did you just say your father is going to be here?” I stared at him with my mouth agape.

Emilio didn’t have a chance to answer because a moment later, another man entered the room, shutting the door behind him.
He was the tallest of them all and had incredibly muscular arms encased in a black long-sleeved shirt. His dark hair was brushed away from his forehead, the sides dipped in a fetching silver that gave him a look of distinction. His fiery gaze sent an instant fire blazing through my core.

Holy shit fucking amazeballs jingle all the way with reindeers frolicking and bells ringing all around!
He had red pants on and a Santa hat, too.

Cocking his head to the side, I noticed his jaw twitch. Every movement he made called to me, creating a direct line of communication with my coochie, which was profusely thanking me for bringing this god of a man into its midst. His voice was deep and seasoned, like a good aged cognac.

“You can call me Daddy.”