Mafia Romance Bundle (10 EBOOK)

Ivo

Today hadn’t been the best of days, and above all of that, I rarely fucked the clients. That was something my sons liked to do on occasion when business was slow—such as it was around the holidays—and they were bored. I certainly didn’t care about entertaining some young girl who’d never had an orgasm.  

But tonight, I had to make an exception. 

When I’d read Merry Frey’s information on the online form, something didn’t add up. Who paid that much money in cash? Even men cheating on their wives had a secret card they’d use to pay for the kind of entertainment we offered at Top D. 

The girl was beautiful with rich brown hair, tinged with red. She had long legs and wide hips, a curvy body—exactly my type. But I’d had strings of pretty women before. 

No, what intrigued me was her story. This hunch I had. What was she hiding? And why hadn’t she achieved an orgasm with a man before? Had something happened to her?

Too many questions begging for answers.

So I had Candy run checks on both her and her friend. I had all sorts of connections in this city. Yet, nothing was found on a Merry Frey that matched the woman who walked into the club tonight. What we did find was the info on her friend—Tasha Stewart. She was a student at UCLA, who roomed with a certain Meredith Camilleri. 

Meredith … Merry. 

I saw the woman’s picture—matched it with the flesh-and-blood version. 

When I spotted her at the bar, live and in person, it felt like I’d been hit by an anvil, knocked out cold by her beauty. I knew I had to have her, despite what I’d found out about her. She looked young, but it turned out she hadn’t lied about her years and she was legal. Still, my body didn’t care that I was over twice her age, in my mid-forties. One look at those green peepers, that lush hair and ample curves, and my cock made the decision for me.  

Getting hard for a woman wasn’t as common a thing as it once was for me—not since Elena. First, that person would have to hold my interest, and most of the women who came to the club looking for thrills didn’t pass muster for me. 

We’d had people ask us to recreate all sorts of dark, depraved fantasies. Still, in the few years I’d owned this place, never had someone walked in asking purely for an orgasm. 

The simplest of things, yet so important for this Merry girl. She wanted—needed—to have the best climax of her life, with a real man. Clearly not any of the unschooled bastards she’d been running with so far, who probably had to consult a map and a dictionary to figure out where and what a clitoris was. 

My sons had already bet on who was going to make her come first. The Dobrev men always enjoyed a bit of friendly competition.  

The worst part of this equation had to be that I wasn’t sure how I felt about this. But it wasn’t about me this time. 

The client always mattered most.

“Daddy?” she echoed my request, staring at me with those incredible eyes, assessing and judging. “Are you really their father?” 

“Yes, but you don’t need to worry about him. He’s only going to watch,” Gregory interjected with a sardonic grin, “while we take turns. So, get on that bed and take off your panties, sweetheart.”