
Sex with the Mafia King
WARNING!! THIS STORY CONTAINS A LOT OF MATURE THEMES, ELEMENTS OF HARDCORE BDSM, PRAISE KINKS, SLUT-SHAMING KINKS, AND DEGRADATION KINKS. READ WITH CAUTION.
(BOOK ONE OF THE DELUCA KINGS SERIES)
Serena would do anything to uncover the death of her parents, including sleeping with the most dangerous man in New York, Nero DeLuca. And he knows this, so he strings her along so he can see how far she's willing to go.
***
"Get on your knees," Nero said.
"Excuse me-"
"You're my submissive, and you exist for the sole purpose of my pleasure. I don't tolerate defiance. When I say get on your knees, you get on your knees."
"Yes," I replied as I got on my knees, hating how much his commanding tone turned me on.
He put his finger under my chin and lifted it so I could look at him.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good girl. Now get on the bed and show me that beautiful cunt. I want to see what it looks like before I destroy it with my cock. Tonight, the whole of New York will know you belong to me. I'll not take anything less than you screaming my name, and by the time I'm done with you, you'll feel me between your legs for a week."
Chapters
Share
Chapter 4
I wore a stunning floor-length gown made of pale gold satin fabric. It showed my cleavage or lack thereof since I had small breasts, and it was completely backless.
The dress didn't hug my body, but it accentuated my curves. It was scandalous enough to catch the attention of all the guests, but modest enough that people wouldn't say I was dressed like a slut.
I had my hair in a low, elegant bun, not a single strand out of place, and minimalist makeup.
For the jewelry, I chose a golden back necklace that cascaded down my spine to where the backless design of the dress stopped. It went well with my golden stilettos.
I walked into the ball, and all eyes were on me. They were all wondering who I was and where I came from, and I was eating it up. I had always loved attention since I was young. Besides, I was beautiful.
My mother had been a model before she married my father. I had inherited most of her features, and I embraced them wholeheartedly. She would have wanted me to bask in my beauty.
The Governor's ball was an event to host dignitaries. Only the richest people in New York were able to attend, like political figures, wealthy donors, corporate sponsors, celebrities, philanthropists, socialites, and members of high society.
They said it was a way for wealthy people to network, but it was just a show of wealth and influence. If you weren't invited, you weren't rich or powerful enough.
There were cameras everywhere, photo ops, designer gowns, and orchestras. It was impressive, but it was also boring and meant for older people. I didn't know how I had survived through such events when my parents were still alive.
I was already thinking of leaving, and I had just arrived. If it wasn't for my uncle, I would have been at home watching a movie.
"Zio," I greeted my uncle Lorenzo when I approached.
He was speaking to two men, an older one and a younger one.
"Cara mia," he greeted as he kissed both of my cheeks.
Lorenzo was a very affectionate man. He was short, he had dark hair like my father's, and he had brown eyes. He was a replica of my father. Maybe that was why I was so fond of him, besides the fact that he treated me like his daughter.
He was the one who sent me to France to get away once my parents died. He enrolled me in school and helped me make contact with my mother's side of the family in France.
"How are you, Zio?" I asked him.
"I'm doing well, cara mia. I would like you to meet my friend, Alexei Orlov. This is his son, Viktor Orlov."
I turned to the pair, impressed with what I saw. They were very handsome with dark hair and blue eyes. But something about the two of them didn't sit well with me. I couldn't place it, but something was off.
"Nice to meet you, Serena," Viktor said as he took my hand and kissed the back of it.
He seemed charming, but it would take more than that to impress me.
"Why don't the two of you get to each other as the grownups talk?" Lorenzo asked as he ushered us away.
Viktor grabbed a glass of champagne from a waiter and handed it to me.
"I have to admit it, when my father told me he wanted me to meet a girl, I didn't expect her to be the most beautiful woman I have seen in my lifetime."
I blushed and smiled.
"Thank you. You don't look so bad yourself."
I heard his slight Russian accent. I couldn't lie, it was hot, and coming from a handsome man made it all the more alluring to listen to.
"What do you do for a living?" He asked.
"I'm an interior designer," I replied.
"Maybe you should come to my place sometime and design my walls. I need a change."
I giggled and gave him my number. I had to say, it had been a good idea for Zio Lorenzo to get me a date with Viktor. He was definitely my type, and he was twenty-seven and successful.
"What do you do?" I asked the question back.
"I'm the CEO of Orlov Energy. It's a European Energy Conglomerate. I am currently overseeing operations in New York. There's a lot to do here."
He was trying to tell me that he would be in New York for the foreseeable future, and it brought me delight. What I needed was a distraction from my plans for uncovering my parents' murder.
"I would love to take you to dinner sometime-"
Viktor was cut off when a business associate approached him, and he excused himself. He promised to find me so we could dance.
I interacted with a few people that my uncle introduced me to, but overall, the party was boring. That was until the whole room went silent when someone walked in.
All eyes were on him as he walked in like he commanded the room. Everyone whispered when they saw him, wondering why he was at a Governor's Ball when he never attended such events.
It was Nero DeLuca in an all-black tux that fit his body perfectly. He was a huge man, and he had an aura of power about him that made everyone want to bow down and kiss the ground he walked on.
This time, his neck was in view, and you could see some tattoos peeking through the parts of him that weren't covered by his collar.
I was scared of seeing him again. What if he recognized me? No. I was wearing a disguise. There was no way he realized it was me that night.
Dominic was standing next to him as usual. He looked like the dangerous one out of the two, but a smart person would tell that glasses didn't make DeLuca a nice guy.
I stayed as far away from him as possible. I knew I should have been making moves to make sure he noticed me, but I was scared of him. There was something about him that screamed silent danger.
After a few minutes, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. I needed a break from everyone, even for a few seconds. As I was reapplying my makeup, I caught movement in the mirror. Before I could react, I felt an arm around my waist.
Nero was suddenly behind me, his body pressed into me, and his hand holding my waist firmly to keep me in place. He was taller than me, even in heels, which gave him an advantage.
"This is the women's bathroom...you...you're not supposed to be here." I stuttered.
What was he doing?
"Hello, Piper. I personally think the blonde hair and blue eyes don't suit you. Brunette is more your thing. And I have to say, those mesmerizing green eyes are hypnotic, birichina."
You may also like

9.2
Jacqueline Blackburn, a desperate Ivy League tutor, walked into the sleazy Veridian VIP club just to save her job.
But her billionaire client, the ruthless Christian Montgomery, mistook her for a cheap escort, blowing cigar smoke in her face and treating her like trash.
When she furiously turned to leave, a drunk former client attacked her in the hallway, tearing her white dress open and pinning her by the throat.
She fought back, stabbing the man's hand with a pen, only for Christian to emerge from the shadows and brutally crush the attacker's bleeding hand under his heel.
Instead of letting her go, Christian draped his heavy suit jacket over her exposed skin, trapped her in his dark suite, and forced her to sign a suffocating contract.
"You have exactly ninety days, or I will personally ensure you cease to exist in my city."
She thought she could just keep her head down, teach his nephew, and survive.
But she didn't understand why this terrifying underground tyrant was suddenly so fixated on her.
Why did he use his immense power to isolate her, publicly claim her at a billionaire gala, and track her every move?
When she received a chilling midnight text demanding she pack her bags and move into his sprawling estate by 8:00 AM, the terrifying reality set in.
She hadn't escaped the wolf. She had just walked directly into his cage.

8.0
"IS IT TRUE?" Grayson's voice thundered through the room.
"Yes!" Tessa said softly. "Yes it is!"
"So you've been cheating on me, haven't you?" He spat.
Her hands trembled. "No, I swear, it's not like that."
He grabbed her arm, his grip bruising her wrist as she squealed in pain.
"Then whose baby are you carrying, huh?" His voice was ice cold.
Tessa shivered, tears blurring her vision.
"I don't know."
**********
Pregnant with the powerful Roman Blackwood's child, while engaged to his unstable stepbrother - Tessa Quinn becomes the key to a ruthless inheritance war where love has no place.
As secrets unravel and danger closes in, Tessa must protect her unborn child while trapped between love, vengeance, and men who want to own her fate.

9.0
Once a pampered princess, Alaina now clutched a deactivated American Express card, staring out at Central Park. Her family’s fortune was gone, her life, over.
Her family's Hamptons estate, a four-generation legacy, was seized by Dyer Capital. The name hit her: Hardin Dyer, the poor boy she’d once scorned, had returned.
Hardin marched in, serving a divorce agreement. He'd orchestrated her family's downfall for revenge, giving her 24 hours to vacate his property. Penniless, her father faced prison, needing $50 million. Her mother forced her to beg Hardin, who sneered, offering the money for her body. Alaina ripped up the contract.
Hours later, her father had a heart attack. Desperate, she became "Lexi," a club girl enduring humiliation. In the Viper Room, Hardin's lackeys demanded she lick whiskey off his shoe for $10,000. Hardin watched. Outside, her brother Ashton's hand was threatened for a $3 million debt. Spirit shattered, Alaina returned, knelt on broken glass, offering to sign. But Hardin declared her family "dead," offering $10 million for her body, commanding her to use her mouth.
In a furious act of defiance, Alaina threw whiskey in his face, snatched the check, and fled. Yet, when he finally took her, a searing, foreign pain and blood on the sheets revealed a shocking truth: he had never touched her three years ago. Why had he let her believe such a monstrous lie?

8.9
The mangled car teetered on the cliff's edge, my leg crushed, gasoline fumes thick in the air. My husband, Holden, stood safe on the highway, directing the rescue – but not for me. He was saving her, the woman in the passenger seat, leaving me and our unborn child to the ocean below.
I woke trapped in the crushed Maybach, leg pinned. The cliff loomed; the driver's seat was empty.
Holden, safe outside, directed paramedics past me to Giana, his "most valuable asset," ordering her rescue first.
I watched him comfort Giana, oblivious, as the car slid. My baby barely viable. Holden offered a black card for silence; Giana gloated.
Ten years of devotion, a cruel lie. Rage fueled me: how could he abandon his wife and child?
I swore a venomous oath: never again an accessory. I flicked his card away, shielded my pregnancy, and promised my baby escape.

7.4
I was only fifteen when my venomous family orchestrated my doom by forcing me into an arranged marriage with mafia heir Javier Velasquez.
On our wedding night, Javier paraded strippers into our suite to show his absolute contempt, turning me into the ultimate joke of the underworld overnight.
But being a joke was a luxury compared to what came next.
Three years later, Javier needed to be a widower to marry into a heavily armed family and secure their backing for a coup.
He didn't grant me the mercy of a bullet.
Instead, he dragged me to an abandoned underground safehouse, locked me in the damp, rotting dark, and told the world I had been assassinated.
For six months, I starved in that dungeon, surviving only on the desperate hope that my family was safe.
Then, on the day of his lavish new wedding, a cruel maid kicked a plate of spoiled food onto my floor and delivered the final, fatal blow.
"Annabel is dead. Pined away and died of a broken heart two weeks ago."
My gentle mother was dead, all because she actually believed his lie about my tragic murder.
Driven by pure agony and an all-consuming hatred, I shattered crates of smuggled chemical solvents and struck a match, letting the roaring inferno turn their bloody wedding into my funeral pyre.
I thought the fire was the end.
But when I opened my eyes, the suffocating smoke vanished, replaced by the biting chill of a Long Island winter.
I was standing in the snow, back on the exact day my descent into hell began.
This time, the terrified girl was dead, and I would use their own ruthless rules to tear their empire apart.

8.1
I died on an apocalyptic battlefield, only to wake up pinned down by a lead-lined blanket of my own fat.
A violent download of memories hit me. I had transmigrated into the body of an exiled, sadistic noblewoman who was three million coins in debt.
The original owner was an absolute monster. She had purchased beastman guards just to torture them for fun. In the corner of the filthy room, a golden retriever boy cowered, his back shredded by her barbed whip. In the basement, a snake guard was frozen and scarred from constant electro-shocks. When the white tiger guard returned from hard labor, he looked at me with pure, murderous hatred, ready to tear me apart to protect the others. Even the local elites kicked down my door to mock my pathetic life and try to steal my men.
I was a decorated commander who bled for humanity. Why was I trapped in this ruined vessel, bearing the sins of a degenerate abuser?
It was all a setup by her sweet-faced cousin, Debera, who stole her royal life and sent her to this outer-rim hellhole to rot.
I gritted my teeth and plunged a military-grade gene repair serum into my arm, letting the agony burn away the black filth and weakness.
"The crazy woman you knew before is dead."
I tossed a medical kit to the trembling guards, loaded my old electromagnetic pistol, and headed for the deadly Demon Hunting Zone to start my revenge.