
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."
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Chapter 6
I became more nervous when the clock read five minutes to eight. Nero left as soon as he told me to find a driver outside. When I came out of the bathroom, I had been shaken, but I couldn't bring myself to tell my uncle what had happened.
Would I have to sleep with Nero? Would he hit me during sex? Was BDSM sex more painful than it was pleasurable? And most of all, what was I willing to do to get to the truth?
When I found myself walking towards the exit, I knew the answer-anything. My brother deserved closure, and so did I. We needed to be known as the children of a couple that taught them how beautiful love was.
Not how ugly it could get.
"Where are you going?" Viktor asked as he blocked my way to the exit. Three minutes were left. I couldn't afford to be late and make a man who had put a knife to my throat angry.
I was already shaken as it was, and alcohol had done nothing to ease my fear.
"Not now, Viktor," I snapped as I pulled my hand from his grasp. I immediately felt bad for snapping at him when his only fault was asking me a simple question.
"You're shaking. Is everything okay? You don't seem okay, and I would love to help you if you let me." He said softly, making me feel even more like a dick.
"I'm just tired. I'll text you later tonight." If I could walk after Nero was done with me.
"Are you sure?"
One minute.
"I'm sure. Have a lovely night, Viktor. It was nice to meet you."
I walked away before he could say anything. I didn't want to be late. When I went outside, a car pulled up to the curb. I immediately knew it was Nero's car based on the tinted windows.
The backseat door opened, and I stepped in. There was no one else inside but the driver and me. He didn't speak to me or even look at me. He locked the doors as soon as I was in, like I was going to try and run away.
This was the opportunity Lily told me I needed to have to figure out the truth. Getting close to Nero would be difficult, but it needed to be done. I just hoped I could handle sex with him.
We came to a halt in front of the most luxurious hotel in all of New York. My door automatically opened, and I took that as a sign to get out. As soon as I was out, the door closed and the car sped away.
"Ms. Serena, I was asked to give you this key card. The private elevator is this way." A man said.
He had a smile on his face, but I could smell his fear. He led me to the private elevator, and I used the key card to get in. It opened into the penthouse suite at the very top of the floor. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, glass walls, and an infinity pool.
It must have been worth millions. It probably cost more than my inheritance.
"You're late," Nero said.
He was standing by the minibar with a glass of an amber liquid in his hand. The jacket of his suit was off, and his sleeves were rolled to his elbows. I could see a sleeve tribal tattoo on his left hand.
I couldn't deny how hot it made him look. The other arm was devoid of any tattoos except for a few Roman numbers on his fingers. Those long and powerful fingers had black rings.
He had a mafia vibe to him. Even the penthouse had dark walls and black leather couches.
"I wasn't-"
"Don't lie to me, Serena. It's distasteful."
If it was so distasteful, why was I in his penthouse? Besides, I was only two minutes late. He had serious OCD if he took offense to that.
"I'm sorry," I said to keep the peace.
"Insincerity is also distasteful."
I couldn't help but roll my eyes. He took an issue with everything, and it was honestly unbelievable.
He walked towards me with slow and deliberate steps that made me step back a little. I was afraid of what he would do. It dawned on me that he had asked me not to tell anyone where I was going.
Was he going to kill me?
When we were only inches apart, he grabbed my neck and pulled me close.
"That's ten strikes with my belt on your ass. I don't appreciate your attitude. Don't roll your eyes at me, apologize sincerely, and when I tell you to be on time, don't disappoint me."
For some reason, the power in his voice had me nodding. And then I realized that he had promised to hit me on the ass with his belt.
Like a fucking child.
"I'm an adult. Why would you spank me?" I asked.
"I will forgive you this time because you don't know me. I don't like being questioned." He said as he trailed his thumb up and down my neck.
He was running a strict programme like I was in summer camp, but the intensity in his eyes had me speechless. It was as though I had forgotten how to formulate any words. It must have been because of his commanding tone.
"Come," he said as he let go of my neck and led me to the couch. "Sit."
When I sat down, he sat down opposite me. Dominic appeared from nowhere and handed him some documents.
"Read the contract, and we can talk about it. You can either accept or decline if you want to be my property. Remember, if you decline, you have to explain to me what you were doing at my house yesterday night."
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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.