Stripper For The Mafia Brothers

(VALENTINO'S POV)

I haven't been able to get Krystal out of my head.

It's been a whole day she hugged me outside my club and smiled in my face while robbing me blind.

And the worst part?

I’m not even mad.

I laugh every time I think about it.

I walk into The Palace of Sin with my men, Leo, Bruno, and Michele right behind me. The bass from the speakers thump as WAP by Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion blasts throughout the club.

Lights strobe across the room in bursts of neon green and hot pink. Dollar bills rain down onto the stage as half-naked women grind, arch, and twerk for a roomful of thirsty men who don't even know where to put their hands.

My eyes sweep the room, scanning every dancer as I pass, searching for blonde hair, blue eyes, thick thighs, and that dangerous little smile.

But there's no sign of Krystal anywhere.

It stings a little, but I have to face the fact that I probably won't see her ever again.

A watch like that could set a girl up for life. For all I know, she’s already on a plane out of Vegas, sipping champagne in first class while laughing at the dumb mafia bastard she robbed.

I make my way upstairs to the V.I.P section where I can get the best view of the whole club.

My men settle in beside me, their eyes scanning the room as I lean back, taking it all in.

Bradley Knox, the manager I personally hired, makes his way over to us.

"Good evening, boss." He extends his hand. I shake it and he grips firmly.

He glances at Leo, Bruno, and Michele, nods with that easy confidence of his, and says, "Fellas."

Bruno daps him up immediately. "My guy."

Bradley leans slightly closer, lowers his voice like he's about to share a secret. "So what can I get you all to drink?"

"I'll have a vintage Barolo." I say.

"A glass of scotch will do." Leo says.

"Same as him." Michele adds.

"You got bourbon?" Bruno asks. "I'll take that."

Bradley spins on his heels and disappears into the haze of the club. Moments later, he returns with a tray carried by a thick, curvy beauty whose skin is a rich chocolate brown.

Her long braids fall past her waist, the green bikini barely containing the twin mountains of her tits that bounce with every step. I can't look away, almost as if I'm hypnotized.

She reaches the table, sets down the drinks, and our eyes meet. She bites her bottom lip just enough to make me swallow.

Bruno's gaze locks on her ass as she bends, muttering under his breath in Italian. "Signore, mio Dio..." (Lord have mercy.)

He whistles low when she straightens, walking past him.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Bruno says, standing up, "I believe I've found god."

"Make sure you tithe generously," Michele calls after him, laughing.

Bradley chuckles, shaking his head, then turns to me. "Anyone catching your eye, boss? I can send over whoever you like."

I sip my wine slowly, my eyes drifting over the other dancers, taking in the curves, the moves.

But then I freeze the moment my eyes land on her.

Well I’ll be damned.

She's here. She actually came back.

I set the glass down, stand, and give Bradley a simple shake of my head. "Don't worry about it. I've got this."

And with that, I make my way toward her.

Tonight just got a whole lot more interesting.

(KRYSTAL'S POV)

The pole feels cold under my fingers, slick with the residue of sweat from the last set.

I dip low, grinding and twerking, rolling my hips like I'm trying to hypnotize every man in the club. Dollar bills rain down, falling against my skin, tucked into the straps of my thong and between my boobs, and I let the thrill of it pulse through me.

Then I hear it. That voice.

"Well, if it isn't Krystal with a K."

I freeze, my heart skipping a beat. I turn slowly and see him standing right there.

Valentino.

He leans on the platform, looking at me with this intensity, as if he's undressing me with those green eyes.

A smile tugs at my lips.

"Oh, hi Val. Nice to see you again," I say, smoothing my hair over my shoulder as I step off the stage.

"Sure. It's nice to see you too," he replies, his gaze intense. "You know... I thought you would've skipped town and started a new life by now."

"Me?" I laugh softly, placing a hand on my chest. "Why?"

"I dunno..." Valentino says, leaning back slightly with a smug look on his face. "Maybe because you stole something that belongs to me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, playing dumb, letting a small teasing smirk curl at the corner of my lips.

He grins, deciding to play along. "The ten million dollar diamond wristwatch you stole off my hand a few days ago. Right in front of the club?"

"Oh... that," I say lightly, brushing a few strands of hair behind my ear. "Don't mind me. I've just got butter fingers-especially when it comes to shiny things." I tilt my head, giving him an innocent look. "I hope you're not mad at me."

Valentino leans closer. "I'm not mad. In fact... I know exactly what you're doing."

I arch an eyebrow. "Now do you?"

"You're trying to get my attention," he says slowly. "And I can't lie... you've succeeded."

We just stare at each other for a moment, the world narrowing down to the two of us.

His green eyes look deep into mine, as if trying to stare into my soul, then they wander briefly to my lips then back to meet my eyes again.

"I'd like a private dance," he finally says, his voice deep and smooth, loaded with something I could feel in my chest.

I smile. "With pleasure."

He holds out his hand, and I take it, letting him lead me away from the crowded floor, into the V.I.P section, into one of the private rooms.

The door clicks shut behind him after I enter, and the room feels like its own world.

Dim red lights wash over everything, the slow beat of R&B vibrating through the floor. A pole rose from the center of the room, and at the far end, a heart-shaped bed draped in dark red sheets called to a different kind of temptation.

Valentino sinks into a chair, leaning back, his eyes never leaving mine. "Dance."

I walk to the pole and wrap my fingers around it. Gripping it between my legs, I spin slowly before landing on my heels again.

I rolled my hips as I went low then I spread my legs wide, trailing my from between my breasts down to my stomach, then down to the thin fabric covering my pussy.

I watch him closely.

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows, his eyes never leaving mine for a second.

I get to all fours and slowly crawl toward him, the heat of the room thick between us. When I reach him, I straddle his lap, rolling my hips against his crotch. His hands rest at his sides, tense, waiting, anticipating.

I feel the hardness of him pressing through his pants. I tease, grinding, riding the edge, watching his jaw tighten, his lips parting in a soft moan.

Finally, I slip off my bikini top, letting my breasts fall free.

I bring them up to his face, and a shiver runs through me the moment his warm breath hits my skin.

He cups my breasts with his hands, thumbs brushing over the nipples, one of which he sucks, flicking his tongue over the bud before moving to the other.

I moan softly, my hips still grinding against his erection. Then his hands grips my face, tilting my head toward his lips.

And then, he kisses me.

It's gentle at first, as if we're both testing each other. Then I lean in harder, kissing him fiercely. He slides his tongue into my mouth making me taste the lingering tang of wine.

I love the taste of him. It's sexy... intoxicating.

Our tongues clash in a battle for dominance as our lips smack against each other until we finally break apart, our chests heaving as we try to catch our breaths.

"I want to fuck you," he murmurs, his voice low and dangerous.

I give him a teasing smile. "Club rules. No fucking customers."

"I'm not a customer," he growls, his voice dropping an octave. "I'm your fucking boss."

"Doesn't mean you won't pay up. And to be honest... this job doesn't really pay that well,"

"Yet you're still here," he counters, his tone dark yet amused.

"Well, a girl's gotta do something to pay her bills," I reply, grinding harder against him.

He groans, his voice dangerously low. "Fine. You can keep the watch."

"Is that a deal?" I ask, sliding a hand into his pants, rubbing him slowly through the fabric, watching him shudder.

"Yes," he gasps softly. "It's a deal."