Devious: A Dark Mafia Arranged Romance (A Villain Collection Book 1)

by J. M Stoneback

  Right before she leaves, I offer her a thanks, then the lights go off and I’m stuck in the darkness again. I drag my knees to my chin, cry silent tears. Hoping and praying Devious will make up his mind on what he wants to do with me.

  Regret buries in my chest as I think about how I treated freedom and how I thought by living with Papa I didn’t have freedom. I never thought my life couldn’t get any worse until now. Then my mind travels to Tommy and how he died because of me. My brain is scattered as I think about the fond memories we had in high school. I didn’t realize before, but Tommy was into me and he did ask me to hang out a few times and I turned him down. In high school, he was a jock and popular. And I wasn’t, but I hung out with everyone. Even though I was socially awkward it didn’t stop other kids from wanting to hang out with me. I went to a private school with other kids whose parents were rich, and Tommy wasn’t loaded like our famiglia. He used to drive a pickup truck and often told me he wished his parents were rich. I was privileged. He had an autistic brother who he had helped his mother take of and his father owned a small bookstore. He asked me out to go to prom and of course I did. It was a major milestone for me, and I had to beg Papa to let me go. I already knew how my life was going to turn out and I knew the kids I went to school with had a lot more freedom and choices than I had. When Tommy picked me up for prom in his pickup truck, Papa stared at him in disgust and told me not to get attached because I will not be marrying trash. I didn’t care, I wanted to get away and I had no feelings for him. After prom, he wanted to have sex and I declined. God, I was stupid to decline him because he was a good man, and he would have treated me well. But Papa would have killed him. I shake my head at the fond memories and his blood will be on my hand for the rest of my life.

  “Tommy, I’m sorry,” I say, as tears stream down my face.

  Devious

  I need to nip this new obsession with Roselyn in the bud. She’s all I think about and I don’t like it. It’s was the only reason I didn’t kill her. If word got out I spared her life the men in my mafia will say I’m weak and try to kill me.

  Even though she’s a spitting image of Shelby she’s nothing like her. Shelby was into fashion and the finer things in life. She wanted to be a chef, so I bought her a restaurant, but I had the business closed after she died. Roselyn doesn’t care about expensive things. She’s into art and has a sassy mouth. Shelby didn’t, she was meek and humble.

  Breaking Roselyn will be fun. My dick gets hard from thinking about hurting her. If I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’m going to keep her as my pet or kill her. She surprises me with her stupidity. I would have stopped by the first level of the dungeon and watch her squirm under my stares, but I had to take care of business. Aiden kidnapped one of Cashel’s hitman from his home and dragged him to the second level of my dungeon. I push the glass door open and Aiden beats the hit man in the face with brass knuckles.

  Blood flies, splattering his shirt. The hitman’s hands are tied to the arm of the chair, and a sock is stuffed in his mouth. The smell of blood and urine suffocates the air. Normally, I leave the torturing to the underbosses, but I like getting my hands dirty. I hold my hand up to stop Aiden, and he takes a step back. A wicked grin displays on his face. My brother is far worse than I am. He’s got real blood lust. He has a uncontrollable desire to shed blood. Me, I’m bloodthirsty. I like to shed blood. It’s how we both earned our street names. We killed so many people and shed so much blood, my mafia runs the city. Everyone knows not to fuck with us.

  “The bastard won’t talk.” Aiden wipes his bloodied hands on his white shirt as the hitman scowls at him. He grabs the hitman by the cheeks. “Look at his face. A face of honor and bravery,” he says sarcastically, tapping his right cheek with the back of his hand.

  As I stare at the trash, I wrinkle my lips, balling up my fist. His left eye is purple and swollen shut while his lips are bloody and bruised. Dried up blood clings to the top of his forehead.

  I grab a chair from the other cell, sit in front of him, and I take the sock from his mouth. He tries to spit at me, but I move out of the way.

  I lean forward, with my elbows on my knees. “Where is Cashel?”

  Cashel and I used to be close friends, a few of our business intertwined with each other until he fucked my fiancée. He was fucking her for five years behind my back.

  The hitman breathes choppy, and I can smell copper on his breath.

  How am I going to torture him?

  Personally, I love a knife. You can carve up a body slowly without them dying as long as you don’t cut a main artery. Too easy though. An idea pops in my head. I want this dickhead to suffer and I’m still pissed off at my childish, wife for trying to kill me so I’m going to take my anger out on him.

  “Help me carry him to the table.” I tell Aiden. We both slowly untie his hands and feet. I grab his hands and Aiden grabs his feet and we both walk to the back of the dungeon. Aiden straps the leather belt across his legs, and I cuff his arms to the metal table.

  “Grab the saw,” I say. Aiden grabs the electric saw from the closet, plugs it into the wall. His eyes light up like fireworks as he grabs the saw. I grab the other one and plug it up to the outlet.

  “You’re going to tell me where Cashel is or we’re going to cut off all your limbs.

  “I don’t know.” His voice is weak.

  “Suit your fucking self.” I put on a pair of goggles and a face mask, then a full on clear plastic suit. Aiden does the same as I hit the on button and the sound of the saw blares to life. Aiden and I begin to slice through his arms. I feel his bones vibrating as the saw cuts through his flesh. The sound of the saw drowns out his screams. Blood squirts all over my suit. I’ve never cut a person in half, and the feel of his warm blood everywhere, it’s like porn to me. Satisfying, but not enough.

  I hit the off button. The hitman’s face turns white as snow and his lips turn purple.

  “Again, where is Cashel?”

  His eyes roll to the back of his head and he’s losing a lot of blood.

  “M-Matteo Rizzo.” His voice is hoarse.

  “Why would he know where he is?”

  I cock my brow. Matteo is my cousin. He was exiled from the famiglia because his Nonno killed mine. So, Draco killed his whole famiglia.

  “He buys drugs from him.”

  “I’ll pay him a visit,” I say.

  “Are you sure?” Aiden asks.

  I nod. “He’ll talk to me.”

  “If you say so.”

  Aiden hasn’t been fond of trying to make things work between Matteo.

  “Let’s cut up the rest of the body, then dump it on the Irish territory.”

  I click the saw back on, cutting off his head. It falls to the floor and I pick it up, resting it next to his body. Once we finish sawing his body in half, we wrap it in plastic.

  I received a call from my maid saying Roselyn didn’t eat her meals so I’m going to check on her.

  Removing the plastic body suit, I toss it in the trash.

  “Get Charlotte to clean the blood up. I have some business to take care of.”

  “Get up, now,” I say to Roselyn as she lies on the cot. Every time I think about how she tried to kill me on our wedding night, it makes my blood fucking boil. Today, I’m in a bad fucking mood and if she says anything smart, I’m going to back hand her. She stands up, keeps her head bowed, and she is still as a statue. I grit my teeth as I grab her by the arm, shoving her out of the glass cell. Digging my nails into her ivory skin, she whimpers like a dog.

  “Please, stop, don’t kill me. I promise I won’t betray you ever again.”

  I dig my nails into her flesh harder and tears trail down her cheek. My balls feel heavy and my dick aches against the cotton fabric of my black pants. I want to bend her over and feel how tight her virgin pussy is. Having her virtue in tack is a major turn on to me. I’m the only man who gets to use and abuse her pussy. I drag her into the master bedroom then into the bathroom
.

  I point to the tub.

  “Get in the shower.”

  She removes her clothes tossing to the white tiles as she steps into the stand-up shower. With one hand covering her breasts, she uses her other to squeeze the soap into the thick washcloth.

  She keeps her head bowed as she scrubs her body. Water sprays on the tiles, getting my expensive loafers wet. Shaking my head, I keep my eyes trained on the dip of her back, a place I want to kiss. She wipes her pussy, and right now, I’m jealous of a damn washcloth. I stare at her small pink nipples and I want to suck on them, and I want to titty fuck her. Her stomach is flat, and she has a tattoo of the lyrics to “I Want to Fly Away,” by Lenny Kravitz. The water streams the glass doors and she stands under the shower head, washing away the fruity smell of soap and the water glistening her supple, soft skin.

  Her hands tremble as she gets out the shower and I yank a black cotton towel from the brown cabinet, patting her down.

  My new shiny toy is going to learn not to ever betray me ever again.

  “T-thank you.” Her small teeth chatter.

  I bend down and whisper, “Don’t thank me yet.”

  Her eyes widen in horror. My dick aches so bad, I might cum in my fucking pants.

  We head to the bedroom and she reaches for the clean clothes and I grab her tiny wrist.

  “Lie down on the bed.” My mouth waters at the thought of eating her pink pussy.

  “What?”

  “Did I fucking stutter?”

  “D-Devious please? Don’t do this.”

  “You should have echoed those last words when you tried to kill me.” I say. “Your sweet pussy belongs to me. I’ll fuck it and lick it as much as I want.”

  My Nymph is brave. She doesn’t cry like I want her to. I want her to beg because it makes me want her more. It’s no fun if she doesn’t fight back. I want her pain and tears. When I shove my dick into her mouth, I want her in tears. I crave to be inside of her pussy, but I’m going to wait until she’s completely obedient or I might take her virginity right before I kill her.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She gulps loudly at my words and she spreads them a little.

  “Wider.”

  Closing her eyes, she does what I say. Her pussy is glisten with wetness. I lean down between her legs, wrapping them around my shoulders. I want to get a little taste. Ever since I ate her pussy on our wedding night, it’s all I think about. I can’t get her sweet moans out of my head. She’s like a siren, calling to me.

  “Look down at me,” I order. “Do not take your eyes off me.”

  She nods and her nipples are hard, and her body is flush. I place my lips on her clit and I use my tongue to lick in circles.

  “D-Devious. Please stop.”

  She places her hands on my shoulders, tries to push. Grabbing her hand, I twist it away.

  “You can hate me all you want, but your pussy tastes good no matter how you feel about me.”

  “I don’t want you touching me.” She moans her words and she moves her hips face fucking me. Her back arches and her juices wet my chin.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she says, then she tightens her legs around my shoulders as she cums all over my tongue.

  “Your mind doesn’t want me owning you, but your body does. You hate I get your pussy wet, don’t you?” I whisper in her ear and her face turns pale as a sheet of paper. I lick my lips as I unzip my pants.

  “Are you thirsty?” I ask, unbuckling my belt and dropping my underwear and pants.

  She doesn’t respond but stares at my engorged dick.

  “It’s either a yes sir or no sir.” Her arousal is still on my lips.

  She shakes her head. “No sir.”

  “To fucking bad, because you’re going to swallow every drop of my cum.”

  “I do—”

  “Shut the fuck up. I’ve been wanting to test drive this sexy mouth of yours.” I rub my fingers along her pink plump lips.

  I grip my dick, pressing the tip against her soft lips. Shaking her head, she snaps her eyes shut. “Open your fucking mouth, Roselyn. You bite my dick and I’ll snap your neck.” Tears spring in her eyes. That’s right baby, cry me a bucket of tears. She does what I say as I grab the back of her head and push hard. She chokes and gags on my dick, but I don’t care. I won’t stop until she swallows every drop of my cum. She digs her nails into my thigh, trying to push away, but I hold the back of her head as my hips move forwards. Her wet tongue feels good and her throat is so tight. Spit dribbles down her chin and the head of my dick tingles as I shoot my cum down her throat. Sliding my dick out of her mouth, she coughs loud and sobs uncontrollably. Her tears don’t do shit to me, but get my dick hard.

  “Keep crying and I’ll fuck your tight pussy.”

  I slide my pants over my hips, zipping my pants, looping my belt. I toss the cotton black shirt and a pair of sweatpants at her. If I decide to keep her as my pet, I’m going to make her wear all the expensive clothes Marla picked out for her.

  Shame clogs her face and she glares at me like I’m a monster. Good, if she fears me then I can control and manipulate her.

  My assault should teach her a lesson not to betray her husband.

  We head back to the dungeon and she walks into the cell and I turn on my heels. Dried up tears clings to her puffy face.

  “Are you going to kill me?” Worry strikes her soft voice.

  “Maybe, I will or maybe I won’t.” I shrug. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  Her bottom lips tremble at my words and I close the glass door, heading to the elevator.

  Devious

  A WEEK GOES BY AND I haven’t seen Roselyn since I face fucked her. I figured I’ll leave her in the cell, so she’ll think about not betraying me again.

  A guard opens up the steel door, and Matteo stands up from the glass desk. He offers his hand and I shake it, patting him on the back.

  “Devious. Sit,” he says. There is a hint of an Italian accent in his voice. I sit in the metal chair and glance around the office. The last time I was here, he didn’t have pictures of his wife, Jasmine, or his daughter, Luna, on his desk. The office is industrial style, clean and neat, with a wet bar sitting next to the window overlooking the empty dance floor.

  “What brings you to my side of the fence?” He opens a leather case of expensive cigars, then offers me one, and I shake my head.

  “First thing first. Congratulations on the newborn. How is Jasmine?” I cross my leg over my thigh.

  They got married last year, and he’s been with her for three years.

  “She’s good, thanks to you. Her health is doing a lot better. She can’t thank you enough for the heart.” His smile is genuine. Matteo asked me to find Jasmine a heart on the black market. She almost died two years ago from heart failure. To end the feud between both our famiglias, I bought the heart for him. “You want a glass of whiskey?”

  I nod. “Bourbon.”

  He gets up from the desk, strolls to the mini bar and grabs two crystal glasses. The sound of the whiskey being poured fills the silence. He gives me my drink, and I down the brown liquor, letting the beverage burn my throat.

  “Congratulations on the wedding,” he murmurs, crossing his right foot over his left before sipping his drink. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it. Jasmine was in the hospital giving birth to Luna.”

  “Thank you,” I tell him. “I understand.”

  I need to check on Nymph and see if she’s behaving. When I spoke to the maid this morning she refused to eat or drink anything. Her health is important. She needs her strength if I decide to keep her as my pet.

  I never had any intention of loving her the way I loved Shelby. I shake my head; Aiden is right I need to move on. It’s been two years since her death and the dirty bitch still haunts me.

  “So again. Why are you here? You don’t visit unless you need something.” He runs his thick fingers over his shaved head. Matteo is built like a bodybuilder and tattoos cover h
is body, even his bald head has a tattoo of a skull in flames. He’s known as the Skull King.

  “You do business with Irish mob?” I ask, and his eyes widen before he downs the rest of his whiskey.

  Matteo doesn’t have an alliance with any of the mafias. He’s an association.

  “He buys a shipment of kilos of cocaine from me.”

  My blood fucking boils but I don’t let it show. He shouldn’t be working with the enemy. Despite the fact we share the same blood, his loyalty should be with his famiglia, but I don’t have the right to be angry because it was Draco who slaughtered his parents. It’s a miracle we’re sitting in the same room, having a casual conversation.

  “He doesn’t make his own coke?”

  “Not anymore, he’s going broke. He doesn’t buy my pure coke. He buys the synthetic kind and sells it to the boys in the hood.”

  “Tell me when his shipment arrives so I can follow him. I’ll pay you.”

  “The rumors are true. You do want to kill Cashel, yeah?” He grabs his cigar and lights it.

  “I’m going to chop his head off and feed it to the pigs,” I say, casually. My eyes venture to the bar on the dance floor where a bartender wipes down the mahogany wood.

  “I’m kind of glad my familiga is not part of the mob anymore. I run my illegal stuff on my own.” Relief washes over his face.

  “You need to be with your famiglia. I’ll make you an underboss, and if anyone wants to bring up the past. I’ll have them killed. My word is law.”

  I mean every word. If anyone ever brings up the past, I’ll have them murdered Jigsaw style. I want the past to be the past and we start over. Draco is dead so there is no reason for us to be at each other throats.

  “Two things wrong with your statement,” he says. “I don’t like to take orders from anyone, and your word is not law here. I’m the Skull King here.” He rubs his hands together. He’s lucky I like him and need something from him because if he was in my territory and disrespected me, I would have put a bullet through his head.