Mafia Princess

by Bella J

  Chapter 2

  “AND welcome to Twisted Fable, my friend.”

  Nicholas looked up at the neon-pink sign with what looked like a dancing girl consisting of moving lights just beneath it.

  Then he noticed the line of people trying to get into the club that stretched all around the corner of the building. Nicholas had to admit that by looking at the outside of the club, so far, he was impressed.

  Adam grabbed Nicholas around his shoulders. “I have no idea how we managed to miss this one for so long. Apparently it’s been here for months now.”

  “We’re not standing in that line, are we?” Nicholas pulled his face like the thought alone was just too painful to consider.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Adam shot his cuffs. “I’ve got us covered.”

  With the smooth swagger only Adam possessed, he walked up to the mean ass looking guy standing outside by the red rope, letting people in randomly.

  “Mr. Masters,” Adam said to the bouncer while straightening his suit jacket.

  The guy eyed Adam curiously, then scanned over the list he held in his hand—and what do you know, they got let in.

  Adam winked at Nicholas. “Told you. Stick with me and I’ll make you famous, or get you laid.”

  Once inside the club, Nicholas was even more impressed. Twisted Fable consisted of one huge stage up front, a bar going all around the back in a half-moon shape, with waitresses moving around on roller blades wearing black thongs, little shimmering star-shaped patches on their nipples, and bow ties.

  The décor was mainly black and silver with just a touch of blue in the form of lights all around the bar. The smell of cigars and expensive whiskey filled the air, along with the sweet-smelling perfume of women. Nicholas inhaled. Oh yes, it smelled like heaven.

  There were three girls on the stage doing moves on poles which would be considered

  reason enough to apply for danger pay. Nicholas had been to more strip clubs than he could count, but he had never seen girls move like that. Those girls worked the poles like they belonged in Cirque du Soleil with their supple bodies flexing and bending in the most erotic ways. His spine was already all tingly with excitement from the prospects the evening held.

  Nicholas slapped Adam on the shoulder. “Not bad, man. Not bad at all.”

  “And this night is only just beginning. Wait until you see what we have in store for you, my friend.” Adam had a naughty glint in his eye as he stared at Nicholas.

  “Hey, guys, over here.”

  Nicholas and Adam turned toward the husky voice that could only belong to one guy. Hunter Keaton, PI by day, cage fighter by night—and also scary as hell if you didn’t know the guy.

  Now how exactly were Nicholas and Adam friends with Mr. Tough? They met him one day when Nicholas and Adam decided to cut school and headed over to the local park. Hunter was there leading a group of kids playing some football, and looking like a real badass.

  They had been the trio of terror ever since Hunter threw the ball at Adam and said, “You here to play football, or stand there and watch like little girls?”

  It was instant bromance.

  Adam waved like a loser toward the table where Hunter was sitting.

  “Hey, man.” Hunter got up and shoved two glasses of bourbon into their hands. Hunter was drinking beer as usual.

  He looked at Nicholas. “Happy birthday. May your day be filled with tits and ass.”

  “Thanks, man.” Nicholas clinked his glass against Hunter’s beer bottle. “That was exactly the birthday wishes I was hoping for.”

  Hunter was one big-ass man with a very large art collection in the form of tattoos. Those green eyes and thick blond hair had women crawling all over him. He usually had a crowd of at least five willing females to choose from on any given night. But unlike Nicholas and Adam, Hunter had a very specific type when it came to women and always seemed like he was scouting for the perfect candidate. He never shared any details of his sex life, keeping that part of his life locked up from the rest of the world. In fact, his entire life seemed like one big top secret file hidden in a vault somewhere inside the fucking Pentagon. “So, gentlemen,” Adam started while holding up his drink, “here’s to another epic bachelor birthday party.” He turned to Nicholas. “My friend, all I can say is buckle up.” Adam winked.

  “What are you up to, Adam Masters?” Nicholas raised his eyebrows in suspicion and leisurely leaned back in his seat.

  Adam shot him a sly grin. “You are about to find out.”

  Just then, two girls came up to them with their rollerblades and nipple patches gesturing for Nicholas to follow them. Nicholas eyed Adam suspiciously. “What did you do?”

  “Let me just say that I took the challenge of arranging one hell of a birthday party for you very seriously, Nicky dearest. This is going to be a night like none other. So let’s just say that your little fetish is about to skyrocket, my friend.”

  “My fetish?”

  “You’ll see. Just enjoy it, man.” Adam held up his drink. “Cheers, and bottoms up!”

  Nicholas couldn’t help but laugh. His friend was such a carefree soul, and no one knew Nicholas as well as Adam did. Sometimes Nicholas wished he had a little more of Adam’s free spirited outlook on life.

  “Bring back a memento,” Hunter hollered and then laughed while clinking drinks with Adam.

  So, not being a coward and always up for entertainment, Nicholas followed the girls who leisurely rollerbladed the way in front of him. They reached a red curtain, and both girls stood to each side and held it open so Nicholas could walk through. Hesitating for just a second, he glanced at the little blonde on his left. “If this night is an epic fail, can I get your number?”

  Pretty blue eyes stared at him with batting eyelashes, and Nicholas knew he had it in the bag with this one. “Even if it’s not a failure, you can still get my number,” she whispered. “And maybe more.”

  Yup, he was driving this one home tonight.

  Nicholas stepped through the curtain and into a corridor. Erotic, yet tasteful black and white framed pictures of half-naked women decorated the crimson walls. Once the girls let the curtain fall closed behind him, the sound of the club music was all muffled and he slowly started down the hall.

  “Mr. Blake?” A woman dressed in a stylish black romper walked up to him. She had a slit down her cleavage that had Nicholas anticipating a nip-slip at any second—but it never happened, which was kind of disappointing.

  “Yes, that’s me,” he replied politely, trying not to stare at the beautiful smooth skin of her neck, framed with silky curls of fiery red. Oh, he was such a male slut. But Nicholas never gave any woman the idea that he was the promising-forever type of guy, because he wasn’t. In fact, making promises of anything more than just a good time and nights filled with pleasure went completely against his religion.

  “Right this way.” She smiled and turned around, walking back in the direction she came.

  “So, do you mind telling me where we’re going?” he asked while admiring the view of a perfectly toned ass swaying in front of him. Yeah, maybe he didn’t just border on being a man whore.

  Just then she stopped in front of a door with white calligraphy letters reading Cinderella’s Booth.

  Nicholas pointed to the door and looked at the redhead. “Cinderella’s Booth?”

  She nodded. “You can go ahead, sir.”

  Nicholas kept on staring at her when she turned around and left him standing in front of the closed door.

  Cinderella’s Booth?

  He shrugged. “What the hell.”

  He reached for the doorknob and opened the door, not having a clue what to expect. When Nicholas stepped inside the room, his eyes grew wide.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Nicholas stared all wide-eyed at a very specific item in front of him. It was a big, round glass cabinet, almost like those you get in bakeries displaying all the different cakes, but this one didn’t showcase cakes. Oh no.
Inside the turning glass cabinet were shoes—lots and lots of pairs of shoes. And not just any shoes. Stilettos.

  From white to red to stripy to black, it was every high-heeled pair of shoes Nicholas could ever have imagined. It was fucking heaven.

  “So this is what he meant.” He stared at the cabinet. Just thinking about a gorgeous woman wearing a pair of those high heels had him turned on. Damn, he really did have a thing for a beautiful woman, with long, curvy legs wearing nothing but the perfect pair of heels. And when those legs would wrap around him, the heels pushing into his ass…oh dear God, it did crazy things to him.

  Yup, man whore.

  After almost drooling over the shoes, he scanned the room. There was a hell of a lot of pinks and whites, feathers and diamonds, creating a very elegant princess type of ambiance. Nicholas wasn’t quite sure if it was his thing, but hey, the shoes more than made up for it.

  Then Nicholas noticed something a little peculiar. Right in the middle of the room was a white chair, but the strange part was the fact that it was bolted to the floor. Okay…

  “Pick one.”

  Nicholas jerked his head to the left in the direction from where the woman’s voice came, and noticed the dark-pink curtains.

  “Pick one what?” he asked, scanning the room.

  “The shoes. Pick a pair,” a soft, sultry voice replied.

  Then Nicholas noticed movement behind the curtain. Whoever it was dragged her hand along the fabric while leisurely pacing, apparently waiting for him to choose.

  Instantly intrigued, he glanced at the cabinet and then back at the curtain. “You want me to choose a pair of shoes?”

  “Yes, pick a pair and I will wear them.”

  Nicholas felt a little tingle in the back of his neck when she spoke. He had only been in this room for five minutes and whoever was behind the curtain already had all his attention.

  He moved a little closer to the curtain. “You know, a lot goes into choosing the right pair of shoes. For example, I’d need to know what you’re wearing first.” He tried to get a better look at the woman behind the curtain, but the fabric was just too damn dense for him to make out anything other than a silhouette.

  “Why don’t you just pick a pair under the assumption that I’m not wearing anything,” she replied with soft, smoothly spoken words. Somehow it reminded him of melted chocolate.

  “Why don’t you let me see for myself what you’re wearing?”

  “That’s not how it works, Mr. Blake.”

  He narrowed his eyes. “You know who I am?”

  “I only know what details have been put on the appointment schedule, Mr. Blake.”

  Of course.

  The curtain swooshed a little as she moved behind it.

  Nicholas turned to the glass cabinet with the shoes. How in God’s name was he supposed to choose? It was like telling a kid to choose one item in Willy Wonka’s candy factory. Im-fucking-possible.

  After inspecting each pair, he finally opened the door and reached for a white pair of stilettos with a little diamond bow on top. A simple design, but it was the pair with the sharpest heel, and Nicholas loved those damn heels.

  “So what do I do with these?” Nicholas inspected the shoes more closely.

  And then a hand reached out from the other side of the curtain. Nicholas noticed the freshly manicured nails and beautiful dainty fingers. “Now you give them to me, and take a seat, Mr. Blake.”

  Nicholas looked to the chair before handing her the shoes.

  “On the table next to the chair you will see a pair of handcuffs and a blindfold. You need to sit down, lock one of the cuffs around your hand, put on the blindfold and then place both hands behind the back of the seat.”

  Nicholas frowned. “Okay, I’m not sure I’m entirely comfortable with this. I thought this was a show. How am I supposed to enjoy the show if I can’t see anything?”

  “Mr. Blake, I have three different types of shows I present. See, feel, and touch.”

  “See, feel, and touch?” he mimed silently with his mouth.

  “You can’t experience all at once.”

  “Well, I’d sort of feel cheated then.”

  “When you lose one of your senses, the other senses get heightened, Mr. Blake.” Nicholas could not get over the beautiful sound of this woman’s voice. It was like her voice had a direct line straight down to his cock.

  He started to leisurely pace around the room. “So I’m just curious, which show did my friends book me for?”

  “Feel,” she replied.

  Being the smart-ass that he was, Nicholas asked, “Isn’t that kind of the same thing as touch?”

  “No, it’s not. With touch you would be allowed to use your hands, guided by me of course. With feel, you will only feel what I want you to feel.”

  Okay, now he was really damn curious.

  As he turned to the table and eyed the contents, he contemplated what his options were. Either he turned around now and then got labeled as a pussy by his friends, or he could put on the mask and the cuffs and see where this all went. But honestly, there was no way in hell he would be able to walk away now.

  “What will it be, Mr. Blake?”

  Nicholas shrugged and picked up the cuffs. “I guess we should get this show started then.”

  Sure they say curiosity killed the cat, but Nicholas felt extra gutsy since he was willing to take the risk and see for himself.

  While keeping his eye on the silhouette behind the curtain, Nicholas slowly placed the cuff around his left wrist and fastened it. “So what shall I call you?” he asked, trying to make small talk as he reached for the blindfold.

  “Call me Cinderella,” was the answer he got, and somehow that name associated with the glass cabinet of fetish pleasures did amazing things to his insides.

  “I should warn you, Cinderella,” Nicholas said as he took his seat on the bolted chair, “I have a thing for women wearing high heels.” He firmly placed the blindfold over his eyes. “Which is probably why my friends thought this show appropriate.”

  Bells chimed, and he could only assume that she had emerged from behind the curtain. He had to stop every male instinct inside of him to pull the blindfold off and jerk around to get a glimpse at this Cinderella with the smooth chocolate voice.

  “Then you and I, Mr. Blake, are going to get along just fine.” She grabbed his hands

  and cuffed his right wrist, leaving him bound with no way to interact with her at all.

  And then the music started. He recognized it as one of Paula Cole’s very slow, sexy and seductive numbers. Feelin’ Love.

  “So, Cinderella, since I’m blindfolded, how do I know that you’re wearing the shoes I chose?”

  Obviously he heard the click of her heels over the tiled floor, but of course he just had to make sure she was wearing what he chose. In no way was he trying to be a cheeky bastard. Okay maybe a little. He was just cocky that way.

  There was more clicking of heels across the tiled floor, and his hearing sense kicked in. By the sound of it, she was walking around him, circling him, looking at him. This was so unfair since he really wanted to see her.

  “Well, you do have a point there, Mr. Blake.”

  Of course he did.

  She was now behind him, not because he heard her, but because he could feel her even though she wasn’t touching him. All his senses had somehow zeroed in on her, just as she said it would. It was the weirdest, kinkiest thing ever. Nicholas shifted in his seat.

  A hand touched his left shoulder and he instinctively turned his face toward it.

  “Even though seeing isn’t part of your show tonight, I am willing to make an exception,” she whispered, and only when he felt her hot breath against his ear did he realize that she was leaning very close to him, and it totally turned him on.

  How in the hell did she do that? Turn him on just by speaking, by breathing against his face. Man, this woman had some serious talent.

  He was about to ask her
about her little exception when he felt it. And dear Lord did he feel it—a leg. It felt a hell of a lot like a leg had been lifted and placed over his right shoulder. Her hold on his shoulder tightened.

  Nicholas had to stop himself from breathing since he was scared he might pant like a needy boy who had just reached puberty, and he would not embarrass himself that way.

  Delicate fingers traced down the side of his face, a soft touch that made him tingle all over. He didn’t know if he wanted to jerk away from it, or lean into it.

  She lifted the blindfold over his right eye. “Look.” And he did.

  “Oh dear God.” He breathed out as he stared at the most perfect, smooth, toned leg he had ever seen before in his life. That curvaceous leg that seemed like it went on for miles was folded around his shoulder and he let his gaze travel all the way down her inner thigh which was right there—right fucking there. It was so damn close to his mouth. Why did he suddenly have the urge to lick it?

  The second he saw that she was indeed wearing the shoes he had picked, he stopped breathing. The sharp heel was pressing hard into his thigh, and he had to force himself to take a breath while his cock suddenly decided to join the fucking party. Pun intended.

  “Are you satisfied, Mr. Blake?” She moved the blindfold back down. He was no longer able to see anything, and that sucked.

  “Oh, I’m far from satisfied.” Which was so true.

  Breathe, Nicholas…just breathe.

  Since his vision was restricted, the only picture he could formulate in his mind was the picture of having both legs that looked like that wrapped around his neck. It was such a pretty picture.

  Then the very distinct sound of a zipper caught his attention. His head jerked to the

  side. “What was that?”