Lure (Mafia Queen Book 1)

by C. M. Stunich

  When I opened them, all three men were staring at me, intrigued.

  Good.

  “The story goes,” I said, swirling the liquid around in my glass. “That the day I was born, on the second floor of the Costello Manor, my father wept for hours. Clearly, in the misogynistic patriarchal society in which you all function, a male heir is certainly preferable.” I took another breath and wondered if I was getting in over my head here. But this was my way, the answer to all my problems.

  Unfortunately, after the day's events, I wasn't quite as hungry for my old life.

  It was as if Bo and Edlyn had stripped it all away from me, leaving me with this violet heat, this darkness that swirled like a storm inside my chest.

  Leaning back, I crossed my legs at the knee and continued on.

  “But he got me instead, his only child. Why he never had another one, I'm not sure any of us will ever know.” I finished my drink and then paused as Lucky beat me to opening a second bottle. “The thing is, I don't want this life; my father wants an heir; you need an alliance.”

  “I sense an offer coming,” Marcell said, his tattooed hand elegantly draped around the stem of the wineglass. The crest of the Moran family was clearly visible. “Name your terms, Miss Costello.”

  “I want to live my own life,” I said, looking each man directly in the eyes for a moment before moving onto the next. Black as the night, green as new grass, mottled as a summer sunset. Three separate gazes, three very different men, all of them holding onto the same agenda.

  Me.

  I was the key to unlocking more power, more money, more connections.

  Fine.

  I didn't want any of it; they could have it. I just wanted to be free.

  “I will do and say whatever it is my father wants to hear, whatever the families need to hear. But once we've established the new order in this city, I do what I want, live where I want, continue practicing law.”

  “Is that really what you want?” Lucky asked, looking at me like he thought he still knew me, like he had some insider knowledge because we used to play together in my mother's garden. Placing his hands on the table, he leaned forward and grinned at me.

  “All of that civility”—he spat the word like it was filthy—“it doesn't suit you.”

  Lucky stood up from his chair and both of the other men stiffened slightly. I had no idea how they thought they'd share me if they could hardly be in the same room together.

  “It sickens you,” he continued, coming around the table and pausing next to the small crowns on the counter, woven from dried grapevines and sold to girls during their bachelorette parties, or little kids dragged into the retail room while their parents bought a bottle of dad's 2013 chardonnay reserve, rated the best in the state.

  Lucky pulled one twisted, gnarled little crown from the pile and moved over to stand next to me for a moment, placing it on the slick, smooth darkness of my hair.

  “You were meant to be a queen,” he breathed, and I felt a small shiver climb down my spine.

  “I'm a lawyer,” I said, but the wine was starting to taste sweeter, the room was starting to look warmer. I felt that awful wicked sickness inside of me rise up like a dragon uncoiling from a long, long sleep.

  “You were notorious,” Lucky said, and I felt myself shiver again.

  I was notorious.

  Before I'd left for college at twenty-one, I'd played my father's games better than any of his crews, better even than him. I made the family money, and I gave them notoriety, and I was cruel and awful and terrible.

  More wine.

  Damn you, Bo, I whispered inside the depths of a tortured, twisted mind. If I let myself, I could be consumed by power, want, need. I felt like Bo had taken a ribbon from my corset, let it fall around my waist and to the floor in a pile of satin and steel boning. There was nothing keeping it all in, nothing at all.

  “Carlo might not see it, but I do,” Lucky said, kneeling down next to the table.

  I ignored him and set my glass aside, feeling the fuzziness at the edges of my brain start to tease away my logicality.

  I felt like Sleeping Beauty, standing next to her spindle, getting ready to prick her own finger.

  “International influences are strong at the moment,” Caj inserted, the thick, sultry tones of his voice bringing up memories of a night best left forgotten. Like a tainted rose, I'd spread myself for a hot and sultry night in his arms. It'd been an exquisite lesson in torture. I'd known then that if I let myself fall, I might not come back from it.

  Remember why you're fighting, I reminded myself, my thoughts drifting to a night drenched in blood and pain and loss.

  Mmm.

  Spreading brie across the face of a water cracker, I glanced over at Marcell.

  “You want to share a woman with your rivals?” I asked, taking a small bite.

  “This is about more than just that, Miss Costello,” Marcell continued. “Bedroom talk aside, we need to pool our resources or face the facts: our hold over the city isn't going to survive into the next generation.”

  “Prove it,” I heard myself saying as I finished my cracker and stood up.

  “Prove, what?” Caj asked as both he and Marcell followed me to my feet.

  Reaching back, I took hold of my zipper and pulled it down my back.

  “Prove that you're willing to do what it takes to secure this alliance,” I said, knowing that I was not only drunk but also reeling from the afternoon's events.

  This is so stupid, Adelasia, I warned myself.

  But it'd been so long since I'd given into the darkness … it wanted to be fed.

  “Prove it,” I repeated quietly, feeling Lucky's hand slide around my side, his palm pressing into my belly. With a desperate sigh, something akin to relief, I leaned into his touch, melted into the hot press of his lips against my neck.

  It should've been weird, letting my childhood friend touch me like this, but in that moment, I didn't care. I didn't give a fuck. I spread my dark wings wide, and let him work his way down to my shoulder, pushing the blue satin of my dress aside to reach my skin.

  Caj's mouth twisted to the side in a wicked, little smirk as he made his way around the table. Dropping to his knees in front of me, he pushed my dress up and slid his warm hands up to grip my hips. As soon as his mouth connected with the front of my panties, I felt the rest of my inhibitions dry up like droplets in a desert.

  My fingers found their way into Caj's hair, the gunmetal gray of my nail polish digging into the red-brown darkness. Tilting my head back, I let Lucky run his tongue along the side of my throat.

  Marcell stood aside for a moment, removing his cufflinks the way he'd done the other night, slow and wicked, dripping with intention. As soon as he shrugged his pinstriped suit jacket off his shoulders, I knew I was in trouble.

  “Put her against the wall, boys,” he said, and I gasped as Caj withdrew, taking my panties with him.

  I was pushed into the brick wall, my palms splayed against the rich red color of the stone as Lucky slid the fabric of my dress over my hips.

  “Dì che vuoi il mio uccello, bellezza,” Marcell whispered against my ear, his hands tracing up and over my belly, finding my breasts, his inked fingers squeezing the tender flesh without mercy, bringing me to my metaphorical knees.

  Translation: Tell me you want my cock, beautiful.

  I knew he'd be trouble.

  The underboss of the Moran Crime Family took one of my diamond earrings—the ones he'd sent me as a gift—between his teeth and pulled. At the same time, pushing aside my panties and using his fingers to stroke the hot, liquid center of my core.

  “Say it,” he whispered cruelly, that musky heat of his scent searing my throat as I took in a sharp, wild inhale. “If you want this.”

  And I did.

  I wanted it with an unrestrained passion that surprised me.

  “Scopami,” I said instead. Fuck me.

  Marcell reached between us and unbuttoned his slack
s, teasing me with the head of his cock for several agonizing seconds. I wanted to turn and see what the other men were up to, but Marcell had such a firm grip on me … I should've hated it, but I loved. An exchange of power. I wanted to feel him fuck me against this wall, and then I wanted to turn around and do the same to him.

  Ride him until he screamed.

  We didn't talk about condoms—we were both mobsters here. Staying vigilant and keeping on top of things was the name of the game. I didn't need to look to know he was putting one on.

  Marcell let go of the earring, sending it swaying against my cheek, a gentle kiss of frosted diamond against my face.

  Sliding his right hand up and under my skirts, he gripped my hip with his hand and drove into me at the same time.

  The pleasure … it was excruciating, this angry, violent thrust that awakened every dark instinct inside of me. Fucking Marcell was nothing at all like fucking Bo. He was cruel, but seductive, ruthless but passionate. His shaft was long and thick, filling me up, spreading me wide.

  Each movement of his hips ground my body up against the wall and I loved it. I didn't want to, but I did. I did.

  My fingers curled against the bricks as Marcell moved inside of me, using his right hand to sneak around to my front, fingers deftly finding my clit and slicking my natural wetness up and over. A moan slipped past my lips as I relaxed into him, the wine taking away what few inhibitions I had left.

  Between the time I graduated high school and started college, I was a ruthless mafia princess. I carried out my father's orders with a knife's edge of precision—and I did it with tyrannical glee.

  I was a nightmare waiting to be unleashed.

  Well, it felt like Marcell was coaxing all of those dark dreams from inside of me again. Waking up monsters. Whispering to demons.

  “Bellezza, sei così stretta,” Marcell groaned. You're so tight, beautiful.

  The sound of his voice, as smooth and easy as cognac, this Lucullan feast for the ears … it was hard to imagine denying him anything. And yet, at the same time, I still had the urge to do it.

  “Look at you, Lazy, already tasting the ripe fruit dangled in front of you,” Lucky said, leaning against the wall, his cheek to the bricks. His smile was as wide as always, but there was a heat there that surprised me. He liked this, me getting fucked by his rival. It was turning him on.

  Reaching out a hand, he cupped the back of my head and leaned in, pressing his lips to mine. He tasted like merlot and mint, his tongue expertly sweeping around mine, reminding me of Bo's sloppy but sweet press of lips. They were night and day, that man and these. One, masquerading as the perfect gentleman and fucking my friend behind my back. The others, well, these wolves didn't prance around in sheep's clothing.

  Marcell's breath was hot on my neck, teasing my earrings as they swayed with each thrust. His hand didn't speed up or slow down, keeping an even, steady rhythm on my clit.

  But it was when Caj slipped up on my other side that I knew I was in for some trouble.

  “Make room, Marcell,” he said, and there was a dangerous intensity in his voice, the spark of a memory of a night I'd long tried to forget. Mmm. More than a decade ago, I'd bedded Caj Bellincioni, gave him my virginity and took his in turn. I'd never looked back. But how intriguing to fuck him again, see what he'd learned in the meantime.

  You're falling to pieces, Adelasia, I told myself, but when Marcell pulled away, I broke away from Lucky's mouth and turned, putting my back to the wall.

  The look Caj gave me was rife with wicked intent, as sharp as a knife. I could feel it cutting into me, and I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the pain.

  Like calls to like, and all that.

  “Follow me,” I said, moving through the three mafia bosses and over to the chaise in the corner. Like a queen instructing her men, I pointed at the purple velvet cushion. “One of you, sit.”

  “Look at you, already taking advantage of our offer,” Lucky said, swaggering past me in a gray and white pinstriped suit, the red and white plaid shirt underneath giving him a distinctly retro look.

  Sweating, panting, my cunt throbbing with a wild need, I knew I wasn't thinking clearly.

  And I couldn't seem to make myself care.

  Caj came up behind me, pulling my hair from its bun and letting it tumble down my back. I could feel the silken waves brushing against my skin as he dug his fingers in it, teasing my scalp with a firm, desperate touch.

  Turning around, I met him head on, his charcoal gray suit striking against the red-brown color of his hair. And those eyes? They were nothing but trouble.

  “For years, I've wondered …” he began, but he didn't have to finish the statement. I was thinking the same thing.

  “Let's find out how we've both changed,” I challenged, arching a brow.

  I glanced back and found that Lucky had already undone his pants.

  His dick was thick, rock solid, ready for me. It could've been lewd, certainly. It could've been vulgar, this whole exchange. But inside the old brick winery with the vaulted ceilings, the walls of colored bottles, the artful furniture and the candles … It was an exquisite nightmare, one that I did not wish to wake up from.

  Lifting up my right leg, I slid it back and onto the chaise, sitting back and finding Lucky with his hands on my hips, guiding his shaft into the warm, hot wetness of my opening. The fact that I was about to screw my childhood friend turned mobster crossed my mind, but whether it was the wine or my own inner darkness flooding me, I didn't care.

  Caj's hands cupped the sides of my face as he leaned down and kissed me at the exact moment Lucky's body was sheathed in mine. His tongue was like a whip, taming my mouth with hot, wild flicks.

  He gave me just enough to tease me, not enough to satisfy. Just before he pulled away, Caj licked up the side of my face and sent hot thrills of pleasure arcing down my spine; mixing with the sensations from between my legs, it was agony.

  As I rolled my hips on Lucky's lap, Caj unbuttoned his slacks with a sort of purposeful intensity that made my tongue slide across my lips.

  “Lean back,” he told me, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. He sounded like he'd done this before—or at least something similar to this—so I decided to comply. Relaxing back against Lucky's chest, I found his lips on my neck, his hands massaging my breasts.

  Caj was not a gentle or a patient lover, so when he knelt on the edge of the chaise and aimed the head of his shaft for my opening, I knew this was going to ride that fine line between pain and pleasure.

  “Do it,” I heard myself saying, commanding. But the queen and the king were in agreement on this one—Caj thrust into my opening, sliding his dick along the length of Lucky's. The sounds that the two men made were nothing compared to the ones that escaped my own throat.

  My body was completely full, stretched to the limit, but the pleasure of having two men inside of me was enough—they hit every hungry part of me that needed attention.

  A climax rolled over me like a storm, thunder and lightning inside my very soul. I felt flashes of it break the darkness into pieces, highlight the rain and the clouds, enhance the shadows.

  A hand closed around mine—Marcell's—drawing my attention over to the hungry, curved length of his cock. Even reeling as I was from the orgasm, I turned my face slightly toward him, let him slip his shaft between the bright red color of my lips. Smearing lipstick across the length of him, Mr. Moran fucked my face while the underbosses of the Bellincioni and Moretti family fucked my cunt.

  Letting my body go, I relaxed into three men I knew I couldn't trust—and I let myself go.

  This was it for me, the beginning of the end, the moment I shifted my gears from reluctant princess to greedy queen.

  My moans rose in pitch and fever as bodies slid in and out of mine, the pleasure a crescendo of carnal music to which I knew all the lyrics.

  I wasn't sure who came first because the room had become this hot sultry mix of bodies and limbs, cocks and mouths, and a cunt to rule
them all.

  The sweet salty tang of Marcell's semen filled my mouth and I swallowed, gasping at the intensity between my thighs, the distant soreness that I knew was coming later. But first, I got to ride the waves of another orgasm, my pussy clenching and squeezing around the men, drawing their fervor to the forefront.

  And when they were spent, I simply rose, brushed my skirt back into place, and grabbed a glass of wine.

  “Shall we continue our meeting?”

  I'd never felt more powerful in all my life.

  Sitting on the floor in the middle of the tasting room, I watched as Lucky lit a circle of candles around me.

  “Why are you doing this?” I asked, as the other men showered off in the apartment upstairs. It was often used by the family for nefarious purposes but was currently empty. Hmm. Maybe I'd ask my father for the key? He wouldn't want me to move out of the house, but surely the winery was a good compromise?

  “Doing what?” he asked, crouching in just his gray slacks, wingtips, and a smile. “Enjoying your presence back in my life?”

  “Putting up with all of this.” I gestured up at the ceiling, in the direction of Marcell and Caj. “Your rivals. Me. Group sex with other men.”

  “I'll do whatever it takes to get what I want,” he told me, meeting my eyes without a hint of shame in his gaze. “And fucking you isn't exactly a chore, Lazy.”

  “If I get deeper into this,” I asked, still not entirely sure if I was acting out of hurt … or a genuine desire to dig myself back into the web of the families. “Am I going to uncover things that scare me?”

  “Nothing scares you, Adelasia,” Lucky said, lighting the last candle and chucking the used matches into one of the empty wine glasses. He poured a generous serving of alcohol into another glass and paused at a sound from the street, like a car door slamming.

  For a normal person, a sound like that is nothing. Just another heartbeat in the chorus of life. But for someone born into our world, it had the potential for something much more sinister. Casually, as if I couldn't care less, I rose to my feet and stepped out of the circle of candles, glass of wine still in hand.