by Eden Rose
Queenpin
The Syndicate Series
Book One
Eden Rose
Knox Publishing
Coming Soon from
Eden Rose
Prince
DIABLOS M.C.
Book Two
Kingpin
Syndicate Series
Book Two
Tapped
Fight Me Series
Book One
Queenpin
The Syndicate Series
Book One
Eden Rose
Queenpin
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are all products of the author's imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblances to persons, organizations, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Queenpin Copyright © 2019 by Eden Rose. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations used in articles or reviews. For information contact Eden Rose.
Queenpin. © 2019 Eden Rose
Cover design by CT Cover Creations
Photographer: Melissa Deanching, RplusMphoto
Model: Holly Wysong
Formatting by Brynn Burke, Knox Publishing
Publisher: Knox Publishing
Proofreading by Brynn Burke, Knox Publishing
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Dedication
To all the bad ass women out there. This is for you.
Acknowledgements
Elizabeth Knox— I know I can be a pain in the butt. Thank you for putting up with me. Also, I told you… I grow on you!
Sam— What can I say? We started out as sorority sisters and now we’re friends. EB love!
Brynn Burke— I appreciate you taking the time in going through my story and being my cheerleader when I needed it. Thank you.
Grizzly Bear A.K.A. Man Child— Even though you don’t read my books, thank you for being my biggest fan.
Mom and Dad— Thank you for instilling the importance of reading in me. Because of you, I have lived a thousand lives through all the wonderful stories.
Bean— You’re the best sister anyone can have. P.S. I still think you should publish your book.
Squishy— I know you aren’t going to read this, thank you for being my brother. I’m so proud of you and your accomplishments.
Warning
This content contains material that may be viewed as offensive to some readers, including graphic language, dangerous and sexual situations, physical abuse, and extreme violence.
Table Of Contents
Table Of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 1
Mason
“Yes! Pull my hair!” Cassie, Christy, Carly… whatever her name is, yells.
“Bite the pillow,” I advise and grip her hips tighter in my hands. I have her on her knees with her delicious ass sticking out for me to smack.
She flicks her long blonde hair over her shoulder. The bar slut winks at me. “Pull my hair!” She begs again.
I wrap my hand around her blonde hair like a rope and begin to pull her back to meet my punishing thrusts.
“Yes! That feels so good! Rub my clit!” The girl demands again.
“Quite a demanding little thing, aren’t you?” I say with a grunt.
I feel my dick harden after each and every demand she gives me. I’ve never been one to be bossed around in bed, but for some reason, I’m harder than fucking shit.
Sliding my hand around her thick hip, I slip it in between her pussy lips using my fingers to open her up. In perfect tandem to my thrusts, I massage her clit along to my rhythm.
“That feels so good!” She cries.
She begins to scream louder and louder with each thrust of my hips and pass of my fingers on her clit. My brother could wake up at any moment and get all pissy for bringing home a bar skank.
He’s an asshole like that.
She cries out and whines all at the same time as I feel her pussy flutter around the steely length of my cock. I know she’s about to come. “Are you going to come?” I taunt and slow my administrations.
She growls. “If you don’t speed up…”
I look at her ass waving at me in the air. Using the one hand that’s balancing myself with her hip, I pick it up and smack her across the behind with it. Hard enough to leave my bright red hand print.
The girl turns to look at me with admonishment. “I can’t believe you just spanked me!” She squeals.
If the woman wasn’t coming around my dick right now and meeting every one of my thrusts, I would have worried I took it too far.
But she likes it. She likes me manhandling her and smacking her ass like a naughty little girl.
“Suck my clit until I come into your mouth,” she moans and looks over her shoulder.
Again, she’s so fucking bossy and I love it.
I pull out and stick my face into her juicy pussy. She tastes a little like the condom and sweat but still sweet. I lap up her juices, focusing on her little clit. It hardens in my mouth each swipe of my tongue over it.
“Yes! Yes!” The bar skank chants egging me on to continue.
I suck her clit roughly into my mouth, biting along the sensitive flesh hearing her cries as they tell me what she likes the best. With each moan, she encourages me to persist.
“I’m coming! I’m coming!” She screams loudly.
I slow down to keep her on edge for a little longer. She screams at me to speed up. I like having her on edge, though. It’s nice to have the power for a moment.
“Please! Please! Let me come.”
Her cries sound desperate and I feel sympathy for her. I suck her clit into my mouth and press down with my tongue again in a sweeping motion. She shatters all around my tongue. Her body shakes covered in a light sheen of sweat from me keeping her on edge.
The woman collapses on my bed in a heap of pleasure. My dick’s still harder than a rock, though… begging for his own release.
She looks up at my dick and winks. She opens her legs for me showing me her pussy. Her pussy is wet from her orgasm and her arousal. “You may finish off inside me.”
With that simple statement, I about busted a nut. What is it about this woman telling me what to do that has me so turned on? I can’t help myself.
I’m quick as I align myself in between her thighs and piston my hips to chase my own release. I need to come. She lifts her hips and wraps her legs around my shoulders g
iving me better access to her pussy. It’s not long before her pussy is fluttering, and she is squeezing me as tight as a closed fist as I come.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” I chant. “Fuck!” I yell out once more and shoot out my release.
“Damn!” The girl screams while tightening her legs around my neck. “You are fucking amazing in bed.”
“You’re not so bad yourself either,” I coo.
***
When I woke up this morning, I felt my world shift a little. I have kicked out the woman that I brought home from the bar after an unsatisfying round of fucking. For real, I have no idea why I try to make it work with these bar whores, but at least one night a month, I have one in my bed.
Shit.
I’m trying to bust out of my M.O. and that is always trying to “wife” someone. I’m a fucking idiot who is looking for love in all the wrong places. So, when I bury my dick in these bar sluts, I secretly hope for some sort of connection. Of course, there isn’t much of a one. Just a ‘So, that was nice. Maybe I will see you around’.
Sex is great and everything. A majority of the time I get some sort of satisfaction. It’s just at times… it’s empty. I feel empty. I’ve been missing something all along and I can’t figure it out. There’s just something…
Hell!
I roll over and pick up my phone off the bedside table and roll my eyes at the series of text messages that are flooding over my phone. The constant ‘bing’ of the messages are making me want to throw the phone aside. It’s annoying the hell out of me.
Paul: Wtf mason! Get your ass over here!
Paul: Where the fuck are you?
Paul: You have five fucking minutes to get your ass on the phone. Call me NOW!
My finger hovers over his name and then I bite back the anxiety and give him a call. “Where the fuck are you? If you weren’t such a great chef, I would can your ass right now! Do you have any idea what you have cost me? You have cost me so much fucking money. You are a piece of shit!”
I zone out and then rub the center of my head to relieve some of this tension in my head. My hang over is playing some nasty tricks on me. A wave of nausea floods me and I’m about to throw up. “What do you want, Paul? I’m about hurl. Spit it out!”
“Fucking shit head kids! You had your audition for the Venetian Club today. Do you remember? Or were you too busy bringing home some slut?”
With strength I didn’t know I had, I bite back my snide comment of it being his daughter that I slept with. Which it wasn’t. But that would shut him up. “That was today?”
He screams and then gets back on the phone. “You need to fix this. I want results. Today! Or you are fired, you are never going to cook in this shit again.”
Click.
Great. Now I’m nursing a headache and I have to try and get the biggest heavy hitter in club industry to take us in for a business. I am an intern with Professional Metro Party Planning.
Yeah, I’m a guy and I’m straight. However, cooking for a party planning business has always been fun for me. Plus, the girls are always more fun. Especially the bridesmaids who are all depressed that their sorority sister got married before them.
Rolling out of bed is more of a struggle than I would like it to be. The room start spinning and I fight the urge to hurl. By the time I make it to the bathroom, I heave my stomach empty into the toilet before starting the shower. My body convulses from the onslaught of the retching.
I drag my weakened and hungover body into the shower and rinse off the stale perfume of the woman who had just left. What was her name? Jessica? Tiffany?
Damn it.
Good thing I used a condom.
By the time I’m clean enough to beg the Ice Queen to hire us, I comb through what I have clean in the closet. Normally, I do my laundry on Mondays because that’s my day off. Today is Monday and it’s no longer my fucking day off.
I dry off fast and throw on my chef uniform, the boxy white coat and black pants, and run out the door. Good thing for me, the club is not the far from my house and I run there in order to get there in timely manner.
The club is large. It’s high enough to be considered a high rise but those people that are familiar with the club, knows that the owner of the club is a bad ass who rents the floors out on top for after parties. They are highly coveted, and many people try to get a reservation for the suites almost every weekend.
That is what we are trying to do. We are trying to be a chef for those parties in order to grow our business. Needless to say, there have been a few companies that have gotten placed in those suites and each of them have had their businesses blow up.
Everyone knows that Lucian McGrace is the leader in the entertainment business. Rumor has it, he also has his hands in other things as well. People used to tell me he was mobbed up or some shit. I don’t know and I don’t care. I need the gig so I can save my job at the party planning company.
Plus, I really want to get out of my brother’s apartment and cook for some big shot in a club is the only way I can do that than so be it.
“Are you going to an interview?” Andrew asks me from his recliner across the apartment.
I nod. “Yeah, I’m running late for one at The Venetian.”
“Fuck, man. You land a job there, you’ll be in the big time!”
“Do you really think McGrace is mobbed up like Hoffa?” I make the reference to the infamous mobster, Jimmy Hoffa, who’s body has never been found.
“All I’m saying is, I wouldn’t want to make him wait. I’ve heard he runs with the 3-1-3,” he says and turns his head back to the television.
My head spins around. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I mutter.
The 3-1-3 Gang is the most notorious gang in Detroit. If you have lived in the city for a day, you would know their reach is quite large.
“Dude, are you fucking kidding me? Do you not look at the news or anything on the shitter?” That’s my brother for you. A straight shooter who will tell you exactly how he feels and does not mince any words in the process.
We have been kicked out of places due to his lack of common humility.
I chuckle, I can’t help it. Of course, this is who I would be late on. “Fuck.”
He laughs at my pain. “Good luck.”
I leave the apartment and walk towards the club with my head held high. I don’t know if what Andrew says is true regarding McGrace or not. If Lucian is a part of the gang, so what? It’s not as if I’m going to be stuck in the middle of it and doing shit for him, right? I wouldn’t think they would have someone like me doing the little grunt work for them.
That’s when I see the club’s outline. Even the outside of the club strikes me as power just as the gang does. 3-1-3 doesn’t play around, I bet this is a front for a lot of the other shit they do on the side.
I’ve heard the rumors from other people who have dared to say anything about them.
How do I know if they are true or not?
Do I even care?
McGrace is supposed to be bad ass who doesn’t take no for an answer and I respect that.
The black exterior to the club, has gold flecks in it to make it shine when the lights hit it just right and the street lights are placed just so around the club to make sure the patrons are safe, because let’s be real… this is not one of the best areas in this city.
I walk in and take a look around. The inside of the club is exactly what I had thought it would look like. It’s decadent and looks expensive with dark gold colors and red throughout. It’s making me think of sex for some reason and my dick gets hard despite my release earlier this morning.
I run my hands through my hair as I walk towards a desk that is off in the corner, with a beautiful woman sitting behind it. When I approach, the woman hangs up the phone and looks towards me.
“Yes?” Her voice is sweet but is borderline bitchy. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think that I am bothering her.
She’s way too pretty to be this bitchy. Her
lips are puffy and red, her cheeks have that doll like look to them. Her hair is blonde and tucked into a high pony at the top of her head.
“I’m Mason Dillon. I’m a chef with Professional Party Planners. I have a meeting with Lucian McGrace. Is he available?” I pour on some charm in order to make her actually patch me through.
I see her fingers fly over the keyboard and then she rolls her eyes. “You are an hour and a half late.”
I gasp and pretend to think about this. I know I’m very fucking late, but I need to make it seem like I don’t know this. “What do you mean? I thought my appointment was at eleven?”
The woman rolls her eyes. “Excuse me.” She gets out of her seat and I can’t stop staring at her ass that is barely restrained under her skirt. The click clack of her high heels is the only thing I can hear in this big ass building. When she comes back, there is a tall woman behind her.
When I say woman, I actually mean… holy… fucking… shit!
Her auburn hair is neatly contained in a bun on the top of her head. I can see her hour glass figure under her clothes, I know she’s got one hell of a rack. From here, I can see her work clothes are tight enough to be sexy, but professional enough to be classy.
Needless to say, I started getting hard from the receptionist but with this woman… I’m about to bust out of my pants.
The blonde opens her mouth. “Ms. McGrace will see you now.”
I walk up to the woman and put my hand out for her to shake it. And when she doesn’t, I’m momentarily put off. What? I always attract women. She’s looking at me as if I’m an annoyance and I hate it. Fuck. I should have been here on time. “Hi, I’m Mason Dillon. You must be Ms. McGrace?”
Please tell me she’s Lucian’s sister or something. I would fucking die if this was his wife and now, I have to figure out how to get her to hire me. That would suck. Because all I’m thinking about is how to get her locked away.
