The Devil’s Plaything: A Dark Mafia Romance

by René, Dani

  I spin her around, bending her over the desk, and hiking up her dress moments before I sink into her tightness. Fuck, she was made for me.

  “Shit, Victor,” she mumbles, as I grip her hips, fucking her into the desk, hard and fast. I love how she enjoys this. The risks we take. My cock throbs, and my balls draw up. It’s been too long since we did this.

  Reaching around, I circle her clit, taunting her for a few moments, before she mewls her release, which causes me to grunt out mine seconds later. The moment I feel my dick softening, I want another go at my wife.

  “Perhaps we’ve got number three in there,” I tell her when I help her up and touch her stomach gently. The smile on her lips tells me that she may want that too.

  “You’ve made me the happiest man on earth, juguete,” I tell her.

  “And you’ve made me the happiest woman in this world, diablo,” she smiles.

  THE END

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  Prologue - Lance

  The thick stack of pages lying on the table before me contains information about my current job. Everything I need to know about the mark currently slumped against the wall, dripping blood all over the cool concrete beneath him.

  “I-I know A-Arthur—”

  “Shut up,” I bite out, ash flitting from the burning cigarette hanging between my lips. I glance over at the table, noting the tumbler sitting beside me is empty. I turn toward his bar, lifting the decanter, and pour another shot of clear liquid.

  The logo on the front of the manila folder I’m flicking through shimmers in gold and crimson. It’s been years since I first laid eyes on it, and since then, till now, I feel a sense of pride. It’s a place I belong to. My life has changed considerably since I became a part of them; The Cavalieri Della Morte have become a family — twelve men and our leader.

  For longer than I can remember, the word family has been a curse. My father killed himself when I was twelve. I walked into the office as he pulled the trigger, and I watched as his brains splattered along the wall of his books, which sat behind his desk.

  Grabbing the glass, I empty the contents over my mark’s leg where the bullet wound is seeping claret fluid. His cries are otherworldly, making me smile. I prefer torture; it makes the memories of my father’s scattered brains less painful to me. Seeing something like that could break a kid, and for a while, it did.

  My mother tried her best, but a wayward son is never easy for a woman alone. Once I hit fifteen, she was already high every night with a different boyfriend strolling into the house as if he owned it.

  When I couldn’t handle it anymore, I packed a duffel bag and ran from the small two-bedroom home my father had left her in his will. I didn’t know where I would go, but I knew I needed to get out of there or I’d turn out just like him — a brainless corpse.

  Sauntering over to my array of tools, I pick up the small knife on the table. The handle is hand carved from ebony, with a Cavalieri logo etched into the wood.

  Smiling, I lean in and hiss in my victim’s ear, “Are you going to tell me where the money is?” My voice is low, dangerous, and he can tell from the look in my eyes that anything he tells me won’t save him. Not today, not ever.

  His mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and I’m reminded of the moment my father stopped moving. When the gun thudded onto the carpet, the sound was like a damn foghorn.

  “Well shit, you have bigger balls than I expected.” Pressing my heavy combat boot on his groin, I make sure all my weight is on the one foot, causing a wretched scream to fall from his lips.

  “P-please, I-I-I c-c-c—”

  “Please, please, I have money,” I taunt him, knowing what they all beg and plead just before I end them. This is part of the job I enjoy more than anything. The high of having someone’s life in your hands is heady, like a drug.

  “I-I-I c-c-can’t—” The voice drags me from my thoughts. Pressing the cigarette between my lips, I take a long drag as my eyes flutter at inhaling the sweet smoke. I reach for his bleeding leg, shoving my fingers in the wound in an attempt to find my bullet. His screech is one of pain and agony, causing my heart to catapult wildly in my chest. Pleasure surges through me at seeing this piece of shit in pain. My inked hands are now drenched in the thick, slippery crimson fluid from the wounds I’ve inflicted on the man who’s dying against the wall.

  Lifting my foot, I press down on the mangled limb, earning me another dick-hardening cry of pain. There’s nowhere for him to go. He can’t run or hide. His leg is contorted in an unnatural way from me stomping on it. I heard the bone crack when my heavy black boot made contact.

  Reaching behind me, I pull my gun from my belt holster. I lift my Glock and aim it at his head first, watching as he scrunches his eyes, awaiting the shot, but I don’t pull the trigger just yet. I lower my arm, aiming for his other knee cap. The ringing of the shot is loud, and then his sweet, agonizing cries fill my ears.

  Placing the gun on the table, I glance at the man, my mind ticking over the options. He’s gripping his leg, begging more than he was moments ago. There’s something that clicks in a person’s mind when they know they’re going to die — survival instinct or resolution. Either they’ll attempt to beg their way out of what’s coming, or they give up.

  “I think it’s time we played a little game, don’t you?” I question, picking up the blade from my array of tools. Leaning in close to his trembling form, I award him with a smile while I slice away his shirt. I find his hairy chest, which concaves as he sucks in a breath. The asshole is nothing to look at, graying hair, beady eyes, and wrinkles on his fifty-year-old face.

  “P-p-please, I c-c-can pay, anything you w-w-want.” His promise makes me chuckle. There’s only one thing I want, and it can’t be found. I reach for the bottle that travels with me on every job. I twist the cap, chucking it on the table as I turn to my mark.

  I lean in close to his sniveling face. “It’s time to learn how much your payments are worth,” I tell him. Tipping the container, I watch as the clear fluid trickles over his chest, the stench of burning flesh invading my nostrils. It doesn’t make me sick since I’m used to the smell. As if there’s a steak sizzling on a hot grill, I hear the sound of skin turning to nothing as it bubbles and disintegrates.

  His screams are drawn right from the gut slowly disappearing under the acid. My gaze is locked on his, noting how his eyes roll back in his head as pain takes over. The flesh that rots from his bones gives way to his intestines. Blood pools at my feet, and I know I’m going to have to clean my motherfucking boots again.

  “You’re making quite a mess, Senator Hopkins.” I smile when I step back. “You know, the Cavalieri would’ve come sooner, but I had a woman on my dick last night, and she was more entertaining than you are.”

  The old man attempts to shake his head, pleading for mercy. His movements are slowing, then I see it. The light flickers off, and he’s dead.

  “You didn’t last as long as I thought you would,” I tell the corpse. “Too bad.” Shrugging, I pull out the crisp, white handkerchief and wipe the blade clean. Dropping the material on his corpse, I smile when I notice the white of bone peeking at me through the ripped pink flesh and pooling red.

  I make sure each of the weapons I used are clean before sliding them into the briefcase. With a glance around the room, I ensure I have everything. We exact justice, and this time it’s no different. Once I’m ready, I take one last look at his shriveled insides and chuckle.

  I press dial, then lift my phone to my ear. Once I hear the line click, I inform them, “Clean up,” before hanging up. I head to the exit and my SUV.

  Time to go home.

  After I’m in the driver’s seat, I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The scent of metal is still rooted in my nostrils. I doubt I’ll ever get it out permanently, but one night with a pretty whore will sort it out temp
orarily.

  The roads are quiet, the night sky hanging heavily with bright pinpricks of lights. The moon is full, round as if it’s watching what happens in the dark. Putting my foot down on the accelerator, I zip through the empty streets, needing to get home. I’m exhausted. I need sleep, but I know I’ll only be plagued with dreams of her.

  When I pull into my parking garage, I wait till the gate is shut behind the car before exiting. My phone buzzes wildly in my jacket pocket, and when I pull it out, I notice Seth’s name on the screen.

  “What?”

  “Lance, beer tonight?” he questions. We’ve had some good nights, but Seth is much younger than me, and sometimes, I just need time on my own.

  “Not tonight, man. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hanging up before he can respond, I head inside and hope the rest of the evening is quiet.

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  Need something naughtier?

  I’ve included a snippet from one of my Sins of Seven Series, book one, Kneel!

  Prologue - Nate

  Greed is my vice. A sin that leads to my addictions. One of the seven deadly sins to be exact. Perhaps greed didn’t lead to my demise, but it did, in many ways, change me. My tastes differ from most men. I enjoy the tears on a beautiful rosy hued cheek. I revel in degrading women in sexual ways for my gratification and theirs.

  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying my tastes are right. All I’m saying is that there are women out there who come to me to be degraded. At thirty-six, I’ve had many slaves in my dungeon. A Sir to beautiful, intelligent, and submissive women who enjoy being called names while I’m fucking them.

  In their humiliation, I command them what to do, while spitting out taunts at them. You’d be surprised how many get off on it. As if being called beautiful was wrong. In this world etched with darkness, that’s where I find comfort. It’s where I’m most myself. Where I’m allowed to let go of life’s stresses, to see things in a completely different way.

  Where I revel and play with my demons, other’s shy away from their true, animalistic needs.

  I’ve currently got a raven-haired beauty on her knees before me. She’s being watched by three other dominant men while she kisses my shoes in exchange for an orgasm. I can tell she’s needy because her breaths are ragged and I can smell her arousal. It drenches the room in a scent so intoxicating, the men watching have their dicks out, stroking themselves to the slave on her knees.

  Like darkness feeds and preys on my soul, I do the same with curvaceous beauties. “Up, on your back. Open your legs as far as they will go,” I command, my voice raspy with lust.

  Her real name is Kristine, but in this dungeon, where devils come to play, she’s called Fuck Toy. It’s written on her stomach, just above her belly button.

  Her smooth-shaven cunt is bared to me, the soft pink flesh glistening. Picking up the champagne glass I brought into the dungeon only moments ago, I drizzle the contents over her mound, watching the clear, bubbly liquid drip down her folds.

  “Please, Sir Nate,” she begs.

  They all plead at one time or another. Her thighs are trembling. Her big green eyes peek at me with unabashed need. I pick up the scrap of material she was wearing, a thong, pink and girly, yet there’s nothing innocent about her. Kneeling at her cunt, I push the silk into her hole, fucking it into her like I would my cock. Her moans skyrocket through the room. The desire, lust, and darkness is palpable. A living breathing entity joining us in our depravity’s.

  I glance at the men. They’re edging, bringing themselves to edge of orgasm to make their lust last. They’re in awe of the woman who’s allowing me to degrade her. “Come on your panties. Soak them,” I grunt before clamping her clit with the metal teeth attached to a slinky chain, which is connected to the clamps on her nipples. She screeches in pleasure, pain, I don’t fucking care. All I know is that I need to be inside her. “You love being a slut, don’t you?” I ask, but all I hear are her moans and whimpers. The sounds vibrate through her and she shudders.

  The three men to my left grunt as they find their own releases. I move to her mouth, gripping my thick cock in my fist and slamming it down her throat, gagging her.

  “That’s a good whore,” I growl as my own release shoots through me. And like any good slave, she swallows every damn drop.

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  Need something even darker and twisted?

  Keep reading for a snippet from Stolen, the prequel to my Taken Series!

  Prologue - Drake

  Drake

  There are only so many dead bodies you have to bury before your life becomes nothing more than a long-winded repeat.

  Over and over.

  Again and again.

  The blood is the same.

  The graves are the same.

  I smile when I do it now. When I dig a six-foot hole, I revel in the harsh stench of bodies — rotting and vile. It’s a reminder I’m a Savage. I was born into this life, and I’ll die in it.

  The pieces of flesh and bone still chill me to my soul, but there isn’t any salvation for me. My life has been tainted by the sins that come with the last name I’ve been born with.

  I bear the sins of my father.

  I carry the cross of his actions.

  And one day, I’ll be forced to run the organization he’s built.

  With each body I dig a grave for, and with every heart I’ve seen cease to beat, I know there’s no escape. As much as I want to run, there are people here I can’t leave.

  Two boys.

  My brother.

  My best friend.

  They’ll forever have me here, living the life the man who’s kept us prisoners for so long has forced us into.

  A dark journey.

  A sordid road.

  And there is no escape.

  Unless . . .

  We’re severed.

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  Also by Dani René

  Stand Alones

  Choosing the Hart

  Love Beyond Words

  Cuffed

  Fragile Innocence

  Perfectly Flawed

  Black Light: Obsessed

  Among Ash and Ember

  Within Me (Limited Time)

  Cursed in Love (collaboration with Cora Kenborn)

  Beautifully Brutal (Cavalieri Della Morte)

  How the Mind Breaks

  Taboo Novellas

  Sunshine and the Stalker (collaboration with K Webster)

  His Temptation

  Austin’s Christmas Shortcake

  Crime and Punishment (Newsletter Exclusive)

  Malignus (Inferno World Novella)

  Virulent (collaboration with Yolanda Olson)

  Tempting Grayson

  Gilded Sovereign Series

  Cruel War (Book #1)

  Volatile Love (Book #2)

  Sins of Seven Series

  Kneel (Book #1)

  Obey (Book #2)

  Indulge (Book #3)

  Ruthless (Book #4)

  Bound (Book #5)

  Envy (Book #6)

  Vice (Book #7)

  The Taken Series

  Stolen

  Severed

  Fo
ur Fathers Series

  Kingston

  Four Sons Series

  Brock

  Carina Press Novellas

  Pierced Ink

  Madd Ink

  Broken Series

  Broken by Desire

  Shattered by Love

  The Backstage Series

  Callum

  Liam

  Ryan

  Forbidden Series

  From the Ashes - A Prequel

  Crave (Book #1)

  Covet (Book #2)

  About the Author

  Dani is a USA Today bestselling author of a variety of genres, from romantic suspense to dark erotic romance and even BDSM romance. She loves to delve into the raw, emotional journeys her characters venture on, and enjoys the dark, edgy, and sensual scenes that fill the pages of her books. Dani’s stories are seductive with a deviant edge with feisty heroines and dominant alphas.

  Dani lives in the beautiful city of Cape Town, and is a proud member of the Romance Writer's Organization of South Africa (ROSA) and the Romance Writers of America (RWA). She has a healthy addiction to reading, TV series, music, tattoos, chocolate, and ice cream.

  www.danirene.com

  info@danirene.com

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