Page 16 of Taboo Flames

“Please, it w—will n—never h—happen again,” he groans pathetically.

I ignore him and pick up the hammer, testing its weight in my hands.

“Shall we begin?”

For the next few hours, only sounds of agonized screams and howls and the occasional begging can be heard from the room, filling my cold heart with pleasure and glee.

The sounds alone are enough to discourage any other of my men from crossing me, but at the end of the day, human nature will surely win out over common sense, and there will definitely be another offender.

When I step out of the room, my white shirt is blood-stained, but Fiore is already waiting at the door with a clean shirt. I shrug off the soiled and bloodied one and put on the fresh one.

“Dump him on the street in front of the bread store. Let his father see the remains of his wasted jizz that would have served a better purpose in the toilet drain. Also, make sure the rest of the men are present so they know nobody messes with me and gets away with it.”

“Yes, boss.”

Normally, after a session like that, I’m relaxed. Torture has always been therapeutic for me, but today, I still feel the agitation racing through my blood.

The worst part is that I know exactly where the sense of dissatisfaction is coming from. An image of golden hair and big, blue eyes flash in my mind. I grit my teeth against the onslaught of images.

I haven’t stopped thinking of her since our last meeting, and I don’t fucking like it. She’s too young and pure—at least by my very much depraved standards—to have this sort of effect on me.

What I need right now is someone who is the complete opposite of Aurora to take out my bodily frustrations on. Someone experienced and ready to submit to my whim.

Without a second thought, I walk to my car and make the short drive toParadiso Dei Peccatori, one of the exclusive strip clubs that cater to all tastes. The owner is a woman I helped in the past to get rid of a rival gang that had been after her life. I go there when I don’t feel like being in the company of my friends.

The familiar thrum of excitement fills me as I make my way into the club and up to one of the reserved rooms on the top floor.

“Participating or watching?” the server asks as soon as I’m seated.

“Participating,” I reply. “And get me a glass of whiskey, neat, a Cuban cigar, and one of your best girls with dark hair and dark eyes.”

The server nods and walks away. Moments later, a luscious girl in a bright red lingerie set, complete with net thigh highs and high heels, walks in carrying a tray with my drink and cigar.

She smirks as soon as she sees me. “They got me a nice one this time around.” She licks her lips.

I wince at the sound of her throaty voice. It is nothing like Aurora’s soft, lilting voice, and I hate it. I immediately reach for the drawer beside me and pull out a gag, then toss it at her.

She picks it up and begins to fasten it around her jaw while I throw back my drink. Then, I grab the cigar and put it into my mouth, and she immediately flicks open a lighter and lights it for me.

Pulling her body closer, I trail my finger across her jaw and my thumb over the harness, pushing it into her mouth and making her suck as our eyes remain locked on each other.

“Such pretty eyes for a slut.” I see her face scrunch up at my insult, but I couldn’t care less. Fisting her soft hair in my hands, I push her down to her knees. “Suck me off,” I command, spreading my legs.

Like she wasn’t just annoyed a few seconds ago, her eyes light up with excitement, and she reaches for my belt. Yes, this is what I need—a woman who won’t argue with me at every point in time.

She wraps her hand around my semi-hard cock and begins to stroke it until it is rock-hard in her fists. Then she pushes the head of my cock in through the hole in the harness and moans throatily.

“Get on with it,” I say impatiently.

She pushes my whole cock into her mouth until I hit the back of her throat before her head begins to bob up and down. I pull on my cigar and imagine that Aurora had crossed the door of my bathroom, gone down on her knees, and swallowed my cum.

With a groan, I push the thought away irritatedly. I’m not supposed to be thinking of her. My sole reason for being here was to not think of her. And yet, even with another woman’s throat closing around the head of my cock, my mind is still stuck on her.

Dammit.

Women are very disposable to me. They threw themselves at me, I fucked them, and then they left. I never think of them after sex. As soon as I cum, it’s time for them to leave, and that’s the end of it.

I prefer them tied up and entirely at my mercy. I like to fuck them hard and make them beg. I use their bodies for the wet holes they were created for and move on to the next, and theythank me for it. They don’t talk back or argue. Unlike a certain blue-eyed minx that I can’t get out of my head.

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