Page 79 of Murder & Mayhem

Dante doesn’t say anything, but his posture is tense as he takes in the room, most likely noting the same differences I have. His father waves him over to the empty seat beside him at the front of the stage, and after a fraction’s hesitation, which would go unnoticed by anyone other than me, he does as is expected.

“What’s going on?” Dante asks, careful to sound disinterested.

“My only son is getting married,” Giovanni states loudly, lifting his glass in the air. His statement is followed by a round of cheers as everyone raises their glass. “That deserves something special.” The feeling that something isn’t right only intensifies as I once again cast my eyes around the room. His father couldn’t give two shits about the upcoming wedding. He claps Dante on the shoulder, grinning maliciously at him. “You’ve found yourself such a nice piece of ass”—he pauses deliberately—“I thought it was only fair that everyone got a look before she was locked down.”

What the actual fuck does that mean?

Dante’s posture is rigid, his spine ramrod straight. His fingers twitch at his side, the only sign that it’s taking everything in him not to react to his father’s words.

As if staged for an extra flare of dramatics, a spotlight comes to life above the stage, drawing everyone’s attention, and I gasp. A wide-eyed Sawyer is gagged and bound to a bed wearing only her underwear. She blinks rapidly against the glare of the harsh lights, her eyes bouncing around the room. Dante steps toward her, the movement snagging her attention as she swivels her gaze to his. I see the second she recognizes him. Her eyes latch onto him, and I can practically hear her begging him to help her.

Giovanni’s hand snaps out, grabbing a hold of his son's arm and stopping him. “Don’t even think about it.” The thread of warning in his tone is not to be dismissed, something Dante must realize as he doesn’t make any other attempts to get to Sawyer.

“You want me to fuck her in front of you all?” Dante hisses.

His father’s cold laughter is chilling. “Oh no, son. You have the rest of your life to fuck her. I think it’s only fair one of my men get the opportunity to give her a go.”

Fuck. Shit. Fuck.I scan the room, taking a mental tally of how many men are in it. Twenty. Too many. There’s no way Dante and I can take on that many and get out alive. And any fight we put up will only mean more significant consequences for Sawyer. My panicked gaze returns to Sawyer, who is struggling against her restraints, having apparently heard Giovanni. Tears run down her face as she tugs on the bindings around her wrist, but they won’t give, and she just ends up lying on the bed, breathing heavily as her chest rises and falls with the exertion.

“And unless you want me to put a bullet between those pretty eyes of hers, you’re going to sit here and watch.”

Silence follows his words while Dante struggles to get himself under control. Eventually, he spits out, “Who?”

His father’s grin only widens as he turns to look at me for the first time since we entered. My blood runs cold as Dante turns to follow his father’s line of sight. His ferocious gaze meets mine as Giovanni grins. “I think Lorenzo deserves the honors.”

This has got to be a fucking nightmare.There’s no way Giovanni thinks Ideserveanything. He knows if I fuck Sawyer, it will affect my relationship with Dante. It’s what he wants. He’s aiming to isolate Dante. His best friend and lover fucking his soon-to-be wife—there’s no way that can end well for any party involved. Giovanni’s a smart, conniving man. He’s hoping this will doom Dante’s marriage before it’s even begun and create a rift between Dante and me, ensuring the weapon he’s spent thirty years honing doesn’t slip out of his grasp.

“Up on the stage, boy. Better fuck her like her life depends on it.” He laughs at his own joke, leaving the end of his threat unspoken…because her life does depend on it.

I hold Dante’s hardened gaze, ignoring his silent demand for me to disobey his father. We both know that’s not an option. Slowly—so fucking slowly—I shrug out of my suit jacket and fold it over an empty chair before walking toward the stage. Sawyer’s frantic gaze finds me as I step into the pool of light. I wonder what I look like in her eyes right now. Can she see my inner turmoil, or does she only see the outer mask of indifference I’m struggling to keep on? No doubt, my gaze is as cold as Dante’s as I try to make it seem like I’m as detached and sick in the head as the other men in this room. If I don’t, if Giovanni catches even a whiff that I care for her, he will order one of his other men up here instead. As bad as the current situation is, it would be so much worse if it were someone else. Sawyer may not trust me, but at least there’s chemistry between us. I’ve seen the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention—the lust brimming in her eyes that night in the alley, the way she leaned into my touch when she was trying on her wedding dress. She may not trust me, but she wants me, which is the only comforting morsel I can cling to as I approach her.

She stares up at me with wide, pleading eyes, but I deliberately look away, instead running my gaze over her toned body. Even now, under these circumstances, she’s beautiful, and it doesn’t take long for the fabric at the front of my pants to become tight.

I move to straddle her, and she bucks against me. Her efforts to dislodge me are futile, and her energy soon wanes. Keeping most of my weight on her midsection, I lean forward to remove the ball gag from her mouth.

“Enzo,” she pleads in a quiet, teary voice. “Please.”

I hear snickers from behind me, and my lips purse.

“Shut up,” I snarl loud enough for the others to hear. In a quieter voice, intended for just her, I murmur, “I’m so sorry, Spitfire.” She swallows roughly but doesn’t bother to waste her breath pleading again. Dropping the gag on the sheets beside her, I slowly lower my hand until I can wrap my fingers around her throat. “Forget about them,” I say in a stern yet soft voice. “It’s just you and me. Just focus on me.”

Giving her throat a quick squeeze, I lower my hands, cupping her breasts through her bra. I brush my thumbs over her nipples before tweaking one. “Scream,” I order as I pretend to twist her nipple painfully. Instead, I just roll it between my fingers. She cries out, and another round of snickers resonates from behind me. “They want me to hurt you. To make this as humiliating and painful as I can. But I know you better than they do. I know how strong you are. I know what you can handle.” My gaze lifts to meet her eyes as I push her tits together, fondling them. “I know you don’t trust me, but Ineedyou to trust me with this. I won’t do anything you won’t enjoy.” Her tongue flicks out to run along the seam of her lips, and she gives a sharp nod of agreement before I move my hands lower, trailing the lining of her panties.

I dig into my pocket and lift out a pen knife. Holding it up in front of her, I flick it open, and she gasps loudly. I smirk down at her as she begins to squirm beneath me, knowing we’re both in on the game now. She falls deathly still as I glide the blade down the middle of her abdomen until I reach her panties. Fisting the thin fabric in my other hand, she whimpers and starts up her pleading again as I pull it away from her body before pushing the blade through and cutting a line up the center of them. I pretend to toy with her, scraping the tip of the blade over the milky skin of her abdomen while I slip my other hand between the torn fabric of her panties. I brush my fingers lightly along her seam before finding her bundle of nerves and pressing the pad of my thumb against it. All the while, I keep my eyes on her face. A slight blush colors her cheeks, and her hips jerk as I push down. Her hooded eyes hold mine as I sink deeper, testing to see how wet she is.

My eyebrows hitch when I find her folds slick, and I smirk down at her. I flick the blade closed before leaning forward, sliding my hand around her throat again. The move brings my lips closer to her ear, and I whisper, “You dirty girl. So wet for me.” I push my fingers inside her, and she stifles a groan as her eyes flutter shut. “Are you enjoying putting on a show for these sick fucks?”

Her teeth dig into her bottom lip as I fuck her with my fingers. Leaning back, I unbuckle my belt and push down my pants and boxers. Sawyer watches through hooded eyes as I fist myself, once, twice, before lining up at her entrance. “I’ve thought about coming inside this tight cunt of yours so many times, it’s going to be a challenge not to explode the second I’m in there. Now, scream for me, Spitfire.” I slam into her in one hard thrust as she tilts her head back and lets out a piercing scream. I swear I hear some guy come at her cry of pain, and I hope Dante took note so we can kill him later. Balls deep inside her, I pause. “This will be fast and rough, but I’m going to make sure you come at least three times before I finish.” Her pussy clenches at that statement, and I pull all the way out before slamming back in. She emits another cry of pain, but desire sparkles in her eyes as I set a relentless pace that soon has her thrashing beneath me.

When she tightens around me, I wrap my hand around her throat for the third time and squeeze, cutting off her moan as she comes. Can’t have the sick fucks behind us realizing she’s enjoying this. I continue to pump into her as she convulses around me, before pulling out and flipping her over onto her stomach. With her hands and feet tied to the bed, her arms and legs end up crossing. The angle is probably bordering on painful, but I know my girl can take it. There’s just enough give in the restraints for me to lift her ass up, before slamming into her again. She cries out, and my balls draw up at the new, tighter position.

“Fuck, Sawyer,” I grunt in her ear before pushing her head into the mattress, stifling any sounds she might make. I keep up the same pace until she’s coming around my dick for a second time. And still, I keep going, immediately driving her toward a third orgasm. Her skin is slick, her breathing ragged, but I know she has it in her. I slap her ass hard, and she whimpers into the mattress. The bright red handprint it leaves threatens to make me blow my load, and I have to distract myself by putting the same possessive mark on her other cheek. I grab two handfuls of her ass and spread her cheeks as I continue to fuck her, and when she comes for the third time, I finally let myself go, and my cum hits her inner walls as I grunt out my release, ensuring it’s loud enough for the assholes to hear.

String after string of cum spurts out of me, until I’m certain she must be full of it. With my dick still inside her, I lean forward to whisper in her ear. “You did so good, Spitfire. I definitely want a repeat of this, ideally without an audience next time.” She stiffens at the reminder that we’re not alone, but I soothe her as I stroke down her spine. “It’s okay. They should be satisfied with that. I’ll get you out of here soon.”

Pulling out of her, I climb off the bed and tuck myself away without sparing her a second glance. “Meh. Nothing to write home about. I prefer whores with a tighter cunt,” I say with a shrug as I get down from the stage, hoping that what I said to Sawyer is true and that performance will have been enough to appease Giovanni.

Giovanni laughs. I have to avoid meeting Dante’s gaze as I stride toward him, and I make a point of walking past him, taking up my usual bodyguard position behind his seat.

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