Twisted Devotion to My Mafia Kings

Eight

Raven

My heels clicked softly against the floor as I stepped onto the second level. The shift in atmosphere was immediate.

Downstairs, the music pulsed — low and seductive, vibrating through bone and blood. Up here, it softened. Muted and muffled into something intimate, like a heartbeat heard through skin. The lighting dimmed to shadows and amber glow, sculpted deliberately to hide just enough and reveal everything else.

This floor wasn't about spectacle. It was about choice.

Booths lined the walls, bodies curled together in dark corners — hands wandering, mouths brushing close, breath shared in hushed murmurs. Laughter dissolved into whispers. Promises were made without words. At the far end, the bar gleamed with polished wood and glass. Patrons lingered with drinks while they took in the terrain, deciding where or with whom their night would unfold.

Opposite it, a wide walkway opened into a hallway partially swallowed by shadow. I knew what waited there.

The layout echoed the original Luxe, but this version felt sharper. Hungrier. Beautiful. The kind of place that didn't invite indulgence so much as it demanded surrender.

Curiosity tugged at me. I drifted down the hallways, pulse steady but quickening, when a server passed by — a white shirt fitted perfectly, black mask plain and unobtrusive. He offered his tray and I plucked a Champagne flute from it with a nod.

The bubbles fizzed against my lips as I took a sip. Last drink, I promised myself.

The bass from downstairs vibrated faintly through the floor, thrumming through my body in a way that stirred want low in my belly. It urged me forward, deeper into the hall, where the lights dipped lower and the shadows grew thicker. That was when I noticed them. Not one figure — but two.

A man and a woman tangled together in a recessed alcove, hidden just enough to make it feel illicit. Her dress was pushed down around her waist, skin flushed, teeth grazing skin, hands sure and possessive. Her leg was hooked around his hip.

She moved against him shamelessly, breathless sounds slipping free as she chased sensations without apology.

Heat crawled up my spine. I didn't look away. I watched her head fall back. Watched her fingers clutch at his shoulders. Watched how unafraid she looked, how unburdened.

The sight sent a slow, aching pull through my center.

"She's a pretty one, isn't she?" Dominic's voice came from behind me. Low. Amused. Dangerous.

I turned and found him staring past me. Straight at Nico. They stood a few feet back, leaning casually against the wall like predators at rest. Dominic's skill mask caught the dim light, his posture loose but coiled, as if violence and pleasure lived equally close to the surface.

Nico wasn't watching the couple. He was watching me. His arms were crossed over his chest, head tilted slightly, gaze heated and unwavering. The look on his face made my insides melt. Like he was assessing me, weighing something unseen. I turned fully to face him. Challenging. Fearless.

My brow lifted beneath the satin mask. Dominic's hands landed on my hips from behind. Warm. Possessive.

They slid upward, deliberate, reverent, racing the curves of my body like he was memorizing me. His breath brushed my ear, sending a shiver racing down my spine. Nico's eyes darkened. Not with jealousy. With interest.

I leaned back instinctively, resting my head against Dominic's shoulder as his touch grew bolder, his hands lingering with intention.

"Look at him," Dominics murmured, voice thick. "Let him see you. All of these beautiful curves. Soft. Dangerous."

His fingers traced along my sides, slow and unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Nico's gaze followed every movement, sharp and intent. A predator. I turned my head slightly, eyes flicking between them.

"Do you want to play?" Dominic asked.

The question vibrated through me.

"I think," I said coolly, stepping out of his hold and pivoting, "The better question is whether you can handle playing with me."

I moved fast. Dominic barely had time to register what I was doing before I had him backed against the wall, my body close enough that heat transferred instantly. His back hit the wall with a muted sound, a surprised grunt leaving his throat. His hands came up automatically — not to stop me, but to steady himself. He grinned.

"Oh," he drawled. "Spicy little devil. Is that all you've got?"

He was enjoying this.

Every instinct in me screamed that he'd let me do exactly what he wanted — and nowhere beyond that. I wasn't strong enough to move him unless he allowed it. The realization thrilled me.

My gaze dropped, catching the glint of metal at his belt. A knife. The unmistakable weight of a gun beneath the fabric. Lethal, even standing still. I wasn't afraid. I'd survived monsters long before tonight.

Nico's presence closed in behind me. I hadn't heard him move.

"Do you want to play, pretty girl?" He rasped near my ear.

My pulse jumped, and I shivered.

"That depends," I said, fingers trailing from Dominic's shoulders down his chest, "On what your version of playing looks like."

I tugged Dominic's shirt loose, slow and deliberate, letting my fingers brush against his skin as I freed the buttons one by one. He leaned his head back against the wall, watching me with lazy hunger, utterly unbothered.

"Endless possibilities," Nico murmured. His lips brushed my neck.

I gasped, tilting my head instinctively, giving him access without meaning to. The control in his touch contrasted sharply with Dominic's barely restrained energy, and the combination made my knees weak.

When Dominic's shirt finally fell open, my eyes traced the hard planes of his chest, the sculpted lines of muscle beneath tawny skin. He looked carved from stone — beautiful and brutal. He took my hand and dragged it slowly over his torso. My fingers tickled by the dusting of hair there.

"How does he feel?" Nico asked softly. Before I could answer, he chuckled. "Don't bother, I already know."

Nico's hand joined mine, tracing Dominic's body with intimate familiarity. Dominic reacted instantly, breath hitching, muscles tensing beneath our touch.

"That's one of his favorite spots," Nico said, guiding my hand with his own. "Like this,"

The reaction was immediate. Dominic cursed under his breath as my fingertips flicked against his n****e. My thighs pressed together, heat pooling low and insistent. The room felt too small, too charged.

Then Nico's hand drifted lower. And lower. The implication alone sent a sharp wave of need through me. Sparks of desire skittered across my skin. I heard Dominic curse and my eyes drifted to where Nico was moving. His fingers danced along the edge of his belt loop before dipping lower inside.

I had never been so turned on in my life. I watched as Nicos' hand moved along Dominic's bulge in his pants as his other hand played my body like a fiddle. He touched us both, wound us each higher and higher until need was the only thing we could see, feel, and hear. All we could want.

I could feel the throbbing desire building in my core as I watched the scene. The couple from earlier long forgotten.

My mouth watered, want and envy coursing through me. I wanted it to be my hand. I wanted to feel his length. Feel his desire beneath my own touch. I whimpered. Nico's hand cupped my breast through the dress. He squeezed, hard and wanting. I didn't want to come. Not like this. I wanted more. Needed more.

Dominic writhed against the wall, jerking his hips forward into Nico's demanding touch. The sight was mesmerizing. Hypnotizing. He moaned, and the sound hit us all like a reality we were unwilling to accept.

When awareness snapped back into focus, my breath was unsteady. My skin was hypersensitive, pulse roaring in my ears.

I stood between them, caught in something more dangerous than a game. Nico's gaze locked onto mine, unreadable. Dominic's grin was feral, as Nico removed his hand from his lover's pants. His eyes were bright with promise.

I had come here thinking I was in control. Now? I wasn't sure I wanted it back. And judging by the way they looked at me — they weren't planning on giving me the chance.

I was in trouble. So much f*****g trouble.