Savage Little Games: Chapter 15

Down in the basement I expected to find Gavin hanging from the ceiling screaming and bleeding. By now, Eli’s been with him for about half an hour, and the former MMA fighter is always brutal as hell out of the gate. He gets off on inflicting pain, which is why he’s my go-to man for the dirtiest work.

But the stripper isn’t bleeding like the two captive Russians who are now restrained to chairs and gagged, scheduled to meet their maker tomorrow.

Gavin is, however, completely naked, hanging from the ceiling by chains attached to his wrists. He’s definitely not in any pain. No, quite the opposite. His head is thrown back, and he’s groaning in pleasure.

Strolling over, I bark at a kneeling Eli, “Why the fuck is his dick in your mouth?”

Eli doesn’t act the least bit ashamed. He pulls his mouth off the other man’s hard length, then gets to his feet, leaving Gavin panting as he brushes dirt off the knees of his pants and walks up to me.

“Well? Were my instructions unclear?” I demand.

“Look at him,” he huffs with a wave of his hand toward the naked man. “He was too pretty to maim.”

“Make. Him. Hurt,” I grit out. “I don’t care if you think he’s pretty. He fucked with what’s mine.”

“Blue balls hurt like hell,” Eli points out.

Going over to the work bench where I keep my box of cigars, I clip the end of one, then put it in my mouth to light it up while considering the best punishment.

God knows Vanessa has given me blue balls for days now. Being so close to her in my bed while being a world away from fucking her is a new kind of torture.

And fuck me, she’s right. My cigars are stale. I need a new humidor down here. Placing the stick on a glass ashtray to burn itself out, I tell Eli, “Do what you want to him, but he doesn’t get to come tonight.”

“Of course not,” he agrees with an evil grin. “If he does, I’ll find new ways to punish him.”

“Good.”

“I’m sure I can figure out a way to hurt him without leaving permanent damage.”

“Right, well, let him go when the sun comes up.”

“Just like that? Let him walk out?” he says in shock.

“At sunrise. I made another deal with Vanessa.” One I can’t wait to fulfill, but not until her bruises are healed. “Let the stripper walk out if he can. If not, dump him outside in the employee parking lot.”

“Yes, sir.”

Walking up to Eli so the stripper can’t hear me, I tell him, “Have our IT guys do a deep dig into his background. I want all the dirt they can find on him ASAP.”

“Got it,” he agrees.

As I walk away toward the elevator, Gavin cries out behind me from something Eli does to him. I really don’t want to know what it was.

Kicking his ass would’ve felt good, but then Vanessa would’ve been pissed at me for fucking him up. Whatever Eli does to him will probably cause worse damage than my fists anyway.

Knowing I’m going to get to put my hands and mouth on her pussy has me in a much better mood. The dick who rubbed up on my woman is surely regretting his decision, so he won’t ever do it again. All is right with the world.

On the elevator ride up to the penthouse, I read Dr. Gates report on Vanessa. Her bruises seem to be superficial, which is good to know. If the stripper had aggravated her injuries in any way, he’d be a dead man, just like the two Russians.

It suddenly occurs to me that before I end them, I should at least question the Russians about the warehouse raid, see if Kozlov or his boss, Yuri Petrov, had anything to do with it. I know they couldn’t have found out we brought in their guys and retaliated that fast, so it probably wasn’t them. Could’ve been the Irish bastard, Lochlan, messing with me because he’s getting impatient waiting for Madison to agree to marry him. Their union, making Lochlan an ally, would be nice. If the wedding falls through, though, he’ll quickly become another enemy. One of the things most mobsters loathe more than anything in this world is having someone back out of an agreement.

As soon as I get back upstairs, I head down the hall, aiming straight for the bedroom.

I’m happy to see that Vanessa is awake even at this late hour, sitting up in bed, doing something on her phone with the bedside lamp glowing. She doesn’t look up at me or speak to me. Not that I expected her to. I do, however, hear her sniffing me from five feet away when I sit on the bench at the foot of the bed, removing my jacket and gun holster.

“You still smell like stale smoke.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Are you going to shower?”

“If you join me,” I challenge her.

“In your dreams, Salvato,” she tells my back.

Vanessa probably would’ve fucked the stripper, but not me. I don’t think she’s a prude, so why the constant rejection? Is she trying to hurt me by denying me?

Standing up, I turn so I can see her, studying her face in the soft light. It’s impossible to miss the bruises on her neck as dark as the ones I know are on her ribs and hip. I would give anything for a peek inside of her head, to know what she was thinking tonight when she got on that stage in front of a crowd of women…

“You knew I would find out about the lap dance, didn’t you?” I ask her. “You me to find out.”

“I didn’t give a tiny rat’s ass either way, Dante,” she sasses right back without lifting her eyes from her phone.

“You didn’t care about the consequences to Gavin?”

“I knew he would be safe because you know that you would have a less than zero chance of ever touching me if you try to torture him or kill him.”

“You’re not to see him or step foot in that club again,” I tell her.

Her angry green eyes finally lift to meet mine. “You’re just pissed that everyone in the casino will think you’re a cuckold now.”

“A cuckold?” I repeat with a scoff.

Fuck. She’s right. All my employees know she’s staying in the penthouse with me. Soon, they’ll all hear about my violent outburst on stage tonight because I was jealous of Gavin, something I’ve never been in my entire fucking life.

I’m also pissed because I can’t go fuck another woman to get even or I will lose every chance with Vanessa.

She’s damaging my reputation that I ruthlessly earned, the one that warns enemies not to fuck with me. It’s what keeps my family safe, and now it’s in jeopardy.

This woman…I’ve been well and truly fucked by her in every way but the one my body aches for as badly as my lungs crave oxygen.

I think Vanessa knows exactly what she’s doing to me. She’s intentionally hurting me for forcing her into this agreement.

Before I can call her on it, she says, “Just to be clear, I will see who I want, dance with whom I want, and whoever I want, and there’s not a damn thing you or anyone else can do to stop me!”

Suddenly she’s so enraged that her eyes are glistening like she’s on the verge of tears.

I have never seen her get so worked up. Somehow, I hit a nerve of hers without realizing it. I need to know more, but I’m too pissed at her right now to ask her about it.

“You fucked around with him in my casino, on my stage, in front of my employees. You fucked with my reputation, made me look like a , as you called it. That’s the problem here, Vanessa. You are with every part of my life except for my goddamn cock!”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have manipulated me into being your prisoner! I’m not one of your daughters. You can’t control me, my body, or what I do with it.”

“Is asking you to stop humping men in public, in my place of business, too constraining on your bodily autonomy?”

“I…no, I guess not.” Now she glances away to the darkness outside the windows and crosses her arms over her chest defiantly. She may not be one of my daughters, but she sure as hell is acting like a goddamn unruly teenager right now.

“Could you at least give me a heads up before any other men hump you during our time together?”

“Just because I had one dirty lap dance with a stripper doesn’t mean I go around jumping on every man I see. And again, it’s none of your business.”

“It is my business while you’re staying here with me, doing it in my casino.”

She blows out a breath and says, “You’re a hypocrite, acting like I’m some huge slut. I haven’t even been with many people! I’m actually extremely picky.”

“Why was Mitchell one of the chosen few?”

Vanessa shrugs. “Ah, I don’t know. Because he was easy? Uncomplicated, I mean.”

“How?”

“When we first started dating there were no games, just let’s fuck, let’s hang out, let’s move in together and help each other out with the bills. There were never any fireworks like intimately. Just normal sex. It was mutually beneficial for a while.”

“And you were happy with just normal sex?”

“Why not? I haven’t had firework sex since I was a teenager.”

She hasn’t had good sex in decades? “Since you were a teenager, huh?”

Now she lowers her arms, and her fingers pick at some invisible lint on the comforter covering her lap. “I was a bit promiscuous for a few years, which is how Cole was conceived.”

“Tell me more about this firework sex you had, butterfly,” I say while toeing off my shoes, then removing my socks. Anything to take my mind off of that stripper air fucking her on the floor while she’s still covered in bruises.

She scoffs. “God, no! I’m not telling you about that.”

“You don’t want to distract me from my anger at your boytoy? Should I go back down to the basement to spend more time with him?”

“I…” she starts then stops.

“What’s the best firework sex you had?” I ask, now undoing the buttons on my shirt starting at the neck. “Or would you rather discuss torture techniques?”

Groaning, she rubs her forehead with both hands and says, “Fine. There was one time, and only one time, that I sort of had a foursome.”

My jaw nearly hits the floor at her confession.

“

had a foursome? As a teenager?”

She nods and bites her lips, keeping her eyes lowered to her lap. “They were frat brothers who I guess liked to do everything together.”

My fingers pause on the bottom button of my dress shirt. “Vanessa Brooks, I am fucking shocked.”

“Swear you won’t do any permanent damage to Gavin?” she asks.

I remove my shirt and start working on undoing my belt. “No permanent damage if you tell me all about this foursome you had.” Here’s hoping Eli keeps that promise for me tonight.

“I’ve never told anyone about this.”

“Why not?”

“Because men would think it means I’m easy and women would think I’m a slut.”

“Why did you do it? Just having fun?”

“I was rebelling mostly, proving to myself that it was my body, and I can be with whoever I want to be with.” There it is again, her emphasis on it being her body to do what she wants with it.

“Strict parents?” I guess as I slowly lower the zipper of my pants, very aware of her unfocused gaze staring at my chest while she talks.

“Very strict. So, when I got my first taste of freedom, I couldn’t get enough of it.”

“So how did the foursome happen?” Down my pants go to the floor where I step out of them. There’s a bulge in front of my black boxer briefs that Vanessa seems to be focused on.

Her tongue wets her lips. “I didn’t plan for it or anything. There was a frat party I crashed while I was squatting in an empty dorm room. I was fooling around with a guy up in his room when his roommate and friend came in. They watched and encouraged us. There was a lot of flattery and alcohol involved.”

“Obviously.”

“After the first guy finished, they sort of took turns all night, doing things I had never even imagined. And I let them because it felt good. I liked being wanted by them. It was the first time in my life I felt sexy, like I was no longer a little girl, but a woman who men were finally attracted to.”

“Exactly how old were you, Vanessa?”

Now she lifts her eyes to mine again for the first time since I started my strip show. “Ah, sixteen or seventeen?”

“Sixteen? And they were, what, college guys in their twenties?”

“No. Maybe. They didn’t know how young I was. I lied and said I was older. They were probably nineteen or twenty.”

“And you don’t regret that night?”

“I wish I knew who Cole’s father was for his sake. I’m certain it was one of them. And I’m so lucky I didn’t catch any diseases. But no, I don’t regret it. It was the first time I ever felt…free.”

She felt free after having a foursome in her teens. Jesus.

I want to strangle the frat bros with my bare hands while simultaneously shaking their hands for a job well done, helping me unlock one of Vanessa’s deepest secrets. There’s a sexy little queen inside of her demanding to be worshipped.

“Would you do it again?” I can’t help but ask.

“What? The foursome? Ha! No way.”

“Why not?”

“That’s not who I am anymore.”

Even so, my sweet little butterfly deserves her fireworks. Just not with the stripper. At the reminder of that asshole, I tell her, “I received Dr. Gates report from her exam. Are you sore?”

“For the last time, Dante, my ribs are fine!”

“That’s good. Because if he made them worse, I would’ve broken his as well.”

“But you didn’t break anything? You’re definitely letting Gavin leave in the morning in one piece?”

“I said I would, didn’t I?” I shove my boxer briefs down, letting my hard cock bob up to slap my stomach. Vanessa takes a long look at it before crossing her legs that are stretched out in front of her. I think our sex talk, and my nakedness is actually getting to her.

She lifts her eyes quickly though, now examining the ink on my chest. “And the, um, terms of our agreement? When, do you, ah, think you’ll want to…”

She wants to plan for my side of the bargain, to prepare herself to try not to enjoy it.

“It’s my decision. I don’t owe you any notice for either or both,” I tell her. “But I can promise you that I won’t touch you until your bruises are all healed.”

She nods but doesn’t respond as she considers my words.

“Now, I’m going to take a shower because I want one, not because you demanded I take one. Feel free to think about how good my fingers and tongue will feel when you ease that ache between your thighs.”

She scoffs, cheeks flushing red. “There is no ache!”

“Liar,” I reply with a grin before I stride into the bathroom, certain she’s staring at my ass.

I hate the way my traitorous body wants Dante Salvato, despite all the protests from my head.

My body doesn’t care that he’s a murderous mobster or vicious manipulator who trapped me into living with him. It’s not bothered by the thought of an innocent man being restrained in the basement dungeon.

No, my body just sees Dante as an attractive, massively muscular man with a big dick who can make me feel good.

It’s impossible not to think about his tongue or long fingers between my legs now that I agreed to those terms for Gavin’s sake.

Although, two orgasms don’t really seem like much of a concession to make.

One thought suddenly occurs to me.

If Dante lied, if he hurt Gavin more than he promised, then I’ll have grounds to void the earlier agreement.

Since I can’t go down to the basement without Dante or another authorized person’s finger, I’ll have to wait and call him tomorrow to check on him.

That has me thinking of another man who could be buried six feet under by now. If so, I could walk out the door right now since Mitch’s life is why I’m stuck here.

Even though I don’t want to hear his sorry ass voice, I still grab my phone from the bedside charger and call him.

The line rings and rings, until he eventually answers. “Hello? Vanessa?” He not only sounds fine, but he also sounds wide awake despite the late hour. I’m almost certain I can hear the sound of slot machines in the background.

“So, you are still alive. Pity,” I mutter, even if I’m secretly glad he’s not dead. Guess I won’t be leaving the casino anytime soon.

“Look, if you’re calling about the apartment, I’m trying to find another place.”

“What do you mean?”

“Salvato’s men told me I have to move out of our place by the end of the month.”

“Oh. Well, good.” I’m not sure why I’m surprised Dante would do that. I’m starting to think his goal in life is to keep all men away from me. “And I assume you’ve realized we’re done, and I never want to see you again?”

“Oh, come on, Van. You’re living it up in the rich bastard’s penthouse. I bet he has people waiting on you, giving you anything and everything you want by now.”

“There’s only one thing he wants from me, and you fucking know it!” I yell at him.

“You haven’t given in yet? Why not? What’s the worst that can happen? He kills you afterward?”

I can’t help but notice that Mitch doesn’t sound the least bit jealous. Not exactly shocking since he cheated on me multiple times.

Rolling my eyes that he can’t see, I tell him, “I’m touched by your concern for my wellbeing. Why are you even still in town? If you were smart, you would get as far away from Salvato’s reach as possible.”

“Where else would I go?” He huffs.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” I say then end the call.

Asshole.

I know I deserve better than him. Cole certainly deserves a better role model than Mitch, too. He’s never had a man in his life to look up to, which makes me feel guilty. And concerned.

What if I messed my son up by raising him on my own without a father? I was so afraid I would introduce him to jerks that I didn’t date often. And I think I’ve always been too afraid of showing my real self to anyone. I don’t deserve to live happily ever after.

Struggling to make ends meet, living alone without anyone I can count on, is the price I have to pay for the mistakes I’ve made.

If I can just get through the next ten weeks without being responsible for anyone else getting hurt like Gavin, then I’ll consider that a win.

But going back to my life, the ten-hour workdays, and my lonely apartment, after being here, living the spoiled princess life in Dante’s penthouse, is probably going to be harder than I could ever anticipate.