His Enforcer (Unexpectedly Twisted #3)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

THREE YEARS AGO

VIKTOR

I make my way through the dimly lit room, feeling eyes slide my way, tracking up and down my bare skin. A shiver of anticipation moves through me and my teeth sink into my bottom lip.

I have a secret—one no one knows, but me.

A hand brushes against my waist and down to the firm globes of my ass, making me whimper slightly, the color of the collar around my neck indicating that I don’t mind being used by the men in the room.

Free use, they call it.

I’m at their mercy, completely at their whim.

A finger traces up my ass crack and I’m pushed forward roughly, my hands grabbing onto the ornate wooden chair in front of me as the man behind me slots his dick at my hole and pushes in.

I groan at the rough intrusion, his thick cock entering my slick entrance without any warning or finesse. But that’s why I’m here. I come here weekly to be used, to let off steam.

My job is stressful, my life always on the line, and so I find solace in not having to think. To just be used like a sex toy.

I want them to take the decision away from me. I don’t want to have to make any while I’m here. I want to just be .

Skin slaps against skin as the man fucks me. My eyes close, dick throbbing between my legs, bouncing in the confines of my lace jockstrap. I can feel people positioned around the large ornate room watching me, some touching themselves, others fucking their partners as I get railed. Groans and gasps meet my ears, some of them my own, but most from the people finding pleasure in the scene before them.

There’s a reason Eden is so expensive to join. It’s a club that caters to the elite, offering up sin on a silver platter.

Normally, I wouldn’t be able to afford such a place, but I received an invitation because of who I work for and was given an ample discount because of my preference to be used. Or, at least, that’s what I assume.

One of the hostesses let it slip the first month that some of the men in attendance come here just for me.

“You’re a fan favorite, Viktor.”

The more I contemplate why I got an invite, the more I believe that it’s my preference to let them fuck me however they want. It’s the only theory that makes sense.

How they found out that I like this is beyond me, but I guess word gets around. And honestly, I wasn’t upset by it. I may have preened at the sentiment of being the preferred bottom at the establishment, may have carried myself a little straighter when I walked through the dressing room doors and into the dimly lit space to change.

As I’m thrust into, I let my gaze roam, taking in the people around me. I don’t recognize most of them. Usually I come here on Sunday nights, but I find myself here on Thursday after a particularly stressful day at work.

And work is always stressful as a soldier—or a bodyguard, as the mainstream likes to call it—for a mob family. Not that I tell anyone about my job, but that’s what I do. Day in and day out.

And while the assignments I take on can be arduous, the majority of my stress comes from the underboss of the Costello family, Luca Rossi. That man … I huff loudly, my hole contracting around the cock inside of me. He infuriates me, drives me crazy. I hate working under him. I fucking hate it .

A groan slips from my mouth as my cock throbs between my legs.

No, I won’t think of him while being fucked.

I refuse.

He makes me feel things—things long ago buried and yet deeply engrained, as if he’s a part of me somehow. As if I’ve known him in another life.

It makes no sense.

Nothing about him makes sense.

And still, I can’t help the way he infiltrates my mind in the middle of the night, calling out to me, to my body, to my soul.

Fuck, I hate him.

Thankfully, before I can come to the thought of Luca’s handsome face, the bulge of his biceps, and the thick outline of his cock, the man behind me groans and I feel him fill his condom before pulling out of me, leaving me to catch my breath and push myself upright. A twinge moves through my ass and thighs, and I let out a relieved breath. Fuck, that was nice. Just what I needed.

I adjust my hard length and move forward, striding toward the bar to order a drink. I’m mostly naked, but so is everyone else. We’re all in some stage of undress, a few wearing nothing at all.

I just arrived at Eden and I’m already starting to relax. This is exactly what I needed tonight. Especially after the way Luca had accidentally touched me earlier, his hand unexpectedly brushing against mine. The way my skin broke out in goosebumps, the way I shivered.

The effect he has on me.

It’s addictive. An addiction I need to satiate immediately, to drown, to expel. Which is why I’m here. It always helps. It always takes the edge off.

“Look who it is. Didn’t expect to see you tonight,” the bartender, Amir, says. His curly brown hair is wild on top of his head, his dark blue eyes twinkling. Fuck, he’s cute and always smiling. He looks like he’d treat a partner well. If he were my type, I’d have him.

Sadly, he’s not.

It seems I only truly want the one person I can’t have.

The one who ultimately won’t ever have me.

“It was a stressful afternoon,” I reply, leaning forward and tapping my fingers on the shiny bar top. No one here knows what I do for a living, who I truly am. It would keep too many away from me, fearing for their lives. I’m glad I’m anonymous here. Just a hole to be fucked.

“Ah, so a double then?”

“Yeah, and maybe a hit of something if you have it.”

He winks at me and then pulls a packet full of blue and white pills from his pocket.

“On the house,” he says, dropping a few into my palm. I pop one in my mouth, happy to have something in my system to help me relax. Don’t know what it is, but Amir always hooks me up with the good stuff.

Sex is always a major player in helping me feel good, but drugs can help too.

I don’t often partake, but today is one of those days. It’s been a long fucking week.

As Amir hands me my drink, a smirk pulls his lips up as another man approaches me from behind. He doesn’t speak a word, just spreads my cheeks and uses me. He’s thicker than I’m used to, longer and pierced, but it’s just what I need .

It hurts so good.

The pain, mixed with the pill just beginning to make its way into my system, is melting away the anxiety I’ve been holding onto all week. My nerve endings start firing and every thrust is heightened.

Arching back, I press into the movements, loving the sensations that slice up my abdomen. Bliss, want, ecstasy.

“Yes, take it,” the man whispers into my ear, and I shiver as I lean my head back slightly, letting him reach around and grab onto my aching cock. A moan slips from my lips as my fingers scramble for purchase on the bar top.

I can feel eyes on me, but I don’t care.

I come here for one reason.

And this, right here, is the reason.

Free, uninhibited sex. No judgment, no expectations except to be used.

With my job, a career I never expected to fall into, I don’t have a lot of time to meet people. Dating sounds exhausting, and I can’t really explain what I do for a living. It could get them killed if they let it slip. The only other option is to date someone I work with, and no one appeals.

Well, one does, but I loathe him.

The way he ignores me while simultaneously turning me on, flirting in that casual way he does, even though I know he’d never go for someone like me.

He plays with me and mixes me up.

I can’t explain the rage I feel when I look at him now. It didn’t always used to be this way. For years, it was just a blind infatuation, but year after year of torment, the infatuation turned to disappointment and then to anger. I’ll never have him, and that’s made something inside of me feral.

I know I won’t ever be going there. Because of the mutual loathing, yes, but also because the asshole is straight.

The man behind me comes with a grunt and then pulls out of me, leaving me hard and aching, completely unfulfilled. But I don’t expect to get off. It usually doesn’t happen until the end of the night. The men here rarely take the time to work me over the edge right away.

And I don’t mind it.

That’s not why I’m here.

I pick up my crystal glass with a trembling hand and bring it to my lips.

The clear liquid burns my throat, and mixed with the drugs in my system, I find myself relaxing even more.

“Men only, huh?” a voice next to me asks, and I turn to meet a woman’s gaze.

I nod and take another sip of my drink. “Yeah.”

“Shame,” she replies as she crosses her long legs and winks at me.

She’s beautiful, aesthetically pleasing to the eyes, with a slim build and long dark hair, but she does nothing for me. I sometimes think things would be easier if I were into women. But I’m not. As a kid, I always wondered if I was different from the men who came to visit my mom, their lurid grunts and filthy words making me recoil.

It wasn’t until much later, when I saw him, that I knew for sure.

I’m gay.

“I haven’t seen you before. This your first time here?” I ask, and she tilts her chin down, her lashes fluttering slightly.

“Ah, it’s obvious, huh? I knew it would be, but I tried like hell to look confident.”

“It’s not that obvious. Just a little,” I say as a low moan emanates next to me. Someone else is getting fucked thoroughly. “Who are you here with?”

“A friend. He wanted to show me the fun parts of the city. And when he told me he needed to stop by a sex club for some business, well…I had to see this with my own eyes.”

A laugh escapes me at how candid she is, my eyes falling to her empty drink. “I like you. Next one is on me. ”

She accepts my offer, and I call Amir over, letting her place an order for a dirty martini.

“So, this guy brought you here and then left you? Kind of rude.”

“Like I said, business. He’s always working. All work and no play. Very dull and boring.”

“I know assholes like that,” I reply and then take in her tight-fitting dress, her neck absent of a collar, her wrist adorned with a gold chain.

“So, you just want to watch then?”

“Yeah, I think watching is good for my first time. And I’m very happy I am. Watching you is quite nice. I’m Alina, by the way.”

“Well, Alina, it feels quite nice to be watched, too,” I reply, and we grin at one another.

“I wouldn’t normally ask this, but,” she leans a little closer to me, her perfume drifting up to meet me, “How many guys do you normally take in one night?”

I shrug, the drugs and alcohol in my system calming the instinct to bristle at the intrusive question. “Depends on how horny everyone is. Sometimes five, sometimes fifteen.”

She leans back and whistles, taking the drink Amir has set before her, and nods.

“Well, then. That is quite impressive. I’ve only ever managed three, and I thought I was a rebel.”

“You’re not a rebel until you have four all at once,” I say with a smirk.

“Noted. Perhaps I’ll see you do that tonight.”

“Haven’t been here on a Thursday before, so who knows? Maybe I’ll beat my personal record. Maybe it will be five.”

She giggles at that just as someone approaches her from behind. I turn away, wanting to give her privacy. I don’t want to get involved with anyone she’s with. Nor do I want any drama.

I just want to be fucked.

Just as I think that, two men move up beside me, their strong hands turning and guiding me toward the middle of the room. They obviously want to put on a show and honestly, with the way I’m flying right now, that’s perfectly fine with me. I’m relaxed and loose, ready to take on anything or anyone.

Before me is an oversized velvet ottoman and I stare down at it, wanting to wait for these men to tell me what to do, to arrange me how they want. I really don’t want to make any decisions. I like to be owned.

As I stand there and wait, I peer over my shoulder to glance at Alina, to see if she’s watching when I see him. The man who meets me in my dreams, the one who touched my hand today and made me rethink my entire life.

“Fuck,” I murmur when I see Luca Rossi standing there, a cigarette between his lips, his eyebrow cocked.

What the hell is he doing here? What the actual fuck!

I don’t have too much time to ponder it because I’m suddenly being pressed onto the cushions, ass up in the air, my head twisted to the side. And from my position, cheek smashed into the fabric, I’m forced to look at him, his gaze boring into mine.

Asshole is going to watch.

Goddammit, I hate this. I want to scream, to shout at him to leave me the fuck alone, but I can’t. Because I love that I hate it. Love that I want it.

He can watch. I won’t tell these men to stop fucking me. If Luca wants to see this, he can. There’s no shame in what I do. And honestly, this is my place. Not his. Whatever business he has, whatever brought him here, he can do it elsewhere.

The man behind me slides his fingers into my ass, and I grunt, my nostrils flaring, my dick leaking.

“He’s loose,” he says before adding another finger. “Think we can both fit.”

I turn my gaze back to Luca, who is still staring at me intently. He’s leaning forward in his seat, that lit cigarette hovering near his lips. He looks sinister, focused. I’ve seen him like this when he’s interrogating a suspect. It’s always that stance, the look he wears before he beats the shit out of them.

He lets out a puff of smoke and wets his lips.

Fuck him for being here. Really, fuck him for invading my space. But there’s no going back now. He already knows why I’m here. It’s obvious now. My ass is in the air, the collar is around my neck.

I know he’ll use this against me if I let him watch, but I also don’t want to leave because of him.

I don’t want him to win.

For some reason, the thought of him having even the tiniest sliver of control over my sex life makes anger and lust surge through me. It burns through my chest, carving out an angry welt as my muscles tense and my flushed cock drips.

“Put in more,” the man behind me says as lube is stuffed inside of me, my fingers curling into the velvet beneath my hands. I will my eyes closed so I don’t look at Luca during this.

I’m not ashamed.

There’s nothing to be ashamed of.

This is my kink, not his.

He doesn’t own me in any way.

Suddenly, my collar is yanked back and I’m forced to stand, the men maneuvering me into position, one lying on his back on the ottoman and the other lifting me to sit on his cock. I take it easily, my channel wet and open from being fucked twice already.

I glance down at the burly man beneath me and lean forward as I feel the other cock slot at my entrance. I bear down, taking it with a low moan, my eyes flicking open and closed, my gaze falling on Luca once more.

He hasn’t looked away, his cigarette gone now as the men work me over, my hole taking a beating as they do. But I relish it, the pain, the sensation moving up my spine, down my thighs, and settling right in my balls.

“Fuck, I bet he could fit a third in here,” the man behind me groans as his skin slaps against my ass.

I bet I could. I’m just that good.

I turn to look at Luca once more, but see that he’s no longer sitting in his seat. Where the fuck did he go? Why the fuck did he leave? Questions swirl through my hazy mind as the men work their dicks in and out of me.

Alina is still watching, another drink in her hand. She holds it up with a wink just as the man behind me slams into me roughly.

I gasp, my back arching slightly as another man comes to stand beside me, reaching down to grab his dick from his pants and pulling my head toward him to thrust inside my mouth.

I moan at being used so thoroughly, the alcohol and drugs in my system making me so fucking high that my cock positively aches to come.

I want to. At least once tonight. I want to explode.

Groans and the slap of skin resonate around the room. Mostly from us, but some from the people watching and getting off on the show we’re giving them.

Thursdays are turning out to be better than expected.

If only Luca hadn’t shown up to watch.

You fucking love it.

You crave his attention.

The man in my mouth comes first, ripping his condom off and exploding on my face. I gasp, blinking wildly as another man approaches, unzipping his pants and pulling out his hard dick. I open my mouth, and he slides in, using my throat and tongue until I’m floating. Just a body used for pleasure.

Luca is forgotten. His dark gaze, his tattooed hands. The way he watches me, the way he sneers.

All of it disappears into a puff of smoke.

I’m no longer Viktor, soldier for the Costello family, but a man who is taking it like a good boy.

I moan, my body being worked over by several other people until I’m left on that ottoman, my body splayed face down, covered in cum, eyes fluttering shut as I struggle to breathe.

I never did get off , I think as I feel my hard cock press against the velvet of the ottoman. But I’m too tired to move, to find any relief. I will just die like this, used and broken.

Suddenly, someone moves up behind me, and I instinctively spread my legs, but then I hear it—a low, threatening tone.

“No more. He’s done.”

Luca.

I thought he left. I was sure he’d gone.

“The collar’s still on,” the other man replies, but then I hear the distinct cock of a gun and a muttered, “Oh shit, man. I didn’t know.”

I try to lift my head to glance back at him, but I can’t. Too tired to do anything but lie here.

“Please,” I say, and Luca huffs.

“No.”

A jacket is placed over my bare back, the scent of Luca enveloping me as I feel strong, familiar arms pull me up.

“Come on. We’re going home.”

“I’m not done,” I rasp, my throat sore, body aching.

“You’re done,” he says lowly, almost deadly, so I lean into his chest as he guides me out of the club. His car is waiting at the entrance, a sleek black Pagani Huayra that he looks so fucking good in.

The way I’ve imagined myself in the passenger seat, naked, leaning over and sucking his dick as he drives.

I step barefooted into it, his strong arms reaching over and helping me buckle in.

“My things,” I croak.

“I have them,” he replies, slamming the door and then sliding into the driver’s seat.

As the car starts up, a low rumble that’s powerful and full of unabashed sex, I pull his jacket tighter around my chest and close my eyes.

I don’t know why Luca insisted I leave the club, but here I am—confused, still fucking high, and utterly exhausted .

“Where are you taking me?”

“Back to my place.”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with you.”

“You’re fucking going, Viktor,” he grunts, and then his car accelerates down the road. “And when I’m certain you won’t fucking die from whatever the fuck you’ve ingested, I’ll have you brought home.”

I can do nothing but agree.

I’m not ready to die.

Not yet.

I have so much more to do.

We never talk about what happened that night after Luca took me home.

It’s never brought up, never mentioned. It’s almost as if it never really happened. The only remembrance I get each passing year is a single black rose, hidden in my bag, waiting for me. A toxic reminder of what we did, of what I thought I had for that one night.

Part of me thinks I imagined it all, that the drugs and alcohol, mixed with the stress of work and the exhaustion from being fucked over and over again, caused me to conjure it all up.

The memory of Luca pushing inside of me that night, of him whispering those words in my ear.

“My little slut.”

Perhaps I did just dream it.

Perhaps it was all a story I created in my head.

I don’t know anymore.

And I don’t care to remember.

But I do. And so does he. The rose is a reminder.

We can’t fucking forget.