Daddies: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Read online

  Is this really happening? Or am I in yet another dream?

  A very real hand smooths over my ass, making goosebumps rise on my flesh. I recognize Liam’s voice as he chuckles. “Papa likes these little heart panties. So sweet.”

  “Makes me wonder if she tastes sweet, too.” Jet’s tone is low, his voice filled with lust. “By the scent of her arousal, I’m guessing she’s a mighty fine treat.”

  My teeth sink into my bottom lip. My eyes squeeze shut tight. My pussy clenches and pulses, dampening my panties.

  I want his hot, wet mouth between my thighs.

  I want both their mouths tasting me, kissing me.

  But they’re strangers. Set on punishing me and making me call them Daddy. What the hell is wrong with me?

  A whine rises in the back of my throat. “What are you going to do?”

  Jet smooths his hand over my ass. “Let’s see. First, we’re going to spank you for breaking in here.”

  “Then, we owe you the belt since you tried to run away.” Liam’s hand presses into my lower back.

  Jet says, “And then, the rest will be up to you.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “After we both punish you, you can choose,” he answers.

  I whisper the words. “Choose what?”

  Liam gives a low growl. “Choose if you want to receive any pleasure after your pain.”

  “And choose if you want one of us to pleasure you—”

  Liam’s words cut Jet off. “Or both.”

  “We don’t mind sharing,” Jet says.

  Liam’s hands are in my hair. Twirling. “We’ve had our eye on you for some time.”

  “You’ve been watching me?” I gasp.

  My mind goes to my dream; the one where I’m at the mercy of two big men, their bodies huge, looming over me.

  Only now, I can place their faces. One has high cheekbones, light blue eyes, and a dark, furrowed brow.

  The other stares at me through glass green eyes, a lazy grin on his full lips and a jawline that’s been carved in stone, his sandy hair brushed back from his face.

  Just like my dream, they’re assessing me. Deciding what filthy things they’re going to do to me. Running their hands over my panty-covered ass.

  Making me achingly wet.

  Jet’s hands go to my waist. “Let’s get these panties down.”

  “No. Please, no,” I whisper, knowing my words will hold no weight. And secretly wondering... do I want them to?

  Still holding me in place with one hand, with the other he grabs at the elastic waistband of my panties. He rolls them down, painfully slowly, exposing my skin, inch by inch. No longer able to hold myself up, I press my cheek into the tabletop.

  Bumps rise on my skin as it’s exposed to the cool air. I can feel the weight of two heavy gazes on my bare skin. Eyeing me, examining me, taking me in.

  And I can’t see them. I can’t see anything. I can only hear their voices. Try to guess whose hands are on me.

  And what they’re going to do next.

  I feel Liam approaching us, standing to my left. He’s so close, his leg is pressed against mine. Jet’s on my right, still holding me, so I think it’s Liam’s hand smoothing over my naked flesh. My suspicions are confirmed when I hear his voice. “Papa likes this view even better than your pretty panties.”

  His finger trails down the cleft of my ass. Soft and light. Barely touching me but creating an intense reaction. Delicious tingles dance over my skin, moving from the line between my cheeks outward.

  It feels so fucking good—just the tip of his finger tracing the line in my ass. His finger disappears and before I can miss it, his hand comes crashing down hard on the center of my right cheek.

  “What the hell!” I screech, the pain spreading over my skin.

  Jet says, “Oh, she’s got a mouth on her. But we’ll teach her how a lady speaks when she comes back to us. Right now, we’re just going to spank this gorgeous ass.”

  Liam’s hand comes down again, this time on the center of the left cheek. “My handprint looks so perfect on your ass.”

  Jet gives a dark chuckle. “She does turn red quick.”

  Liam echoes his laugh. “Red hair, red ass.”

  Jet growls. “Perfect combination. But even with your prints on her ass, she’s still not ours.”

  “You’re right. She needs to say our names.” His hand comes down hard, a loud slap echoing through the room.

  “You go first,” Jet offers.

  Liam spanks me again. This time, it’s so painful, I find myself rising on my toes, sucking in air between my teeth.

  He says, “Are you going to be a good girl? Say, ‘yes, Papa.’”

  “No. Never!”

  His hand comes down again, this time right on the top of my thigh. Then again, and again. “Let me hear you say it, little girl. Say, ‘yes, Papa, I’ll be good.’”

  I clench my teeth as the spanks rain down. I can’t believe how quickly the pain spreads over my throbbing ass. It stings so badly despite my will to keep the last ounce of control, the words come rushing from my mouth. “Yes, Papa! I’ll be good.”

  Disbelief washes over me like a white heat. What the fuck did I just say?

  Jet’s hold on my body tightens. “Now, it’s Daddy’s turn. Are you going to be our good girl? Say, ‘yes, Daddy.’”

  I know what will happen if I don’t obey. But I can’t. I have one shred of pride left and I’m holding on to it for as long as I can. Swallowing hard, I snap, “Make me.”

  Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I wait for the spank to fall.

  It doesn’t.

  Instead, Jet says, “There are other ways to make you say my name.” His fingers walk up my thighs. Part my legs. Make their way between my thighs.

  The gentle pressure of his fingertip between my thighs is too much. I let out a long moan. My hips wiggle against his hold, as I try to find more pressure from his finger.

  “So eager. I can feel she’s already wet, Liam. Let me slide my finger inside her sweet little pussy and see just how much.”

  His fingertip slides between my legs, reaching my sex. It feels so good, the slight friction of his skin against my slick heat. Now he’s slipping his finger in my entrance. His finger feels big and my pussy stretches to allow his invasion. A soft sigh leaves my chest.

  He pushes his thick finger in up to his first knuckle. Then his second. I shift my weight on my feet, wanting more. He pulls his finger out, using the pad of his lubed fingertip to circle my clit, which is now absolutely throbbing. “So wet for us.”

  “Oh...” I exhale. His touch is fire and light and sparks fly from my swollen bud.

  His finger slips inside me once more. Moving faster. Pumping inside me. Fucking me. Retreating and rubbing my greedy clit.

  It feels so. Fucking. Good.

  “Say it,” Jet croons, as his finger pleasures me.

  “Say what?” I breathe.

  “You know what, you naughty, naughty girl.” His finger dips inside me. Filling me. Then he pulls out, leaving the tip of his finger hovering at my entrance. Waiting.

  Waiting for me to say that taboo little word. The one that sits on the end of my tongue. The one I don’t want to say, but in some dark crevice of my soul, I’ve always longed to.

  I wriggle my hips, trying to find some kind of friction in his hold. I find none. I need it. I’ll die without it. I muster up every ounce of courage in my being and whisper the words. “Yes, I’ll be your good girl, Daddy.”

  After saying the words, there’s a release of shame and abandonment as I take a deep breath.

  His finger plunges inside me and I cry out. He adds a second to the first, stretching me and filling me and making my pussy ache so good. My legs spread and the elastic waistband of my panties digs into my thighs. He takes his fingers out and wraps around the front of my thighs, finding my clit from a new angle, rubbing lightly.

  I’m lost in the sensation of him massaging my tiny bund
le of nerves. My sweaty palms press into the table. My cheek presses against it. My eyes shut tight and my breaths come in gasps from my open mouth.

  He keeps playing with my clit. I feel another hand slide over my hip. Another fingertip, rougher than the first slips into my panties. Presses into my pussy. This finger belongs to Liam. He adds a second, stretching me and fucking me as Jet continues to circle my clit.

  Liam is pressed against my left side, his fingers moving in and out of me. Jet leans against my right, one hand on my lower back, two slick fingers circling my clit. My palms press into the table.

  Sweat dots my brow and a whimper rises in my throat as an intense orgasm builds within my core.

  Jet says, “You’re being such a good girl. Now come for Daddy and Papa.”

  I cry out, my entire body tensing as a coil of fire tightens in my core. Then ignites, bursting inside me. I’m panting, my heart threatening to beat from my chest. I try to find words only to have a pitiful mewing come from my lips.

  I don’t even recognize the sound of my own voice as I lie trembling over the table, weakened knees shaking.

  Jet says, “That’s a good girl. Come hard for Daddy. Cream all over Papa’s fingers.”

  His words are filthy and they only serve to intensify my orgasm as they work me over. I shudder, one final convulsion racking my body, my legs like jelly. I lie limp against the table.

  But they’re not finished with me.

  Jet’s hand lifts from my lower back, no longer holding me down, though I’m so spent, I don’t have the energy to make a run for it, even if I wanted to. Liam’s hand replaces Jet’s.

  I wonder what they’re going to do next. Then I hear the sound of Jet unlatching his belt.

  My buttocks clench. Fear trembles through me. What will it feel like to have his leather belt laid across my ass?

  I don’t have to wonder for long because suddenly the leather comes crashing down across the curve of the center of my bare ass like a lightning bolt, striking me.

  “Holy fucking shit!” I jump, but Liam holds me down.

  A dark chuckle rises from Jet. “That’s just one. Looks like our little girl has a low threshold for pain.”

  “Then she chose the wrong daddies to spy on,” Liam laughs.

  A line of fire dances where the belt struck me. He brings it down again. And again.

  I’m crying out, standing on the tips of my toes. No matter how tough I am, I find myself whimpering like a baby, begging, “Please, I’ll be good, I promise. I won’t spy again.”

  He drops the belt on the floor. His hand smooths over my burning skin. “So pretty. I love the way her skin turns bright red with the lightest stroke.”

  “Lightest stroke?” I balk. “You have to be kidding me. You were whaling on me with that thing!”

  This makes them both laugh. In a way that makes my stomach clench. They think this was nothing.

  How much pain are they capable of inflicting? And the pleasure—my God, the pleasure they mix with that pain. Making my mind blur, my body fall apart.

  Helpless.

  Someone pulls up my panties. Smooths down my skirt. They both help me up from the table.

  I stand before them, my face hot, sweaty, too humiliated to look at them. My hair is a mess, wild and tangled around my face.

  My ass throbbing.

  Shame won’t allow me to meet their gazes, but I can’t help myself—I want to see their faces. I want to memorize their lines, the colors of their eyes, so tonight, if I dream, I dream of them. Liam stares down at me, his green eyes soft with lust. Jet’s blue eyes hold mine, an unspoken intensity passing between us.

  I wonder what it would be like to kiss them.

  Both of them.

  Jet says, “Now, princess, you have a choice to make. You’ve had your punishment, and a little taste of the pleasure we can offer you. Now, would you like to see what we can do with more than just our fingers?”

  He gives me a cocky grin, knowing I’ll say yes. They’ve experienced firsthand how wet their discipline makes me. They can see how hard my nipples are through my thin dress. They felt the shudders of my orgasm.

  They know how badly I want them.

  But they don’t know me at all.

  They may be bigger. Stronger. They can make me do things I don’t want to do.

  But they can’t make me give my body to them willingly.

  I can see the outline of their erections. I could feel them against my thighs as they pressed into my hips.

  “You may have punished me, that’s true.” My eyes leave their gazes. Straightening my clothing, I smooth down my hair. Regaining control, I sniff. “But when I walk out that door, it’ll be you that’s dreaming of me.”

  With that, I turn on my heel, striding to the door. Retrieve my purse from the floor where it fell from my arm, I make my way out the door. My head held high.

  Not giving them a single backwards glance.

  As if this was all nothing but a dream.

  Chapter Three

  I’m sitting at my desk, staring at a blank screen. How do I put into words what happened to me last week? How do I share with the world that two huge doms bent me over a table, spanked me like a little girl, then gave me the most mind-blowing orgasms of my life?

  A ding comes from my computer and an alert pops up on my screen. Pay Rent Today!

  Once I write that check, my account is officially going to be empty. I need to write this article—I need this win.

  Taking a deep breath, I try to conjure up a mindset of success, wealth, fame. Instead, I’m left thinking of only one thing—well, two things, actually. Daddy and Papa, otherwise known as Jet and Liam.

  Damn.

  I need to work but it’s pretty hard to concentrate when you’re squirming around in damp panties and your vagina is doing this funny little pulsing thing every five seconds.

  I remember the feel of Jet’s belt. Liam’s hand. Both their fingers inside of me.

  My temperature shoots to a hundred and ten degrees. My cheeks must be as red as my hair. Liam’s laugh rings in my mind as I remember his words, Red hair, red ass.

  Straightening my short skirt, I resituate in my chair. Arranging my fingertips on the keyboard, I take a deep breath. “Okay, Lulu. You’ve got this. Tell the people what happened.”

  My mind spins at a million miles an hour. But my fingers stay frozen, resting on the keys. Again, the thought of sharing what happened to me at the hands of Liam and Jet terrifies me. How can I proclaim to our great city—one of the most gossipy in the world—that I was spanked?

  I’m a grown woman. A strong female. A staunch feminist.

  There’s no way I can do it.

  But now, my phone is ringing. I look down at the screen confirming what I already know—my boss is calling me to ask how the article is coming.

  My throat suddenly feels very tight. I swallow, purse my lips, and pick up my phone. “Lulu speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Cut the antics, sweetheart, I know my name showed up on your screen when you called.” His gruff, rumbling voice strikes panic in my heart.

  I have nothing for him. I’m just glad he’s called me instead of making me visit him face to face in his office. Lying over the phone is so much easier.

  Putting a smile in my voice, I muster my most professional I-have-a-thousand-words-already tone. “Hubert! Hello! How was the golf retreat?”

  He heaves a sigh and gives a cough that sounds like he’s smoked one too many cigars—which I’m sure he has. “Hit a ninety-two and still lost. Don’t want to talk about it.”

  Shit.

  Hubert loves his golf and nothing makes him crankier than losing a game. Already in a bad mood, he’s not going to take this news well that I have zero words on my computer screen for a story that’s due.

  What can I do to fix this?

  Puppies.

  Hubert loves puppies. “Hue, speaking of losing, you won’t believe what I lost—two Louboutins. Have you se
en my new Brussels Griffon? He has this little black beard and he is so freaking adorable. He looks like an Ewok with mountain man facial hair.” Flipping through my photos I try to find a picture of Gremlin, my grandparents’ old dog. I find an adorable one of him in his cute little red collar.

  Just as I’m pressing send, Hue’s gruff voice grumbles into the phone, “Do not send me a pic of that—”

  Too late.

  His stern tone softens—he must be looking at the pic. “Oh. Oh... that’s pretty... cute.”

  I quickly shoot another one; this one is Gremlin curled up on a pink velvet pillow on my grandmother’s couch.

  Hue’s pitch climbs three octaves. “Oh, wow. He’s precious!”

  My stress levels lower, figuring I’ve gotten myself out of a jam with these pictures. No need to tell Hubert that Gremlin not only doesn’t belong to me, he died years ago.

  Trying to convince my conscience that it’s okay to lie, I tell myself something beautiful can come from Gremlin’s loss—getting my boss off my ass.

  I’m practically ready to pump my fist in the air in victory when he says, “You got one week, kid. I want fifteen hundred words on my desk by the end of the day next Friday, or you and I are going to need to have a discussion about your future here at The Spread.”

  My stomach drops down into my clearance rack heels. Pasting a fake smile across my face, I say, “Of course! No problem! It’s coming—you know what—it will be on your desk by Friday morning.”

  “Sounds good. And Lulu?” he says.

  I gulp. “Yes, sir?”

  “Don’t fuck this up,” he growls.

  I ask, “How so?”

  “We’ve been after a piece like this for a long time. The Bachman family is elusive and every time we think we have a story, poof! It disappears into thin air. I have no idea what happens but each journalist is all gung ho tracking down the story, then they leave town, or give up on it, or just... well, disappear.”

  The vision of Jet’s and Liam’s huge muscles combined with Victoria’s warnings make my skin crawl. The room they were hiding with the television screens, obviously they were watching someone. Hubert’s words hit me in the gut, taking away my breath. “Disappear?”

  “I guess they’re just too ashamed to show their faces when they don’t get the story.”