The Devil Claims Her

🖤 READER NOTE 🖤

Turn the volume up.

The Devil is waiting.

🎧 Official Playlist Below 🎧

01. Obsessed — Zandros, Limi

02. Drive You Insane — Daniel Di Angelo

03. My Name — Reed Wonder, Aurora Olivas

04. Look What You've Done To Me — Zandros, Mellina Tey

05. The Hills — The Weeknd

06. Sex Like This — Jacquees

07. Ride For Me — Daniel Di Angelo

08. Talk Dirty — Daniel Di Angelo

09. Watching Me — Mellina Tey

10. Before I Move On — Mellina Tey

11. Issues — Daniel Di Angelo

12. Stay — Cheyanne

13. Eros — Zandros, Vizier

14. D.U.I. — Daniel Di Angelo

15. Say My Name — BURY, Zandros

16. All I Wanted Was U — Ex Habit, Omido

Damiano

I leaned back into the leather seat, the scent of expensive cologne and stale tobacco clinging to the upholstery.

I held my cigarette between two fingers, watching the cherry glow a fierce orange in the dim light of the parking lot. I took a long, slow drag, filling my lungs before exhaling a thick cloud of gray smoke.

Between my legs, the girl was working. She was crammed into the footwell, her hair brushing against the dashboard as she looked up at me with those hungry, desperate eyes.

I could feel her nails digging into my thighs through the fabric of my trousers, marking me as she gripped me tight.

I let out a low groan as she slid her mouth over my cock. I was already rock hard, pulsing and heavy, aching for the release. She wrapped her lips tight around the head, sucking greedily.

The heat of her mouth was what I needed.

I took another drag of my cigarette, my eyes half-closing. I didn’t bother looking at her; I didn’t need to. I just focused on the wet, sliding sensation of her tongue swirling around the rim of my head. She moved her head, taking me deeper and deeper until I felt her throat tighten around the shaft.

I shifted my hips, thrusting myself further into her mouth. I loved the feeling of her struggling to accommodate all of me, the way she gasped for air around my girth.

I heard a muffled gagging sound, a wet choke, but she didn’t stop. She used her hand to stroke the base of my cock, pumping in perfect sync with her mouth.

The friction was becoming unbearable. The suction was powerful, pulling at me, dragging the pleasure out of my gut.

I flicked the ash from my cigarette onto the floor mat, my movements lazy. I reached down and gripped the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her hair, and I began to drive my hips upward, forcing myself deep into her throat.

“Suck it,” I groaned out. “Take it all.”

She obeyed, opening her throat wider, taking me in until my pelvis slammed against her face. She sucked with a desperation that made my toes curl.

The wet, slapping sound of my skin hitting her cheeks echoed in the quiet of the car, the only sound other than my own heavy breathing.

I felt the climax hit and my muscles locked up. A guttural growl ripped from my throat as I thrust one last time, burying myself to the hilt in her mouth.

I came hard. Thick, hot ropes of cum shot deep into her throat, pulsing again and again, filling her mouth to the brim. She swallowed hard, her eyes watering from the depth of me, but she didn’t dare pull away until I finally relaxed.

The moment the pleasure faded and the heat in my chest vanished. I took one final drag of my cigarette and crushed it out in the ashtray.

I didn’t say a word. I reached over and shoved the passenger door open.

“Out,” I commanded.

The girl blinked up at me, her lipstick smudged and her eyes wide with a mix of shock and confusion. “Damiano, baby? What?”

I didn’t answer her with words. I reached into my breast pocket, pulled out a thick wad of hundred-dollar bills, and flicked the cash straight at her face. The green paper scattered across her lap and the floorboards.

“I said get the fuck out,” I repeated, my voice devoid of any warmth. “Take the cash and get lost.”

She scrambled to gather the bills, her face flushing with humiliation as she realized I wasn’t joking. She stumbled out of the high-end vehicle and onto the wet pavement. Before she could even slam the door shut, I shifted the car into drive and hit the accelerator.

The powerful engine roared, spraying rainwater behind us as I left her standing under the dim streetlamps.

Ten minutes later, the Maybach rolled to a stop in front of the massive iron gates of the Vilenti mansion. Two guards stepped out from the security shack, their hands resting cautiously on their holsters as they approached my window. I rolled the glass down just an inch, letting the smoke from my cigarette escape.

“This is private property,” the lead guard said, glaring through the glass. “You don’t have an invitation. Turn the car around.”

I slid the silenced Beretta out from the console, leveled it through the crack in the window, and pulled the trigger twice.

The first guard dropped instantly, a neat hole appearing between his eyes. The second guard didn’t even have time to scream before the next bullet tore through his throat. They both crumpled onto the wet gravel like discarded rags.

I got out of the car, stepped over the bleeding bodies, and pushed the iron gates open myself. I walked up the long, winding driveway toward the main house, my leather boots making no sound against the pavement. The front door was unlocked. I walked inside, the grand marble foyer completely silent as I navigated the familiar layout toward the back study.

Through the frosted glass doors, I could hear the low, rumbling murmur of voices. Vittorio Vilenti was holding a meeting.

I didn’t bother knocking. I threw the heavy doors open with a hard kick, stepping into the room with my gun already raised and aimed directly at Vittorio’s chest.

Instantly, the four guards stationed around the room reached for their waistbands, their faces tightening with panic.

“Stand down,” I barked, “Draw your weapons, and your boss dies before your eyes.”

The guards froze, their fingers hovering over their holsters as they looked to Vittorio for direction. Vittorio sat behind his massive mahogany desk, his face turning a dangerous shade of purple as he stared at me. He slammed both palms down onto the wood and stood up.

“You have a lot of nerve showing up to my territory alone, Damiano,” he hissed, his chest heaving with rage. “Not to talk of walking right into my goddamn house.”

I cocked my head slightly, keeping the barrel of the Beretta perfectly steady on his sternum. “I wouldn’t worry about that if I were you, Vittorio.”

Vittorio let out a harsh, mocking laugh, gesturing to the armed men surrounding me. “You are completely outnumbered, boy. You’re dead and you don’t even know it.”

I tilted my head, a cold, mocking smile touching my lips. “Is that so?”

Before Vittorio could order his men to fire, a loud ringing broke the tension in the room. The cell phone in the breast pocket of Vittorio’s second-in-command began to vibrate violently. The older man hesitated, looking at Vittorio, who gave a sharp nod.

“Answer it,” Vittorio growled.

The second-in-command pressed the phone to his ear. “Speak.”

As the voice on the other end talked, all the color drained from the man’s face. His eyes went wide, and his skin took on a sickening, gray pallor. His hands began to shake so violently he almost dropped the device. He leaned over the desk and whispered frantically into Vittorio’s ear.

Vittorio’s jaw hung completely open. The arrogance stripped away from his features in an instant, leaving behind nothing but raw, naked terror. He stared at me as if he were looking at a ghost.

“You son of a bitch,” he yelled, his voice cracking as he slammed his fist onto the desk again. “What did you do? What did you do to my docks?”

I shrugged my shoulders casually, keeping the gun trained on him. “I did what I had to do. Your main supply line is currently burning to the ground, and your warehouses are empty.” I lowered my voice, letting the cold steel of my tone fill the room. “Now that I have your attention, you are all going to sit the fuck down and withdraw your weapons.”

The guards looked at the second-in-command, who gave a miserable, defeated nod. One by one, they carefully unhitched their gun belts and placed their weapons on the floor, stepping back with their hands raised.

I stalked forward, my leather boots clicking against the hardwood floor until I stood right in front of Vittorio’s desk. I leaned down, placing my left hand on the polished wood while keeping the gun inches from his nose.

“The war is over, Vittorio,” I murmured. “You lost.”

Panic set in, and the old man’s composure completely shattered. He dropped back into his leather chair, his hands coming up in a begging gesture. The feared mafia don was suddenly reduced to a desperate old man bargaining for his life.

“Look, Damiano, we can fix this,” he stammered, his voice thin and frantic. “I can give you money. Millions. I have offshore accounts that nobody knows about. I have political connections in the city, judges, senators, they are all in my pocket. I will hand over the eastern territory to you tonight. Just name your price. Take whatever you want.”

I stood up straight, watching his frantic bartering with absolute disgust. “No. I don’t want your money, I don’t need your corrupt politicians, and I will take your territory regardless.”

His eyes darted around the room as the realization of his execution settled in. He began to sweat, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.

“Please,” he whispered, looking up at me. “There has to be something.”

I tapped the barrel of the gun against my chin, pretending to consider it. “Well, you do have one more thing to offer me.”

He frowned, his brow furrowing as he tried to figure out what he had left. Then, his face froze as the realization hit him. “My daughter? Seraphina? Never. I will never give her to you.”

“Suit yourself, old man.” I raised the Beretta back to his forehead, and began to squeeze the trigger.

“Okay! Okay!” He screamed, flinching backward into his seat and throwing his arms over his face. “Okay, I accept. She’s yours.”

I lowered the weapon, a cold, victorious smile spreading across my face.

“Good,” I said.