Too bad you have to pay for them.
Beautiful Rebel
Fuck. Me. Ragged.
I was in the wrong profession. For the first time in my life, I was considering a career change—from mafioso to masseur. But I’d only want one client. The sexy, skittish blonde bombshell with a body perfect enough to die for and moans that literally had me on my knees, worshipping her.
I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve been left speechless in my life. When I was four years old, myziotold me a rival mafia family had killed my father. When I was eight, I watched from my bedroom window as my older brother, Giovanni, fought my now brother-in-law, Alessio, almost killing each other in the pouring rain on our driveway. At thirteen, when I was old enough to learn the truth about all the shit that went down in my family back then, and last year, when the doctor diagnosedMammawith dementia.
Today was number five. My world had just been flipped upside down by a woman who tipped me for my exemplary cunnilingus skills and walked away from me without even telling me her name.
Fifty fucking euros. I’d never been so insulted in my life. That performance was priceless.
I scoffed, rolling my neck and squeezing my dick that had only just calmed down but was turning rock hard again.Cazzo, that woman. I was ready to bend her over the table and fuck her raw when she placed her hand on my chest. But the awkwardness in her eyes reminded me she thought I was Cesare, and when I fucked my dream girl, she’d be screaming my name, not his.
She was everything I’d been searching for. And when I set my eyes on something I want, I make damn sure I get it. Nothing stands in my way.
As I passed the table on my way out, I noticed the gold necklace. Picking it up, I smiled and clasped it around my neck to keep it safe. I allowed the oval sapphire locket, which matched the colour of her eyes, to dangle between my pecs. If she wanted it back, she’d have to come and get it.
Storming towards the door, I yanked it open and marched with purpose,barely hiding my amusement and irritation that she thought she could disappear without saying goodbye. Of course, she had no idea who she’d just had between her legs. If she did, she’d soon realise her life was about to change completely.
The spa staff stumbled out of my way, bowing their heads in respect and trying to hide their curiosity about why their boss, the owner of the establishment, was walking through the spa barefoot, shirtless, wearing only half of the spa uniform with a visible raging boner. Luckily, I don’t answer to anyone.
When I couldn’t find her anywhere, I barged over to the front desk with a look of determination. The spa receptionist’s eyes widened as I leaned over her, searching the booking diary on her screen and scanning the last few sign-ins. I found the name Vivian and her room number under the booking.
Not bothering to change back into my suit, too impatient to find thisVivian, I exited the spa into the main hotel lobby and took the stairs to the second floor two at a time. When I reached her door, I smirked and knocked with urgency.
I didn’t know what it was about this woman that had me storming through my hotel like a madman, but I’d consider that later. Preferably after my dick was buried deep inside that delicious pussy. I was so hooked from the first taste. No, way before that. The first look. The moment I stepped out from behind that partition and saw those bright blue eyes—hesitant yet excited—I wanted to drown in them, willingly. She was so damn cute, stumbling over her words and playing nervously with the rope on the oversized robe, with her blonde waves piled high on top of her head. She clearly had no idea how sexy she was.
I don’t make a habit of pretending to be a male masseur, but the impulsive, act-first, think-later trait in me couldn’t resist the chance to touch that woman. The more flustered she became in my presence, the more addicted I became to wanting to see how far that blush could spread across her skin.
When no sound or movement came from inside the bedroom, I groaned, raising my arm to lean against the door frame, and knocked again. Why didn’t I change? I had left my phone and master key, which allowed me into any room in this building, in the spa locker when I stripped down for my weekly massage with Cesare. The man-whore who was turning my business into his bloody side-job.
Most men might feel awkward about being massaged by a handsome Cypriot and would prefer a woman to work out their knots. However, I favour my women’s massages in the bedroom. I need power and force to release the amount of stress in my body. Cesare was a tyrant. I always insist on wearing a pair of the staff spa trousers, so I’m not naked on his table. He was the only masseur I’d encountered who wasn’t afraid to really batter the tension out of me, which is why I flew him over from Cyprus on my private jet, offered him this job, and set him up in a city apartment overlooking the Colosseum. And thestronzowas offering extra services to female clients without my knowledge? He’s lucky he’sthe only one who can unknot my shoulders, or he’d end up with a bullet in his head.
When it was clear no one was in the room, I struck it once more with my fist before rushing back down the stairs to the main lobby. Mario, the hotel manager, glanced up at me walking barefoot across the marble floors with a look of pure confusion on his face.
“Mario. I want the guest details from room 2714 before I leave,” I ordered without stopping as I marched back into the spa.
“Cesare?” I growled at Susi, and she pointed to the corridor. The sudden thought that if Vivian hadn’t walked into the wrong room while I was about to redress after my massage, Cesare would have been the one to have his hands on her body, his tongue between her legs, and his ears full of her addictive moans, made the need for violence warm my blood.
“He’s in room three with a client.”
Quietly, I stepped inside without knocking to find Cesare massaging a woman’s back; her face pressed into the bed, and unaware of my presence. He froze when he saw me, and then fear flashed in his eyes as I pointed at the partition with a glare that made it clear I wasn’t here for another massage.
The moment we were hidden from view, I grabbed his throat and pushed him against the wall, tightening my grip so he could feel the burn in his lungs with every strained breath.
“I’m hurt, Cesare. Am I not your type?” I hissed under my breath. “What the fuck? The Cesare Special?”
He spluttered, choking in my death grip. I slammed my hand over his mouth so the client wouldn’t hear his pathetic pleas over the calming music. She was here to relax, after all.
“You dare go behind my back and make money out of my business?”
He tried to shake his head. His face was bright red, and his eyes bulged with panic. I removed my hand from his mouth and let him take a breath he desperately needed before slamming it back over and tightening my grip on his throat. Fuck, I wanted to kill him. But this was one of my legal businesses, and I couldn’t let my mask slip. So I was showing restraint.
“Here’s what will happen. I’ll take fifty percent of everything you earn on the side. Every client wanting the Cesare Special signs a discreet contract before their appointment, and if I hear a single complaint about you or your fucking behaviour, you’ll be gone. And you don’t fuck them, strictly oral. Turn away any pretty blondes with blue eyes until I say. Or I’ll break your fucking wrists, and you’ll never work again.Mi capisci?”
The lack of oxygen made his eyes roll back. I abruptly released him, and his hand shot up to his throat as he gasped for air, nodding. Who was I to denywomen the right to pay for a discreet orgasm if they wanted? I was just annoyed that I hadn’t thought of it first.
