A Pet for the Mafia Dons

Liam O'Grady is bored.

He looks down at the naked woman on her knees before him, a sophisticated socialite he has been shag*ing for a few months now. She is doing a very good job, he thinks, as she wriggles her skinny butt and looks up at him, begging for his approval.

She has been a good little sub, he reflects as she sucks him hard, his thick member making her gag but she keeps on valiantly.

And also because Liam has his large hand clamped on her head, holding her in place, unable to move.

*

Her pale behind is streaked with red, welts that his brother has laid across the skinny butt of the submissive they share.

Finn St Just is a man who loves to mark his submissives, spanking them, using his belt on them...

When she shudders, unable to breathe, Liam strokes her head and she continues happily. As he empties his load into her willing mouth, it's more of a physical reaction. The desire is not there.

With a sigh, he rises, smiling indulgently as she scrambles to her feet and grabs his arm, gasping,

"Heath will be out during the weekend, Master. Shall we go somewhere?"

She's referring to her husband, the unfortunate Heath Douglas, who is unaware that his beautiful socialite wife is cuckolding him bigitme.

Or maybe he knows.

Liam O'Grady shrugs his powerful shoulders indifferently.

&

She bats her lashes coyly and adds,

'Master Finn could come too if you wish."

The woman who had been s*cking his c*ck with such enthusiasm has been his submissive for the past few months. And yes, of course, the sub he has shared with his half-brother, Finn St Just.

&

They met at a kink club which Liam occasionally visited with his brother Finn St Just. The brothers have a habit of getting one woman to pleasure them. Both of them.

Not something all women would be agreeable to, Finn had growled in his dour fashion but there have always been takers.

&

These days, however, Liam has felt that he wants something more than a submissive who gets onto her knees the minute he flicks his finger.

He's growing old, last month he turned thirty, he thinks pensively, scratching his powerfully muscled chest. And Finn, who is older by a year, also looks bored occasionally.

Liam sighs; he wants, a small part of him, wants a home, a real woman...

A woman waiting for him, and his brother of course; a home with kids...maybe?

&

He stops there, a cynical smile on his face.

Any woman he took as his wife would have to agree to be shared with Finn. His half-brother.

In bed.

&

That's the code between them.

His mother, Maggie had drilled it into him when he was a kid and Finn, older than him by a year, sat across the table, morose and dull, with his mop of dark golden hair.

'You SHARE everything with your brother, Liam O'Grady," she had said firmly, her hands on her large hips, her lovely face, creased in fat but still the kindest face ever, scowling at him. That was because on that occasion, he had refused to share his slice of shepherd's pie with Finn.

A hard knock on his head, a few harsh words and order was restored. His two-year-old self had agreed to his mother's diktat.

A lifelong commitment, as it turned out to be.

&

They grew up as thick as thieves, with Liam the hot-headed but astute one, the rough fighter on the streets, the leader; Finn his follower, protecting his brother's back. Cool, but more of a man who kept to the background.

If Liam O'Grady was light and charm, Finn St Just was the darkness, brooding, menacing.

&

Turned out their tastes in women were the same.

So they agreed to an unusual arrangement.

They shared their submissives. One woman at a time, with the both of them.

No fuss, as Liam declared happily.

Finn only grunted, his golden eyes glowing.

But their submissives adored; nay worshipped them.

And sometimes, they wept, they bawled when they were asked to leave.

&

Though what their long dead mother, Maggie O'Grady would have thought of the stuff her sons got up to in bed with one woman, would have scandalized her, he thinks.

He pushes the thought away, aware that Helen Douglas is still looking at him, her heavily made-up face turned up to him, appealingly.

&

Liam O'Grady looks her in the eyes and says pleasantly,

"I need to check, Helen."

And even as she stares after him, naked and confused, he has crossed to the bathroom door and shut it behind him firmly. He makes a call to his long-suffering secretary Diana Benz.

"Boss?' she asks in her sultry voice.

Liam grins.

Listening to her throaty, sexy drawl, no one would suspect her of being a sixty-year-old grandma. She sounds like a twenty-something hooker.

'Helen Douglas' he says and she sighs.

"Boss, give me a break. I just finished sending roses to Arpita Gandhi! The woman was bawling over the phone cos you dumped her!"

Liam grunts. He's stepped into the shower and is not concerned about the women he has just used and discarded.

They know the score, he tells himself shrugging.

&

Finn St Just looks around as his half-brother Liam O'Grady enters. Liam is freshly showered and smiling. Finn saw their shared sub of the moment, Helen Douglas, a senator's secretary's wife, being escorted off the grounds. She had been red-eyed and weeping, but Diana Benz had accompanied her to the car, like a caring grandma, and seen her off.

He looks at his brother in exasperation.

"Bro...?'

Liam holds up a hand.

"I got to make some calls," he winks at his brother as he strides off.

&

Now Finn watched his brother speculatively.

Despite being the older sibling, he took his lead from Liam, who was always one step ahead of everyone else.

&

In appearance, they were quite different. While Liam took after his Irish mother, with black hair and bright blue eyes, Finn had inherited his mother's coloring. His eyes, the golden orbs that drove women mad, were only one feature that set him apart from his sibling. He was taller and unlike the stockier Liam, he was leaner, but both the brothers were packed with muscle.

Liam was a gangster, cloaked under the guise of a realtor and a loan shark. But his excessive energy found an outlet in fighting; underground fight clubs were his 'scene' as he told Finn. He was also a businessman, brilliant to a fault whereas Finn was the muscle of the setup.

With his violent temper and fierce, handsome looks, people automatically obeyed the towering Finn who seemed to be carrying a burden of anger around him constantly. His aggressiveness was unleashed upon the hapless submissive who he and his brother chose but even as he whipped them, they screamed for him to take them. Yes, women loved Finn. But then, they also loved the suave, charming Liam.

Together, the two brothers had run through most of the women in Hunters Wood.

He knew that he did not have the razor-sharp acumen of O'Grady but he had the undying loyalty of his troops, the men who worked for the O'Grady mob.

And, most importantly, the brothers had a deep, unshakable bond.

Both of them had discovered, early in life, that they were Doms, alpha males who enjoyed subjugating their partners.

And the common bond only meant that they shared everything.

Including their women.

*

The brothers shared a liking for women and had long ago discovered that they enjoyed having the same submissive cater to their needs.

Helen Douglas, who had been the latest in a long string of subs, had fitted the bill nicely but she had begun to grow needy and Finn had suspected that Liam was about to send her packing.

Now he looked at Lam who turned, his blue eyes sparkling as he drawled,

"Finn my lovely brother, don't you think we should get ourselves a new woman?"

&&&

Bianca Cruz

The building looms in front of me and I stand in the rain, shivering in the cold as it whips around my legs. My jeans, my best pair, are already wet and I know that I look like a soaking wet kitten.

I know I feel like one. Miserable and cold.

And scared.

So very scared.

***

Pressing my lips together, I take a step forward then another. Then the doorman, who gives me a quick up and down look, lets me in, his face reflecting his incredulity though he hides it as he asks, politely,

'Are you here to see Mr St Just? Or Mr O'Grady?"

I dredge up a half-hearted smile. As I meet his eyes, pushing my damp tendrils of brown hair away from my face.

The hoodie is damp too, I think, clutching my old umbrella and blurt the first name that comes to my mouth.

"Ummm...Mr St Just."

I say.

He does not look deceived but he lets me in. probably out of pity, I think.

&

I can see the thoughts racing through his mind as I step into the wooden floored foyer and stop awkwardly.

The doorman's face seems to say, What does this bedraggled teenager, with her wet hair and old, pitifully poor clothes, want to do with a loan shark like Finn Walker?

I square my shoulders and pop my wet umbrella into a place where there are other dripping umbrellas. Then I march to the reception determinedly, pretending to know what I am about to do.

It is only the memory of my younger sisters, the twins, Annabelle and Rosemary, their pretty blonde hair and perfect features with sparkling blue eyes, that keeps me going. And of course, the look on Dean Nelson's face. The leery, ugly look as he ran his bloodshot brown eyes over my sisters and me.

His voice, was hoarse and greedy, as he stepped to me, his beer-laden breath almost making me gag as he snarled,

"You better rustle up the money, pretty gal. Or your sisters and you are going to be on the streets, sweetheart. Or shackin' up with me..."

He had laughed, a high laugh, like a donkey braying, said my four-year-old sister Rose and I tightened my fists.

Stepping to the reception, where a pretty blonde woman, immaculately turned out, with bright red lipstick and heavily made-up eyes, looked through me disdainfully, I said softly,

'Please, can I meet Mr. Finn St Just?"

*

The woman behind the desk looked at me like I was something unpleasant that the cat had dragged in. I did not blame her. With my round hips and full chest, breasts straining under the old plaid shirt I had on under the hoodie, I probably looked like a tramp, I thought gloomily.

But I straightened up, to my full five feet one inch and met her eyes bravely. She continued to study me balefully and then, in a cheesed-off voice, she asked,

"Do you have an appointment?'

My heart sank.

Shaking my head, and biting my lip, I shook my head sadly.

"No...but I needed to meet him urgently. Please?'

My brown eyes and full mouth were my best features, my friend, Stacey had once told me. I thought so too and used all my bravado to straighten up and say,

"Please, could you fit me in? I mean, it's very important."

She shook her head immediately as a phone call came in and she attended it. An older woman, who had been listening intently, stepped to me.

"Why don't you sit over there?' she said kindly, indicating a set of plush, upholstered armchairs that were scattered around the lounge. And then, with a wink, she added in a low tone,

"I'll call you when he's free."

I smiled gratefully and walked to the chairs she had pointed out.

Sinking into one, I sighed and closed my eyes.

What a mess life was!

*

My father, Derek Cruz, had started a small bakery in a little corner of the town of Luther Springs, where I was born and raised. Dad, with his shy smile and skill at baking, was able to make a success of it. But things went downhill when an investment he had made went all wrong and his partner in the business disappeared after embezzling the funds Dad had so painstakingly collected. Overnight, Dad found himself in trouble, owing money to a notorious small-time crook, Dean Nelson.

And that's when things began to go downhill.

The bills began to mount and Dad was not able to run the bakery the way he wanted to. He had already mortgaged it and finally, one cold snowy afternoon, a little before Christmas, he drove his car into the lake and left us to handle the debts.

My beautiful stepmother, Heather, who had never really understood the extent of the money he owed, was frantic. She had always been a butterfly, with Church fetes and hen parties keeping her happy. Dad had met her after my mother had died of cancer, and when pretty Heather waltzed into his patisserie, asking for Madelines, he had fallen hard for her. She was sweet and pretty, though empty-headed, as I realized when I grew up. But Dad loved her and she was kind to me.

Faced with the enormity of her task, she struggled to run the bakery and to take care of us, my little sisters and the house.

I stepped in and at sixteen, I opted to give up school and my dreams of university and a career in astrophysics. Instead, I took over the running of the bakery and tried to keep it afloat. I had never really dated, had never slept with a boy and was now at the ripe age of nineteen, a virgin and ridden with debts and worries.

&&&

Heather meanwhile, had taken to drinking and she was on the way to becoming a full-blown alcoholic... At the start it was just a few glasses of wine, to keep herself going, she told me apologetically. But it had snowballed into a situation where she was hitting the bottle regularly, no longer trying to hide her addiction. When I tried to remonstrate, she wept so loudly, I stopped for fear of upsetting the twins.

The visits from Dean Nelson were more frequent but now, the slimy toad had begun to come onto me.

&

"If you can't repay me, hun," he kept saying," I can arramge a job for you."

The first time he said it, we were in the tiny living room of our house. I tried to keep it looking neat and clean but the upholstery was old and faded, the walls were moldy and we had yet to pay the rent for last month, as old Mr. Craig had pointed out mildly. We had not been able to keep up with the extensive loans and I was grappling.

I needed money, and I needed it yesterday.

And when my Dad's assistant in the bakery, Alice White told me about the realtors who were buying the property next to ours, I had hit upon a wild plan.

Surely they would be interested in buying the land on which our little patisserie stood?

And maybe, I might make a profit, enough to set up a small bakery in another area...after a while?

I could get Heather to make an attempt to get over her addiction...

&

It was evening, and the gathering dusk outside made me grow more anxious as I looked outside. I had been here for almost five hours now, and still counting.

For the tenth time, I went up to the receptionist, my eyes pleading.

"Can I please meet Mr O'Grady or Mr St Just?' I said, trying to hide my frustration. The haughty woman who had spoken to me earlier, snapped,

"Mr O'Grady is not here today. As for Mr. St.Just, he does not have time to meet... ." And her eyes ran over me as she seemed to say," Scruffy teenagers like YOU."

"Please..." I tried and almost jumped as a deep voice said behind me,

"Who wants to meet Mr St.Just?"

"Oh!' cried the woman with the blonde hairdo, her eyes flying wide in shock.

"Oh, Mr St.Just!"

And as she stuttered, I whirled around, to look into a pair of amber eyes, like expensive brandy, almost translucent and I could hear my heart thudding in my chest.