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CHAPTER 20: Shut Up And Suck
Last Updated:
2025-06-17 23:48:42
Latest chapter
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 95: Caged Cravings
Katarina's POV At VelmorraI woke up sore, spoiled, and starving.Not just for food.The air in Velmorra was sharp. Clean. Cold against my bare legs as I walked barefoot across marble that could swallow a city. This place was massive. A goddamn haunted cathedral with too many halls, too many stairs, too many secrets.And it was mine now.Mine to wander. Mine to touch. Mine to ruin.I wore nothing but one of Vittorio's shirts—white, oversized, unbuttoned halfway down my chest. No bra. No panties. Just skin and hunger.Freedom had a taste. It tasted like sweat, salt, and sex from the night before. My thighs still ached in the best way.Away from the cartel. Away from Italy. Away from death and blood and mothers who weren't mothers.Just me. And the De Luca men.My stomach growled as I turned into another corridor."Shut up," I muttered to it. "We're busy."The corridor twisted downward, cut from stone older than any of us. Cold and dark, like a cave. Like something abandoned on purpose.
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 94: Inside Valentino’s Head
POV: Valentino At VelmorraAfter Fiorella’s grave, something snapped.Not just in Vittorio.In him.The part of him that had stayed behind. The part that still believed in softness. In light. Gone. Buried under stone.He'd watched Vittorio touch the soil, kneel beside that tomb, whisper her name like a prayer—and something ugly had risen in Valentino’s chest. Not grief. Not love.Rage.I remembered what rage could do.I used to be the big brother.Born first. Meant to lead. Meant to protect.But after Fiorella’s death? I burned.I’d burned half of Naples with it once.I’d gone dark after Fiorella. Fully. No chains. No rules. Just knives and blood. I killed for no reason. Cut people for blinking wrong. I broke a man’s skull with a wrench just for saying her name out loud. I didn’t eat. Didn’t sleep. Just killed and kept killing until.At one point, even Vittorio looked at me like a problem he couldn’t fix.So I left.Correction—Vittorio made him leave. Forced him to disappear.Vi
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 93: The Warden’s Mercy
Katarina’s POV: At Fiorella’s graveAfter Fiorella’s grave, something shifted.Not in the air. Not on the ground. In them.In Vittorio. In Valentino.They stood like shadows, staring at that name carved in stone, and I swear—it was like they got permission to lose control.Their obsession? Unleashed.Their hunger? Unapologetic.And me? I didn’t run.I let it swallow me whole.I didn’t care if I was supposed to go back soon. To see my mother. To find Selena. To figure out what the hell Luca was hiding.Right now, I am with them.And if they wanted to fuck me into the next dimension?Good. Let them.When we got into the car, Vittorio didn’t sit in front this time.He sat beside me.Valentino drove. And God help me, that might’ve been the hottest thing I’d ever seen.His hands on the wheel. Neck flexing. Black ink snaking up his forearms. Glancing at the rearview like he owned every dirty thought in it.But Vittorio? He was a problem.A very hard problem.Because halfway down the winding
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 92: The Bride in the Wrong Dress
Selena’s POVThe house was too quiet.Not the kind of quiet that brings peace—but the eerie, polished silence of a place that hides its violence behind velvet curtains and crystal chandeliers.I sat on the edge of a bed that wasn’t mine. The mattress was too soft, the sheets too smooth, the walls too gold. Everything smelled like expensive perfume and roses dying in the vase beside the window.I couldn’t sleep. Not after yesterday.Not after the wedding. My throat was dry. I hadn’t spoken in hours. I didn’t know what to say. Or who to say it to. Giordano hadn’t come to see me since the wedding.I closed my eyes. And it all came back.Flashbacks hit like static behind my eyes—tight veil, heavy dress, sweat trickling down my back as I walked into a room full of wolves pretending to be human. My face was covered, my name erased. I wasn’t Selena anymore. I was Katarina. His bride.Giordano's.The dress had been a perfect fit. Because it wasn’t meant for me.I remembered the tightness in
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 91: Ohhh Fuck. AGAIN?
Katarina’s POVI woke up on cold gravel. Wind in my ears. The sky was spinning above me.My mouth tasted like blood. Or fear. My brain throbbed, but my body—shockingly—was fine. No pain, no broken bones.Vittorio.I sat up fast. Too fast. The world tilted again—but then I saw him.He was crouched a few feet away, fists clenched, eyes scanning the wreck of his motorcycle like it had insulted his bloodline.“Vit?” I croaked.He turned. Face bloody. A dark gash across his cheek. One eye was already starting to swell.I scrambled toward him. “Shit. You’re bleeding.”He brushed my fingers off like they were feathers. “It’s nothing.”I looked down. His shirt was torn. His knuckles scraped raw. His breath was heavy, but steady.“You shielded me,” I said, voice cracking.“Of course I did.” He didn’t even look at me. I stared at him. This man. This blood-soaked, broken, furious man. He looked like hell.And I wanted him more than air.The bike lay twisted on the road like a warning sign. Fla
The Mafia Kings Plaything Chapter 90: Ride Me, Ruin Me
Katarina’s POVI didn’t know why I was mad. He said the word fiancée, and my heart just… snapped.I wasn’t supposed to care. I was the plaything, the prisoner, the girl he fucked to sleep and forgot in the morning. Right?So why was I pacing the room, dressed like sin, waiting for him like I owned the damn mansion?Because I did now. He thought he had me? No. I had him.I could see it every time his eyes dropped to my lips, every time he touched me like I was the only cure he’d ever begged for.I was going to make him forget that girl. Forget the word fiancée. Forget his name if I had to.I yanked one of the tiny crop tops from the pile of new clothes he ordered—black, soft, cut just right to show the under-curve of my breasts. The matching shorts barely covered my ass. I wasn’t just dressing up.I was dressing for war.. My shorts were tighter than sin, hugging every curve.Let him look.Let him suffer.I ate slow, legs up on the couch, waiting.When the door opened hours lat
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