All Chapters of CHAMPAGNE FOR THE DAMNED {MxM}: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

༒ ℑ𝔪𝔯𝔞𝔫༒ “Say my name, Gattino.” His voice came out low, smooth, and controlled, the kind that didn’t need to be loud to make your body react. It wrapped around me, heavy and dangerous, as his body pressed mine deeper into the mattress. I could feel the weight of him, solid and unyielding, hovering just enough to remind me that I wasn’t going anywhere unless he allowed it. I swallowed, my throat dry, my chest rising and falling too fast. Even thinking his name felt like stepping into something I couldn’t come back from. His hand pinned my wrist above my head, not rough, not painful, just firm enough to remind me who was in control. The other slid slowly along my side, fingers dragging in a way that made my skin heat up against my will. Every touch was deliberate, like he was studying me, learning how I reacted without me saying a word. “Say it,” he murmured again, his face closer now, his breath warm against my lips. I turned my head slightly, trying to create space, but i

༒ ℑ𝔪𝔯𝔞𝔫༒ I didn’t even notice when my phone vibrated in my pocket. The club was too loud, too full, bodies moving everywhere, voices overlapping, music hitting so hard it felt like it was inside my chest. I had just gotten to work not long after those men left my apartment, and I still hadn’t fully calmed down. My head was all over the place, my nerves still tight, like I was expecting another knock even here. I kept scanning the crowd, trying to find Pierre, but it was pointless. One of the guys had already told me he was working the VIP section tonight, which meant I wouldn’t be seeing him anytime soon unless I had a reason to go up there, and I didn’t. Not yet. I moved around the bar, doing what I was supposed to do, taking orders, avoiding unnecessary conversations, trying to act normal even though nothing felt normal anymore. My phone vibrated in my pocket again, and this time I pulled it out, glancing down quickly between orders. A message from the site. My chest tigh

༒ ℑ𝔪𝔯𝔞𝔫༒ “Come here.” His voice is deep, sultry like he is in a trance. It makes my body shake with desire. Ever so slowly I stride up to him, standing in between his open legs. He tugs my hand sharply, making me fall into him, my ass directly over his growing bulge. “I didn't pay for you to stare at me. Get on your fucking knees, and suck me off.” he growls, his voice harsh. I drop to my knees, my eyes unable to move away from his beautiful eyes. I trail a finger over his cock through his pants, a barely there groan leaves his mouth encouraging me to move on. I tighten my palm on his cock this time a groan leaves his mouth. I am nervous right now, hoping I don't make a mistake. “Such a little tease” he hums, biting his lips. A small smile makes its way to my lips as I unbuckle his belt. I tug the waistband of his pants down. His cock springs free from his boxers standing proud, and erect. Oh my goodness. It's huge, and thick. Will this even fit inside

༒ ℜ𝔞𝔣𝔣𝔞𝔢𝔩𝔢༒ I didn't think about people twice. That had always been how it worked for me. Faces blurred together easily. Names faded just as quickly. Nights came and went without meaning, without weight, without consequence. Everything existed in a cycle I had grown used to–one I had perfected over the years. Detached. Controlled. Clean. Nothing lingered, nothing stayed. That was how I preferred it. But this one stayed. And I didn't like it. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window in my office, a glass of whiskey resting loosely in my hand as I stared out over the city. The skyline stretched endlessly, lights flickering against the dark like something alive beneath me. This city was mine. Every street, every deal, every shadow that lived when it wasn't supposed to–I knew it all. I controlled it. And yet, somehow, my thoughts refused to stay where they should, they drifted. Back to him, it was irritating. It wasn't even about the sex. If anything, I had experienced be

༒ ℑ𝔪𝔯𝔞𝔫༒The longer the night went on, the harder it became to ignore. I tried.I really did.I moved from table to table, took orders, delivered drinks, wiped down surfaces, anything that would keep my hands busy and my mind occupied. I kept my head down, movements precise, controlled, like if I focused hard enough on the routine, everything else would fade into the background.But it didn't.Because no matter where I went, no matter what I was doing, I knew exactly where he was. I didn't even have to look, I could feel it.That presence.Heavy.Unmoving.Like something watching from a distance, waiting without rushing, without needing to prove anything.Raffaele.Every time I accidentally got too close to his side of the room, my chest tightened. Every time I heard a shift in the tone of voices around him, I became hyper-aware without meaning to.It was exhausting.And worse–It was impossible to escape. I told myself to ignore it, to act normal, to treat this like any other ni