บททั้งหมดของ Devoured by the Syndicate King [18+] : บทที่ 1 - บทที่ 10

The air in the dimly lit lounge was heavy with heat, bass, and the subtle scent of sweet alcohol when she slipped onto the high-backed stool at the far edge of the bar."Nervous?" My voice came out as a low, smooth purr over the thrum of the music. I flashed a slow, deliberate grin, swirling the dark amber liquid over two solid ice cubes in my glass—whiskey, aged and neat. "I was just making sure you weren't holding a spot for a lover, given how relaxed you look over here."A sudden surge of bold, electric energy spiked between us. She shifted on her stool, letting the bare edge of her thigh brush against the side of my leg."Is that right? Do you usually concern yourself with who holds a spot?" she asked, tilting her chin to scrutinize me. I could see her eyes running over my frame—not built like a heavy wall, but sharp, lean, and dangerous in a way that promised speed and absolute focus.My gaze flicked down to where our thighs met, darkening instantly. The heat off her skin was pal

"Sandro?" I grunted softly after a long, heavy silence had settled over the dark room."Mmm?" she hummed, her breath warm against the crook of my neck. I shifted under her, my heavy frame still pinning her flushed body against the mattress. I lazily dragged my fingers down the curve of her waist, my bare skin hot against hers."You're heavy," she whispered, her hips giving a subtle, teasing twitch beneath me.My jaw tightened, a low groan escaping my throat. Even through the fog of post-orgasmic exhaustion, the friction of her skin made my cock pulse back to life against her pelvis."I'm staying right here," I muttered, pressing a lingering kiss to the base of her throat before finally shifting off her, taking the spent condom with me and tossing it into the trash.I stepped into her adjoining bathroom, grabbed a handful of clean, damp cotton cloths, and returned to the bed. Without a word, I gently parted her trembling thighs to clean her off, carefully wiping away the slick remnants

A sharp, violent hammering against my apartment door nearly caused me to drop my half-filled glass of wine onto the rug. I threw off the throw blanket, stood up, and marched toward the entryway, scowling at the deadbolt."Sandro, open up! Please!"My brother’s breathless voice scraped through the thick wood, and my chest instantly tightened with confusion. I set the glass down on the side console."Sandro!" he yelled, slamming his fist against the frame like a maniac."I'm coming, damn it!" I muttered, sliding the latch free.The moment the lock clicked, the door was shoved violently inward, and my brother’s heavy frame practically tumbled into the foyer. He slammed the door behind him, engaged every lock, and leaned back against the wood, his chest heaving as if he’d sprinted ten miles through the city.His dark rain jacket was smeared with grey cement dust, and when he pulled back his hood, a cluster of ugly, purple bruises ringed his neck. My heart plummeted. Kauã looked like he wa

The master suite in the east wing smelled of cold rain, beeswax, and the heavy, undeniable scent of Thiago Krause.It was a cavernous room anchored by a massive, dark-canopied bed draped in charcoal silk. Broad French doors opened onto a private stone balcony overlooking the misty pine canopy of the Serra Gaúcha, but the iron deadbolt clicking into place on the outside of the mahogany door shattered any illusion of luxury. I was a prisoner. A gilded captive trapped in the lair of the man who had thoroughly, ruthlessly unraveled me just hours before.I paced the rug, my bare feet sinking into the thick wool. My wrists still bore faint red bands from the zip-ties, but my skin burned with a far more volatile heat. Every time I closed my eyes, I didn't see the armed enforcers or the storm-swept compound—I felt the bruising weight of Thiago’s hands mapping my hips, the rough scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs, and the staggering, possessive rhythm that had left me gasping agains

The name Isaac Santos felt like a drop of ice down my spine, instantly extinguishing the lingering, languid heat in my limbs.I pulled the charcoal silk sheet tighter across my breasts, sitting bolt upright against the carved mahogany headboard. My body still throbbed with the deep, intoxicating ache of Thiago’s touch, every nerve ending hyper-aware of his towering presence over the bed. But the sharp edge of survival—the instinct that had kept me alive on the streets of Porto Alegre—snapped instantly back into focus."Isaac Santos?" I repeated, my voice raspy as I met his unyielding amber gaze. "I know who he is. Everyone in Rio Grande do Sul knows who he is. He’s a high-ranking state assemblyman with his hands in half the commercial real estate from the docks to the border."Thiago didn't move an inch. He leaned over me, his heavy palms resting flat on the mattress on either side of my thighs, trapping me within his shadow. The scent of dark tobacco, cold rain, and the unmistakable