Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 5 Who is He?

Chapter 5: 5 Who is He?

Emmanuel POV

I always liked a good fuck after a kill.

It went together perfectly like rare steak and red wine.

Two hours ago, I had to put down another batch of rabid dogs my half-brother had sent to kill me. Ever since he learned of my existence, there was an endless stream of them. It was getting rather tiresome.

"Get rid of the bodies," I ordered.

"Yes, Boss."

Dover nodded with his typical understated efficiency, ordering two men to begin the much less interesting task of corpse disposal.

That was the benefit of having minions; so that I can outsource the parts of the business that no longer interest me. Leaves me more time to enjoy the finer things in life.

I frowned down at the patch of filthy blood that stained my lapel. I must have stabbed an inch too high in the artery, made it spray everywhere. What a mess.

I stripped off the jacket and threw it on top of the dead man.

He could have it. Might be cold on the journey to hell.

Leaving my men to clean up under the abandoned railway tunnel, I stepped out of the secluded spot and soon emerged in the middle of the Red Light District.

I stood in the shadow of an archway, unnoticed by the men and women passing by on the busy footpath. Across the street, a phallic-shapped neon sign flashed cheerfully between a late night burger joint and a vape shop, drawing attention to a discreet red door.

I tipped back my head and drew in a deep breath.

Ah, the wonderful scent of degeneracy.

Spilled beer and rambunctious laughter; burned leaves and swaying steps. The underbelly of the city was where people showed their true faces, where I made my fortune.

No one could avoid a bad habit or two, even me, though I pride myself on not being so weak in self control as lesser men. Sex was my chosen method of release.

The Red Door was not my preferred venue for entertainment – I own more high end establishments that cater exactly to a man of my tastes – but I was in the area.

So I crossed the street like a shadow and slipped inside, looking for a quick fuck to settle the boiling aggression in my blood.

"Your most popular girl," I requested.

And what a pleasant surprise she was.

A dainty little thing with the bone structure of a bird, she was. A waist that I could snap with one hand flaring into wide hips and a pert round ass.

A shock of bright red curls spilled down her back, contrasting the pale skin that flushed like a peach with just a few well placed smacks.

I could see what made her so popular, and it was not just looks.

She arched towards me, straining with every breath as though desperate for my attention, driving my arousal higher.

A blindfold was my standard request when I used whores. When I told the manager at The Red Door, he remarked,

"Shame, Emerald has such pretty eyes."

I didn’t care either way. I have had my fill of beautiful women. At this point, they were all warm, tight bodies to me. The only difference was a good fuck or a subpar one.

Emerald, I could confidently say, was a good fuck.

I held her by the waist, watching my cock disappear into that tight pink cunt, and found myself wishing that it was not necessary to have a condom in the way.

She squeezed my cock so damn well.

Finally, something in this miserable district exceeded expectations.

What a waste of resources for her to be in a middling brothel like this. I ought to speak to Janine and have her moved to Elysium, where she could bring in three times as much.

That was what I thought as I began to fuck her, and she immediately came apart, making such sweet little sounds.

By the time I finished, my opinion had evolved.

There she hung, limp and pliant in her ropes, hands clasped like a supplicant. A warm, trembling body in my arms.

So fragile. So alive.

The way she melted into my hands...

It settled something in me. A deeper satisfaction than a quick, anonymous fuck had any right to bring.

It was rare that I would enjoy a woman so much. Without even having to train her to my preferences, she responded like a wet dream.

Mere obedience was easily obtained, but that was not enough. There was a certain...physical chemistry that I had with her. Simple biological-level compatibility.

I always trust my instincts on such things.

It all slotted together in the three seconds after I came. A plan that could solve several of my needs in one dainty, red-haired parcel.

I could give a more important job to this little whore.

Her pale thighs were still shaking when I pulled out of her. I put her down slowly, watched her find her feet again, shoulders straining against the rope.

I brushed a finger through her soaking wet cunt, making her mewl weakly and jerk under my touch.

I put my dripping finger to her lips. My little whore licked it clean with a deep, sated sigh.

I could not help but smile.

"What is your name?"

"Emerald."

"Your real name."

She faltered, her brows furrowing in confusion.

She did not wish to tell me?

I had an easy solution.

I reached for my pockets, pulling a few banknotes out of my wallet. I put the roll of cash to her lips.

"Do you smell that?"

"Yes..."

"A tip for you. Tell me your name."

"Lara," she said at once, the corners of her lips lifting in a coy smile.

She was the material type then, I noted. That was just as well.

Women who wanted money from me were the simplest.

"Lara..." I repeated. "Well done."

She caught the roll of cash between her teeth.

My smile widened.

Lara. See you again soon, Lara.

I pulled out my phone as I left the brothel behind me.

"Are you done over there? I have another task for you. Yes. I need a contract to be drawn up."

Lara POV

1,100 dollars.

That was how much money my mystery client had stuffed between my teeth before he left.

He must be filthy fucking rich.

A round thousand would say: I am leaving a big tip and expect you to be grateful. 1,100 said, I grabbed a stack of cash and didn’t count it because I had a good orgasm.

On top of that–

I had to admit, that was the best sex of my life.

I could still feel the imprint of that thick, delicious cock inside me after I had cleaned up and returned to the dressing room. My legs felt like jelly in the best way.

"I have a new favourite client," I told Candi, swimming in hormones from the bone-deep release.

"Big dick? Big wallet? Good looking?" she waggled her eyebrows at me.

"Yes, yes, and a girl can hope," I replied wryly as I packed my bags. "Though odds are that he’s hideous."

Come on, he had to be ugly.

Despite my raging sexual fantasies, a client could not possibly hold so many positive qualities, based on the theory of relativity or something. There must be something wrong with him.

It was tantalizing that I had not even set eyes on the man who had taken me apart with such expert precision. I could not stop picturing a beautiful stranger who would whisk me away into the sunset, as stupid as that was.

Who was the man behind the blindfold?

I couldn’t help but wonder.

Just for a moment, before I shut myself down and made my way to the bus stop.

He was just a client.

But still, he had asked for my name–

My real name, even.

Maybe he would ask for me again. I hoped that he would.

Though I really didn’t expect that I would see him again the very next night.