Little Bird by Kally Ash

1

Bane

It’sgood to be fucking king.

King of pussy.

King of coke.

Lord and ruler of the finest goddamn gentleman’s club in the whole of California.

From my vantage in the upstairs office, I looked down upon my dominion, feeling all fucking Lion King.

Everything the light touches…

Fuck, James Earl Jones was the man.

I’d worked fucking hard for all of this, firstly by graduating business school while working my ass off with drug baron, Marco Mancini. I’d lined my pockets with his cash before finally disposing of him.

Hey, a guy like me can’t have fucking competition, right?

The bastard had to have seen it coming. He’d groomed me since I was a thirteen-year-old pickpocket on the streets of Venice Beach. First, he had me acting like a gopher before I’d begged him for more. I’d literally begged him to sell coke, and the sick fuck had given me exactly what I’d wanted—the keys to the damn castle.

Long live the new king.

I drained the last of my drink, my gaze bouncing around the converted warehouse. The place had been stripped and refitted, doing away with all that industrial chic shit and adding a touch of class.

The Dollhouse was my pride and joy.

Fifty thousand square feet of pussy, kink, and debauchery.

So much pussy.

“Hey, daddy,” someone said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder at Kandy, with a ‘K,’ naturally. Her real name was Cecile, and she was a law student trying to pay her way through college. I made it a point to learn everything I could about my employees because I never knew when that shit could be of use to me. For example, Kandy with a ‘K’ had a long-term boyfriend who was cheating on her, although fuck knew why. Kandy was smoking hot, and if I didn’t have the rule of not fucking the dancers, you can bet your ass I’d have her bent over my desk right now.

Readjusting my dick, I turned around to look at her. Dressed in black lingerie that covered just enough to get men to dig into their pockets for Benjamins and fuck-me heels that made her athletic calves look killer, she stood there holding a glass of amber liquid.

I folded my arms over my chest. “What’s up, baby?”

“I thought you might need a top-up,” she replied in a smoky voice, gesturing to my now empty glass on the sideboard in front of the window. I crooked my finger at her, and she came fucking running. As she handed me the whisky, she asked in a purr, “Anything else I can do for you?” Her hand found my semi-hard dick, and she started to rub. I even let her for a minute. I mean, I didn’t touch the drugs I sold, but blowjobs were something else. Being surrounded by beautiful fucking women with their barely-there lingerie-clad bodies did something to man’s self-control. And by did something, I meant it strained it to fucking shit.

I watched her intensely as she stroked me, but I wouldn’t let her do much more than that. I might have been a criminal, but I still had standards.

Don’t let pussy distract you.

Don’t snort the product.

Call your sister weekly.

See? Easy.

“You like that, daddy?”

“Don’t call me that,” I replied. “I’m not your fucking daddy. You’re not on right now.”

Kandy pouted but didn’t stop rubbing my dick. With a wicked smile I’d seen her use on so many clients, she began undoing the zipper on my black slacks, but I grabbed her wrist to stop her.

Shaking my head, I pulled her hand away. “You know the rules, baby,” I said the words softly, but I wanted to scream them. For years, my Dolls have been trying to get a piece of me. It had gotten to the point where I was now the ultimate challenge. Who could fuck Bane Rivera and survive?

What can I say? I have a fucking reputation for dirty fucking sex that the women always came back for.

“Get back on that dance floor and earn your tips.” Gesturing to the drink, I added, “Thanks for this.”

I watched as Kandy sashayed the fuck out of my office, closing the door softly behind her. Turning back around, I waited until I saw her descend the stairs tucked beside the bar, then went back to what I was doing.

And what was I doing? I was waiting for one of my fucking dealers to turn up with a fucking good explanation. He’d been light on his drop earlier in the day, the kind of money that made me pay attention.

There was another knock on the door, this one firm and unyielding. Dagger.

“Come in,” I barked.

Dagger, my right-hand man, stepped into the room. His short, dark hair was wet, so he’d just come from dispensing some punishment for me. Good man. “Did you get him?”

“Yeah, he’s out here pissing his pants for you.”

A smile pulled at the corners of my mouth. “Just the way I like it. Send the fuck in.”

Dagger grunted and stepped outside. A moment later, a guy named Hawk Montana was shoved into the room with such force that he tripped over his own feet and ended up sprawled out in front of me.

How fucking fitting.

When he tried to get up, I shoved my three-thousand-dollar Italian loafer between his shoulder blades and pushed him back down. I didn’t think the guy would have been inclined to stay if it weren’t for the sound of Dagger shoving a magazine into his new toy—a Heckler & Koch MP5K—before hovering the loud and fatal end over Hawk’s head.

“Where’s my money?” I asked in a bored drawl. Really, I had better fucking things to do with my time.

“It was all there,” Hawk replied. “I counted it. Twice.”

“Then I’d say you need to go back to school, Hawk, because it wasn’t all there. I counted it twice, and you were at least fifty grand short.”

All the color drained from Hawk’s face as sweat started to form on his brow. “Fifty grand?”

I held out my hand to him, all five fingers up like good little soldiers. “This many, times ten, asshole, unless you can’t count those up without the help of a calculator.”

“I counted it twice,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “Jesus, Bane, I’m sorry. It was all there when I dropped it off. I swear!”

I looked over at Dagger, who shrugged.

Now, I wasn’t a fucking monster. I wasn’t going to kill the fucker yet, but I was going to give him one more chance.

“How about I make you a deal, Hawk.” I crouched in front of him. “I give you two weeks to come up with the cash you owe me, and you deliver it to me like a good little boy. If you can’t do that, then I’m afraid our working relationship is over… as is your heart’s relationship with beating in your chest.”

I stood, jerking my chin at Dagger. My man placed the submachine gun on my desk and hauled the other man up. When I was face to face with him, I said, “And to make sure you understand just how serious I am, you now have one week to get me my cash.”

Hawk’s eyes widened until I could see the whites all the way around. Good. He needed to be scared because what I had planned for him was going to go down as one of my messiest retributions in history.

People didn’t steal from me.

Ever.

“Rough him up a little before sending him on his way,” I said to Dagger as I turned back to the large picture window. I listened as Hawk was hauled away, mumbling something about how a week wasn’t enough time and how he’d counted the money twice.

Honestly, I didn’t give a fuck about the money. Fifty grand was a fucking drop in the ocean compared to everything else. I was punishing the guy on principle. I refused to let anyone screw me out of my money.

No. Fucking. Way.

Reaching down, I rearranged my dick in my pants, then threw back what was left in the glass. I may not fuck my dancers, but it didn’t mean I couldn’t enjoy the fuck out of them when I felt like it.

Surveying the floor, I spotted a Doll who would do for tonight. Normally, I would’ve called her up here, but I was feeling restless so I hoofed it down the stairs and out onto the opulent floor of The Dollhouse. The décor was decorated in rich reds and glittering golds. The walls were black, the poles and stages where my Dolls danced were polished to within an inch of their lives. Plush red velvet couches and dark brown leather chesterfield armchairs were scattered around, all oriented to get the best view of the Dolls while they worked.

This place was a classy establishment, one that also required a six-figure membership to attend. I had to have a way to keep the riff-raff out, and the men—plus some women—with enough green to back their penchant for fuckery were the ones I wanted.

My Ferragamosthumped over the dark-stained hardwood floors as I made my way over to Syndy. She looked up from the man she was talking to—a long-time patron who I knew had a wife and three kids at home.

“Mr. Gregory, so nice to see you again.”

“Mr. Rivera,” he greeted. “I was just telling Syndy here how much I enjoy blowjobs with my scotch.”

“Don’t we all?” I replied with a smile. Turning my gaze to my dancer briefly, I looked at her lush mouth, and my dick got harder. “If you wouldn’t mind, I need Syndy for a moment.”

Dick Gregory waved his hand in a by all means sort of way. As soon as the woman was gone, another one of the girls would take her place. When the owner of the fastest-growing tech company was on the floor, my Dolls knew how to work.

I placed a hand on the small of Syndy’s back as I guided her off the floor and to one of the playrooms out the back.

“You said you wanted to talk to me?” she asked, somewhat confused by the change in direction.

“I want to see you, but it isn’t for talking,” I growled, sliding my hand down to her bare ass and tightening my fingers.

Syndy’s eyes lit up. “Yes, daddy.”

She didn’t know that the only fucking she was going to get was her mouth, but I let her believe she had finally tamed the illusive Bane Rivera. I checked each room as we walked past, finding the first three occupied. Swiping my access card at the reader by the door, I dragged her into number four. Locking the door behind us, I took a seat on the leather armchair in the center of the room, my knees spread wide. On the wall to my right was a cupboard with BDSM toys that got regular use by the patrons, but Syn wouldn’t need them tonight. All I wanted was her mouth, her tongue, her teeth.

Syn stared at me with lust-soaked eyes for a moment, then when I undid my zipper, freeing my cock, she fell to her fucking knees like this was church, and I was offering her absolution for all her sins.

“Just a blowjob, Syn.”

She tried to hide the disappointment from her face, but I saw it etched there in all its crestfallen glory. She’d get over it, especially if Dick Gregory were still there when I was done with her. I sat back and watched as she gripped my cock at the base and ran her hand up and down it a few times, pumping and watching me through half-lidded eyes.

When she stuck out her pink tongue and licked the crown, I groaned but didn’t shut my eyes. I watched every fucking second, not because I wasn’t enjoying it—I fucking was—but because I didn’t trust anyone. If I had my eyes open, I couldn’t fucking get fucked over. This rule applied to business and pleasure. I wasn’t even sure when I let my guard down anymore. Years of survival and the climb to the top had taught me that, and it was the one lesson I never forgot.

Syn took my entire length into her mouth, her tongue swirled around me as she moved up to the tip, her teeth dragging over the veins on the underside. She purred, the vibrations shooting straight through me like she knew they would. I let her play with me for a while, going at her own pace, before grabbing the back of her head and wrapping her ponytail around my fist. From there, I held her head immobile while I fucked her warm, wet, willing mouth. I shoved into her until I hit the back of her throat. Syn didn’t have a gag reflex, which was one of the reasons I used her.

She took everything I gave her, saliva dripping from her well-used mouth, falling on her breasts still being held in check by her balconette bra. She groaned as her orgasm approached, her hand burrowing deep into her lace panties. She played with herself as I fucked her mouth, her eyes staying open, staying fixed on my face. When she came, though, she squeezed them shut, her body shivering with pleasure. Her moans became long and drawn out, and although I could normally last hours getting my dick sucked, tonight I didn’t want to waste time.

As the vibrations in her throat ricocheted through my shaft, I felt my balls tighten. I was going to come. I pumped more furiously into her mouth, my grip tightening until I finally stopped and came at the back of her throat with a loud breath hissed through my teeth. Syn swallowed me down, her throat working, the compression of my dick squeezing the last little bit from me.

I released her hair slowly, running my fingers down to her jaw, then dragging my thumb across her pink, swollen bottom lip. She sucked the digit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around it.

“When are you going to fuck me, Mr. Rivera?” she asked in a low, rough voice.

I stroked her mouth again before shoving my semi-hard dick back into my slacks and standing to zip them. “Never, baby. I don’t fuck my employees.”

She got to her feet smoothly. “I’ll quit right now if that’s what it takes.”

Wrapping my arm around her waist, I leaned in and kissed her cheek gently. “No, you won’t. You need this job too fucking much, and I’m a bastard.”

“You’re a bastard who knows how to fuck, though.”

How the fuck did she know? There were rumors floating around about me, sure. I’d heard many of them and quashed most of them too, so I raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re fucking right I know how to fuck, but that doesn’t mean I’ll ever fuck one of my Dolls. I don’t shit where I eat.” And with that, I left the private room and returned to my office to get on with business.