Page 1 of Lust and Honor

One

Maxim

As I lean back in the leather armchair, shirtless and high on pleasure, I take a long drag from my cigarette. Through the haze of smoke curling past my lips and rising into the air, I fix my gaze on the curvy girl spinning around the pole.

She’s putting every inch of her body on display, not a stitch on her. Even though she’s hanging upside down on the pole, those big fake tits of hers stay perfectly in place. Her shoulders and both of her smooth, toned thighs are inked up, covered in tattoos. And unlike that juicy ass, her stomach’s flat as hell.

I shift my half-lidded gaze away from the pole dancer and drop it to the other beauty kneeling between my legs, her mouth stretched wide, stuffed with my cock all the way down her throat. Her lips are starting to swell, but I’ve got no plans to finish anytime soon. I snap my fingers at the pole dancer, and within seconds, the girls switch places.

Over the pounding beat of the music, I catch a wet, sloppy sound coming from somewhere across the room. I tilt my head back and spot Lorenzo’s broad frame hunched over the third girl on the couch, tongue halfway down her throat. Knowing Lorenzo, he’ll be balls deep in her in under a minute. I enjoy the build-up, the tease, the foreplay. Lorenzo skips straight to the main event.

My phone vibrates against my thigh. Elen, the woman who handles the club girls and sent this batch tonight. She wouldn’t be calling in the middle of my fun unless it’s serious. I pick up without hesitation. What I hear sends my pulse into overdrive. Now the girl’s skilled mouth around my cock doesn’t do it for me anymore, it just distracts me.

I stroke her hair gently, and when she looks up, I give her a nod to leave. She obeys without a word. That’s my number one rule, one Elen always drills into them before sending any girl my way. Total obedience. No questions. When I reach for the remote and kill the blasting music, even the pole dancer freezes. She feels something’s off.

Meanwhile, Lorenzo’s still thrusting into the other girl on the couch, completely oblivious to what’s going on around him. I keep my face calm, but there’s fire in my eyes, and it’s got nothing to do with joy. People close to me know I don’t do moderation. I’m either in a good mood or mad as hell.

I say one word, cold as death. “Coming.”

I get to my feet, buckling my belt, when Lorenzo pants behind me, “What happened?”

I grab my shirt from the chair, slip it on without rushing, and face him.

“Wrap it up. I’ll be waiting in the car.”

I pull a few bills from my pocket, drop them on the table, and turn to the two girls, who stand there clueless about what to do.

“Get dressed. I’m heading to Heaven. I’ll give you a ride.”

***

Everything at the club seems normal. Music’s pounding, girls are spinning around the poles, and the private rooms upstairs are busy satisfying Rome’s richest and most powerful men—men who know they can enjoy the city’s finest whores without an ounce of shame or fear of scandal. Confidentiality is the first rule of Carlo Bruni’s brothels, and everyone is aware of that.

Heads turn the moment I walk in, but no one dares to speak. They carry on with their routines, sneaking glances at the man who’s about to raise hell. I scan the crowd, then head upstairs. As I walk down the long hallway, where a huge guard stands outside every couple of rooms, I tune out the sound of bodies rubbing and lust-drenched moans. I round the corner and reach Elen’s room. Without knocking, I push the door open and step inside.

Elen stands by the bed in a dress that shows off her fake curves. As always, her long hair’s been curled and tossed over her slender shoulders. Her rich brown skin and delicate features give her that polished, doll-like beauty.

When I walk in, she takes her eyes off the bruised mess on the bed and stares at me, pressing her plump lips together in anger. “Filthy scums tore her apart.”

I stand beside her, gazing down at the woman who’s been beaten like a dog. Her face is battered beyond recognition, but I know exactly who she is the second I see her. She goes by Penelope. I fucked her a few times—nothing special in bed, but her face was pretty. A beauty that’s now completely gone. Unrecognizable.

“She needs to go to hospital, Maxim. The doc came and checked her out, said she’s got internal injuries and needs surgery. Those motherfuckers destroyed her ass,” Elen says again.

Heat floods my chest and my fist tightens. My voice, though, stays calm. “Who was guarding her?”

“Andro. But he’s not to blame, they gagged her so she couldn’t make a sound.”

“When a girl goes into a fucking room with two clients and doesn’t make a peep for an hour, something’s off, Elen.”

I turn around and face Lorenzo, who’s standing in the doorway. “Send two men after him. I want him off his feet for a month.”

Lorenzo nods and pulls out his phone.

A faint voice reaches my ears. “I’m sorry!”

Looks like she’s awake again.

“Sorry for what?” I ask her.