Filthy Mogul – The Billion-Dollar Men Read Online M. Robinson

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 79261 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
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Vicente ordered, “Luke, don’t⁠—”

Aiming my Glock at his guard’s head, I pulled the trigger. I shot him right between the eyes without giving it a second thought. I shrugged off his order, placing my piece back into my back pocket.

His other guard had his gun locked and loaded except it was pointed at the ground.

Meeting Vicente’s angry expression, I callously questioned, “You were saying?”

I was prepared to hear his wrath, conscious of the fact that he’d try to test my short fuse and temper. I wasn’t surprised that his hand was now on the gun in his lap. They both obviously knew better than to fuck with me. That was the thing about this business—the second you let someone disrespect you is the second there’s a bounty on your head.

I’d seen it time and time again. These men were like pit bulls bred for fighting; they only knew blood, and they didn’t stop until your heart did.

“He was one of my best men,” Vicente gritted out in a threatening tone.

“If that were true, he wouldn’t be dead.”

He shook his head. “I came here in good faith that we could make a deal.”

“You should have informed your guard of that, and then maybe he’d have known better than to aim his pistol at me.”

“You think you can offend me and get away with it?”

“I wasn’t the one who barged into your office with my men demanding answers.”

His gaze intensified. An expression I was more than familiar with crept across his face.

It was only when I followed it up with, “You’re sadly mistaken if you think I’d let anyone raise their gun at me and live to talk ’bout it. I did what I had to do. It’s not personal. Don’t make it into something it’s not, ya feel me?”

I contemplated life for what seemed like the millionth time. If it wasn’t about my illegal activities, it was about my family. Neither was ever far from my mind. Two opposite ends of the spectrum, and once again, there was another drastic turn in a matter of minutes.

Vicente jumped out of his seat, and for a moment, I thought he was going to test my theory and aim his gun at me himself.

Instead, he backed away, expressing, “You’re lucky you’re a Jameson.”

“I wouldn’t call it luck.”

With that, he ordered his men to clean up the mess and left.

I didn’t turn into this monster.

He’d always lived inside me.

That realization alone sent me spiraling down a bottle of bourbon. Before I knew it, I was sitting on a black leather couch in the dark corner of one of my strip clubs. Here, naked girls danced, but they decided whether they wanted to fuck you. I wasn’t a pimp by any means. I had nothing to do with it.

It was their choice, not mine.

I was out of sight.

I didn’t bother removing my sunglasses. I was exhausted. I’d come to drown out the demons living on my back through whiskey and whores.

Always the best combination when I needed to unwind.

Fuck out my frustrations, burying my cock in whoever wanted a piece of me that night. I took another swig off the bottle, watching as the entire world shut off around me. Even if it was just for an instant, it was a moment I reveled in. Only seeing strobes of colored lights and women dancing.

“From the looks of it, boss, you’re going to need me tonight,” the luscious blonde enticed with her pouty, dick-sucking red lips. Wearing nothing but a tiny G-string and a bra that barely covered any of her tits, she kneeled before me.

I gripped the back of her neck, growling, “I just need your lips wrapped around my cock.”

She laughed, swinging her long blond hair over her shoulder. This was foreplay for her.

“I see you’re here to break more hearts. What’s it been, two, three months since we’ve seen you? You know the girls get jealous when you don’t pay attention to them.” She took it upon herself to straddle my lap. Grinding her pussy on my cock to the beat of the house music, she baited, “We miss you.”

I fucked.

I didn’t know any other way.

There was no kissing.

No sleepovers.

No intimacy.

The rougher, the better.

They were ordered to keep their mouths shut, not saying so much as a word without my permission. Whatever you want to call it, it was my kink. It wasn’t always about me, though. I’d always make them come, which was probably another reason they wanted me so bad. Not many men cared about a woman’s needs. Their minds were set on the fact that they were whores for a reason.

Especially men like me.

“I want you,” she breathed out, leaning in to kiss me.

I gripped her hair at the nape of her neck and tugged her head back hard, making her whimper like a bitch in heat. Getting pussy had never been an issue. Women literally threw themselves on my cock, knowing who I was and what that meant. That was how easy it was for them to get on their hands and knees for me.


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