Room Seven

  Aster Constantine’s Story

  Penelope Wylde

  Contents

  In the know…

  Room Seven

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Epilogue

  Club Sin: New Orleans

  Bonus Content

  Room One

  Club Sin

  Bonus Content

  Next MC Mafia Release

  Also by Penelope Wylde

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2023 Penelope Wylde.

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Em Petrova

  Proofread by Charity Chimni

  Cover Design: Bookin’ It Designs www.bookinitdesigns.com/

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, email to authorpenelopewylde@gmail.com

  Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Visit my website at: www.penelopewylde.com

  ROOM SEVEN is part of the Sons of Bratva Savages universe. Here is where you can find all the books:

  Sons of Bratva Savages:

  Savage Justice - Ares & Nova

  Savage Thief - Dragon and Asena

  Savage Chaos - Riot and Lilith

  Savage Sin - Rage and Persephone

  SAVAGE UNIVERSE:

  Room Eight - Sapphire Constantine

  Reign of Villains - Harlon, Cassius & Santi’s duet

  Room Seven - Aster Constantine

  Room Six - Magnolia’s story

  MORE FROM THE SAVAGE UNIVERSE:

  Reaper, Room Two, Room Seventeen, Their Dark Reign

  Room Seven

  *You met Aster in Their Dark Reign and in Savage Chaos, now read her story in Room Seven

  They’re my father’s best friends, my godfathers and the villains who stole my heart.

  “I forbid you from ever seeing them again.”

  Those harsh words bored into my soul and changed my life forever. And not for the better.

  But the longer Mirsha, Luther and Viper are out of my life, the stronger the pain inside me grows. After my mafia father issued his order, I tried to be the good father-fearing princess of the Constantine family. But the crushing ache inside me was too much to bear. I had no choice but to seek my three godfathers.

  And I found them. In Club Sin: New Orleans.

  I came looking to uncover secrets, but what I found were three ravenous men aching for what none of us could have: each other.

  Lingering kisses lead to more in the shadows of Club Sin’s decadent gardens. For a few stolen moments, my brutal monsters shed their hard exteriors to show me passions that leave me scared. I never expected to like the way they made me shake with fear…and desire.

  Then the mafia bastards faded into the darkness and left me with an insatiable hunger. And a fierce rage to never trust another man with my heart.

  I'm still fighting against their primal hold over me after three years and my father is still pissed that I feel for his three best friends. I guess that is why he thinks it’s a good idea to marry me off to the highest bidder for past debts.

  And the lucky groom? A sadistic Russian mobster I would rather stab than marry. Of course, he doesn’t like that plan which leaves me with only one option. Them. They are the one men I know who are strong enough to fight the devil himself and win. It won’t be easy and I don’t plan on sticking around after the dust clears.

  Question is, what will the price for saving my ass be and am I willing to pay it?

  One

  Aster

  There will be a time I no longer crave the forbidden. But tonight, is not that night. It won’t be for a long time, I fear.

  And I am okay with that truth.

  My actions should embarrass me. Or at least ashamed. But instead of running away, I cling to the shadows deep inside Club Sin and watch as my darkest secrets sip bourbon. They’re facing the stage where three masked men grind against their shared woman, but they’re not watching the decadent show.

  They almost look bored.

  And all three are alone, I notice with a sense of relief. I don’t think I could take seeing them with another woman, though I know they have every right to seek their pleasures. And if there is any place you can fulfill your fantasies, the luxurious, decadent Club Sin is it.

  Anxiety clutches at my stomach, and despite wanting to confess my deepest desires, I cling to the darkness a little longer and watch.

  You see, I am in love with my father’s three best friends who, unfortunately, also have the job of being my untouchable godfathers.

  Before you curse my soul to hell for craving the most forbidden desires with men literally double my age, give me a chance to live this one night as their angel.

  Mirsha, Luther and Viper. Criminals and mafia bred down to the very last drop of blood in their veins. Ruthless, violent men who consider my father a close friend. Which should clue you in on the kind of man my father is.

  All three of my men are villains. And my darkest of secrets.

  An enormous, exceptionally dirty my father will kill me kind of secret if he ever finds out.

  Literally. My father doesn’t take any slight against the family name with grace. He’s the type who acts with the full force of his violent nature rather than find reason.

  Daughter or not, if he discovers how I feel about my godfathers, I will become the daughter he had instead of the one he has. I’ve seen him kill for less, so I know what I am talking about.

  Knowing all of this, I have never wanted someone so deeply that my soul actually aches from need. But it’s the only way to describe this force driving me to disobey my father’s unbendable rules. Whatever this is pushing me to do wrong can’t be driven from my mind any more than I can erase knowledge of my godfather’s existence from my heart and soul.

  God, make it stop, I plead for the hundredth time today.

  I huff a quiet laugh into the glass of white wine I’ve been sipping on all night. I know better than to ask for prayers when I am a sinner at heart, yet I send up my silent whispers and hope someone will take pity on me.

  But the devil on my shoulder says there is no saving me and I believe it.

  This fire—this aching burn—it is a kind of an insatiable barrage of heat against my senses that erodes my control until all I can do is think, dream and fantasize about them. I will do anything for it to stop, but I don’t know what it takes to purge all these emotions. Believe me, I’ve tried everything to no avail. Nothing and no one can extinguish the flames.

  Except them. All it takes is a brush of skin over skin and I’m whole for that one fleeting moment.

  I thought I had time to find out how to deal with the entangled lust, and then the worst thing happened a week ago. They vanished. They no longer accepted my calls. Just poof. Twenty years of seeing them in my life every day and then to suddenly have nothing can only be compared to a junkie having their supply ripped away.

  It was only by luck and a lot of pleading that I found them at all. I make a mental note to send a thank you basket to my cousin. He’s got a knack for digging up information no one wants anyone to have.

  I tried getting answers out of my father why my godfathers missed my birthday last week, but only got silence in return. That is, of course, after he gripped me by the throat and forced me to swear to never speak about them again.

  “I forbid you from ever seeing them again. Swear it!”

  Those harsh words bored into my soul and burn even now.

  I had no choice but to agree. Instead of spending my special day with the men I secretly love, I cried myself to sleep. By the time the sun came up, I dried my tears and came up with a plan.

  So here I sit, nine hundred miles from home, surrounded by glistening cocks and sin. But, good plan or not, if I don’t fix whatever drove them away from Chicago, I fear they will be gone from my life for good. I’ll face my father’s wrath when the time comes, but right now I need to get the courage up to face my godfathers.

  I uncross my legs and stand up from my seat when I see a woman spread out between two lovers in front of me. A leather bodice pushes her bare breasts up like offerings. She falls to her knees, smearing the pre-cum of one lover on her nipples before offering it to the other like forbidden fruit. And it is. It’s an alluring visual of my carnal desires and has me clenching my thighs and my nipples turning hard.

  The total eroticism drives the breath from my lungs. I raise a hand and tighten my fingers around my throat. Not to cut my air off, but to quelch the cry of torture that wants to break free. I want what she has and I
am tired of being quiet about it like a good, obedient daughter.

  Pain so unreal I can’t even catch my breath takes over my muscles and locks my chest down tight. So much for the

  Breathe, you damn woman. Breathe.

  Inhale.

  Exhale

  There’s only one way to ease the burn of razors cutting into my soul. Slowly, as not to catch the attention of those around me, I use the dim lighting to slip a hand beneath the hem of my dress. If it were Mirsha’s hand on me, he wouldn’t be gentle. I wouldn’t want him to be. Luther’s touch would burn hot and Viper would have me dripping all over all three with the slightest of touches. It would be freeing, agonizing pleasure.

  My eyes fall closed. Slick juices coat the tips of my fingers and I drag my nails over my slick, sensitive folds. Watching the woman in front of me take her lovers into her mouth, first one, then the other, is arousing beyond measure. Currents of sensuality wash over me. Low-tempo music reverberates through the makeshift ballroom and feeds into my desires. Briefly holding her gaze, I drive a finger into my slit and smear more slickness over my clit.

  My mouth silently falls open, and I stroke the tortured flesh using my thumb. Slow at first, but it doesn’t take much to send me falling over the edge of a fast ending. I bite down on the corner of my lip to keep from crying out.

  Breathing heavily, I ease my hand from between my legs. Perspiration dots my body and the warm glow from my release washes over me.

  But it’s still not enough. The pain will be back.

  The release dulls the pain that goes beyond the need to simply climax. The ache I have inside me penetrates to the very marrow of my bones.

  God, I’m such a fucking mess. Being here is a mistake. I need to leave and just let them go.

  But you can’t, cries an insufferable fucking voice in my head and my heart shamelessly agrees. I have to know once and for all if I am the only one feeling this overwhelming consumption.

  Bronze sconces and heavy century-old crystal chandeliers dim and a spotlight focuses on a raised stage. It sits at the far end of the room where a sensual show has started for the people who love to express themselves in public.

  The woman in the leather bodice and her lovers reach their peak and drift off to another part of the large room. It’s then I realize they are part of the show.

  And that is when it happens. My roaming gaze locks eyes with a set of gunmetal gray eyes that turn stone cold the second recognition hits.

  They see me.

  A cool blast of air carries hints of their cologne–a heady mixture of masculinity and virility. Of sin and pleasure and I tumble backward into a memory. Two years ago. A stolen kiss. Luther and Mirsha danced with me a little too long the night of my eighteenth birthday. But Viper isn’t so subtle. I’d gone for a walk in the gardens and he had followed. Our stolen moment nearly had me losing my virginity in the winding paths of my father’s maze. I don’t know what made us come to our senses, but our stolen moment has fueled my dreams for two years.

  I twist my fingers around the cool, fleeting feeling of hope. I track the shadows of my three mafia men as they finish their drinks and push to the far end of the ballroom. Each of them slips into the lush gardens beyond arching French doors without a backward glance.

  Fear and a rush of excitement winds through me. This is it. One second I am breaking out into a cold sweat and in the next I’m burning up with need.

  It’s too late to worry about whether I should do this. I’m here and I have a room key that came with a hefty one-night price tag. Besides, if not tonight, when?

  I sneak between the busy couples. If they can have what they want, so can I.

  I push the long strands of my hair from my face and take the first step toward either a terrible decision or possibly the best kind of mistake I can commit.

  Only the morning will tell.

  If you want something, reach out and take it. No one will just give it to you.

  Words my older brothers cut their teeth on and spoken by our father. But I took them in as my own. After all, I am a Constantine as well.

  Sweet, sensual hints of Jasmine welcome me when I step through the same doors they just left. To my right are pristine gardens, sensual sculptures and endless amounts of moonlight. I pause for a moment. The ache in me turns vicious when I head to the right.

  Okay then.

  I do one-eighty and move deeper into the darkness, following a brick path. Moist leaves from an afternoon shower brush against the bare skin of my arms and legs. I opted for a soft cashmere dress that hugs my curves and dips just enough to reveal the golden chain with the heavy crown tucked between my breasts. Last year’s birthday gift from Mirsha.

  I round a small bend in the path and come to a sudden stop.

  I inhale sharply. For a second, I think I have stumbled into Greek gods making out in the gardens of Club Sin. But no. It’s just the power of silver light and the talented hand of a sculptor.

  A huge, lifelike statue towers above me. Smooth, sensuous lines reveal an aroused man bearing the weight of a voluptuous woman. His lips are perpetually a mere breath away from claiming a tight nipple. His partner holds their shared lover steady from behind, his hard, polished shaft set to take her most forbidden of entrances. There’s not one detail missing from the piece of art illuminated by the full moon.

  Now more than ever, I want to become part of the erotic magic this garden holds and tonight, please let it cure this insatiable ache inside me.

  Warmth spills between my legs and I clench them tightly to fight back the wave of lust. As if by some unseen force, I am propelled forward. One step turns into ten and I don’t stop until I see them.

  I come to the end of the brick walkway and kick off my stilettos. Moonlight seeps through the branches of a lazy willow weighed down with decades-old moss. Beneath it are the shadows of the men I love. Viper leans his substantial size against the massive trunk. I can tell it’s him by his perpetual relaxed position and the curtain of black hair draped over his shoulders. Luther rests his large frame on an exposed root, his elbows pinned to his knees, a cigar between his fingers. Smoke curls into the night air and drifts along the breeze to drape over me like a warm embrace.

  Raw heat tingles from the bottom of my feet all the way to the roots of my hair.

  “I can do this,” I tell myself and move toward them. Slow at first, but it’s hard to stay calm when they are so nearby.

  Cool, wet grass cushions my weight and masks my presence. Hints of music and cries of pleasure mix with the sounds of a Louisiana night.

  I’m just about to step out of the shadows and into the moonlight to reveal myself when strong fingers, followed by a warm palm, glide over my bare shoulder.

  “There you are, baby girl.”

  I freeze, air locking in my lungs.

  And then I get a mind-warping hit of cologne. Oh, God.

  It serves as a direct current to my libido and it takes all I have inside me not to strip off my dress and demand to be fucked.

  Forbidden as it may be, it’s what I want. I want all three to take control and claim me. Maybe that is how I purge them from my soul.

  But I am not that brave yet. I stay motionless and melt into my godfather’s possessive touch as it glides from my shoulder and over the hard peaks of my breasts.

  “Aster.” My name sounds torn from his lips. Like it pains him to say it.

  I shudder in his arms as his hand smooths over my quivering abdomen to settle over a hip, effectively locking me to him like he’s desperate to feel all of me as I am him.

  “What are you doing here?”

  I want to just blurt out the truth. I’ve come to beg you to take me to bed and make this insatiable hunger to have you claim me go away. But the words are lumps of self-doubt choking me.