Boss Daddy: Naughty Daddies Series Read online

  Boss Daddy

  A “Naughty Daddies” Book

  M/M Daddy Kink Romance

  Jayda Marx

  Author’s Note

  Thank you for your interest in my book! This series features Daddy kink (no age play) between naughty Daddies who find themselves (or live!) on the wrong side of the law, and their sweet, virginal boys who come to the rescue. These books may be a little grittier than most of my titles, but they’re still low angst, insta-love, full of sweetness, and follow relationships on the fast track. They're also packed with scenes so hot, they'll make you sit up and say, "Yes, Daddy!" They are each a standalone story and can be read in any order.

  On a side note, I am in no way an expert on mafia life or law enforcement. This book (along with the others in the series) is meant solely for romantic entertainment.

  Chapter One

  Vinny

  “Stop here,” I told Sal as he drove through the downtown streets. Our mark was a few blocks away and we didn’t want to be seen too close when the action went down.

  Sal pulled his black sedan to the curb and he and Johnny exited the front while I climbed out of the back and took a look around; there was no moon in the sky, so the night was black. The car was parked off of the main path where there were no streetlights. It wasn’t the best part of town, but Sal, Johnny and I were packing enough heat to take out anyone who dared to fuck with us. We wouldn’t do so unless necessary, but we were always prepared.

  “Alright boys; move quick and stay low,” I needlessly told my guys. This was far from our first rodeo. The three of us had run these streets for years, starting with nickel and dime operations and working our way up to the big jobs.

  We weren’t the only crew in the city, nor were we the largest or the strongest, but we were the most clever. We were mature and methodical; we didn’t march through town with our dicks on display to attract attention like some of our younger competition. We got in, got the job done, and got paid.

  The three of us stuck to the shadows as we made our way along the streets, careful not to catch anyone’s eye. When we reached the target house, Sal stood watch in front and Johnny and I snuck around back. Johnny took his post, and I crept up the back porch steps.

  With a gloved hand, I lifted a butt ass ugly garden gnome to find a spare key beneath it, right where the client said it would be. I unlocked the door and slipped inside the house.

  Just as I instructed, all of the home’s furniture was in place, but it appeared that sentimental items such as photographs had been removed from the walls. I looked around the living room and smiled when I found what I was looking for; a lamp plugged into an outlet beneath a long, thick curtain. Jackpot.

  I took a knee in front of the outlet and pulled a thick wad of flash cotton (made by yours truly) from my jacket pocket before coiling it around the lamp’s cord and tucking the ends into the outlet and beneath the hem of the drapes. I retrieved my lighter, flicked the striker, and barely touched the flame to the cotton.

  In a blink, fire raced up the coil. Sparks crackled within the outlet and the curtain ignited as smoke swirled up to the ceiling. Ta da! There was no evidence left behind that anything beyond a faulty electrical outlet started the fire. That was why I liked working with flash cotton; it burned quickly and cleanly, leaving no traces of foul play...or what I liked to call, ‘another day on the job’.

  Poor saps came to me when they got in financial trouble. Some had gambling debts, others had creditors on their backs, but their stories were always the same; they were out of options and needed a lot of cash fast.

  So in waltzes their knight in shining armor (me, obviously) with a little cotton and a Zippo lighter to make their dreams come true in the form of a hefty home insurance check. And I only charge them forty percent of the take. What can I say? I’m a giver.

  I watched the fire for a few moments just to make sure it was spreading as it should. Once the flames climbed the drapes and licked the ceiling, I hustled out the back door, making sure to lock it on my way out, and to replace the key beneath the ugly gnome. And just like that, there were no signs of entry.

  Just as I reached Johnny, Sal showed up from around front. We knew this operation like clockwork, having it down to the second. As we made it back to the shadows of the side streets, the crackling of burning wood could be heard from behind us. Success.

  “Have you heard anything from the client?” I asked Sal once we were about a block away.

  He chuckled as he pulled out his phone. “He’s been busy.” Sal scrolled through the client’s social media page, showing the multitude of pictures the man posted of his evening out, from dinner to the movie theater, just as I’d told him to do.

  I had a love/hate relationship with social media. For everyday use, I found it fucking useless. Why would a person want to share what they were doing every second of the day? Look what I ate for breakfast! I just took a roaring shit! Who the hell cares? Maybe it was because I was pushing fifty and didn’t keep up with technology, or maybe it was because I was a cranky bastard, but I preferred privacy over popularity.

  Social media did play an important role in my line of work, however; thanks to his incessant posting, my client now had an airtight alibi for the night. So even if the fire was ruled as arson (which it wouldn’t be, because I’m not a fucking amateur), his name would be cleared, his check would be cut, and my pockets would be filled. Circle of life or some shit.

  “Look at the jugs on his wife!” Johnny exclaimed, his eyes damn near popping out of his head while he examined the client’s photos.

  “Maybe that’s why the guy’s in debt,” I quipped. “They look expensive.” Personally, I couldn’t care less about jugs as Johnny so tactfully called them. I preferred when my lover had a tight chest. Oh, and a dick.

  Yep, I was a gay mobster. I never tried to keep my identity a secret; Sal and Johnny had been my friends since we were kids, so they were well aware, and didn’t give a flying fuck. I did have trouble with a client not so long ago who found out I was gay; he thought that made me weak, and tried to get out of paying what he owed me. So logically I broke both of his legs and made him pay me double. Plus he had a fresh round of hospital bills to pay. I’ve not had a problem with any clients since.

  Normally, I wasn’t the muscle of the group; not because I couldn’t handle myself, but because I preferred being the brain of the operation. I liked dealing with our clients, planning out our marks and getting my hands dirty in the action. Sal and Johnny took more of a protection role, acting as my bodyguards. They were large and in charge and liked roughing up guys who didn’t play by the rules. Well, except for homophobic bigots; they were mine to deal with.

  I smirked when I heard the whine of a fire truck's siren in the distance, and Sal bumped his shoulder into mine. “Nice work, gentlemen,” I told them when we climbed back into Sal’s car and pulled out onto the main road. We revolved whose car we took on jobs so that we didn’t create a pattern of a particular vehicle being in the vicinity of our work.

  “I haven’t even gotten paid yet and that money’s already burning a hole in my pocket,” Johnny announced from the front seat. I laughed and shook my head, not surprised in the least by his statement; Johnny lived hard and fast and spent his money the same way. I suspected it came from growing up with no money; he couldn’t fight the fear of it disappearing before he could use it.

  Personally, I splurged on a few items; my home was bigger than necessary and was filled with expensive decor, and I had an affinity for cigars and scotch. But I also had an impressive savings account, a safe packed to the brim with cash and gems, and several business ventures under my belt. Sal was somewhere in between; h
e had plenty tucked away for a rainy day, but he liked to have a good time.

  Case in point: “Are you down for a visit to X-posure tonight?" Sal asked Johnny eagerly. X-posure was the city's raunchiest (and therefore most popular) strip club.

  "Hell yeah I'm down."

  "Drop me off at home first," I insisted, receiving well duh looks from over my friends' shoulders. Visiting an all female strip club appealed to me about as much as using hot sauce for lube.

  We chatted and exchanged ideas of how to spend our earnings as we drove across town to my place. My front gate rolled open after Sal punched in the security code; he, Johnny and Angelo were the only people who knew the number besides me, because they were the only ones I trusted.

  The gate closed as Sal came to a stop in front of my huge tan, two story stucco house. "Wrap 'em up tonight," I told my friends as I climbed out of the backseat. "The world does not need miniature versions of you fuckers running around." They snorted and waved before driving off.

  I barely reached the front door before it opened for me, with Angelo standing in the entryway wearing a sly smile. Angelo was Johnny's uncle who moved to town several years ago after his wife died. He first moved in with Johnny, but that didn't last long. They obviously loved each other, but living together wasn't an ideal situation; their personalities clashed and they bickered endlessly.

  So I stepped in with a solution and a job offer for Angelo; he prepared our meals, kept house, and acted as my butler in exchange for a place to stay. I also paid him very generously. Our agreement works out great; I'm a shit cook, but love everything Angelo makes. The place is big enough that we have our own personal space, but I enjoy talking to him. He works for me, but I treat him with respect. I see him as a father figure, which I never had in my life.

  "What's that look for?" I asked, inspecting the way his eyes twinkled with mischief.

  "I found a client for you."

  I blinked in surprise; Angelo never got involved with the business. He knew what Sal, Johnny and I did, but I would never let him put himself at risk by being a part of it.

  "He's in your study."

  "What?" I never met with anyone in my home. I didn't need people knowing where I lived or else they'd never leave me alone. There had to be a good reason for Angelo to do this. "Where did he come from?"

  "I ran into him earlier today when I went to the bank, and told him to come here later this evening. He just arrived about five minutes ago."

  They met at the bank? "So is the guy loaded or something?" If so, why did he need me? Did he have a big job he was willing to pay for? Personal injury, perhaps?

  "As far as I could tell, he has no money," Angelo shrugged.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What the literal fuck is going on?"

  Angelo just snickered. He was used to my language and gruff personality, and usually found it amusing. "Maybe you should just go speak with him."

  "Fine, but swear to god, old man; if this thing goes sideways, it's going to cost you your balls."

  Angelo only laughed harder. He knew my threats against him meant precisely dick, and that I’d never lay a finger on him. "I think my balls will be just fine, and yours will be quite happy."

  He smirked when I gave him a look of irritated confusion. I shook my head as he laughed again, and then I walked down the hall towards my study.

  Chapter Two

  Vinny

  I proudly inspected the corridor as I strolled through it. I loved my home, from its marble floors to the expensive artwork on the walls. It spoke of elegance and excess with its high ceilings and multiple rooms, many of which didn't serve a purpose beyond simply existing.

  I opened the door to my study without knocking or making my presence known; it was my damn house. When I stepped into the room, I saw no one and thought for a moment that Angelo was playing a trick on me.

  But then a man who looked to be in his early twenties appeared from around the high back chair he'd been sitting in, and I realized I couldn't see him previously because he wasn't tall enough for his head to show over the seat.

  The moment I saw the man, Angelo's remark about happy balls made sense; he was so goddamn pretty. He was slim and stood about a head shorter than me, had smooth cheeks and brown hair that was a little shaggier than my personal preference, but he made up for it with beautiful sapphire eyes. No doubt about it, Angelo knew my type. But the fact that this man made my dick drool didn't explain why he was here as a client.

  The young man twisted his fingers in front of him as he stared at me with wide, nervous eyes. He looked like a scared rabbit getting ready to run. Maybe because he could sense my hunger for him. I kept him in my predatory gaze a few more moments before asking, "What's your name?"

  "Lu-" he stopped to clear the shakiness from his voice. “Lucas Birch.”

  “Vincenzo Moretti.” I offered him my hand and he put his trembling one inside. Lucas gave a quiet gasp when I turned my wrist and bent to place a gentle kiss to his knuckles; contrary to popular belief, I could be a gentleman. It wasn’t how I generally greeted clients, but I couldn’t help myself around Lucas. That sent red flags flying and my heart racing. “Take a seat.”

  Lucas settled into the high back chair again, while I faced him in the leather wingback behind my desk. “So, Angelo told me that you two met at the bank.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered in a quiet voice, and my cock twitched in my pants. It made no sense; all of my clients called me sir. Hell, Angelo called me sir most of the time. But none of them exuded such sweet sexiness, or looked at me with a seductive mix of terror and intrigue. “I was trying to get a loan, but it didn’t work out.”

  “What did you want to buy with the loan?” A vacation? A new car? I could buy you anything you want; you just have to ask Daddy with those pretty lips of yours.

  I mentally punched myself in the face. What the hell is wrong with you, Vinny? I knew what was wrong, though; I was horny. And lonely. I hadn’t had anyone to play with for a long time, and hadn’t been in an actual relationship since lord only knew when. Having someone so young and gorgeous within arm’s reach was making me stupid. Keep it together!

  “I didn’t want to buy anything,” he explained. "I was trying to get money to pay off some debts, but the bank said that I didn't have any credit history."

  I narrowed my eyes; something was off. "How do you have debts but no credit history?"

  His gaze trailed down to his lap, where his fingers twisted again. "They're not my debts. Well, they are now, but they weren't in the beginning."

  My mind spun, trying to figure this beautiful boy out. He obviously had a story, but he was either too embarrassed or nervous to tell it. I wanted to help him relax, so I asked, "Would you like something to drink?"

  Lucas appeared surprised when he looked up at me until a tiny smile took his lips. "Yes, please."

  I opened the bottom drawer of my desk and pulled out a glass decanter of scotch and two short glasses. I filled mine nearly to the top, but when I started to pour the second, Lucas spoke up. “No thank you, sir.” When I gave him a confused look, he explained, “I don’t drink alcohol.”

  “Are you old enough?” passed my lips before I could stop it.

  Lucas didn’t appear offended, though; he just nodded and replied, “I’m twenty one. I just stay away from alcohol.”

  I’d been drinking since I was fifteen, but to each their own. I pressed the speakerphone button on the phone on my desk and punched in the code which connected me to the intercom systems throughout my home.

  “Angelo?”

  “Yes, sir?” sounded after a moment’s pause.

  “Could you bring a soda to my study?”

  “Of course. Do you need anything else?”

  I gave my attention to Lucas. “Are you hungry?” He nearly tied his knuckles in knots before answering with a slight nod. “And a sandwich, please.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  I clicked off the call and took a lo
ng sip of my scotch, studying the scared rabbit before me. He observed me too, though his eyes never met mine. They skittered over my body, and I couldn’t deny the spark of interest they held. Why was anyone’s guess; I was over double his age at forty seven, had lines on my face and gray in my hair and beard. But some guys were attracted to older men. Other guys were attracted to power, and I had plenty of that.

  I set my glass aside, propped my elbows onto my desk, and steepled my fingers beneath my chin. “Tell me about your debts.” Before I offered him anything or let my mind run too wild, I had to know what we were dealing with.

  Lucas cleared his throat again. “Well, sir, my mother died three weeks ago.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” I offered, and he gave me another small but pretty smile.

  “Thank you, but to be honest, she’s been gone for a while. You see, she had some...problems.”

  “Health problems?”

  He nodded. “She had an addiction. Over the years, it took hold of her more and more until I barely recognized her. I begged her to go to a rehab clinic, but she refused, so I took care of her the best I could.”

  “What about your father?” I interrupted; surely he had someone to help him through this, but Lucas shook his head.

  “I never knew him. He was out of the picture before I was born, so it was always just Mom and me. We did okay on our own, but things got pretty tough the past couple of years. We got money every month…” His cheeks flushed crimson but he pressed on, “You know...from the government; for food and rent and stuff. But towards the end, any money that came in went straight into Mom’s veins.”

  He swallowed hard and his eyes turned glassy when he continued, “Our rent got so far behind and bills were stacking up. I tried to help out by getting a job delivering food, but I didn’t make enough to get us out of trouble. Plus, I lost my position because I didn’t have reliable transportation; I couldn’t afford my own car, and Mom would take off in hers for days at a time.”