Broken Songbird (Vicious Games #2)

1. Chapter 1

T hump, thump, thump.

The heavy beats of the music now live in my chest. Everything seems to be pulsing: the walls, the floors, my body.

I ride the cloud of euphoria from the little red pill me and Matteo took forty minutes ago, my fingers trailing up my silk dress with my eyes closed as I sway to the deep beats.

This is not how I thought my night would go. This poker event hosted by the Herringtons was a convergence of Melbourne’s elite and the city’s most lethal. Celebrity and wealth weaved with criminals and corruption in a dark soiree of cards and cash.

I have to admit—it was exhilarating .

But I knew this night was going to be like navigating a minefield.

Enzo’s energy was volatile tonight, and Del continuously pushed all his wrong buttons with every interaction she had with that henchman, Peter. Despite Enzo having that other brunette on his lap all night, I wouldn’t be surprised if Peter ends up dead by Enzo’s hands.

My mind drifts back to Del and I sigh softly. She’s on the verge of shutting down again, and I don’t know how I’m going to pull her out this time.

“Those two need to fuck it out already,” Creed had commented when we left the poker table as Raph called a business meeting. “They’re both fucking obsessed with each other.”

I had turned to him at that declaration and got lost.

Bright, honey-brown eyes regarded me with such singular focus. Such pretty eyes for such a dangerous man.

I’ve noticed since I’ve met Creed, if he’s got his eyes on you, then you have his full attention.

His dark brown hair was tied back in a small, neat bun, the sides freshly cut short. He’d swapped his usual T-shirt and club cut for a black suit and shirt. He didn’t wear a tie, the top two buttons undone, emphasising the tattoo on his neck. It was a portrait of a woman, one half of her face beautiful, with an angel wing sweeping up to his ear. The other half of her face was tainted with darkness, now demonic, and a damaged, bat-like demon wing reaching his other ear.

And those two rings in his lips kept drawing my attention all night, the lights catching in the silver every time he spoke, smirked, licked his lips.

I remember kissing him at that bar we first met on my birthday. Those tempting lips are lips are soft, warm, biteable .

I had pulled myself out of my drooling over Creed to find out from him that Enzo’s wife, Sienna, had been dead for ten years, and before I could go to tell Del, Matteo joined us.

And once again, I was lost.

Matteo was also in a black-on-black suit, his ocean-blue eyes capturing my attention and not letting go until he was ready. He convinced me that things would be rectified between Enzo and Del, and instead of interfering with that course of action, I should join him and Creed to an after party.

I can never seem to refuse Teo. He has this heavy magnetism that calls to parts of me I wouldn’t normally explore in myself. But with Teo exuding temptation and assurance in a dizzying flurry of colours, I don’t have any reason to say no.

So here I am at the after party. The ‘after party’ being me in a hotel room, alone , with a Herrington, one of the most powerful families in this city, and the president of the Savage Wings Motorcycle Club, rumoured to be one of the most vicious biker clubs in the country.

Is this the smartest decision I’ve made in my life?

Absolutely not.

I giggle at that thought, continuing to trail my fingers over my dress. Sensations roll through me. This satin is so soft and smooth…

And stifling .

I’m hot. So fucking hot .

I stop dancing and open my eyes. The world tilts slightly as I look around the hotel room. Matteo has his eyes closed, head tilted back, as he sways to the music nearby. After both of the men stripped out of their suit jackets and pulled off hidden holsters full of weapons, Matteo dumped a pile of coke onto a tray, and we went through a good portion of it together, Creed deciding not to partake in anything stronger than liquor.

He did provide the pills at Teo’s request though, and between the coke and the pills, my whole body is buzzing.

But I’m too fucking hot .

I shuffle past Creed, who’s draped over an armchair on his phone with some sort of amber liquor in the glass hanging from his fingers. I bump into the desk where Teo dumped his holster of knives and pull one out, then put all my focus into sliding the blade between me and the dress, turning in Creed’s direction.

He jerks up from his seat in my periphery as I turn the blade and slice through half of the contraption. Stinging pain registers on my sternum.

“You could’ve just asked, princess,” Creed says, as his searing hand closes over mine on the blade.

I pluck his drink from his other hand, taking a tentative sip as he slices through the rest of the fabric. I cringe at the burn of the whiskey as the dress slides to the floor in tatters. This dress has built-in boning, so I didn’t wear a bra. I burst into laughter.

“At least I’m wearing panties,” I comment.

I’m rapt in watching Creed’s honey-brown eyes glow with heat as they drop down my body leisurely, then return to my chest. I absently take another sip of Creed’s drink and cringe again.

“This drink is terrible,” I declare, pushing the glass into his chest.

“What do you prefer?” he asks.

“Tequila,” I say immediately. “Always tequila.”

His tempting lips curve into a languid smile. How did I not notice he has dimples ? Those small indents on each side of that perfect face screams nothing but trouble.

“You okay?” Creed asks, pointing with his chin to my chest, taking his drink back.

I look down at the slow oozing cut between my breasts.

“Those blades are sharp,” I mumble, sliding my hands over my skin. Since when was I so soft?

I step forward, grabbing Creed’s wrist, and place his free hand over my right breast. “I’m so soft.”

“Mmm.” The rings he always seems to wear seem cool on my heated skin, but his touch is scorching . His thumb brushes over my hard nipple, sending little shocks of pleasure through my body.

I step forward, pulling his other arm around me and sliding my hands up his chest, the feel of his shirt under my touch buzzing in my fingertips. “You’re soft too.”

Creed’s hand slides down to my ass as he pulls me against him. “ Just soft?”

A devious smile spreads across my face as I press my belly further into his very hard cock. “Maybe not everything.”

Creed’s eyes drop to my mouth, and mine do the same as I watch his tongue dance over the two rings in his lip.

“ Those are soft,” I murmur, my focus transfixed on his mouth.

“What are?”

“Your lips.” I want to follow the path his tongue just went with my own.

He tips his head forward, his nose almost brushing mine. “I don’t believe you.”

“I would know if it’s true,” I argue.

His lips lift on one side, a dimple popping. “Prove it.”

I cup his stubbled jaw, my thumb running over the dimple. “I might be naked right now, but I’m not yours to command.”

Heat burns in his gaze. “Do you want to be?”

Matteo’s chuckle pulls me out of my Creed vortex as he appears next to me. “I didn’t know we were getting naked.”

“It was too hot,” I grumble.

In a few quick movements, Matteo pulls his shirt off and tosses it onto the bed. He has a lithe, well-defined body with scars scattered over his deep golden skin. I turn in Creed’s hold to face Matteo, my fingers reaching out and gliding over raised pink slashes and jagged puncture scars, all the different sensations vibrating through my finger.

“You’re bleeding,” Matteo says, his thumb trailing down the side of the wound, and under my breast. He leans forward, swiping his tongue over the cut, making me press further into Creed and giggle at the sensation on my sensitive skin.

“Ew, Teo! What if I had a disease?”

His sparkling ocean-blue eyes look at me. “Do you?”

“No, but—”

My words die on a gasp as he licks the length of my wound again.

“All clean,” he announces as he straightens.

I snort. “Tongues are covered in germs.”

“Nah, mine is magic,” Matteo drawls, his hand sliding across my ribcage.

“Oh really?”

One side of his devious lips lift. “You would already know about my magic if you didn’t declare that we would never happen.”

I reach out again, stroking down his chest lightly as a lazy smile stretches over my face. “Maybe I’ve changed my mind.”

He groans. “Don’t tease me, Scar.”

“I’m not.”

He narrows his eyes slightly in contemplation. “You’re high.”

“I’m buzzed, not incoherent. I can make my own choices.”

His expression doesn’t change, and I sigh. It’s good to know that he doesn’t want to take advantage of me, but…

“I need a pen.”

Matteo frowns, confused.

“ Pen ,” I demand.

That spark in his eyes is dangerous . I know he has certain tastes, dominant-leaning ones, and my attitude right now is bound to push those particular buttons. But he refrains from acting on them and crosses to the desk, snatching up a hotel pen and brings it back to me. I grab his arm and write ‘Fuck Scar’ on his bare skin, enticing a low chuckle.

“There,” I huff. “Written consent. Satisfied?”

“Perfect penmanship,” Matteo comments.

I turn to Creed and grab his left wrist, writing the same across one of the many tattoos on his forearm. I peek up at Creed as he stares at his arm, surprise creasing his brow.

“I want this. With both of you.”

His eyes flick up to me. “You think you’ll be able to survive the both of us, princess?”

“Preferably not.”

Those honey-brown irises burn as fingers slip into my hair from behind and close around a handful, pulling me back.

I stumble into a hard body, grabbing Creed’s forearms for balance as Matteo turns my head, looking down at me with a wicked grin. “Does the pretty Songbird want to be broken?”

“Break me,” I whisper.

He tsks. “Where are your manners? It’s ‘break me, sir ’.”

“Sir,” I say back breathlessly. Satisfied, his grip loosens in my hair, and I turn my head back to Creed. “What do you want me to call you?”

He smirks, those beautiful honey-brown eyes hooded. “You can call me whatever you want.”

“A good boy?”

Matteo chuckles. “How did I know you’d be a brat?”

“Because you’re psychic?”

The world blurs for a moment as I’m spun, and my focus lands on blue eyes simmering with heat as Matteo’s hand wraps around my throat, the firm grip a warning.

“You don’t want to play this game with me, Scarlett.”

“Yeah, I do.” Caution left me the moment I stayed in this hotel room.

He pulls me flush against his chest, our noses pressed together, his pupils blown. “You better be ready.”

“Give it to me.”

Creed’s throaty chuckle vibrates through me before his body heat disappears, leaving me shivering. I can feel my heartbeat thundering in Matteo’s grip as he steps forward, moving me backward.

His hand around my throat moves to my nape, and he turns me to face Creed, who’s seated in the armchair. Matteo bends me forward at the waist and I throw my hands out, catching myself by gripping Creed’s thighs before I’m face first in his crotch.

A hard smack lands on my left ass cheek, and I yelp. “Ten strikes for your bratty attitude,” Matteo announces, caressing my heated flesh.

A finger hooks under my chin, tilting my face up to Creed’s hooded, lust-drunk eyes. “Count out the strikes, princess.”

Matteo strikes my right ass cheek.

“Two,” I gasp, eyes glued on Creed.

“Manners, Songbird,” Matteo reprimands. “Start from the beginning.” He strikes over the first spot.

“One, sir ,” I croak out.

Strike.

My breath catches. “Two, sir.”

Strike.

A small whimper escapes. “Three, sir.”

As he covers my ass and upper thighs with handprints, I count them out dutifully, my legs trembling as pleasure and pain pulses through my body, making me ache . I never look away from Creed, watching heady lust burn in his eyes—eyes that watch everything .

“Last one, princess,” Creed whispers hoarsely.

Matteo hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them off, the sensation of the lace sliding across my tender skin shooting pleasure directly to my clit.

I try to breathe evenly as I wait for the last blow, not giving a single fuck I am fully exposed to Matteo. The anticipation racks at every nerve ending, every sense in overdrive.

Matteo lands the last strike—vertical, directly over my core. My knees give out and my eyes roll back. Matteo hooks his hand over my hipbone, catching me before I fall as Creed’s fingers flex on my jaw.

“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” he commands, and my eyes fly open.

“T-ten, sir,” I stutter out as Matteo cups me, his fingers sliding through my slickness.

“You’re dripping,” he groans, his fingers circle over my throbbing clit, making me jolt. Keeping a firm, lazy, circular motion, two fingers slide into me, pressing and curling down, and I moan.

“Do you want to come, little Songbird?” Matteo asks, continuing his heady movements.

“Yes,” I breathe. “Yes, please, sir.”

He chuckles. “She begs so pretty.”

Creed caresses my face, the rough callouses and the metal of his rings sending tingles over my skin, then his fingers bracket my throat. “Eyes on me.”

Matteo’s fingers work my body with expert moves as my legs tremble, my body climbing higher and higher to oblivion. Creed’s liquid honey gaze watches me with that singular focus, like nothing else exists.

“Choke me,” I beg, my voice a hoarse whisper.

Creed’s fingers tighten, his rings biting into my skin as he presses into the muscles of my neck so I can still breathe, but it’s constricted. My head swims, pressure building behind my eyes.

He could squeeze a little harder and I would pass out. He could squeeze hard enough to end my life.

Adrenalized terror spreads through me, racketing my pleasure higher, my body squeezing around Matteo’s fingers. Matteo adds a third and quickens his pace. I feel my eyes rolling back.

Creed’s fingers flex harder around my throat. “Eyes.”

I whimper, the pressure behind my eyes increasing, black spots dancing over my vision. My heart hammers in my ears, and my body quivers.

I’m going to come, or pass out, or pass out as I come.

“Come for us, Scar,” Matteo commands.

Creed loosens his grip on my throat, the pressure in my head now a rush of heat, and I explode. Pure euphoria blasts through my body, my damn soul, as white blinds my vision. I never want to come back from this transcendent high.

I ride the orgasm for what feels like an eternity, and eventually come back to this plane. Matteo’s holding me up by the hips, my legs currently useless, and Creed has his hand hooked around my triceps or I’d literally be face-first in his dick.

Matteo leans over my body, the fabric of his pants agitating my spank-tender flesh. “Again?”

“As long as I’m not standing,” I pant.

Creed chuckles, his dimples creasing his cheeks. “I think it’s time Matteo shows you that magic tongue of his.”

“Excellent idea,” Matteo purrs.

His body disappears from mine, and my legs are pulled open. His head appears under me and his hands wrap around my thighs, pulling me down. I yelp as I land on my knees and his face.

From my new position, I look up at Creed—he’s unbuckling his belt at a lazy pace, his tongue playing with one of his lip rings. God, I want to kiss him.

I’m about to move to do just that, but Matteo’s tongue darts out and licks a hot path from hole to clit.

“Oh,” I gasp, pleasurable shocks pulsing through me, my thighs squeezing around his ears.

He hums approvingly, then licks me again; my eyes slide closed, and I drape heavily over Creed’s thighs as my body melts into liquid heat.

Matteo swirls his tongue like he’s drawing fucking mystical hieroglyphics, sending my body to another crescendo. His hand on my thighs spread me wider, further seating me on his mouth, and then one hand disappears and slaps my ass cheek.

I jolt, pain infusing with pleasure. His hand grips the stinging flesh, his fingers glide down, sliding between his chin and me. He inserts two and I clench. He presses them forward, stroking in and out at a steady pace as his tongue continues casting its intricate spell.

I have no choice but to surrender to the wave of pleasure wrecking me as another orgasm pulls me into its depths. I feel this one deep in my body, in places never discovered.

I try not to collapse fully onto Matteo’s face, but my muscles are gelatinous. I remember the healthy pace to breathe when Creed moves under me, and I force my eyes open. My breath catches at the sight.

Ringed fingers wrapped around a thick cock. Creed’s shirt hanging open, displaying a heavily tattooed, perfectly chiselled body. Honey-brown eyes only focused on me .

My eyes flick back down to his cock as he pumps himself once, twice. The tip weeps and I lick my lips. I want to taste him.

“Again,” Matteo growls from under me, pulling my attention.

“I don’t think I can,” I say in a rush.

“You can,” Creed says, continuing to stroke himself. “You will .”

Matteo sucks my sensitive clit, and I shudder. The sensation is overwhelming, but between the erotic display in front of me, and Matteo’s mystical ministrations, another orgasm is wrung out of me in record time.

I come down from this one softer and quicker, but I’m a fucking mess . Matteo’s tongue is magic, and Creed’s body is a feast.

Matteo slides out from underneath me and leans over, licking my cheek, then pressing his lips to my ear.

“Now,” he purrs. “Let’s fuck some life back into you.”

“That’s going to be a mission, since I’m practically dead,” I mumble, my cheek pressed into Creed’s thighs, my eyes closed.

A calloused hand strokes my jaw. “Do you need a break?”

I pry my eyes open to Creed. “And a shower?”

He nods and stuffs himself back into his pants, and I hear Matteo stand, then crash down onto the couch.

Creed stabilises me as he stands and then scoops me off the floor, holding me to his chest.

I look over at Matteo as Creed carries me toward the bathroom. He’s on his back sprawled out on the couch, his suit pants button open and an arm flung over his eyes.

“I’ll be back to show you what my tongue can do,” I say to Matteo, enticing a low chuckle from him.

Creed plants me on a folded towel on the vanity as he moves to the shower. I lean back, hissing at the cool mirror shocking my heated skin, and admire Creed moving around the bathroom, turning the water on in the shower and pulling more towels from a shelf.

The cut on my chest catches my eye, and I inspect it. It’s not too deep, more like a scrape, so it won’t scar.

“Shower’s all yours,” Creed announces, pulling my attention.

His shirt still hangs open as he leans against the doorframe.

“Is your whole body tattooed?” I ask.

He smiles. “Most of it.”

“Where isn’t tattooed?”

The dimples pop out. “You saw one part.”

His cock. “Anywhere else?”

“A couple of spots on my legs, the top of one of my feet, one of my ass cheeks.”

“Now I have to see your tattooed one.”

Creed crosses his arms over his chest. “I’d have to get naked to show you the whole piece.”

I gesture at myself. “Join the party.”

His eyes travel down my body, heat flashing in his gaze. He steps closer to me, shucking off his shirt and pulls his belt from the loops, dropping it on the floor. When he’s a couple of steps away, he doesn’t hesitate to lose his pants.

I sit forward, gripping the edge of the vanity. There are so many art pieces; I don’t even know where to begin. Most of it is in black and grey, with a splash of red here and there, in a variety of styles. They all work with each other without any of it feeling out of place.

My eyes drop to his still-hard cock—thick, so thick, a decent length, veiny, and straight. My jaw already aches at the thought of getting my mouth on it. The skin immediately around his dick is bare, as well as both inner thighs, one shin and the top of one foot.

I lift a finger and twirl it. “Turn.”

He puffs out a laugh and does. His left ass cheek is indeed bare, as well as his left thigh, but my eye catches on the art piece on the right side of his body.

It’s a black and grey depiction of a sinking pirate ship, pieces of it sinking into the ocean. In the foreground is the back of a mermaid who’s brushing her hair, while under the water a huge kraken pulls passengers of the ship to the depths.

“That’s incredible,” I whisper. “How long did it take to complete?”

“A year,” he says, turning to face me. “Shower?”

I forgot about that. I slide onto the floor, tipping my head back to smile at him. “Only if you join me.”

He tips his chin, sweeping his hand out toward the shower. I grab his hand and inspect his rings. He wears one on each finger, all of them silver, maybe made of steel, and a variety of shapes.

“Why do you wear so many rings?” I ask as I tug them off and set them down on the counter.

“Extra damage when I hit someone.”

I hum. Never would have thought of that. I grip one hand and drag him toward the steamy alcove. I stop short of the water, realising I have nothing to take my make-up off or tie my hair up.

I turn, not realising Creed is so close, and I bump into him. He wraps an arm around me, so we don’t crash out of the open shower door, pressing my whole front to him, his cock nudging into my stomach.

“Second thoughts?” he says with a smirk.

“I don’t want to get my hair wet.”

Keeping an arm locked around me, he reaches up and pulls his hair tie free, shaking out his dark locks and holding the tie out to me. The strands fall all around his face, the ends curling slightly over his angular cheekbones.

I reach up and scrape my fingers through the soft strands, pushing one side off of his face. He sighs heavily, eyes fluttering closed as he leans into the touch. He has a light amount of product in his hair, making it stay off his face, so I do it to the other side.

His eyes are still closed as I finally take the tie and scoop all my hair into a high bun. I step back to move from Creed’s hold, but his arm tightens around me and his eyes open.

Intense liquid honey. He backs me into the tile wall, slick with condensation, and crushes his lips to mine.

Static buzzes in my ears.

Like his gaze, his kiss is focused, all-consuming, and biteable . I sink my teeth into his bottom lip, the rings clanking on my teeth. He growls, pulling me away by the nape. His chest rises and falls evenly while I’m panting.

“I bite harder,” he warns.

“I hope so.”

Creed’s eyes darken as he dips down and grabs me under the thighs and hoists me up. I wrap my legs around him, his hard cock pressed into my wet core. He rocks his hips, spreading my arousal over his length.

“Fuck me,” I whisper across his lips.

He pauses his movements and frowns. “Condom?”

“I’m on birth control, and clean.”

“I’m clean too. But—”

“Creed, please ,” I plead.

“ Fuck, ” he groans, rocking his hips.

I grip his shoulders and pull myself a little higher, tilting my hips, and he lines up his cock with my entrance.

“Are you sure ?” Creed asks, his voice gruff, eyes searching mine.

“God, yes,” I say without hesitation.

He presses forward, the tip of his cock filling me, stretching me. Holy fuck . He presses in another inch and I’m quivering.

He pushes in more and groans. “Jesus, Scarlett. You’ve…you’ve done this before, right?”

“Had sex, yes. Been impaled, fuck no.”

His throaty laugh turns into another guttural moan as he presses in until he’s fully seated. My breath catches as my body flutters around Creed. The stretch is almost painful, but the full feeling is something else.

Creed pulls out slightly, slowly, and then thrusts back in.

“Oh,” I gasp.

“Too much?”

“I’m good,” I breathe, and give him a coy smile. “Preferably more.”

Those dimples reappear as he pulls out more and then thrusts back in. I choke on a moan. He starts to move, the thrusts getting longer, a little faster, but still controlled so my body can accommodate to his size. My legs tremble around him as I get slicker, making his movements easier.

“Creed,” I pant. “Faster.”

My head falls back against the tile, my eyes roll closed as he slams into me. I feel every inch of him, his pelvic bones slamming into my thighs, his teeth latched onto my shoulder.

His hand slides between us and his fingers find my clit, circling at a fevered pace. I groan, my nails digging into his arms as my body ratchets to an orgasm that might actually break me.

“Oh… fuck ,” I whimper. “I’m going to come.”

“Eyes, Scarlett,” Creed demands, his rhythm never faltering. “Eyes.”

I drag my eyes open with effort, finding his blazing honey-brown gaze. Focused, always so focused.

“Harder,” I plead.

He obliges, fucking me hard and deep. The dull pain of his hip bones crashing into my thighs, the slapping of our skin, his heavy breathing, all adds to my arousal, and I fight to breathe as I hold off on the orgasm demanding release.

“Come…come with me, Creed,” I pant, tightening my legs around him. “ In me.”

“Fuck,” he groans, his rhythm turning frantic. His fingers circle my clit faster, touching his forehead to mine, his eyes determined. “Come for me, princess.”

I crash into golden oblivion. Creed moves wildly as I convulse around him, my brain rewiring as I ride the tantric high. Creed groans, crashing into me to the hilt, his eyes rolling closed as he comes. His cock pulses as he empties into me, and primal satisfaction vibrates in my veins—he’s marked me inside and out.

“Scar,” Creed pants, his eyelids fluttering open.

“Yeah,” is all I can articulate.

We don’t move, our bodies still connected, as our laboured breathing calms.

“At least we don’t have to go far to clean up,” I say.

Creed chuckles, the sound and the movement vibrating through me. “Give me a second.”

“Have two.”

Creed shakes his head, and he leans down to kiss my shoulder. Movement over Creed’s shoulder through the steamed glass catches my attention.

Matteo.

His silhouette turns sharply, and leaves.