Devon sank back, his body still thrumming with heat from the raw, sweaty fuck with Amara. His thick cock hung heavy between his thighs, softening now but still twitching, slick with her sweet pussy juice and his own cum drying in the warm, sticky air of the VIP booth.

The redhead knelt between his legs, her lips wrapped greedy around his shaft, tongue lapping slow and hungry, chasing every last drop of their mixed juices like it was her favorite dessert.

Her mouth felt hot, eager, teasing him with soft sucks that sent little sparks up his spine.

But Devon was done with her for now. He

reached down, fingers brushing her soft cheek before gripping her chin gentle but firm, lifting her face up. Her big, needy eyes met his, lips shiny and pouting.

"Stand up, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding, his eyes not even lingering on her.

The redhead let out a soft whine, like a kid denied candy, but she obeyed fast. She stood with a teasing wiggle, her perky tits bouncing once, nipples hard and pink under the golden lights. Her thighs rubbed together, slick with her own wetness, and she licked her lips slow, savoring his taste one last time.

She stepped back quiet, knowing better than to push him, her eyes still hungry but respectful.

Devon shifted his focus, locking onto Victoria sitting across from him.

The fabric clung to her curves like it was painted on, tight over her hips, dipping low at her chest but Devon didn't give a damn about her body right now. His glare hit her hard, jaw clenched so tight it looked like he was chewing on rage.

The air between them thickened, heavy with tension, like the calm before a thunderstorm. The huge bodyguard behind her shifted, his muscles bulging under a tight black shirt, ready to move if needed.

But Victoria didn't blink.

She held his stare steady, her dark eyes calm, a faint smile curling her lips like she knew something he didn't. Devon stayed silent, arms crossing over his chiseled chest, waiting. He didn't need to speak, his presence demanded answers, and he could feel she was ready to spill.

The booth pulsed with life around them, the air thick with the musky scent of sweat, sex, and sweet pussy juice. Distant moans from the orgy drifted in like a naughty soundtrack, soft gasps, wet slaps, and low, hungry groans mixing with the clink of glasses from the bar.

But all that faded as Victoria's voice cut through, smooth and sharp as a blade.

"Bring them in," she said, waving her hand casual, like she was calling for a drink.

From the shadows at the back of the VIP lounge, two big guards emerged, dragging a pair of middle-aged men between them.

The sight was brutal, like something out of a nightmare. These guys looked like they'd been through a meat grinder.

Their faces were smashed to hell, blood caked thick on swollen cheeks, split lips oozing fresh red, dripping down their chins in slow, sticky trails. Their eyes were half-shut, black bruises blooming purple and blue, puffy like rotten fruit.

One guy's nose was crooked, smashed flat; the other had a gap where a front tooth used to be, his bloody grin crooked and pitiful. Their clothes were nothing but torn rags. shirts ripped open, exposing bruised ribs jutting sharp under pale, clammy skin. Pants stained with dirt, blood, and the sharp stink of piss.

Their arms hung limp, like broken branches swaying useless, fingers swollen fat and purple from punches or boots.

The guards shoved them forward rough, the men stumbling on shaky legs, feet dragging across the sticky floor, leaving smears of blood behind.

One coughed wet and ragged, blood bubbling from his lungs with a sick gurgle that made Devon's gut twist.

The other wheezed shallow, pained breaths, his skin so pale it looked gray, sweat and blood mixing in shiny streaks down his neck.

The guards didn't give them a chance to stand. They kicked their knees out hard, forcing them down with a heavy thud onto the floor, right between Devon and Victoria.

The impact sent a fresh splatter of blood from one guy's mouth, spraying across the floor in a wet arc, the metallic tang hitting Devon's nose sharp and sour.

They knelt there, panting hard, heads hanging low, bodies trembling whether from pain, fear, or both, it was hard to tell. The booth lights cast harsh shadows over their broken faces, making them look even more like ghosts.

Victoria leaned forward just a bit, her dark eyes gleaming with cold satisfaction, like a cat watching a trapped mouse. "Meet Harold Kline and Reed," she said, voice calm and easy, like she was introducing buddies at a barbecue.

"They work for Apex Dynamics and these two sorry bastards? They're the ones who set up the hit on you, Devon."

Devon sat up straighter, his body tensing like a coiled spring ready to snap. His eyes locked hard on the two battered messes kneeling there, blood dripping slow from their faces onto the floor.

The air felt heavier now, thicker, the orgy's moans fading to a distant hum in his ears, drowned out by the wet, ragged rasp of their breathing. His heart thumped steady but hard, anger simmering slow under his skin.

He leaned in closer, the sharp smell of their blood mixing with the booth's sex stink, sweat, cum, and pussy juice all blending into something raw and real.

"Why?" he asked, voice deep and cold as a winter grave, each word heavy with threat.

He stared them down like they were bugs he could crush under his boot, his gaze piercing, demanding answers.

Harold, the one with the split lip hanging open like a torn rag tried to speak. His mouth opened slow, lips cracking, fresh blood welling up.

But instead of words, a thick gush of dark red poured out, splattering the floor in a wet puddle that spread slow, shining under the lights. He coughed hard, body shaking like a leaf in a storm, more blood flecking his chin and dripping down his torn shirt in slow rivulets.

He glanced sideways at Marcus, his partner, who looked even worse eyes glassy and unfocused, like he was already half-gone, breathing shallow and ragged, each inhale a painful wheeze that sounded like it hurt bad. His skin was gray, almost translucent, sweat and blood mixing in shiny streaks down his neck, pooling at his collarbone.

They just knelt there, broken and silent, the only sounds their wheezing breaths and the slow drip-drip of blood hitting the floor.

Devon turned his glare to Victoria, his face hardening even more, deep lines creasing around his eyes. "I won't get any damn information from them in this state. Why did you put them like this?"

Victoria smiled cool and easy, crossing her legs smoother, the soft whisper of her suit's fabric cutting through the heavy air. "To make an example, Devon," she said, voice steady like it was just another day at the office.

"Anyone who comes after you? This is what they get. Quick and clear, no second chances, no mercy." She paused, letting her words sink in, her eyes never leaving his.

Then, as if to hammer it home, the guard who'd brought them in reached into his jacket, pulling out a silent pistol, his face showed nothing, no mercy, no pity, just cold, empty business.

He aimed quick and steady, no hesitation, and fired twice—phut-phut—the bullets punching clean through their skulls with dull, sickening thuds.

Blood sprayed short and hot, splattering the floor in dark arcs, bodies slumping forward in heavy heaps, dead eyes staring blank at the sticky tiles.

The sharp metallic tang of fresh blood hit the air, mixing with the booth's sweaty, cum-soaked smell, making everything feel gritty, raw, and alive.

The VIP crowd barely blinked. A few heads turned lazy, glancing over with mild curiosity, like they were checking out a spilled drink.

Then they shrugged, turning back to their fun like nothing happened. The orgy rolled on smooth—moans climbing louder, wet slaps of skin on skin echoing through the lounge, laughter mixing with gasps and needy sighs.

A woman nearby laughed light, her voice high and playful, as she kept riding her partner's cock, her ass bouncing like the dead bodies a few feet away were just furniture.

Devon's fist clenched tighter, knuckles going white, his eyes narrowing at the bodies bleeding out on the floor. "I hope you're not hiding anything,"

She shook her head quick, smile not fading one bit, her dark eyes steady and clear. "Not at all, Devon. We're on your side. This is protection, pure and simple." She paused a beat, letting the words settle, her bodyguard standing still as stone behind her, watching everything with cold eyes.

Devon's frown deepened, his jaw ticking, but he didn't push it. The tension hung thick for a second longer, like a held breath.

Then Victoria reached into her suit pocket, slow and deliberate, pulling out a card—black as midnight, edged with thin gold lines that caught the golden lights like buried treasure.

The whole VIP froze mid-fuck—eyes widening big, yearning looks spreading fast across faces, like that card was the key to heaven.

"The black tier card." A guy nearby stopped thrusting into his partner, staring jealous, his cock softening as she whined for him to keep going, her voice sharp and annoyed.

Victoria held the card out to Devon between two fingers, her smile cool. "Take it," she said, voice smooth as silk.

"This is the black tier card for the Velvet Circle. It's your key to everything we've got—clubs like this, safe houses across the globe, private jets ready to fly you anywhere, anytime. Resources? They're endless. Need cash for a deal? You have as much as you can have Protection? Our best teams, armed to the teeth, on call 24/7. Whatever you need, people, info, gear, weapons, whatever you want and it's yours."

Her words flowed natural, like she was selling a dream, but there was steel behind them.

Devon stared at the card a beat, his face unreadable. Then he reached out slow, taking it between his strong fingers, turning it over. It felt heavy, smooth, almost alive with power.

The gold edges gleamed under the lights, and he could feel the eyes on him, envy burning hot from every corner of the lounge.

He slipped it into his pocket casual, like it was no big deal. "Alright then," he said, voice flat and even, giving nothing away.

Victoria's smile stretched wide, real joy flashing bright in her dark eyes. Her whole face lit up like she'd just won the biggest prize.

She almost jumped from her chair, excitement bubbling through her cool mask, but she caught herself quick, smoothing her suit and settling back into professional calm.

"We've got more for you, Devon," she said, voice playful now, like she was unwrapping a gift. "You're a king here, and kings don't settle for just one. Amara's hot, but let's make this a real party."

She snapped her fingers sharp, the sound slicing through the orgy's moans like a whip crack.

From the shadows at the back of the VIP, five women stepped forward, slow and seductive, their naked bodies glowing under the golden lights.

The sight hit the room like a wave of pure heat, voluptuous curves on full display, bodies built for sin. Full, heavy tits swayed hypnotic with every step, nipples perky and begging for tongues to tease them. Asses plump and round jiggled just right, bouncing perfect with each sway of their hips. Thighs thick and toned rubbed together, slick with their own wetness, leaving shiny trails.

Their skin gleamed, some tan and sun-kissed, some pale and creamy, some dark and rich—all oiled up, catching the light like wet silk. Pussies shaved smooth, glistening wet, clits swollen and pink, peeking out like little invitations.

Among them were Bambi and Candy from earlier, blonde bombshells with tits bouncing free and full, asses heart-shaped and perfect, eyes locked on Devon with raw hunger, lips parted wet and ready.

The other three? A fiery redhead with freckles dusting her massive tits and fat ass, her pussy lips puffy pink and dripping, leaving a tiny trail on the floor.

A brunette with long waves cascading down her back, hourglass figure tight, tits so full they slapped her belly soft, ass cheeks clapping light with each step. And an ebony beauty with skin like smooth chocolate, tits round and high, ass so juicy it wobbled, thighs promising to wrap tight and hold on forever.

They moved like predators stalking prey, hips swaying slow and seductive, scents of sweet perfume—jasmine, vanilla, and musk mixing with their fresh arousal, filling the air with a heady fog that made cocks twitch hard and pussies clench tight.

The whole VIP stared, jealous whispers floating, "Lucky bastard."

"Fuck, wish that was me."

They lined up close, bodies brushing soft, skin on skin warm and electric. The air crackled with their heat, their eyes all on Devon, hungry and waiting.

Victoria stood up smooth, her heels clicking steady on the floor. "Have a good time, Dr. Devon," she said, voice teasing now, like she knew exactly what kind of night he was about to have.

She turned to leave, her bodyguard falling in step behind her like a silent shadow.

Devon's voice cut through the air, cold and sharp as a blade. "And where do you think you're going?" The words stopped her dead in her tracks, her heel clicking once more before she froze.

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