Maid for the Mafia by Jaylee

Santos

**RUBY**

When I come to, I'm chained to something much more comfortable than before and I growl.

*Goddamnit. I'm in a bed, aren't I? This bastard has finally made good on his threat to give me to his men.* Fucking coward.

It's dark as pitch in this space and there's absolutely *zero* give in the chains that have me spread eagled across this monstrously large bed, but I can feel his presence. I *know* he's in here watching me.

"Too much of a coward to leave me any feeling in my limbs?" I asked into the dark, knowing he *hates* when I refer to him as what he is. A *coward.*

A dark chuckle filtered toward me in black open space. By now, my eyes should have adjusted at least a little, and the fact that they haven't tells me that this room is primarily black in the daylight. A dim light goes on near the far wall and now I can see him standing next to a bar. Santos. And just like every other time I've laid eyes on him, he is beautiful. Too beautiful, really.

His pale blue eyes find mine as he pours himself a drink. "I like you like that. Angry and at my mercy. I can't tell you how much it turns me on."

"What?" I snapped, doing a mental inventory of myself as my brain cleared of the fog the drugs he pumped into me induced before I passed out. I'm still dressed, praise God. I can feel the fabric of my pants shift when I try to move and hear the stiffness of the dried blood on my shirt crackle. Oddly enough, I've been here over a month and the blood isn't mine, it belongs to his men that tried to manhandle me when I first got here. *Before* he conjured up the good sense to drug me, I was handcuffed and left hanging on a long hook in a cell. The very first of his men that came for me learned *very* quickly that they should have secured my legs too. I snapped the bastard's neck with my thighs. The very last breath he took was with my pussy in his face. I still smile when I think about that. Three more came in right after him and at first, I had no idea we were being watched until one of said men got it in his head to try and rape me. Santos shot him in the head at point blank range as the bastard fondled my tits. His blood has long since dried.

with dope to keep me sedated. I'm actually surprised given that he knows I was here to kill him. However, he did threaten me trying to

the side. He swore that if I continued to decline his offer, he would give me to his men, then kill me. So that has to be what this is. That has to

as the muscles of his chest. *He's not wearing a shirt. Why? Why is he not wearing his shirt while I lay here chained to a bed?* At least he's still wearing pants. But God he looks good without a shirt. The dark mocha of his skin is hairless and smooth. The sparse glint of light ricocheting off his muscles (of which he has *many*) and causing them to play in movement against each other. He's so bulked with muscle, it's almost unreal. It makes me wonder if steroids

I think I'm wet. Not

my pussy trembling. "I'd really hate to treat my men to a beauty such

me to them," I snapped. "But I'm

so I swallow the sound as best I can. Of course, he notices anyway and his

the inside out. "No you're not. If you were, you wouldn't

turning around and calling

not cry.

you," I whispered, even though I know

if you didn't already," he said shortly, walking away as one of his men steps

I responded honestly, my voice a breath