His Mafia Sugar Daddy

His Mafia Sugar Daddy Leo Rivers Copyright © 2023 by Leo Rivers All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. Contents 1. Chapter 1 2. Chapter 2 3. Chapter 3 4. Chapter 4 5. Chapter 5 6. Chapter 6 7. Chapter 7 8. Chapter 8 9. Chapter 9 10. Chapter 10 11. Chapter 11 12. Chapter 12 13. Chapter 13 14. Chapter 14 15. Chapter 15 16. Chapter 16 Epilogue Chapter one Jason Waters trudged wearily up the creaking staircase of his rundown apartment building, the weight of exhaustion clinging to his every step. The fluorescent lights above flickered intermittently, casting an eerie glow on the faded wallpaper that adorned the narrow hallway. His body ached. That was unfair. He worked in a call center—why did just sitting in a chair all day make him hurt so bad? It wasn't bad enough that he spent all day getting yelled at, he had to feel like he'd been mugged, too? Finally reaching the door of his cramped apartment, Jason fumbled with his keys, the metal clinking in the stillness of the evening. As he pushed open the weathered entrance, a wave of stale air washed over him, mingling with the scent of takeout containers and neglected responsibilities. Ah. His landlord's typical style of housekeeping. "Another day, another dollar," Jason muttered to himself, his voice laced with a tinge of resignation. His weary eyes surveyed the disheveled space, taking in the cluttered coffee table where Neil dumped everything he didn't want to deal with. A bunch of letters were left for Jason—open, of course. Neil never missed an opportunity to pry. I'm your uncle, Jason could almost hear Neil reply. I have to look out for my nephew, don't I? After all, it's not like anyone else is around to do it. Jason picked up a letter, and groaned. An unpaid bill for his last set of car repairs. Of course. He'd kicked that can down the road as hard as he could, struggling to space out his repayments to keep all his creditors quiet, but now this one was here in his hand, with a big fat red UNPAID stamp… Another day, another dollar? In this city, Jason was going to need more than a dollar. A surge of frustration and disappointment coursed through Jason's veins, intertwining with the weariness that threatened to consume him. When will things change? Jason slunk into his bedroom. He tried to keep it as clean and orderly as he could, but the cramped little space didn't exactly give him a lot to work with. It was just his bed, his clothes, a pile of long-neglected art supplies, and his computer… His tired gaze fixed on his computer. Thoughts swirled in his mind, a tempest of uncertainty and desire. Over the last couple of weeks, he'd had a thought. It had crept up on him, tugging at his attention, and then it had only burrowed in closer to him, getting under his skin. Camming. The mere notion of it sent a wave of flustered shyness through Jason's veins, making his heart race and his palms grow clammy. He'd had one good friend at the call center, Lucy. Months ago, her side hustle had become her main money-maker. She'd happily given their boss the finger, and flounced off with her head held high. She hadn't waited for change to happen—she'd chased it down herself. Even if it involved flashing pervs online, it still had to be better than cold-call sales. Jason squirmed. The thought of exposing himself to strangers, baring his vulnerabilities in the hope of a better life, was both exhilarating and terrifying. It hadn't stopped him from wondering about it for months. It hadn't stopped him from picking out the outfits he might wear. It hadn't stopped him from making an account on the cam site Lucy talked about. Just out of curiosity, of course. Tonight, however, desperation clawed at Jason's chest, overshadowing his reservations. The weight of financial burdens pressed upon him, threatening to crush him for good. With a deep breath, Jason tentatively approached the desk that housed his computer, his trembling fingers dancing across the worn-out keyboard. He hesitated, his mind grappling with a maelstrom of doubts and insecurities. The flickering cursor on the screen seemed to mock him, daring him to take a leap into the unknown. Desperate times called for desperate measures. As beads of sweat slid down his furrowed brow, Jason nervously muttered to himself, "Okay, let's do this." He set up his laptop on a small table by the window, the soft glow of streetlights casting shadows across the room, and changed into something that was a little more sexy than 'telemarketer': a muscle shirt and a set of tight pants. He didn't exactly have the muscles to fill out that shirt, but, hey, men on these sites liked twinks, right? He swallowed. That was, he hoped. Otherwise, this was going to be not just a complete waste of time, but an embarrassing one, too. Taking a deep breath to calm his nerves, Jason logged onto the camming website and pressed the "Start" button, inviting viewers into his intimate world. Piles of art supplies gathering dust counted as intimate, right? Lights. Camera. Action. "Hey, everyone," he said hesitantly, forcing a smile as he tried to maintain eye contact with the camera. His hands trembled, betraying his anxiety; he kept them out of view. He knew that he needed to be confident and sexy if he wanted to make any money, but it was hard not to feel self-conscious when he’d never done anything like this before. And when there was no-one watching. The viewer count changed from a 0 to a 1. One person was watching him! Jason's heart jumped into his throat. "Hi there," he stammered. "Um, sexy. I'm Jason, and I'm here to entertain you