DOMENICO

I was seeing red.

Rain pounded against the windshield like it was trying to break the glass. Wipers worked overtime, smearing water across the view, but it didn't matter. I could've driven blind. My fury would've guided me.

That bastard cop, the same one I told my son to kill months ago, was still breathing.

Not just breathing. He led a team of officers straight into my factory like he had a goddamn invitation to do so. And Paolo, my son, my blood, the one who should've handled it? He'd done nothing.

Sat on his ass like a goddamn bitch, letting that motherfucker live, and now I had a raid on my hands.

Do you know what it means when a cop raids a mafia-owned facility and finds something? Something so fucking implicative? Something that's not so legal?

It means someone dies. Either them or us.

"That bastard son of mine won't even answer my calls. Fucking pathetic." I snarled, slamming my fist against the steering wheel angrily.

Rage roared through me like wildfire as I sped down the road, blind to traffic, blind to reason. I didn't give a single fuck. All I could think about was finding Paolo and putting a bullet in his fucking head.

I didn't go home to my building. I couldn't. If I saw my own reflection, I might put a bullet in the mirror and I hated destroying my own property. It isn't fun.

Instead, I drove straight through the gates and stormed into my son's side of the villa. If he wouldn't kill for me, I'd kill him myself.

And I would enjoy every fucking bit of it.

I slammed the car door shut, rain soaking through my shirt before I even reached the porch. I didn't knock. I never knocked. My hand gripped the doorknob and twisted hard.

Then I saw her.

And every ounce of my rage turned into something darker.

She stood there in the center of the living room, naked. Completely fucking naked.

Fucking hell!

A towel draped lazily beside her on the couch like she had stripped just moments ago. Her legs glistened with leftover water from a recent shower, droplets still sliding over smooth, glowing skin. Her nipples were hard, her thighs pressed together, her fingers twitching at her sides like she'd been expecting someone. Like she'd been waiting.

Waiting for who? Me?

And her eyes...

They locked on mine.

My cock reacted faster than my brain. Twitching and throbbing in the confine of my pants like the damn senseless whore it was.

I froze in the doorway, soaked from head to toe, rain dripping from my hair onto the marble floor. My tie was tight against my neck, suffocating, my chest heaving from the weight of everything I felt in that moment.

Anger.

Lust.

Hunger.

Guilt.

Hatred.

A bit of everything.

But above all I felt possession.

This wasn't the first time Reina had teased me.

Oh no.

From the very first day she moved into this villa as my son's wife, she had been a fucking curse on my sanity. She'd walk around in robes too short, whispering hello, Daddy like it meant nothing. She'd sit at the dinner table with those soft lips wrapped around a strawberry, and I'd have to excuse myself before I got hard in front of the whole goddamn family.

I tried ignoring her.

I tried staying away.

Didn't matter.

She infected me.

I started taking pictures of her in secret. My security cameras caught glimpses of her in the pool, in the hallway, sneaking into the kitchen at midnight with nothing but a silk shirt on. I'd replay them at night. Screenshot them. Zoom in on her bare legs, her tight ass, her mouth. I'd jerk off to those images, groaning her name into the dark.

She became a ritual.

My favorite sin.

I hated her for it.

I hated myself more.

And now here she was on display. In fucking 3D.

Her body was even better up close. Skin dewy and flushed, thighs trembling slightly, chest rising and falling like she was nervous but... expectant. Like she wanted me to see her.

My jaw clenched.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," I muttered, stepping fully inside and slamming the door shut behind me.

She flinched but didn't move. Didn't cover up. Didn't even make any attempt to hide her naked body from me.

Her eyes never left me.

The silence between us crackled.

"You think this is a game?" I snarled. "You think standing there naked like that is funny? Cute, huh?"

She bit her lip. That mouth. That fucking mouth that haunted me night after night. That fucking mouth that's just too sinful and sexy.

"I... I thought it was Paolo," she whispered.

Liar.

Fucking liar!

Paolo hadn't touched her in months. I knew because she walked around like a woman starving for affection, for attention, a man's touch... for anything at all. And my idiot son couldn't see what he had.

But I could.

I could fucking see everything he couldn't see in her.

And I have had enough.

I loosened my tie, breath heavy, fury still pounding through my blood. My cock was already hard, painfully so. My slacks did nothing to hide it. I unzipped them slowly, my eyes still locked on hers.

"Don't play innocent now," I growled. "You've been fucking teasing me since the day you walked into this house." I gritted out.

She inhaled sharply, her chest rising beautifully. Refusing to say anything.

"You think I don't know what you've been doing?" I asked. "Parading that body around me, acting like it's nothing. You knew. You fucking knew. And now you're standing there naked, knowing I'd be the one to walk through that door."

She opened her mouth, maybe to deny it. I didn't let her.

I stepped forward. One slow, lethal step. Getting dangerously close to her.

My cock sprang free from my pants, thick and hard in my grip. I stroked it once, twice, eyes burning into her.

"If you want to tease Daddy so bad..." I said through clenched teeth, "then crawl to me, right fucking now, and suck my cock."

I wasn't asking her to, I was fucking ordering her. And no one dared defy my order.

REINA

I froze.

For a moment, I thought I'd imagined it. That my dirty, perverted mind had warped his words and made them filthier than they were. But no. His voice, rough and low, cut through the heat in the room again.

"Crawl the fuck to me and take this big cock in your mouth like a good girl."

My breath hitched.

There he stood. Domenico Gravano. Towering. Commanding. And in his hand was the thick, veiny cock I'd only ever seen in my fantasies, now real and stiff and dripping right in front of me.

His fingers wrapped around it, fisting the length slowly like he was already imagining how my mouth would feel around it. My heart thumped so hard I could feel it between my legs.

I couldn't think. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't move.

But God, I wanted to. Every part of me ached to obey him. To drop to my knees like the good girl he demanded. To finally taste the cock I'd dreamed about every night in silence.

The same cock I watched shift beneath tailored trousers during family dinners. The same one I imagined fucking me in every room of this goddamn villa.

"Now," he barked. "Or I'll bend you over and fuck your throat raw."

That did it.

I sank to my knees.

The marble floor was cold beneath me, but my body was on fire. I crawled naked, trembling, wet as sin. Each movement forward made my hard nipples drag across the floor, leaving me whimpering from the friction. His eyes dark and feral never left me.

When I finally reached him, I paused, tilting my head up like a starving girl begging for permission.

His hand slid into my hair, fingers curling tight. "Open."

I did.

And then... I tasted him.

The moment his cock slid into my mouth, my world narrowed. Nothing else existed but him. Daddy's scent, his skin, the way his precum coated my tongue like the first sip of a forbidden drug. He was hot and heavy and thick, and I had to stretch my lips wide to take him.

"Good girl," he groaned, hips flexing forward. "Fuck, that's it."

My pussy clenched at those words.

I sucked harder, letting my tongue swirl around the head like I'd seen in porn, drool slipping from the corners of my mouth as I tried to please him, tried to prove I was worth it. I'd never done this before. But nothing had ever felt so right. His moans, low and masculine, made my clit throb.

He liked it. He fucking loved it.

Daddy liked what I was doing with my mouth.

Fuck! That made me even more hornier for him. For daddy.

"You've thought about this, haven't you?" he said through gritted teeth, his grip tightening in my hair as I bobbed my head. Sucking daddy even more harder. "Dreamt about sucking Daddy's cock?"

"Mmmph!"

I whimpered around him, my eyes fluttering up to meet his.

"Thought so," he growled, pulling out just long enough to slap the head of his cock on my tongue. "Nasty little girl. So sweet... and so fucking filthy."

He pushed back in, deeper this time. I choked a little, but he didn't stop. And I never want daddy to stop either.

His hand was on the back of my head now, guiding me, forcing me to take more. My jaw ached, my throat burned, but I didn't care. I moaned, loving the stretch, the invasion, the sheer wrongness of it all.

And he moaned back.

"Christ, your mouth," he hissed, dragging his cock out slowly and watching the strand of spit connect us. "You were made for this."

Fuck!

Daddy was praising me, making my pussy drip even more.

He bent slightly, his hand sliding down my back, then lower, palming my ass before caressing up to my breasts. He squeezed one breast in his hand, then both, tweaking my nipples between thick fingers while I sucked him. His other hand cradled my jaw, then stroked my cheek with an oddly tender touch as he fucked my mouth.

"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" I moaned around him, my throat tightening around his cock as I moaned for daddy.

I was soaked. My thighs were sticky, my whole body a bundle of nerves about to snap. I wanted him to touch me there. To fuck me. To ruin me completely.

But I didn't stop. I kept sucking. Kept moaning. Kept letting him use my mouth like it belonged to him.

He twitched. His breath hitched.

And then he came.

A thick, hot burst flooded my mouth. I gasped, but his hand held me firm.

"Swallow it," he ordered, panting. "All of it."

I did. Every single drop. Didn't want to waste daddy's gift for me or daddy might get mad.

My body trembled as I obeyed, the salty taste lingering on my tongue like something so sinful yet so beautiful. And when he pulled away, his cock still slick and twitching, he smacked it gently against my lips.

"Lick it clean."

I didn't hesitate. I licked him slowly, lovingly, like I never wanted the moment to end. Like I could memorize him with my tongue. He let me. He stood there, chest rising and falling, watching me as if he was seeing me for the first time, not just as his son's wife, but something else entirely.

Something he wanted.

When I was done, I sat back on my heels, waiting. Expecting him to say something. To touch me again. To maybe... praise me.

But instead, he tucked himself back into his pants, zipped up, and stepped away like nothing had happened.

He didn't speak.

Didn't look at me.

Didn't even fucking blink.

Just turned on his heel and walked out of the room like I was no one.

I stayed there. Naked. On the floor. My knees bruised, my mouth swollen, my pussy aching. His cum still warm in my belly.

I didn't know whether to cry or come again.

Because that moment my first time was the most intense, erotic, soul-shattering experience of my life.

And he left me like trash.

Like I was nothing but a dirty little whore he never wanted to waste a single minute with again.

REINA

It had been over an hour since it happened.

Since I got on my knees and sucked my father-in-law's cock like my life depended on it.

An hour since I had done something so forbidden.

And yet I was still trembling. Still wet. Still shamefully, achingly needy.

I lay on my back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets twisted around my legs. The villa was quiet now, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for me to either fall apart or do something stupid all over again.

And maybe I was already doing something stupid.

Because I couldn't stop thinking about him. About the way Domenico looked at me like he owned me. Like I was nothing more than a mouth for him to fuck and leave behind. And God help me... I liked it. I liked it so fucking much it made my thighs clench and my nipples painfully hard under my silk crop top.

He hadn't said a word after. Hadn't looked back. Just walked out, leaving me on the floor like discarded trash.

And still... my pussy pulsed at the memory. My whole body still aching for his touch.

I should have felt humiliated. I did, at first. For a few minutes after he left, I sat on the floor crying, angry at myself for being so weak to pleasure, so hungry, so desperate. For wanting him. For loving the way he tasted. For the way I swallowed it all down like it was salvation. For the way he made me feel good.

But now?

Now, I couldn't stop touching myself.

The shame was still there, curling around my ribs like barbed wire but it wasn't strong enough to stop my fingers from sliding down my stomach and slipping between my thighs.

"Mmmph." I moaned softly as I found how soaked I still was.

"Fuck," I whispered into the quiet.

It wasn't the first time I'd fantasized about him. But it was the first time I had something real to cling to. Not just vague imaginings of what his cock looked like, but the actual memory of it thick and veiny, heavy on my tongue, twitching as he moaned good girl like I was his dirty little toy.

I spread my legs wider, the cool air licking at my wetness as I let my fingers circle my clit. Slowly. Teasingly. My other hand cupped my breast, fingers pinching my nipple as I pictured Domenico standing over me again, ordering me to crawl. Barking that deep, ruthless "Now," like I had no choice.

I didn't want a choice.

The fantasy warped, deepened and now I was bent over the couch, and he was behind me, growling filth into my ear as he pounded into me. His hand fisted in my hair. His ring-clad fingers digging into my hips. My husband's name on his lips just to remind me how wrong it was.

Just how filthy what we were doing was.

"Your pussy was wasted on him," I imagined him saying. "You were mine the moment you stepped your legs into my house."

I gasped as I rubbed faster, my body arching.

My mind fed me more, his mouth on my neck, biting, bruising, claiming. His cock stretching me wide while his voice stayed cold, cruel, intoxicating.

Then the image shifted again.

This time we were on my marital bed. This bed. My husband's scent still clinging to the pillows, his shirts in the closet.

Domenico fucking me right here where his son sleeps every night.

I moaned louder now, my hips rising to meet my own touch. I rubbed harder, faster, fingers slick and needy. The thought of being caught only turned me on more even more. The danger. The depravity. The fact that it was his son I was married to, but he was the one making me feel alive.

And then I imagined it.

My husband walking in. Opening the door.

Finding his wife sprawled naked across his bed, his father's cock buried deep in her pussy, her moans like music.

He would scream. He would break. And still I wouldn't stop. Because I loved it so fucking much.

That image alone sent me over the edge.

My orgasm slammed into me so hard I arched off the bed, my mouth open in a silent cry, my toes curling. My thighs shook, my entire body clenching as the forbidden pleasure tore through me.

"Fuck... Daddy..." I whimpered breathlessly.

The aftershocks left me weak and wet and shivering.

It was the hardest I'd ever come in my life.

And it was because of him.

Domenico Gravano.

My sexy as sin father-in-law.

I lay there for a moment, limbs splayed, sweat cooling on my skin. My fingers were still between my legs, wet with proof of what I'd just done to myself, something I always did when I thought of him.

Something my husband could never do. Something he could never make me feel.

I eventually dragged myself up and stumbled to the bathroom. I cleaned up quickly, brushing my hair, rinsing my mouth, removing my crop top and short. Putting on my nightwear and smoothing my nightgown back over my flushed skin like it could hide the sin burning just beneath the surface.

I was just crawling back into bed when I heard the door open.

My heart skipped.

Not because I was afraid of being caught.

But because the timing was almost too perfect.

My husband walked in, looking exhausted. His eyes were dull, his movements robotic. He barely glanced at me before kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket.

I watched him like a stranger. Felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. No anticipation. Just numbness.

He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, then leaned over and gave me the same kiss he always gave me. The one on my forehead. Gentle. Lifeless. Obligatory.

And then he collapsed beside me and passed out, just like that.

No questions.

No passion.

No teasing.

No idea.

I turned onto my side, staring at him. This man. The man I was married to.

The man who had no clue his father's cum had been in my mouth just an hour before.

I should've felt sick.

Instead, I smiled.

Because for the first time in years, I'd felt everything.

Because Domenico made me feel desired. Dominated. Ruined.

Because while my husband slept beside me like a fucking meatbag, the ghost of his father's moans still echoed in my ears. Making my pussy drip with pleasure.

And I knew without a doubt... I would do it again. And again if Daddy let me.