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.

DOMENICO

I couldn't sleep.

I didn't even try.

The moment I stepped into my building and slammed the door shut behind me, I already knew there'd be no peace tonight. I didn't bother with the lights. Just dropped my coat, loosened my tie, and stalked toward the bar like a man possessed.

My hand shook as I poured the scotch. Not because of nerves but because of her.

Reina.

The image had burned into my brain like a permanent fucking brand.

On her knees. Her lips stretched around my cock, her moans humming down my shaft. Her wide, wet eyes locked on mine like I was God.

And maybe I was for that moment.

Because she worshipped me.

And I let her.

I came in her mouth. Told her to swallow. Watched her lick it clean like the obedient little whore she turned out to be.

And fuck me, I hadn't stopped thinking about it since.

I downed the glass in one shot.

I didn't hate it.

I should've hated it. She was my son's wife. The woman I was supposed to see as family, off-limits. I should've felt guilt, disgust, something other than the goddamn throbbing in my pants.

But I didn't.

All I felt was need.

My cock was hard as a pipe again. Just remembering how she looked up at me with flushed cheeks and tears in her lashes had me aching like a teenager. Her lips were swollen. Her mouth was so fucking perfect. And when I called her a good girl?

She whimpered like she was coming.

"Fuck you, Domenico."

I growled under my breath, tossing the empty glass at the wall. It shattered, but I didn't flinch.

I needed to get her out of my head.

Needed to get off.

So I made a call.

Eva. One of the usuals. Pretty, tight, trained. She'd never disappointed me before.

"Reina, what are you doing to me?" I groaned out immediately I dropped the call.

A few minutes later, there was a sound of car driving into the villa.

Eva arrived quickly, as she always did, dressed like she was expecting to be bent over the moment she walked in. I didn't even say hello just pointed to the floor beside the couch.

"Knees."

Her smile stretched. "Rough night, Mr. Gravano?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't in the mood for conversation.

But the moment she unzipped my pants and wrapped her lips around me, I knew it was useless.

She wasn't her.

Eva's mouth was too wet, too eager. Her movements too rehearsed. There was no trembling. No hesitation. No sinful innocence to corrupt.

No Reina.

"Stop," I snapped, pushing her away.

She looked up in confusion. "Did I-"

"Out."

She blinked. "But-"

"Get out, Eva. Now."

I threw some bills at her. She took them, pouted, and left.

The second the door clicked shut, I dragged a hand over my face and stormed into my office. I powered on my laptop, ignoring the files, the red-flagged emails from the warehouse bust, the unfinished hit order from earlier. None of it mattered.

Not when I was this hard over her.

Over Reina.

My sexy as sin daughter-in-law.

I opened a hidden folder buried beneath layers of encryption. Labeled something innocent. HousePlans_22. But I knew what it really held.

Photos of Reina.

Some from the estate's security cams. Some stolen from family albums. Some I'd taken myself, discreetly, obsessively zoomed-in shots of her by the pool, bent over a chair, laughing with her hair down. Ones where her skirts rode too high, her shirt clung too tight, her towel slipped too low.

But the one I opened now?

That was my favorite.

It was grainy. Low-lit. A shot from the hallway camera last month. Reina in nothing but a towel, fresh out of the shower, biting her lip as she paused at the bedroom door.

Don't even think about how I got my hand on it. I had had few cameras secretly installed in there before I changed my mind and removed it just after two days of installing them.

My cock throbbed instantly.

Just thinking about how I had watched her bathing naked in the bathroom, while playing with her pussy, moaning my name softly so her husband wouldn't hear.

I dropped into the chair, unzipped my pants, and fisted myself hard. The sound of skin against skin filled the room as I stared at her photo like it could come to life.

I imagined walking behind her that night. Pulling the towel away. Pushing her against the wall and shoving my cock between her thighs. Her gasps. Her struggle. Then surrender.

"Fuck," I muttered, speeding up.

I was so lost in the fantasy I didn't hear the car at first.

But the engine was unmistakable.

My son's car.

Pulling into his part of the villa.

And just like that something in me snapped.

Jealousy.

Rage.

Possession.

Hatred.

My hand tightened around my cock.

He was going home to her. To the mouth that I had claimed just hours ago. To the body I'd tasted for the first time and knew I'd never be able to forget.

Was he going to fuck her tonight?

Would she let him?

Would she be thinking about me the entire time?

The thought burned like acid and made me harder all at once. My hips bucked. I stroked faster. The jealousy twisted into hunger. What if she moaned my name in her head while his cock was inside her?

What if she wished it was me?

"Yeah," I growled, jerking faster, imagining her legs spread for him, but her eyes closed-seeing me.

"Fuck, princess! Fuck, I'm going to come for you. Daddy is gonna cum for you. Right in your mouth." I growled, stroking my cock a little too harder, staring hungrily at her picture of my computer.

I came hard, spilling over my hand, chest rising and falling in short, uneven breaths.

But there was no peace after.

No satisfaction.

Only obsession.

I stood, paced the office. Tried to open work documents. Tried to read intel reports. But every line blurred into nothing.

I couldn't focus.

All I could see was Reina.

All I could feel was the ghost of her mouth wrapped around me.

And all I could think was-I wanted her again. And again and again until I could memorize every line and curves of her body.

Not like before. Not quick. Not desperate. Not on her knees in her husband's villa.

This time?

I wanted her in my bed.

Naked.

Willing.

Moaning my name over and over until the whole fucking house knew she belonged to me.

"You just wait, Reina. I'm going to make you regret ever teasing a man like me."

REINA

I tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn't come. Not with everything that had happened earlier. Every time I shut my eyes, I saw him Domenico.

My father-in-law. The man I should've been running from, not aching for.

The taste of him still lingered on my tongue.

I lay there in the dim light from the nightstand lamp, beside the man who was supposed to be my husband. His arm was draped over his face, snoring like nothing was wrong, like I wasn't the dirtiest wife alive.

I turned my head, studying the outline of his face in the moonlight seeping through the curtains. Nothing stirred in me when I looked at him. Not anger. Not love. Just numbness.

The only fire in my veins came from his father.

I couldn't breathe next to him. Not after what I had done. Not after what I wanted to do again.

So I slipped out of bed, the sheets brushing off my legs like they were judging me too. My bare feet hit the cold floor, and I moved through the villa on autopilot. My thin silk nightgown clung to me with every step, damp with sweat and need. I didn't even know where I was going. My body did.

It took me outside.

The moment I stepped into the open air, the world changed. The moon was high, casting silver light over the marble and the pool, and there-moving through the water like a god from a myth-was him.

Domenico Gravano.

My dangerously sexy father-in-law.

Swimming slow, deliberate laps, his body slicing through the water with lethal grace. Every ripple shimmered off his back, off those broad, scarred shoulders. The muscles in his back rolled with each stroke, water streaming down every inch of his torso like it worshiped him. His tattoos peeked out of the surface before vanishing again.

My breath caught in my throat.

He was a painting, a weapon, a man I could never resist and didn't want to.

He noticed me almost immediately. Of course he did.

He stopped mid-lap and turned his head, wet hair slicked back, eyes gleaming like molten silver.

"Couldn't sleep?" His voice was hoarse and low. Dangerously possessive.

I shivered. "No. Just needed air."

He drifted closer to the edge. "Come here."

It wasn't a suggestion. I swallowed hard and obeyed.

I walked slowly to the edge of the pool, knees weak, and sat down, dipping my feet into the water. It was colder than I expected, and yet I felt like I was burning from the inside out.

He swam toward me, stopping right between my legs. He rose slightly out of the water, droplets sliding down his chest like sweat. He didn't touch me. Not yet. He just stared.

Then he gripped my ankles.

His fingers wrapped around me with that familiar dominance, unchallenged, commanding. Slowly, deliberately, he spread my legs wider. My sleep gown rode up my thighs, exposing the thin lace of my panties.

"You wearing those pretty little things again?" His voice was darker now, lower.

I nodded, barely breathing.

He moved closer. "You wet already?"

"Maybe," I whispered, my throat tight.

He chuckled and tilted his head. "Did my son fuck you tonight?"

I blinked. "No."

"Did he even touch you?"

"No."

He laughed, but there was no humor in it. "So you just lay there next to him, wet and aching, thinking about me?"

I nodded again. My voice had deserted me.

Fuck, what is this man doing to me? This should be illegal. It should be illegal for a man to be this hot, this fucking sexy.

"You're fucking shameless," he muttered. "Look at you. Soaked through your panties, staring down at me like a hungry little slut. Did you think I wouldn't notice you creeping out here like a naughty girl sneaking off to her daddy?"

"You told me to come," I whispered, voice trembling.

Because in my head, it was like I heard him calling to me.

"You always do what I say, hmm?" he smirked, as if he knew just what he had been doing to my head.

"Only when I want to."

He smirked, moving between my legs until his chest brushed my knees.

"You wanted this," he growled. "You knew exactly what would happen the second you stepped outside."

I didn't deny it.

He reached under the water, fingers hooking into the sides of my panties. I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Take them off," he ordered.

I hesitated for half a second, heart pounding.

"I won't ask again," he warned, tugging once and with a single brutal rip, the lace tore in half. He tossed the wet scrap onto the tiles.

"Fucking hell..." he murmured, dragging his hands up my inner thighs. "You're soaked. Did just watching me swim do this to you?"

"You looked... beautiful," I admitted breathlessly.

His eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to be beautiful to you, Reina. I want to be the man who ruins you."

"Daddy..." I trailed off, just hearing him say he'd ruin me made my pussy start throbbing shamelessly again.

His fingers found my slit. My entire body jolted at the first touch. He didn't ease in, he teased me, barely grazing my folds, then moving to circle my clit.

"You fantasize about me when you're next to him, don't you?" he whispered.

"Yes." I muttered, gasping for breath.

Daddy's touch was doing something dangerous to me again.

"Tell me what you see."

"I see your mouth between my legs," I breathed. "I see you bending me over your desk and calling me your little whore. I see your cum leaking out of me. I see you fucking me just right, daddy."

He groaned, burying his face in my thigh, biting down hard enough to make me cry out.

"I should fuck you right here," he growled. "Right in the open. Make you scream my name while the whole fucking household hears. And maybe your husband too. I think I want him to see just how good I'm making his slutty little wife feel."

"Do it," I whispered. "Please, daddy."

"You don't beg like a wife," he muttered, kissing up my thigh. "You beg like a whore."

"Then treat me like one." I cried out, writhing with forbidden pleasure. "Treat me like your whore, daddy."

With a growl, he slipped two fingers inside me. I cried out, grabbing the edge of the pool as he began fucking me with them, slow at first, then faster. His palm slapped the water as he used it for leverage, eyes locked on mine the entire time.

"I can feel your cunt squeezing already," he murmured. "So desperate to cum for Daddy."

"More," I gasped. "Don't stop, daddy."

He added a third finger, curling them just right, and I nearly screamed.

"God... mmfuckingfuck... Daddy! Oh fuck!"

"There it is," he growled. "That filthy little mouth calling for Daddy. Bet you love cumming for me more than anyone else."

I nodded frantically. "Yes-only you. Only ever you, daddy."

"Cum for me then," he said darkly, rubbing my clit again. "Let me feel how bad you need me."

I shattered, thighs clenching around his waist, my back arching so hard it felt like I might break. I bit down on my lip to muffle the scream, but he didn't stop.

He kept his fingers moving, even as I trembled, as I cried out and rode wave after wave of pleasure. He pulled me forward, kissing me hard, tongue sliding into my mouth like he wanted to taste my orgasm.

When he pulled away, his hand was still inside me. His other hand gripped my throat.

"Next time," he whispered, voice low and furious, "you're not getting off easy. I'm going to bend you over and fuck you until you cry."

I shivered.

He dragged his wet fingers up, smearing my slick across my stomach.

"I'm not sharing you anymore. Not with my son. Not with anyone."

"Then take me," I said, breathless.

He grinned, teeth flashing. "Oh, I will. Again and again."

He stepped back into the water, dragging his hand down my leg before turning and swimming a slow lap like nothing had happened. I sat there, panties torn, thighs wet with my own desire, heart thundering in my chest.

I had no idea how long I stayed there, watching him disappear into the shadows of the water again. But one thing was clear-whatever I thought this was, it was far too late to stop.

Because I wasn't just craving him now.

I belonged to him.