Novels by Flimxy vic

Chapter 30: Daddy’s First Move The negative test sat on the bathroom counter like a quiet promise. Elena stared at it one more time before tossing it in the trash. Relief mixed with a strange emptiness in her chest. She had expected panic, maybe tears. Instead she felt… steady. She walked back into the bedroom. The three of them were still there, waiting. Matteo sat on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees. Luca leaned against the wall, arms crossed. Nico stood by the window, looking out at the empty driveway. Elena climbed onto the bed. Sat in the middle. “It’s negative. False alarm.” Luca pushed off the wall. “Good. Or bad. Whatever you need it to be.” Matteo looked at her. “You alright?” She nodded. “Yeah. Just… thinking. If it happens later, I want it. But right now? This is enough. Us. Here.” Nico turned from the window. “We’ve got time.” They didn’t push. Didn’t start touching her right away. They just sat with her. Matteo’s hand on her knee. Luca’s fingers brushing h

Chapter 29: First Pregnancy Scare The farmhouse had settled into a strange kind of rhythm. Days blurred together with no raids, no sudden moves, no new threats crashing through the door. Vittorio’s promised midnight attack never came. The traitor’s intel turned out half-true—men had gathered, cars had rolled, but something made them pull back at the last second. Maybe cold feet. Maybe a leak on their side. Matteo’s crew stayed sharp, guards doubled on the perimeter, but the quiet stretched on. Elena woke up one morning feeling off. Her breasts ached when she rolled over. Heavy. Tender. She pressed a hand to them and winced. Nausea rolled through her stomach, not bad enough to run to the bathroom, but enough to make coffee smell wrong. She sat on the edge of the bed. Matteo was already up, shirt on, checking the cameras on his phone. Luca snored softly beside her. Nico lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the ceiling like he was thinking hard. Elena touched her lower belly. Flat

. Elena stood at the counter in nothing but one of Matteo’s old black T-shirts. It hung loose on her, slipping off one shoulder, hitting mid-thigh.It's been 2 day since they've been expecting her dad and his gang but still nothing. No collar around her neck anymore. No silver ring pressing into her skin. Just faint marks that were already fading, and the quiet certainty that she didn’t need anything else to prove she belonged here. She poured four mugs. Black for Matteo. Two sugars for Luca. Cream for Nico. Hers plain, the way she’d started liking it. Luca came in first. Hair still messy. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, chin resting on her shoulder. “Morning,” he murmured. Kissed the side of her neck once. Soft. No teeth. Elena leaned back into him. “Morning. You sleep okay?” “Better when you’re in the middle. Always do.” Nico walked in next. Quiet steps. He took his mug, brushed a light kiss to her temple. “You look… settled,” he said. She smiled a little. “I f

Chapter 27: Comfort in the Quiet The traitor was tied to a chair in the basement. Matteo had handled the questioning himself. Short. Brutal. The man talked fast—entry points, numbers of men Vittorio was bringing, the exact hour they planned to hit. Midnight. Tonight. After the confession, Matteo shot him once in the head. No ceremony or words. Just the dull pop of the silencer and the slump of a body. Elena didn’t watch. She waited upstairs in the living room, wrapped in a blanket on the couch. When Matteo came back up, hands washed clean, he looked at her like he expected her to flinch. She didn’t. Instead she stood. Walked straight to him. Slid her arms around his waist and pressed her face to his chest. “I’m not scared,” she said quietly. “Not of this. Not of you.” Matteo exhaled hard. His arms came around her tight. “You should be. We’re monsters.” “You’re my monsters.” Luca and Nico appeared from the hallway. Luca wiped a spot of blood off his knuckles with a rag. Nico c

The New Safe House They moved at dawn. No packing. Just the clothes on their backs, a duffel of cash, weapons, and Elena. Matteo drove fast through back roads. Luca sat in the passenger seat with a rifle across his lap. Nico was in the back with Elena, arm around her shoulders, keeping her steady. The new place was deeper in the hills. An old farmhouse Matteo’s crew had bought cash last year. Stone walls. High fences. Cameras everywhere. No neighbors for miles. Elena stepped inside first. The air smelled like pine and fresh paint. Big open living room. Stone fireplace. Wide staircase. A kitchen with a long table that looked made for more than eating. Matteo locked the door behind them. Triple bolts. Then he turned to her. “Welcome home, princess. Again.” She looked around. “This one feels… permanent.” Luca dropped the duffel. Grinned. “It is. No more running every week. We’re digging in.” Nico set his bag down gently. “You okay?” Elena nodded. Touched her colla

Chapter 25: The First Outing Elena stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. The black dress Matteo picked hugged her curves tight. Short enough that one wrong move would show everything. No bra. No panties. Just the collar around her neck and thin silver heels that made her legs look longer. Luca walked up behind her. He adjusted the neckline so more cleavage showed. His fingers brushed her nipples through the fabric. They hardened instantly. “Perfect,” he said. “You look like trouble.” Nico handed her a small black coat. “Wear this until we get inside. No one sees what’s ours until we want them to.” Matteo leaned against the doorframe. Arms crossed. Eyes dark. “You ready to show the world who you belong to, princess?” Elena touched the collar. The lock felt solid. “Yes.” They drove into the city just after dark. Matteo behind the wheel. Luca in the passenger seat. Nico beside her in the back, hand resting high on her thigh. His thumb stroked lazy circles on her

Cami stood in the middle of the living room. Naked. Fresh from the shower. Skin still warm and damp. Elias had dried her himself—slow towel strokes over her breasts, her stomach, between her legs—until she was trembling again.He handed her a small pile of clothes. Not much.Black lace thong. Thin. Barely there.A short black skirt. Tight. Ending mid-thigh.A white silk blouse. Sheer enough that her nipples would show if the light hit right. No bra.Black heels. High. Strappy.And a thin silver choker. Simple. But heavy around her neck.“Put them on,” he said.She dressed quick. The thong slid between her folds, already damp from the morning. The skirt hugged her ass. The blouse clung to her skin where it was still wet. Nipples poked against the silk. Visible.He stepped close. Fastened the choker. Fingers lingering on her throat.“This stays on,” he said. “Always when we’re out. Reminder.”“Yes, Sir.”He looked her over. Nodded once. Satisfied.“We’re going out.”Her stomach dropped.

Cami woke up slowly.The sheets were tangled around her legs but barely covering anything else. She was still naked. Still on her back with her arms stretched up like she’d fallen asleep holding the headboard. Her body felt heavy. Achy. The throb between her thighs hadn’t gone away all night. It had just settled into a constant, low burn. Every time she shifted, her clit brushed the sheet and sent a sharp spark through her.She opened her eyes.Sunlight poured through the windows. The city looked different in the morning—brighter, quieter. Elias was already up. Standing at the foot of the bed. Dressed in dark gray pants and a white shirt. Sleeves rolled again. Hair damp like he’d showered.He looked at her like he’d been watching for a while.“Good morning,” he said. Voice low. Calm.“Morning, Sir.” Her voice came out rough. Sleepy. A little hoarse from all the moaning and begging last night.He walked closer. Stopped beside the bed.“Legs apart. Knees up. Show me.”She didn’t hesitat

Cami stayed on her knees between Elias’s legs for what felt like forever.Her thighs burned. Her back ached a little from holding still. But the worst part was the ache between her legs. Deep. Throbbing. Wetness kept sliding down her inner thighs, slow and warm, reminding her every second how turned on she was. How exposed. How completely at his mercy.He hadn’t touched her again since that one light brush. Just sat there. Watching. Sometimes he sipped from a glass of water he’d poured himself. Sometimes he scrolled on his phone. Calm. Like having a naked woman kneeling at his feet was the most normal thing in the world.Her breathing got louder the longer it went on. Small shaky inhales. Soft whimpers she couldn’t hold back.Finally he set the phone down.“Eyes up,” he said.She lifted her gaze. His eyes were dark now. Hungrier.“You’re dripping on my floor,” he said. Quiet. Almost amused.Her face flamed. She wanted to close her thighs. Hide it. But he’d told her to keep them apart.

Cami didn’t sleep much that night.She sat on the edge of her narrow bed in the tiny apartment, the black folder open on her lap. Streetlight slipped through the blinds and painted thin yellow stripes across the pages. She read every line twice. Sometimes three times. The safe words stared back at her like lifelines—red, yellow, green. She could stop this anytime. That part felt important. Safe.But the rest…The rest described things that made her breath catch. Things like being naked on command. Being touched whenever he wanted. Being told exactly how to kneel, how to speak, how to come. No clothes in the apartment unless he said so. No phone calls without permission. No orgasms without asking first.She closed her eyes and tried to picture it. Elias Voss standing over her, suit still perfect, voice calm while he gave orders. Her on her knees. Waiting. Wet already just from the thought.Her hand slipped between her thighs before she could stop it. She was soaked. Embarrassingly so.

Cami sat in the dim coffee shop on the edge of downtown, staring at the stack of papers in front of her. The numbers didn’t lie. Red ink everywhere. Her father’s company once something solid, something proud had bled out over the last two years. Bad deals, worse loans, and now the bank wanted everything. The house. The cars. Even the little apartment she’d moved into when things started falling apart. She rubbed her eyes. Twenty-six years old and already drowning. She’d tried everything. Selling what she could, picking up extra shifts at the bar, begging old friends for favors that never came through. Nothing worked. The bell above the door jingled. A man stepped inside. Tall. Dark suit that looked too expensive for this neighborhood. Hair black and neat, cut sharp like he never let anything stay out of place. His eyes found her right away, green and steady, like he’d known exactly where she’d be. He didn’t ask if the seat across from her was free. He just took it. “Cami Monroe,