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STORY 51 - BEDTIME WITH THE MAFIA BOSS (I)
Tanggal publikasi:
2026-05-29 16:43:36
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DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 51 - BEDTIME WITH THE MAFIA BOSS (III)
He pushes into me in a steady, continuous push that doesn’t pause or adjust, just sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out and I feel him against my cervix and my mouth falls open and the sound that comes out isn’t a moan, it’s a plea."Fuck – Luca – you’re so –”“Deep?” He holds still. Buried to the hilt. His scarred hands cupping my face – both of them, holding me like I’m breakable while his cock splits me open. “I’m going to go deeper.”He pulls back. Slow. The drag of his cock against my swollen walls is agonizing – every ridge, every vein, the texture of his uncut cock creating friction that cut cocks don’t achieve. He pushes back in – harder, deeper, his pelvis grinding against my clit at the bottom of the stroke.“Look at me,” he says. “I want to see your face while I’m inside you.”I look. His dark eyes hold mine and he starts to move – slow, deep, grinding strokes that press my body into the silk with each thrust. His hands stay on my face. His thumbs trace my cheekbones
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 51 - BEDTIME WITH THE MAFIA BOSS (III)
He pushes into me in a steady, continuous push that doesn’t pause or adjust, just sinks deeper and deeper until he bottoms out and I feel him against my cervix and my mouth falls open and the sound that comes out isn’t a moan, it’s a plea."Fuck – Luca – you’re so –”“Deep?” He holds still. Buried to the hilt. His scarred hands cupping my face – both of them, holding me like I’m breakable while his cock splits me open. “I’m going to go deeper.”He pulls back. Slow. The drag of his cock against my swollen walls is agonizing – every ridge, every vein, the texture of his uncut cock creating friction that cut cocks don’t achieve. He pushes back in – harder, deeper, his pelvis grinding against my clit at the bottom of the stroke.“Look at me,” he says. “I want to see your face while I’m inside you.”I look. His dark eyes hold mine and he starts to move – slow, deep, grinding strokes that press my body into the silk with each thrust. His hands stay on my face. His thumbs trace my cheekbones
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 51 - BEDTIME WITH THE MAFIA BOSS (II)
He lies beside me. Fully clothed – his suit against my bare skin, the contrast of fabric and flesh making me hyperaware of every point of contact. His body curves behind mine – spooning, his chest against my back, his arm draping over my waist, his hand flat on my stomach.He’s hard. I feel his cock against my lower back through his suit pants – thick, insistent, impossible to ignore. He doesn’t press it against me. Doesn’t grind. Just lets me feel the evidence of what I do to him and waits.The tension of waiting is worse than anything he could do. Every second he doesn’t act, my body winds tighter. His hand on my stomach – warm, still, his fingertips barely touching my skin above the waistband of my underwear. His breath on the back of my neck – slow, controlled. His cock against my back – a promise he’s not cashing in.“Ask me,” he says. His mouth against the back of my ear. “I won’t take what isn’t offered.”“And if I don’t ask?”“Then we sleep. And tomorrow I’ll make you breakfas
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 51 - BEDTIME WITH THE MAFIA BOSS (I)
My father owes two million dollars to a man who dissolves problems in acid.That’s the word on the street – not metaphorical, not exaggerated. Luca Moretti runs the eastern seaboard’s most profitable organization and the people who cross him don’t file complaints because the people who cross him stop existing. My father borrowed money eighteen months ago to save his restaurant. The restaurant failed anyway. The debt didn’t.Now Luca wants payment and my father – fifty-seven, diabetic, hands that shake when he’s scared – called me crying at 4 AM saying they’re coming, Elena, they’re coming for the house and I did what I’ve always done. I fixed it. I called the number my father was given and said I want to meet with Mr. Moretti and the voice on the other end laughed and said he doesn’t take meetings and I said tell him Anthony Vasquez’s daughter wants to negotiate and the line went quiet and then: Tomorrow. 8 PM. Come alone.I’m standing in the lobby of a building that doesn’t appear on
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 50 - RAVISHED BY HIS PRIMAL SIDE (III)
He fucks me face-down with his thumb in my ass. His other hand fists my hair – pulling my head back, arching my body, forcing my back to curve so my pussy tilts up and his cock hits deeper. The dual penetration – his cock stretching my pussy, his thumb filling my ass – combined with the burn of my spanked ass cheeks pressing against his pelvis with each thrust is overstimulation to the point of delirium."Cum," he orders. "Cum on my cock while my thumb is in your ass and my marks are all over your body."His free hand snakes beneath me. Finds my clit – swollen, drenched, throbbing. He rubs – fast, rough, his calloused fingertip grinding my oversensitive bud. His cock pounding my pussy. His thumb in my ass. His hand in my hair. His marks on my throat, my tits, my thighs, my ass.I cum so hard I leave my body. That's what it feels like – a departure. My pussy locks around his cock in contractions so violent he groans through clenched teeth. My ass clenches around his thumb. I squirt – a
DIRTY DREAMS (AN EROTICA COLLECTION) STORY 50 - RAVISHED BY HIS PRIMAL SIDE (II)
He pushes back in. Faster now – his hand gripping my hair, his hips thrusting, fucking my face with less control. I choke and drool and tears streak my mascara and the sounds coming from my throat are obscene – wet gagging, sloppy sucking, the desperate moans of a woman bound and kneeling and being used.He spits in my mouth. Over his own cock, his saliva landing on my tongue alongside his shaft, and the filthiness of it – the ownership, the marking – makes my pussy flood so hard I feel it running down my inner thighs above my stocking tops.He pulls out. A bridge of spit connecting us. He grips my jaw. Tilts my face up. My mascara is running. My lips are swollen. Spit and pre-cum coat my chin and drip onto my tits."Beautiful," he says. Not gentle. Like the word is a weapon. "Now stand up."He hauls me to my feet by the belt binding my wrists. Spins me – face-first against the hallway wall, my tits pressed against the cool plaster, my bound hands in the small of my back. He kicks my
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