Merry fuckmas, Kingpin

The grand ballroom of the Armani estate glittered under strings of holiday lights, the air thick with the scent of evergreen and aged whiskey.

Snow battered the windows, but inside, the Christmas gala raged on, mafia families mingling like wolves in sheep's clothing.

Greco Armani, the iron-fisted boss at 38, stood in the shadows, his tailored black suit hugging his broad frame, a glass of scotch in hand. His dark eyes scanned the room, always vigilant, but tonight they locked on her: Joan Fen, 22, the daughter of his sworn enemy, Vincent Fen. She was a vision in a crimson gown that clung to her lithe body, her raven hair cascading down her back, lips painted red like fresh blood.

"You shouldn't be here, Joan," Greco growled low, stepping into her path as she slipped away from the crowd toward the balcony doors. His voice was rough, laced with the gravel of too many late nights and buried bodies.

She turned, her green eyes flashing with defiance and something hotter, more dangerous. The mistletoe hung mockingly above the doorway, a festive trap. "And miss the chance to see if the big bad Armani bites? Merry Christmas, Greco. Or should I call you Mr. Claus?" Her tone was teasing, but her pulse raced under his gaze, he could see the flutter at her throat. Joan had grown up hating him, stories of his ruthlessness drilled into her since childhood, yet here she was, drawn like a moth to his flame.

He closed the distance, towering over her, the heat of his body cutting through the chill seeping from outside. "Your father's men are everywhere. One wrong move, and this turns into a bloodbath. Go home, little Fen." But his words lacked conviction; he'd noticed her all night, the sway of her hips, the way her dress dipped low, revealing the curve of her breasts.

Joan tilted her chin up, bold despite the fear twisting in her gut. She was no innocent…raised in the shadows of the underworld, she'd learned to wield her beauty like a weapon. But Greco? He was the monster in her nightmares, the one who made her thighs clench when she touched herself alone in her silk sheets.

"I'm not a little girl anymore. And neither are you pretending this isn't happening." She glanced up at the mistletoe, then back to him, her breath hitching. "Kiss me. Or are you scared?"

Greco's jaw tightened, his cock twitching in his pants at her challenge. Fuck, she was fire, untamed, forbidden. He grabbed her arm, pulling her out onto the balcony, the cold wind whipping around them, snowflakes melting on their skin. The party noise faded, leaving just the howl of the storm and their heavy breathing.

"You have no idea what you're asking for," he murmured, backing her against the stone railing, his hand sliding up to cup her face, thumb brushing her plump lower lip.

"Then show me," she whispered, surging forward to crush her mouth to his. The kiss was brutal, all teeth and tongue, no gentleness for enemies. Greco groaned, tasting the wine on her lips, his free hand gripping her waist, fingers digging into the soft flesh beneath her gown.

He broke away first, eyes blazing. "Inside. Now." Dragging her through a side door into his private study, he locked it behind them. The room was dimly lit by the fireplace, flames dancing like their inhibitions crumbling. Bookshelves lined the walls, hiding safes full of secrets, but tonight, the only secret was this.

Joan spun to face him, her chest heaving. "What now, boss? Gonna kill me? Or fuck me?" Her voice trembled, but she meant it, hate and lust tangled in her veins, making her pussy throb with need.

Greco's laugh was dark, predatory. He shrugged off his jacket, revealing the holstered gun at his hip, a reminder of who he was. But he unbuckled it, setting it aside, human in his hunger.

"Both, if you're lucky." He advanced, yanking the zipper of her gown down in one swift motion. The fabric pooled at her feet, leaving her in black lace panties and a matching bra, her skin goosebumped from the fire's warmth and his stare.

She shivered, not from cold, but from the way he looked at her, like she was prey he planned to devour. "Touch me, Greco. I've hated you so long, but god, I want your hands on me." Her confession spilled out, raw and real, born from years of stolen glances at family meetings, fantasies of him claiming her despite the war.

He didn't make her wait. His palms slid up her sides, rough calluses from handling guns and deals scraping her smooth skin. He unclasped her bra, tossing it aside, then palmed her tits, heavy and full, thumbs flicking her hardening nipples. "These are perfect," he rasped, pinching hard enough to make her gasp. Leaning down, he sucked one into his mouth, teeth grazing the peak, tongue lashing it wet and relentless.

Joan moaned, arching into him, her hands fumbling with his shirt buttons. She shoved it open, nails raking down his chiseled chest, tracing the scars from old fights, marks that made him real, not just a legend. His abs flexed under her touch, leading down to the V of his hips. She cupped his bulge, feeling the thick length strain against his trousers. "So hard for the enemy's daughter. Bet you've jerked off thinking about this pussy."

"Every damn night," he admitted, voice husky, lifting her onto the oak desk. Papers and a half-empty bottle of scotch scattered, but he didn't care. He dropped to his knees, hooking his fingers in her panties and ripping them off, the lace tearing with a satisfying snap. Her pussy was bare, lips swollen and slick, clit peeking out begging for attention.

Greco spread her thighs wide, inhaling her arousal, musky, sweet, intoxicating. "Look at you, dripping for me." His tongue dove in, flat and broad, licking from her entrance to her clit in one long stroke. Joan cried out, legs quaking, her hands fisting his hair. He ate her like a starving man, sucking her clit between his lips, two fingers plunging into her tight heat, curling to stroke her inner walls.

"Fuck... yes, eat my pussy, Greco! Deeper—make me cum on your face." She ground against his mouth, the wet sounds obscene over the crackle of the fire. His fingers pumped faster, scissoring inside her, stretching her for what was coming. She was soaked, juices coating his chin, her body betraying how badly she craved this forbidden union.

He added a third finger, thrusting hard, his tongue flicking relentlessly. Joan's hips bucked, the pressure building like a storm. "I'm gonna... oh shit, yes!" She exploded, pussy clenching around his digits, squirting onto his tongue as waves of pleasure ripped through her. Greco lapped it all, growling his approval, then stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Taste yourself," he ordered, kissing her fiercely, sharing her essence. Joan sucked on his tongue, moaning at the flavor, her hands working his belt free. She shoved his pants down, his cock springing out, thick, veined, the head angry red and leaking pre-cum. It was massive, curving slightly, promising to wreck her.

"I need this inside me. Fuck me raw, Greco, no mercy." Her eyes locked on his, vulnerable yet fierce, the daughter of his enemy begging for his dick.

He gripped her hips, flipping her over the desk so her ass was up, cheeks spread invitingly. The firelight played over her curves, highlighting the pink flush from her orgasm. Greco rubbed his cock along her slit, coating himself in her wetness, then slammed home in one brutal thrust. Joan screamed, the stretch burning so good, her walls fluttering around his girth.

"Tight as fuck... this pussy's mine now," he grunted, pulling back only to drive in deeper, balls slapping her clit. The desk rocked with each pound, her tits bouncing against the wood. He spanked her ass hard, the crack echoing, leaving a red handprint. "Take it, Joan. Every inch."

She pushed back, meeting his rhythm, the pain-pleasure mix making her wild. "Harder! Punish this enemy cunt, make it yours." Sweat dripped down her back, mixing with his, their bodies slick and frantic. Greco's hand snaked around, fingers finding her clit, rubbing in tight circles as he fucked her senseless.

The heat built again, coiling tight. He leaned over her, chest to her back, biting her shoulder as he railed her. "Cum with me. Milk my cock." His thrusts grew erratic, hips snapping like pistons.

Joan shattered first, pussy spasming, gushing around him. "Yes... fill me up!" Greco roared, burying deep, his cock pulsing as he unloaded, hot cum flooding her depths, spilling out around his shaft.

They slumped together, panting, but the fire still burned. Greco pulled out, watching his seed drip from her abused hole, then scooped her up, carrying her to the leather couch by the hearth. He laid her down, stripping fully now, his body a map of power, muscles honed from gym sessions and street brawls, cock still semi-hard and glistening.

Joan reached for him, pulling him down. "More. I want to ride you." She straddled him, sinking onto his reviving length, both groaning at the renewed fullness. Face-to-face, she rolled her hips, grinding her clit against his base, tits brushing his chest.

Greco's hands gripped her ass, guiding her bounces, thumbs teasing her puckered hole. "Such a dirty girl. Ever had it here?" He pressed a finger in, slick with their mixed fluids.

She whimpered, nodding. "Not like you would. Take my ass, Greco…own every part of me." The vulnerability hit him, the trust from an enemy's blood making his chest tighten even as lust surged.

He lifted her off, positioning her on all fours on the rug. Lubed by their cum, he eased into her ass, slow at first, the tight ring yielding to his thickness. Joan moaned, pushing back, the fullness overwhelming. "So full... fuck my ass deep."

Greco thrust steadily, building speed, one hand reaching to finger her pussy, double-penetrating her with hand and cock. The sensations overloaded her, tears pricking her eyes from the intensity. "You're destroying me... don't stop!"

He fucked her harder, the slap of skin on skin mixing with her cries. "Cum for me again, Joan. Show me how much you love this dick." His fingers plunged deep, thumb on her clit.

She did, ass clenching around him, pussy squirting onto his hand. Greco followed, pulling out to cum across her back, thick white streaks painting her skin like a claim.

Exhausted, they collapsed by the fire, bodies entwined, the storm raging outside mirroring the one they'd unleashed. Greco kissed her temple, voice soft for the first time. "This could start a war."

Joan nestled closer, tracing his scars. "Or end one. Merry Christmas, Greco."

In the warmth, hate melted into something rawer, desire, perhaps even more. The night stretched on, their bodies finding each other again and again, unwrapping forbidden layers until dawn crept in, leaving them breathless, marked, and utterly spent.

“I rather fuck you every damn day with my fucking cock, Joan.”