The Mafia Boss' Runaway Bride

CONTENT WARNING: This is a delicious disaster where virginity auctions meet DILF dilemmas, with a side of "oh shit, it's him" humiliation hotter than hellfire. Brace for paid-for power plays, mouth-fucking marathons that swallow pride (and more), nipple worship that'd make saints sin, and a deflowering so deep you'll feel the stretch. Age-gap alert: he's twice her world-weary years, all smug control and shower sequels. If taboo "daddy" vibes or consent-blurring bids make you squirm, this one's your kryptonite. Grab a fan, not the bid button.

CHAPTER ONE

Mike's first thought was "What the hell?"

The site wasn't exactly on the up-and-up. It ran like a digital brothel, the kind he'd dipped into regularly since his marriage crumbled once the kids hit high school and gained some real freedom. Sure, he could snag a date if he tried. But why bother? All that effort for maybe nothing. The platform let him dial in precisely what he craved for an evening. Brunette or blonde. Kinky twists or straight vanilla. Full rack or perky handfuls. And the guarantee they were vetted clean. Branches dotted around, and he scored big living just an hour from the nearest one.

His ex had custody of the kids that week. So he fired up the browser to poke around for fresh options.

Fresh didn't even cover it.

Spotting her was instant. Who wouldn't? She'd crashed at his place nearly every other weekend that past year, right alongside his daughter. Freshly eighteen last month, or so he recalled. The girls had chattered nonstop about her bash. Tiny frame at five-foot-four. Blonde bob skimming her shoulders. Those bright green eyes that lit up. Perky tits hovering between B and C territory. Slim waist that begged a hand around it. And that bright, all-American grin screaming cheer squad captain.

Riley Sanders. His daughter's ride or die best friend since freshman year.

Auctioning off her virginity online.

Bids closed at midnight.

A softer guy might've jumped in to shield her from her own mess. Yank her back from whatever wild whim drove this. But life had taught him otherwise. He tuned out other folks' bonehead moves unless they splashed over onto him or the family. No skin off his teeth. Besides, he'd stack up nicer than most creeps lurking there. He knew his looks turned heads, women from coeds to cougars batting lashes despite him pushing past forty. Post-split, he'd stayed ripped. Gym sessions multiple times weekly. Steady runs to keep the edge. Hell, he'd caught his daughter's crew murmuring once or twice about her smoking hot pops.

And he wouldn't hurt Riley, not more than he had to, anyway. Hell, he'd turn it electric for her.

Two hours and an almost absurd amount of money later he was the proud owner of a teenager's virginity. He put all the pertinent information of when / where to meet this upcoming weekend into the form that the website provided.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Worton Hotel, room 419.

Riley nearly bit her lip from the jitters before she remembered that she was wearing lipstick. Was she really going to do this?

Damn right.

Not solely for the payout, though that insane haul sweetened the deal. She'd schemed this for ages, ever since catching wind of the site where she'd put her cherry up for grabs. Roughly a year back, she'd overheard her big sis dishing with a pal about it. Her friend used it kind of like a dating service, but dropped that virgins raked in the real money.

The dudes prowling there were loaded. Seasoned. And worlds beyond boys.

She'd always had a thing for older men, crushing on her teachers throughout high school, her coaches, just about anyone older. Even if they weren't hot or in great shape, she just found them so much more intriguing than the boys her age. Which was how she'd become the last virgin on the cheerleading squad. Boys her age just didn't interest her.

Handing her V-card to a mystery older stud, though? That fantasy revved her engine fierce. Real life might flop short of the dream, but at least she'd pocket serious money for the trade. Her crew? None of her friends were still in a relationship with the guy that popped their cherry, and they hadn't gotten anything out of the exchange like she would be.

She drew a steadying pull of air, tugged the strap on her skimpy white sundress, and slid the keycard home.

The skirt of her dress swirled around her thighs as she walked through the door. The hotel room was nearly spotless, but across the room there was a man sitting in a chair looking out the window. Since none of the lights were on she couldn't see any of his features, just his outline against the brightness of the window as he stood and turned towards her. He was tall, had a healthy crop of hair and looked to be in fairly decent shape, but that was all she could see.

A buzz of thrill and raw want prickled her skin as she forced a grin and advanced, door clicking shut. Was it just her imagination, or could she actually feel his eyes caressing her young body, lingering over the low cut of the front of her halter dress and the hem around her tanned thighs?

"Hi," she ventured, his quiet throwing her off as she masked it best she could. "I'm Riley, you must be Mike." The sitch flipped and light bloomed across the room.

She gasped. "Oh my god... Mr. Stone?!"

The familiar handsome face of Emily's dad was the last thing that she'd expected to see. A rather rugged face, framed by dark hair with a dash of grey at the temples and little silvery highlights scattered throughout the bit of scruff on his face. Mr. Stone was a DILF - Dad I'd Like to Fuck. That was the running joke among his daughter's friends. Sure she'd drooled over him wearing a swimsuit in the summer. Sighed over him when he'd done something particularly nice or caring for the girls. Masturbated to a fantasy of him in her head multiple times.

The fantasy of being with an older, rich, mature man suddenly seemed dirty and weak as she stared at this man that she knew... that she HAD known for years, and knew that HE knew she'd sold her virginity on the internet. She felt dirty. Ashamed. And impossibly young and stupid. If she was lucky he would only lecture her himself and not tell her parents what she'd done. And she'd have to return the money to him of course. God... how was she going to cover the percentage that the website took?

Her cheeks bloomed red before paling to white several times as he stood there watching her. Assessing her. Tears of humiliation sparked in her eyes.

"I can't imagine what you must think of me," she whispered, eyes dropping to the carpet, dodging whatever judgment scorched there.

"I think... that right now you look more beautiful than ever," he said quietly in that oh so sexy deep voice of his. "And that I have been looking forward to this all week."