All Chapters of Make Me Moan, Daddy : Chapter 101 - Chapter 110

CALESTINO“1201 S. Bellmont Avenue. Penthouse 12B.”I read it out loud for the third time, like the words might rearrange themselves if I stared hard enough. My grip tightened around my phone until the screen creaked. My heart was trying to tear its way out of my ribs.I killed the engine and stepped into the cool night air, pulling my cap low. The building rose in front of me—glass, steel, money. Cold and untouchable. Penthouse level.Of course.Lorenzo had always liked height. Liked looking down on people. The devil always did like the top floor.Six years. That was how long it had been since he’d vanished without a word. No goodbye. No explanation. Just bruises blooming purple along my ribs and a hollow in my chest that never quite healed.And now he was back—wearing another man’s name, another man’s face, pretending to be Philip White, professor, intellectual, ghost. As if I wouldn’t know him and why he was back.I knew exactly why he’d come. Because no one knew that bastard than

DOMENICOI woke up slowly.Not the way I usually did—alert, already moving, already counting exits—but drifting, heavy, suspended in that quiet space between sleep and awareness where the body knows before the mind does.Warmth first.A weight across my thigh. A soft rise and fall against my chest.Then the smell.Her detergent. Something clean and faintly floral. Not mine. Never mine.My eyes opened.The ceiling above me was unfamiliar—plain white, faint crack near the corner, a shadow from the curtain rod cutting across it at an angle I didn’t recognize. It took a second for the pieces to line up, for memory to settle.Reina’s apartment.Paolo’s apartment for her.The reality landed gently but firmly, like a hand pressing down on my chest to keep me from sitting up too fast.She was curled into me, her body turned fully toward mine, leg thrown over my thigh like she’d claimed it without asking permission. One hand rested flat against my chest, fingers splayed, palm warm. Her head wa

REINA It had been over two hours since we left the laundry room. The washer and dryer had finished their cycles, clothes were folded and put away, and somehow we’d ended up on the couch like this—me tucked tight against Domenico’s side, my head on his chest, one of his arms draped heavy over my shoulders. The other hand never stayed still. It slid up and down my thigh, fingers tracing lazy circles over the thin fabric of my shorts, sometimes dipping under the hem just to brush bare skin. Every time he did it, my stomach tightened. We’d picked some random N*****x movie. I don’t even remember the title. Something with a lot of slow camera pans and moody lighting. I wasn’t really watching. I was too busy feeling him. His thumb kept stroking the inside of my thigh, higher each time, until it grazed the edge of my panties. I shifted my legs apart just a fraction, letting him have more room. He took it. His palm pressed flat against me, warm and firm, rubbing slow through the cotton.

DOMENICO The windows were fogged, the air thick with the smell of sex and her vanilla body lotion. Reina was still on top of me in the driver’s seat, knees digging into the leather on either side of my hips, her shorts long gone, top rucked up so her tits were bare and bouncing with every ragged breath. My cock was still inside her, softening slowly after I’d already come once—deep, hard, flooding her until it leaked out around us. She was trembling, pussy fluttering weakly around me like aftershocks.I should have been done. Satisfied. Calm.I wasn’t.I’d told her—no, I’d told myself—I was fine with this. Fine being her fuckboy, her secret, the man who made her come harder than any man ever could but never asked for more. No labels. No demands. No jealousy. I’d said the words out loud like they meant something.They didn’t.Because right now, with her wedding ring pressing cold against my collarbone where her hand rested, all I could see was Paolo’s face. The way she’d smiled at th

REINAThe doorbell rang at exactly eight, and my heart jumped like it knew what was coming before I did.I’d spent the last hour getting ready slowly, deliberately, like every touch was for him. The burgundy dress clung to me like a second skin—silk so thin it pressed tightly against my nipples every time I moved, low enough to show the soft swell of my breasts, high slit parting with every step to tease the black lace thong underneath. No bra. Just me, bare and aching already. So ready for whatever Domenico was planning to do with me.My hair loose in dark waves, lips painted deep red, my favorite perfume dabbed between my thighs, on my wrists, at the hollow of my throat. He would probably sniff me right there later tonight.When I opened the door, Domenico stood there in charcoal wool and open collar, sleeves rolled to show the ink curling around his forearms. He looked like he’d been carved from midnight—tall, broad, dangerously beautiful.His eyes hit me and everything stopped.H