บททั้งหมดของ DIRTY DESIRES: FORBIDDEN STORIES : บทที่ 61 - บทที่ 70

I wake up the next night already hard. My cock strains against the thin sheet, the memory of Judy’s mouth swallowing my load still fresh in my head. The clock reads 11:47. I lie still, listening for the soft pad of her bare feet on the hallway carpet. When the door finally opens, my pulse jumps. She slips inside wearing nothing this time. The moonlight paints silver lines across her bare breasts, the soft curve of her stomach, the trimmed strip of dark hair between her thighs. She closes the door with a quiet click and walks straight to my bed.“Couldn’t wait,” she whispers, climbing on top of me. Her knees settle on either side of my hips. My cock presses against her warm, wet pussy lips and she rocks once, slow, letting me feel how slick she already is. “I’ve been wet all day thinking about tonight.”She leans down and kisses me hard, tongue sliding into my mouth. I taste mint and something sweet. Her nipples drag across my chest, tight and hot. I reach up and cup both breasts, thum

I step into the kitchen at midnight, barefoot on cold tile. The fridge hums. A single light above the stove glows soft yellow. Judy stands at the counter in Dad’s old button-down shirt, sleeves rolled, hem barely covering the tops of her thighs. She’s slicing strawberries, knife tapping the board in slow rhythm. Juice stains her fingers red.She looks up, smiles like she expected me. “Couldn’t sleep again?”I stay near the doorway. My cock already twitches at the sight of her bare legs, but I shake my head. “We shouldn’t. Not tonight. Not anymore.”She sets the knife down, wipes her hands on a towel, and walks over. The shirt parts with each step, flashing the curve of one breast, the dark shadow between her thighs. She stops inches away, close enough that I smell her skin, warm and sweet from the fruit. “Ryan, you’ve been thinking about this all day. I know you have.”I swallow. “It’s wrong. Dad comes home in few days. If he finds out—”She presses a finger to my lips. “He won’t. And

The call came at 11:47 p.m. I was already in bed in our small apartment above the bakery, the one that still smelled of flour and yeast even after midnight. My phone lit up with his name. Papa never called this late unless something was wrong. When I answered, his voice was raw, almost unrecognizable.“Lucia. Get dressed. We have to go. Now.”I sat up, heart already pounding. “What happened?”“Just get dressed. The nice one. And do not ask questions until we are in the car.”Fifteen minutes later I stood on the sidewalk in the only black dress I owned, a simple sleeveless thing that ended just above the knee. Papa’s old sedan smelled of cigarette smoke and fear. His hands shook on the steering wheel as he drove us through the empty streets of the city toward the waterfront. I watched his profile in the passing streetlights. The deep lines around his mouth looked deeper. His eyes were red.“Papa, talk to me.”He swallowed hard. “I borrowed money. A lot of money. From people you do not

I woke to the smell of coffee and the soft gray light of early morning filling the glass wall. For a few seconds I did not remember where I was. Then the silk sheets against my bare legs and the unfamiliar ceiling brought everything back in a single cold rush. The penthouse. My father and Don Alessio. Six months contract.I sat up slowly. Someone had been in the room while I slept. A black silk robe lay folded at the foot of the bed. A tray sat on the low table near the window with a silver coffee pot, a cup, and a small plate of fruit and warm pastries. No note. Just the quiet assumption that I would accept what was given.I showered in a bathroom larger than my old bedroom, the water falling from a wide rainfall head like warm rain. When I stepped out I wrapped myself in the robe. It was cool and heavy and smelled faintly of something expensive. I stood in front of the closet for a long time. Everything inside still had tags. Soft trousers. Cashmere sweaters. Dresses that looked lik

I did not sleep.I lay in the dark on the cool silk sheets, staring at the ceiling while the city lights shifted across the glass wall in slow silver patterns. My body would not settle. Every time I closed my eyes I heard his voice from dinner, calm and filthy. You are still wet. The truth of those words had not left me. Even now, hours later, I could feel the low, shameful pulse between my legs, the way my inner thighs were still slick from how my body had reacted to him across the table.At some point after two in the morning the bedroom door opened without a knock.Alessio stood in the doorway, still dressed in the black shirt and trousers from dinner. Sleeves rolled to his elbows. Collar open at the throat. He did not turn on the light. He simply stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The soft click of the lock sounded final, like a sentence being carried out.“Sit up.”My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I felt dizzy. I pushed myself up against the headboard, draggin