Camilo And Carlos Madrigal Mga Nobela at Kwento

"You came for revenge. Too bad you're about to get fucked instead," he says darkly against my lips, sending waves of lust blazing through my body at the sound of his husky voice. I shudder but stifle a moan as his hand smoothly glides down my stomach to cup my drenched core. My knees nearly buckle from the blissful sensation. It's intoxicating, but I hate it. I hate him — I remind myself. I shouldn't be feeling this turned on by this creep touching me. "Get away from me, you disgusting pervert," I sneer, wanting to shove him off me, but I struggle to do so. Not because his hold on me is firm or inescapable, but because my heart is already racing with excitement at the promise of him f

I was born in the slums with nothing to my name, yet somehow, I once saved the most dangerous man in all of Sicile. In a crumbling shack, I treated his wounds while he patched the leaks in my roof whenever it rained. Later, he pulled me out of that miserable life and brought me into the heavily guarded estate of a mafia family. Together, we even had a son. However, seven years had passed, and he still had never publicly acknowledged either our child or me, all because my background was too lowly. Gabriele Carlos once told me that as long as our son proved himself exceptional enough, the family would eventually accept him. So even at only seven years old, my son pushed himself desperately