Italian Wife Beater Novels & Stories

She was about to slap me but a hand blocked it. "I know she's stupid, but you can't touch her. Even your fingertips." Zach said coldly. while intently looking at his Mom. "Stop your craziness Mom! You just hate everything. I'm not happy with what you're up to. You have no right to treat Kimora like this. She's my wife and no one can hurt my wife without my permission!" Zach pulled me away so I could do nothing. I wanted to pull Athena’s hair but I knew I wasn’t in a position to do that. I was just a humble poor and married to a rich and handsome man. And also lived in a Mafia Family.

Her eyes went red. "Husband. When you beat me until I lost the baby. When you made me wash all the family laundry in cold water in the dead of winter. Were we husband and wife then? When your mother forced those filthy folk remedies down my throat and told me to die if I couldn't give you a son — were we husband and wife then? You're not human. You're a thing in a man's skin." Giulia raised the crowbar over her head and brought it down on his.

"Fuck! Wife, how are you so tight still? Fuck, yes! I love this naughty pussy of yours! Squeezing your husband's cock harder, huh?!" She turned wetter. My words working on her like magic. With her tied hands, she was so vulnerable under my control. It was making her so needy and confident at the same time, while she desperately wanted to touch me. And I was obsessed with her. She looked so fucking beautiful under my mercy. I hold her legs and spin her on her stomach, Bending her on four and again slamming inside her, wrapping my fingers on her throat. We were fucking like two addicts with no sense. It was more like a punishment to her because she turned very naughty these days! We came to It

The woman smiled with subtle disdain, as if seeing through Beaufort’s false words. - Pleasure? Let us not be false, Valentin - she replied bluntly, expressing what she thought directly, as she always did. Valentin Beaufort admired Beatrice’s boldness and frankness, even if she didn’t love her. Their marriage had been arranged, an alliance between their families to consolidate power in the mafia. Beatrice’s father controlled the influential city of Runiere, and the union between them was a guarantee that both organizations would remain allies. - What do you want, Beatrice? - asked Beaufort, curious about why his wife was there at that moment.

Daughter of Spanish mafia king Miguel Rigruduez and wife to Italian mafia heir, Adonis Alejandro Bernardi. In a few days, I would officially be the queen of the Italian mafia as I celebrate one year of being this handsome man's wife. I have learnt a lot and definitely am not who I used to be. Life has its ups and downs, and moving forward, there was no assurance that we wouldn't face more challenges, but I was ready. I am strong. I am tenacious. I am resilient. This is my revenge, and I wholeheartedly submit to my maf—

“Lucia is not fit to be a wife anymore. She’s unstable. Weak.” “She’s your wife,” Beatrice shouted. “She’s my mother.” “You’ll understand when you’re older.” But Beatrice didn’t want to understand. Not then. Not ever. And exactly thirty-three days after Lucia was forced to pack her life into a single suitcase and disappear, her father had remarried. To her. Valeria D’Amico. Antonia’s mother. Beatrice closed her eyes and felt the fury rise like bile. She could still see her stepmother’s perfectly painted lips curled in a smug smile that day at the garden wedding. Could still hear her laugh—the way it lilted through the halls like a victory bell.

“I don't want to have sex with just one woman, kids, family, dog, or an SUV. I want to have sex with whom I want and am attracted to. And, for sure, it is not a wife chosen by my father.” “I am sure I can choose a much better woman than you.” Well, that I couldn't deny. My mother was a model wife and a very beautiful woman. They had been successfully married for years. The kind of rare thing that only happens once. “Ouch, you really know how to touch a man's wound, Mr. Bianchi. But the answer is still no.” “Son, I ask you to get to know her, she's a good girl.” His voice softened.

It has been just a few minutes during their journey, and they haven't even left Italy yet, and already they are back to their typical issues and debates, and she is frustrated with that. While gazing at her husband, she can only raise her eyebrows at him as she sneers, "Better luck next time, beloved husband; as I told you, you have no chance against a Lombardi. I haven't done anything yet, but here you are, starting to complain about everything about me again. Aren't you tired of this bullshit that you always give me? This was your idea, wasn't it? You wanted to bring me out of my comfort zone; you wanted me to look as helpless as I can be on your own turf, but look, honey, your plan clearl

Her sweet gaze became hostile for a moment but she quickly hid it when she shifted her attention to Alas, waiting for him to deny it. "She's Rocio Morana, my wife." "She wasn't bluffing?" "Of course, I'm not." I placed my hand on top of Alas where Olivia could see our matching wedding rings. "Why would I lie about something like that?" I asked her smiling. Olivia moistened her lower lip. She lugged her chair away from the table and brought her clutch with her. "Excuse me. I'll just head to the powder room." "Go on, take your time." The smile on my lips quickly vanished as soon as she was out of my sight.

“He won’t try anything tonight. He’s not stupid.” “Reassuring.” A woman in gold appeared next, all teeth and perfume and diamonds that were definitely real. “Mrs. Alighieri, I’m Carla Bianchi. My husband does business with your husband.” “She means her husband pays me to leave him alone,” Dante said without looking at her. Carla’s laugh was sharp. “Dante, always so direct. Elena, you must come sit with the wives later. We have a table. We talk about things that don’t bore us to death.”