Johnny Dimarco Degrassi Novels & Stories

Vicenzo shouted at me immediately he saw me walk into the dressing room shooting murderous stares at me. "I know, I will make it up to you," I said as I quickly took off my clothes and hurriedly put on my white feathered lingerie with blue sequence. Vicenzo is the one in charge of the clubhouse where I work as a stripper. the club is owned by his brother, Gabriel. A ruthless mafia Don. I can feel his eyes on my sensitive spots as I hurried through my things. He pulled me closer to himself while teasing me with his breath that smelled from marijuana and alcohol.

REINA I froze. For a moment, I thought I’d imagined it. That my dirty, perverted mind had warped his words and made them filthier than they were. But no. His voice, rough and low, cut through the heat in the room again. “Crawl the fuck to me and take this big cock in your mouth like a good girl.” My breath hitched. There he stood. Domenico Gravano. Towering. Commanding. And in his hand was the thick, veiny cock I’d only ever seen in my fantasies, now real and stiff and dripping right in front of me.

he said flatly, lifting a glass of whiskey to his mouth. Ice clinked as his fingers shifted. I couldn’t help noticing the small, bleeding cuts across his knuckles... and remembering what that man’s face looked like afterward. Goddess, Lorenzo was a sexy brute. “That’s me… Victoria Bian… Greco” I answered, standing there like I was in an interview. “About last night…” “The first time, you didn’t think the Greco family was worthy. You were too ‘precious,’” he cut in coldly, one dark brow lifting.

Fuck, it stung. He grabbed the back of my neck, turning my face around and squeezing hard. "Chill with the fucking attitude, angel." He growled glaring down at me, his hard accent coming through heavily. I glared back even though I was absolutely enjoying every second of it. "I'm going to move now, is that okay?" Dominic asked rolling his eyes and I dropped my head onto the bed with my ass still in the air. "Yes." Waves and waves of ecstasy swept through me when he started moving in and out. I couldn't

I followed the direction he was watching and saw my parents with the Mikhas walking our way. "Just relax; let me do all the talking," Johnny whispered in my ear, and I nodded. "Alessia, just look how nice you cleaned up," my dear sister said with a fake smile. I just stared at her, not wanting to talk. "Mr. Gravano, we met again. Thank you for bringing her. Sergei will take her from here," my stepfather said, walking forward to reach for my arm, but Johnny quickly held onto my waist. "I'm sorry, Mr. Berlusconi, but Alessia won't go anywhere with another man. You see, she's my fiancée," Johnny said in a cold voice, not taking his eyes off Sergei.

Carlos asked shakily but he didn't wait for Mattia to reply before he continues " Maximo Santino is a wanted criminal in every countries. You can't include him in this ... " " And who else is more competent? " Mattia yell suddenly, jolting the two other men. He sighed roughly as he pulled off his glasses before he continues smoothly as if he never yelled out. " Konstantin Dmitri is a Russian Mafia Boss, what is wrong in it if I call in the sadistic Italian Mafia Boss into this? Do you both have any other options? " Minutes passes slowly without Mattia getting any response. He stood up from the chair he sat on and Walk away from the Long table.

*** Name: Rossi Emilio Silvestri Date of Birth: March 14, 1991 Age: 34 Nationality: Italian Birthplace: Florence, Italy Citizenship: Dual—Italian and American. Accent: Smooth, refined Tuscan Italian. Languages: Italian (native), English (fluent) Former Title: 4th-Year Surgical Resident at St. Augustine Medical Centre, Manhattan, NY Specialisation: Trauma surgery & neurosurgical procedures Medical School: Sapienza University of Rome. License Revoked: July 2024 Revoking Body: New York State Board for Professional Medical Conduct

Don DeMarco walked over to Antonio and slapped him across the face. “You show respect, Antonio,” Don DeMarco declared. “Did you honestly think the daughter of a Don wouldn’t know Italian? Stupido!” Antonio’s denial quickly turned into panic, then to begging and pleading. He dropped to his knees. “Please forgive me,” Antonio begged. “I ask for mercy, and I will lead with a firm hand and even temperate when I marry Isabella.” “You will not lead,” Don DeMarco said sternly. “Under the eyes of God, the DeMarco head shall be passed down to Vincento Paulo DeMarco. It is my word, and thus it is final.”