Sam Russo Nudes Mga Nobela at Kwento

Holy shit. My ruthless Mafia Boss is the sugar daddy who calls me "Mistress" on the dark web. After my phone accidentally dialed him, Don Cassius's private phone buzzed on the conference table. The entire boardroom was dead silent. I held my breath. My palms were slick with sweat. Ten seconds ago, I hit the video call button for a contact saved as: 6'1, Dumb Money, 8-Pack. Who was currently sitting at the head of the table. The same man who had just ripped my art restoration draft into five pieces.

Russo is capable of a lot of things, from having an affair to God knows what, I was certainly convinced this was her doing. “Jas, you know looks can be deceiving right? You should hear what the internet says about this man, they are really disturbing things” she countered what I had said to defend Mr. Russo ”And you also know that you really shouldn’t believe everything you see on the news right?” I replied teasingly I didn’t just see Mr. Russo, we had an actual conversation or something like that. Just by thinking of him alone a wave of his musky scent with a bit of mint hit me from nowhere.

Russo laid her down on his bed and made quick work of the slacks she was wearing. “I hope you’re not a virgin,” Russo said. Tammy laughed and shook her head. “Why?” “It’ll make this easier,” Russo said and pulled his jeans down. Tammy’s eyes widened as she looked at him. Her throat had gone dry as Russo knelt on the bed and pulled her knees apart. Two of his fingers pushed inside her and his eyes found hers. She was tighter than he thought she’d be and he shifted himself lower and his tongue flicked over her clit.

Even though he doesn't care, it won't be enjoyable to him… ‘Except he loves fucking dead girls!’ My brain screams it in my head. Somehow, it fills my head with terror. Thick bumps creep along my bare skin, crippling my thoughts. Fucking dead bodies is one dark kink, and just realizing how lost Mr. Russo is, he might be into that fetish too. ‘But he won't fuck me in my unconsciousness, right?’ I try to make sense of it. ‘It’s rape…’ ‘No darling, you already sold your soul to him for a night when you were devilish enough to poison another—’

Niko said, his jaw locked. "And?" I asked, trying to gauge how much he knew. I swallowed hard just as Russo walked in. The wind howled outside, matching my drumming heart in my chest. Snow dusted on his clothes. He tugged his hoodie off his head and ran his hand through his hair multiple times. I was so engrossed in watching him that I shivered in fear hearing a gun shot. Russo's jaw set tight as his menacing gaze trained on Alessio. He stood immovable, giving him a murderous look.

Suddenly, I felt a pain shoot from my right nipple and I yelped, looking down at it. A large broad hand rested on top of it, the fingers coated in sticky fluid. My eyes widened as I turned to the owner of the said hand. Midnight black pools of ink stared into my soul and I felt my whole world come to a standstill. It was not a dream. Dante Russo was in bed naked with me. "Mr. Russo..." He moved so quickly that I did not have time to complete my sentence. His bulging, tortuous cock was at my entrance.

ELENA THEN. Lorenzo Russo sat comfortably on the worn couch, his long legs crossed at the ankle. His dark suit, perfectly tailored to his lean, muscular frame, hugged his broad shoulders and narrow waist. His dark hair was slicked back, highlighting the sharp angles of his face and the strong cut of his jaw as it caught the low light. He held a glass of whiskey in one hand, swirling the amber liquid lazily, the ice clinking softly against the glass.