REINA’POV
It had been over an hour since it happened.
Since I got on my knees and sucked my father-in-law’s cock like my life depended on it.
An hour since I had done sothing so forbidden.
And yet I was still trembling. Still wet. Still shafully, achingly needy.
I lay on my back in bed, staring up at the ceiling, the sheets twisted around my legs. The villa was quiet now, too quiet, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath, waiting for to either fall apart or do sothing stupid all over again.
And maybe I was already doing sothing stupid.
Because I couldn’t stop thinking about him. About the way Donico looked at like he owned . Like I was nothing more than a mouth for him to fuck and leave behind. And God help ... I liked it. I liked it so fucking much it made my thighs clench and my nipples painfully hard under my silk crop top.
He hadn’t said a word after. Hadn’t looked back. Just walked out, leaving on the floor like discarded trash.
And still... my pussy pulsed at the mory. My whole body still aching for his touch.
I should have felt humiliated. I did, at first. For a few minutes after he left, I sat on the floor crying, angry at myself for being so weak to pleasure, so hungry, so desperate. For wanting him. For loving the way he tasted. For the way I swallowed it all down like it was salvation. For the way he made feel good.
But now?
Now, I couldn’t stop touching myself.
The sha was still there, curling around my ribs like barbed wire but it wasn’t strong enough to stop my fingers from sliding down my stomach and slipping between my thighs.
"Mmmph." I moaned softly as I found how soaked I still was.
"Fuck," I whispered into the quiet.
It wasn’t the first ti I’d fantasized about him. But it was the first ti I had sothing real to cling to. Not just vague imaginings of what his cock looked like, but the actual mory of it thick and veiny, heavy on my tongue, twitching as he moaned good girl like I was his dirty little toy.
I spread my legs wider, the cool air licking at my wetness as I let my fingers circle my clit. Slowly. Teasingly. My other hand cupped my breast, fingers pinching my nipple as I pictured Donico standing over again, ordering to crawl. Barking that deep, ruthless "Now," like I had no choice.
I didn’t want a choice.
The fantasy warped, deepened and now I was bent over the couch, and he was behind , growling filth into my ear as he pounded into . His hand fisted in my hair. His ring-clad fingers digging into my hips. My husband’s na on his lips just to remind how wrong it was.
Just how filthy what we were doing was.
"Your pussy was wasted on him," I imagined him saying. "You were mine the mont you stepped your legs into my house."
I gasped as I rubbed faster, my body arching.
My mind fed more, his mouth on my neck, biting, bruising, claiming. His cock stretching wide while his voice stayed cold, cruel, intoxicating.
Then the image shifted again.
This ti we were on my marital bed. This bed. My husband’s scent still clinging to the pillows, his shirts in the closet.
Donico fucking right here where his son sleeps every night.
I moaned louder now, my hips rising to et my own touch. I rubbed harder, faster, fingers slick and needy. The thought of being caught only turned on more even more. The danger. The depravity. The fact that it was his son I was married to, but he was the one making feel alive.
And then I imagined it.
My husband walking in. Opening the door.
Finding his wife sprawled naked across his bed, his father’s cock buried deep in her pussy, her moans like music.
He would scream. He would break. And still I wouldn’t stop. Because I loved it so fucking much.
That image alone sent over the edge.
My orgasm slamd into so hard I arched off the bed, my mouth open in a silent cry, my toes curling. My thighs shook, my entire body clenching as the forbidden pleasure tore through .
"Fuck... Daddy..." I whimpered breathlessly.
The aftershocks left weak and wet and shivering.
It was the hardest I’d ever co in my life.
And it was because of him.
Donico Gravano.
My sexy as sin father-in-law.
I lay there for a mont, limbs splayed, sweat cooling on my skin. My fingers were still between my legs, wet with proof of what I’d just done to myself, sothing I always did when I thought of him.
Sothing my husband could never do. Sothing he could never make feel.
I eventually dragged myself up and stumbled to the bathroom. I cleaned up quickly, brushing my hair, rinsing my mouth, removing my crop top and short. Putting on my nightwear and smoothing my nightgown back over my flushed skin like it could hide the sin burning just beneath the surface.
I was just crawling back into bed when I heard the door open.
My heart skipped.
Not because I was afraid of being caught.
But because the timing was almost too perfect.
My husband walked in, looking exhausted. His eyes were dull, his movents robotic. He barely glanced at before kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his jacket.
I watched him like a stranger. Felt nothing. No flutter. No ache. No anticipation. Just numbness.
He sat on the edge of the bed and sighed, then leaned over and gave the sa kiss he always gave . The one on my forehead. Gentle. Lifeless. Obligatory.
And then he collapsed beside and passed out, just like that.
No questions.
No passion.
No teasing.
No idea.
I turned onto my side, staring at him. This man. The man I was married to.
The man who had no clue his father’s cum had been in my mouth just an hour before.
I should’ve felt sick.
Instead, I smiled.
Because for the first ti in years, I’d felt everything.
Because Donico made feel desired. Dominated. Ruined.
Because while my husband slept beside like a fucking atbag, the ghost of his father’s moans still echoed in my ears. Making my pussy drip with pleasure.
And I knew without a doubt... I would do it again. And again if Daddy let .
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