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Chapter 30: Wrapped Apologies.
Last Updated:
2025-01-10 20:20:56
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 31: Seductive Surrender: A Taste of Him.
Dontrell’s gaze locked onto mine as he pulled me closer, kissing me deeply, his hands claiming my body with a possessiveness that made my heart race.I couldn’t deny the pull, even if my mind tried to fight it. My body betrayed me, leaning closer, wanting more.“Why are you always so damn beautiful?” He muttered, his rough voice sending a shiver down my spine.His lips burned a trail down my neck, pulling me closer as I moaned against his mouth, lost in the feeling of him.“God, you drive me insane,” he whispered between kisses, his breath hot against my skin. “I can’t stop wanting you.”His kiss was slow at first, teasing, but quickly turned desperate. The cool metal of my necklace brushed against his fingertips as he trailed my skin.His hands slid down my ass, pressing me into him. His chest firm against mine, he moved me toward the bed, lips never leaving my skin, every touch burning into me.My hands roamed his chest, the muscles beneath his singlet driving me wild. I wanted to fe
Last Updated : 2025-01-10The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 32: The Breaking Point.
I heard her scream before I even had a chance to react, the sound piercing through the sexual tension we’d been caught in. The shock of it sent my body into full alert, my muscles tight, adrenaline flooding my veins as I sat up on the bed, my eyes darting to the balcony she pointed frantically toward.“What is it?” I asked, my voice sharp with concern. My desire still burned, but her fear cut through it.""Someone's on the balcony," she shouted, her voice trembling, grabbing the duvet and wrapping it around herself. Her chest heaved, face pale with terror.I shot up from the bed, the rage I’d felt a second ago gone in an instant, replaced by instinct. I rushed to the balcony, sliding the glass door open with force and stepping onto the cool, concrete floor.I scanned the darkness outside, my eyes darting, searching for any sign of movement. “Who’s there?” I called out, my voice cutting through the silence.Nothing. Just the faint rustle of the wind, the quiet of the night. I stretched
Last Updated : 2025-01-11The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 33: Between Fear and Reality.
Darkness stretched across the eerie hallways of my childhood school. I was sixteen again, running, breathless, my heart pounding. Someone in a mask was chasing me, their footsteps echoing menacingly behind me. I turned a corner and stumbled into a hallway. Silence. They were gone. My breathing was ragged as I scanned the walls, and my chest tightened at the sight plastered everywhere—the name *BLADE*, bold and suffocating, smeared on every surface. I glanced down and froze. I was wearing a top with Mr. Blade's face on it. The hallway door behind me slammed shut, and the walls began to close in, grinding closer and closer. I ran, my legs burning, but I couldn’t stop. If I fell, the closing walls would crush me. Ahead, I saw the door to the outside, light spilling through it like salvation.My mum stood there, her arms outstretched, beckoning me. Tears blurred my vision as I pushed harder, each step a battle. Just a few more strides, a final leap to safety... I jumped toward her, reach
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I swallowed hard, my mind racing. Where did he find it? Had he taken it off while I slept? Or had it been lying somewhere? How could I have been so careless?“Yes, that's what I was searching for,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. My heart hammered, but I kept my composure.“Well, your luck's in,” Dontrell said, tossing the bracelet in the air before catching it with his left hand. He stretched it toward me, eyes never leaving mine.I exhaled, relieved. "Thank God," I muttered, trying to brush it off. "I almost thought I lost it for good."“Nah, you didn’t lose it,” he replied, his tone calm but firm. “Remember when we rushed you to the hospital? I took it off to avoid losing another piece of your jewelry during the chaos. It slipped my mind until I found it in my pocket this morning.”I laughed softly, shaken by how he remembered everything. “Thanks," I said, but his gaze remained fixed on me, sharp and intense."So, what's with this bracelet?" he asked, his tone casual, but
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The words lingered, heavy as a storm cloud. Dontrell’s gaze never shifted, and for a moment, time slowed, the car engine humming in the silence. My fingers gripped the seatbelt, grounding me as my thoughts scattered, like a puzzle I couldn’t solve."Why ask that?" My voice was barely above a whisper, afraid to break the fragile calm between us.But even as I spoke, I knew the answer. And it terrified me."Sometimes, I think my dad’s eyes and ears are everywhere. I can feel his gaze even when he’s not around. I’m not scared for me, Allison. I escaped him for ten years in San Diego." His voice was steady, but the words carried something darker.“I’m scared for you.” He paused, his jaw tightening. “And now that I’m back here, I fear it might come to a point where I’ll have to choose between you and my family. Where I’ll have to do things I’d regret, just to protect you.”“I don’t get why he’s on your neck. You’ve kept your part of the deal, marrying me. It’s like he wants control of you.
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The room buzzed with whispers, but I tuned everything out. My eyes were locked on the TV above the reception desk. The headline flashed boldly:“The Blades Heiress or a Pawn? Inside the Scandal of Allison Blackwell.”The accompanying text stabbed at me like a knife: “Marriage or a Cover for the Blades’ Secret Gay Lives?”Then the volume on the TV suddenly increased, cutting through the low murmurs. Now, every single word being said was audible. All eyes flicked to the screen, and the rest shifted toward me. The news anchor’s voice was sharp and cutting. "Rumors swirl around Dontrell Blade, hinting at possible impotence, while his younger brother, Clayton, is rumored to be infertile. These two brothers, among the wealthiest and most eligible men in Los Angeles, have sparked endless speculation. Both are over thirty, with no children or baby mamas in sight. Could they both be gay, hiding their truth in plain sight?"Her co-host chimed in, feigning concern. “I pity the young bride—poo
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Dr. James studied me with cold detachment, his gaze making my skin crawl.The tension in the room was palpable as I stepped forward, my heels clicking sharply against the sterile floor. The air smelled faintly of antiseptic. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right, likely leading to a bathroom and a changing room. But my focus was fixed on him—Dr. James."Mrs. Blade?" His voice was smooth and authoritative, but too rough for someone with such captivating eyes. It felt out of place coming from him. "Please, have a seat.""Thank you," I replied, sitting down. I controlled my breathing, trying to suppress the fluttering unease his presence stirred in me.His gaze never left me. A small tattoo peeked out from beneath his shirt collar—strange for a doctor. I focused on his hands to avoid feeling his scrutiny.“I’m Dr. James. How are you today?” His tone was too professional, too cold. His eyes felt like they were piercing through me, seeing more than just my face.“Fine,
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The room felt suffocating, a prison of stale air and dread. Dr. James stood before me, the gun steady in his grip, his eyes cold and calculating. Pathetic,” he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. “Dragged into your husband’s mess, now you're just a target. Helpless. A lamb that thinks it's safe in a wolf’s den.”Panic surged; my pulse a frantic drum against my ribs. The cuffs cut into my skin as I thrashed, the tape burning my lips with every breath. Focus. Focus! My heart hammered, my mind racing with fear. Stay calm. Stay alive.He grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking my head back so sharply that I gasped beneath the tape. Pain shot through my scalp as I looked up into his merciless eyes. “Love or money—doesn’t matter now. If you get out of this alive, file for divorce and leave that family,” he taunted, his grip tightening. “Do you even understand how many people’s fates are tied to your silence?” He let go abruptly, and my head dropped forward, the strain leaving my nec
Last Updated : 2025-01-14
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 51: Touched by my Mafia husband: his Fingers in my cunt.
“Each time I touch you, you get tighter, sweeter. This body of yours is a drug and I can’t quit." His words were raw as he bit my thighs.His hand slid down, his fingers grazing my clitoral area, making my body jolt, heat exploding within me. My muffled cries fought the tight gag over my lips.He doesn’t slip a finger in yet but flicks my clit—relentless, precise—making my body tremble. The strap around my waist holds me down, shockwaves pulsing through me.Every time I try to close my legs, his grip holds me open, fingers digging in, pushing me closer to the edge.My bound hands jerked against the straps as his other hand found my breasts.“You look like sin laid bare, spread out, and needy. The best part? You’re only like this for me.”His breath grew heavier and faster like mine, his grip tightening, his body moving with no hesitation.I could barely see him, my eyes rolling back into my head, but I felt his hands moving fast as he stared at my pussycat, jerking to himself.“Today’
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 50: Allison’s POV: Why did I wait this long before fucking him?
My wrists were bound above my head, leather straps biting into my skin as I struggled. He circled me, his dark eyes devouring me. The solitary pole left me exposed, my naked body glowing under the fiery red light."You’re trembling," he said, stopping before me, his voice dripping venom. "Is it always like this, or just when I’m about to ruin you?"I bit my lip, refusing to answer, though my body gave me away.He stepped closer, his hand encircling my throat, the pressure a seductive command. "Speak."I don’t know," I stammered, my voice cracking."Liar," he said, gripping my jaw and forcing my eyes to his. "Don’t lie, Dove. Be good, and maybe Daddy will go easy on you."He stroked my cheek before pressing a gag to my lips. “Open,” he commanded. I obeyed without hesitation, parting my lips as he slid the ball gag into place and fastened it tightly. My muffled sounds only heightened his control, and he smirked as he stepped back to admire his work. In his hand, he held a black leather
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 49: Dontrell’s POV: Taming Her One Cry at a Time.
The room felt suffocating as I slid my fingers along her wet heat, feeling her pulse race. I kissed her hard, urgently, as the table groaned beneath us. My hands roamed her body, deliberate, unrelenting. She gasped, but I silenced her, swallowing the sound with my mouth on hers.“You’re mine tonight," I growled, stepping closer.Her breath hitched. "I don’t—""Shh." I cut her off, my fingers brushing her neck, feeling her pulse race. "Fear’s just part of it. You’ll learn to love it."She swallowed, eyes wide, but something in her gaze shifted—curiosity or something darker. I could already feel her slipping, inch by inch, into submission.Tonight, I’d break every boundary she didn’t even know existed.Her body arched as I touched her clit, her breath quickening. “I warned you what it would mean to be at my mercy," I growled, my voice rough.Her eyes widened, but I saw the shift in her."Don't fight it," I added, watching her body tremble, giving in.She didn’t speak, but her movements
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 48: Eye fucking my rebel.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I snapped, attempting to push past him, but he moved faster, blocking my every move. His body towered over me, his cold blue eyes piercing mine with predatory intensity.You’re avoiding me, Dove,” he growled, his voice like a blade. “Tell me what I want.”His tone rumbled like thunder, shaking me to the core, heat pooling between my legs, a maddening ache I couldn't ignore.“I…I didn’t say anything important,” I stammered, trying to keep my voice steady, but the tremor gave me away. His lips twitched into something darker, stepping closer, his heat suffocating. “What did you say behind my back?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, darker. “Don’t worry, Dove. I won’t bite…” He leaned in until his breath fanned against my forehead, sending direct signals to my cunt. “Not unless you beg me.” I swallowed hard, my heart pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it. My lips parted, but no sound came out; a part of my brain kept reminding me that talking whi
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The sunlight filtered through the drapes, casting a soft glow on the room. From here, the world below felt distant. The sprawling compound below was perfectly ordered, each detail screaming meticulous control—Dontrell’s control. Beyond the compound, houses stretched out like scattered chess pieces, barely visible through the morning haze. I turned, my feet brushing the foot carpet. The faint scent of his cologne—woodsy and dark—lingered in the air. My gaze caught on the nightstand, and my breath faltered. A bouquet of black roses whose velvety petals looked like midnight whispers lay there. Nestled among them were a pair of sleek black heels and a new Birkin bag. A crisp note rested nearby, his handwriting slanted and bold. I reached for it, my fingers trembling, as if the simple act of reading it could undo me. "To the angel who turned my night to chaos and beauty, I owe you not just an apology but the world. I’ll replace anything you’ve lost—even the pieces of yourself you thin
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 46: The End of Day, Not the End of the War.
I shoved my father harder against the car, the metallic thud echoing through the air as his back hit the frame, but it didn’t satisfy the rage boiling inside me. His smirk—the same one I’d now found myself resenting—mocked me even now, a taunting reminder of how far he’d go to destroy anyone who defied “Go on, boy. Do it," he sneered, his voice calm despite the strain in his throat. "Prove you’re no different than me."My forearm pressed harder against his neck, and for a split second, I contemplated doing exactly that. But killing him now wouldn’t satisfy me—it would only make me like him. I needed him to live long enough to feel the weight of what he’d done.I released him, shoving him harder one last time. The car shook under the force, and he coughed. For a moment, I wondered how a man his age—almost seventy—still dared to meddle in all of this. He wasn’t as strong as he once was, but his cunning made up for it. “Don’t mistake this for weakness,” I growled, locking eyes with him
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 45: Dontrell's POV: A Father’s Wrath, A Son’s Fury.
The engine of the car roared as I sped through the thick forest, the tires bumping over uneven terrain, branches scratching against the sides of the vehicle. I could barely see through the windshield; the darkness of the woods swallowed up everything around me. Andrew sat in the passenger seat, silent as always, I could see that he was dying to ask questions, but he didn’t. Not a word. I knew he wanted to know where we were headed, and what we were doing. But he was quiet.The acronym *GDL* rang in my mind. *The Godfather’s Legion*.This was no ordinary group. My father’s men—trained criminals, assassins, and deadly people from all over the world. Men who swore oaths of secrecy and loyalty to him. They fought for him, killed for him, and, if need be, they’d die for him. The GDL was for matters that couldn’t get traced back to my father. When he wanted something messy done, he’d call them in.Andrew shifted, his gun clicking as he holstered it beside him. His attention stayed on the g
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 44: A Familiar Face, A Deadly Game.
“Who the hell are you?” My voice shook, sharper now, fueled by fear and adrenaline. My mind raced, grasping for answers. There was something disturbingly familiar about him—his voice, his posture, even his towering presence. It rattled me more than the mask he wore or the weapon I knew he probably carried. Did I know him? Could I trust him? No. Not here.He stepped closer, and with one swift motion, I brought out the scissors, aiming them directly at him.“Stay back!” I spat, lifting the scissors higher and pointing them directly at his chest. “I’m not afraid to use this!” My fingers trembled, betraying my bravado, but I refused to lower my guard. His voice was low, mocking. “Drop the damn scissors before you hurt yourself.” He moved toward me again, deliberate and unrelenting. I mirrored his steps, my back legs brushing the edge of the bed as I kept the scissors pointed at him. “If you’re so fucking bold,” I snapped, my voice rising, “take off the mask and face me like a man, not a
