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Chapter 51: Touched by my Mafia husband: his Fingers in my cunt.
Last Updated:
2025-01-23 19:21:31
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The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 52: Dontrell’s POV: Fury and Obsession.
Blondes had always rubbed me the wrong way—icy, rebellious trouble. But Allison? She changed that. Her hair caught the light, her silver-blue eyes piercing through everything I thought I knew. She was ethereal, adoring—everything I shouldn’t want. And yet, in that instant, blonde became my favorite color.It was only in her presence that I realized a blonde could be beautiful. I traced her back, her body stirring slightly as though she recognized my touch, even in sleep. Her hair fanned across the pillow—magnetic, mine.I leaned closer, my voice soft with the kind of affection I hadn’t felt in years. “You’re in my veins, angel. The one thing I never saw coming.”My thoughts flickered back to earlier. Her face when she came. Forever burned in my memory.I sighed and pulled back, duty calling. I couldn’t afford to lose myself now.I slipped out from under the covers, careful not to disturb her. The warmth of her body was addictive, but duty called. I picked up my phone, scanning the me
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“How long has he been coming?” I asked, my voice low and firm, turning away from the row of CCTV screens. The space I stood in was well-furnished but eerily quiet—an expensive building tucked into the heart of my dock. From the outside, it seemed typical: shipping containers, the distant hum of water, and workers moving cargo. But beneath it all? Secrets—hidden vaults of cash, crates of unregistered weapons, and enough firepower for a militia.Fang, a few feet behind me, shifted and said, “A few weeks now. He’s been asking for your number. Claims he has a business but won’t share details—just says he wants to order goods.”I sighed and glanced back at the screens. The cameras captured every inch of my dock: stacked containers, dark alleys, and the waters leading to the National City Marine Terminal. The man sat in one of our waiting areas for strangers, not my office—no one entered there unless I allowed it. This was a neutral space, neither welcoming nor hostile, just unsettling enou
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“It’d be in your best interest to help me out here." Carter’s voice broke the silence, his tone calm, but there was a tension underneath it—a plea he was trying to mask.I leaned back on the table, narrowing my eyes at him. "I don’t care how much you’re willing to offer," I said, my voice flat and unyielding. "If you’d done your research completely, you’d know I’ve got more money than I know what to do with, and my clients are as stable as steel. New deals? They don’t move me anymore." My words cut through the air, low and threatening.Carter shifted, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Can you at least tell me why you’ve turned down my proposal without even hearing me out?" His voice wavered slightly like he was trying to keep it steady, but I caught the crack. His eyes looked almost glassy like he might cry. **Damn. Whose goddamn baby was this? I didn’t answer immediately, letting the silence stretch long enough for him to sweat. I studied him again, this time with cold
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I sit in the foyer, numb to the cold leather chair beneath me. My thumb brushes over my phone screen, but my mind is blank. All I can think about is her. Every time I think about her, it’s like my lungs forget how to breathe.Her face, her body, her scent—they’re all I can think about. They cloud my mind, pull me under, and I can’t escape it. Since walking in, I’ve only wanted to storm into her room, hear her voice, and feel her presence. Pathetic, but true.The day she was brought to the mansion, I should’ve told Clayton that I would be the one to take her. I would be the one to claim her as part of our usual routine—sleeping with any woman trafficked by us. But something about her innocence, the purity in her, held me back.The next morning, when Clayton briefed me, laughing about how tight her virgin body was, how her cunt gripped his rod, something inside me snapped. I almost hit him, the anger boiling over, but I stopped myself. It was normal. But in that moment, I swore to mysel
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I slammed the door in Andrew’s face, heart pounding. The cold steel of the door behind me as I leaned on it didn’t ease the heat rising in my chest. Ugh, what the hell was wrong with me? I bit my lip, frustration bubbling up. Andrew didn’t deserve this—he hadn’t done anything wrong. But it wasn’t him I was angry at. It was Dontrell.You’re in my veins, angel. The one thing I never saw coming.” His words echoed in my head, mixing emotions I couldn’t untangle. All that just for me to wake up alone with cold sheets where he should have been—disappointment slicing through me.The Post-it note on my nightstand mocked me with its bold handwriting: I know I said I’d be here when you woke up, but—business calls. Surprise when I’m back. Love you. Love you? A surprise? As if that was enough to fill the gaping void he left behind when he disappeared.For a fleeting moment, I let myself believe that was where I belonged—right there in his arms. Fucking, bathing, and sleeping like I had no past,
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The docks were quiet at this hour but bright from the lights all around. The hum of cargo ships in the distance blended with the rhythmic lapping of water against steel. I stood at the edge of the pier, puffing on a cigarette. The glow of the lighter flickered before the smoke curled into the night.I thought back to the message I’d gotten earlier this afternoon, just before I’d left the office. The goods that landed when my men texted me weren’t mine. They weren’t contraband, but they weren’t my goods either.A car rolled in, headlights cutting through the mist. As it pulled up, my men swarmed the vehicle, surrounding it, not even letting the driver step out. I stood there, watching it all unfold. My phone buzzed in my pocket.“Yes?” I spoke into the phone without taking my eyes off the scene.“Allow him in,” I said, nodding toward the gate. “Let him come.”I stayed put, letting my men handle the visitor. Within moments, the car door opened, and the stranger stepped out, walking towa
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“Oooh... fuck.” The muffled curse slipped from my lips as Andrew’s cock thrust into me from behind. My knees dug into the mattress, and the heat of his body against mine sent shivers racing down my spine. The slap of our skin, the wet, obscene sounds of his length gliding in and out of my soaked cunt, echoed through the room. Every thrust felt deliberate, calculated, and relentless—each one driving deeper, grazing the very core of me like he was trying to claim every inch. The loud music from the TV barely masked our sounds.Andrew's grip on my hips tightened like a vice, one hand sliding up to my breasts to knead them roughly. I arched my back even further, spreading my legs wider to take him deeper. Heat and recklessness overwhelmed me.I bit down on the pillow, stifling my cries as Andrew leaned forward, his lips brushing my ear. "You like being fucked like this, don’t you?" His voice was a low growl, the filthy words sending a shiver down my spine.I could barely form a thought,
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His piercing gaze froze me, his imposing frame dominating the room.“You want the truth, Dontrell?” I demanded, stepping closer.“Here it is: I’ve been lonely. Lonely because my husband, the man who swore to cherish and protect me, is barely ever here. And the one time I try to do something for myself—stretching, doing yoga, taking care of myself—you barge in, accusing me of something? It’s pathetic.” His jaw tightened, but I didn’t falter. “What exactly do you think you need to ‘handle,’ Dontrell? Because I’d love to know. Go on, tell me what your *situation* is.”I tilted my head, my tone dripping with challenge. “Am I the situation you need to ‘handle,’ Dontrell? Like one of your warehouse goods? Because that’s how you treat me—like something you own.”“Watch your tone, woman,” Dontrell warned, his voice low and steady.“Watch my tone?” I snapped, stepping closer. “How about you watch how you treat your wife? Dontrell flinched, his confidence wavering for just a moment. I smirked
Last Updated : 2025-01-28
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Three days. That’s how long it took for them to clear me—how long I’ve been calm. No more screaming. No more machines beeping like death was on standby.My body healed. My memory returned—mostly. The fog lifted, and with it, the denial. I’d bled till I lost my baby. I’ve accepted it. My memories are clear now. I remember everything. Including who did it.I’d cried a lifetime’s worth. Now, I was just... quiet.The doctor signed the discharge forms an hour ago. “You’re free to go, Miss Blackwell,” he said. "Now, dressed in a flowing gown, standing by the window, I soaked in the hospital’s silence—hopefully for the last time.“Your man’s waiting,” the nurse whispered with a smile.And he was. Dontrell stood at the end of the hallway, talking quietly with the doctor. His brows furrowed, the usual sign he was shielding me from something. He glanced up, saw me, and his expression softened. He left the doctor mid-sentence, walking straight to me."He leaned down, kissing me in front of ever
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 151. I lost him: Allison’s POV.
I opened my eyes slowly, blinking at the light above me. For a moment, I thought it was a dream, and I closed them again, willing myself to wake up. But no, it felt real. The sharp, clinical smell that filled my nose was right here.It didn’t just feel like waking. It felt like being dragged from the edge of darkness to light. My head throbbed and my chest tightened, breathing was hard. And I strained to see through the foggy blur in my eyes.Before knowing where I was, I felt a warm hand holding mine. The touch felt familiar, like someone I should have known. The shapes in my vision began to clear, and I focused on the person sitting beside me. Head in hands, shoulders hunched—him.My heart jumped a beat as I registered his presence.“Dontrell?” I whispered, my voice barely a breath, hoarse and weak. Hearing my fragile voice startled me. His head snapped up at my words. His frantic eyes were wide, tears clung to his lashes.At first, I didn't fully recognize him, but memories trick
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 150: Death’s Gambit.
They hit the club, boss..." Dave's sharp, panicked voice cut in before I could speak. He didn’t even wait to listen to what I had said before; his urgency burnt like brimstone.The phone burnt in my hand. My heart slammed, jaw clenched as I stood still, jaw clenched.“Tell me everything,” I growled, ice-cold.“They disguised themselves as clients and got in. Once they bypassed security, they opened fire.”“But we lit ‘em up. Twelve of them down. All dead.”I gritted my teeth. “Twelve?”“Yeah. But there’s more. The cops arrived late. Someone delayed the callout, and it’s looking like it came from the inside.”My eyes narrowed. “Inside?” The word tasted bitter and harsh, like poison. I lowered my voice; the warden mustn't overhear. "You sure? My trained men wouldn’t dare betray me," I spat, anger dripping.“It wasn't our guards; we suspect someone else and are hunting him.”“Who did it?”“A bartender vanished before the shooting—no struggle, no panic. No sign of a forced exit. Just g
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter: Clayton’s POV: Framed.
Three weeks in this damn cell—just cold walls and metal bars. A cage made just for me—tucked away where no one can see at the back of the prison yard.The cell room is bare—stone walls, a comfortable bed with a threadbare blanket, and a toilet in the corner. Built for someone with connections but no contact with the outside.Dad’s pull got me this cell, but it can’t stop the weight-crushing me.Wardens told me one thing: stay quiet and let Father’s men handle it. Every time I asked about Allison— they’d tell me nothing. Hell, even the guards who run this place are his men, and they’ve been told not to speak to me about anything. No word—on the world or Allison.Still, she haunts my thoughts—every damn minute.The last time I saw her plays on repeating my head—blood, limp head, the way our hand broke contact as she was wheeled into the ward.I pondered.Will she ever forgive me? Would she listen to my side of the story? I knew I didn’t spike her drink—but how do I prove it? She’s not h
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I walked out of her ward, kissing her forehead one last time, as I had every day for the past week. Each step grew heavier, my body resisting, my mind drowning in frustration. The sterile smell of antiseptic reminded me where I was. My fists clenched, nails digging into my palms, the pain matching the ache inside.Her pale face haunted me. She lay still—too still—and I had to fight the urge to collapse beside her, begging her to wake.She should have woken by now. I'd seen men survive worse, but she wasn’t a man. She was a woman, and I was supposed to be her protector—but I failed at that.Now there she was, trapped in that damn coma, barely holding on. Her name echoed in my mind, but no amount of wishing could bring her back.Three weeks now, and I haven't heard her voice. I miss her laugh, the way her eyes light up when she talks, how she stands firm in her beliefs, the softness of her touch, and the way she makes everything seem right.The doctors said she was stable, but that wasn
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 147 – Mr. Blackwell’s POV: under siege.
The car raced down the street, swerving through traffic as my driver drove like a madman following my frantic orders, fury lacing my voice.“Faster!” I yelled. “Drive like your life depends on it—because it does!”My fists clenched where they rested on my thighs. The leather seat beneath me squeaked from the force of my tension. I was a storm, ready to rip apart the sky.Tyres screeched as the car lunged forward; I didn’t care who we hit.Headlines lit up my phone screen like flames stoking my rage.{**SHOCKING TURN IN BLACKWELL MISCARRIAGE CASE—DONTRELL BLADE ARRESTS HIS BROTHER for poisoning his wife. ****Mafia Heiress in Coma After Miscarriage: Blade Brothers at War.****IS ALLISON FAKING IT? Sources Claim Miscarriage May Be a Setup****SHE’S WINNING: ALLISON Blackwell Faked Miscarriage to Pit Brothers Against Each Other.****BLACKWELL’S DAUGHTER IN COMA, The Blade’s LEGACY IN JEOPARDY.**}Liars. But the truth buried in their lies made my stomach turn—Clayton poisoned her.I shove
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 146: Rot in Hell.
I didn’t wait for Mr Blackwell’s response. My words hung in the air like poison, suffocating the space between us. His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t dare challenge me—not here, not now.Clayton swallowed, his eyes narrowing, but he stayed silent, looking at us.“Exactly.” I barked. “You’ll do nothing.”"Brother," Clayton said, his voice deceptively calm. “Everyone just wants to know if she’s fine.”I walked right up to him and leaned in, whispering in his ear. Only he would hear the words. My hand gripped his neck, tightening like a noose, pretending like it was just two blood brothers talking secretively. But I wasn’t just talking to him—I was choking him, tightening his neck, and he didn’t dare break; he just stood there, losing his breath.“I hope you rot in hell,” I whispered, my voice low and filled with venom.“Trying to take everything from me. My wife, my heir. All for the sake of your twisted ambition, you killed my child in the process—your own flesh and blood—just to secure
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 145: Say something Dontrell.
The doctor’s face turned ghostly pale, his hands shaking as he stammered. “Mr Dontrel. Your wife will be fine, I swear it! Please… don’t hurt me. Let’s discuss this like gentlemen.” His fear bled through every word, a trembling mess of desperation. Panic clawed at him because I locked the door, and I could taste it, thick in the air. But none of it mattered. He wasn’t the one I was after. His terror was nothing but a distant noise I couldn’t be bothered to hear.I shot him a glare, my gaze cold and unyielding, willing him to relax, but my message was clear: don’t drop your guard beside me. I was angry, and it meant that no one was safe anymore.I turned away, gripping my phone tightly. It creaked under my fingers as the call connected on the second ring.“Beverly Hills Police Department,” came the static-filled voice on the other end. “How may I direct your call?” “There’s been an attempted murder. The victim’s in a hospital—barely alive.”“Your name, sir?” the dispatcher asked almos
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 144: Dontrell’s POV: A Lifelong Pain.
I couldn’t sit. The air in this hospital lobby was suffocating, thick with tension. Each time those damn doors opened, my heart leapt—only to settle when it wasn’t the doctor. Just nurses, passing by with forced smiles like they could pretend everything was fine.Where the hell was the doctor? Eight hours had passed since Allison was rushed in. Eight hours, and still no news.I glanced at Clayton—panic twisted his face, just like mine. His hands were stained with her blood, dried at the cuffs. He sat tense, rubbing his face over and over as if trying to scrub away his anxiety.I shook my head. It wasn’t his fault, but I couldn’t stop the rage rising, my breaths growing heavier.My eyes kept darting toward him, recalling how she explained rushing into the restroom when she started bleeding and held her as her body went cold.The seconds before he reached the hospital—her head on his chest, her fingers twitching then stopping. That image burnt into me, searing into my soul. Why wasn’t I
