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Chapter 75—Every breath, a risk.
Last Updated:
2025-02-07 20:13:15
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The air in Dontrell’s office was thick—suffocating with want.I laid back flat against the plush leather of his sofa, my thighs spread as he knelt between them, one strong hand wrapped around my throat, the other buried beneath my panties. Two fingers curled inside me, each stroke ruthless, sending a flood of heat through my veins. His mouth was on me—hot, consuming—tongue lashing over my nipple, teeth scraping just enough to make me whimper.His grip on my neck tightened, forcing my gaze to meet his. Dark. Unrelenting."I’m not just going to give you what you want," he murmured against my skin, voice dripping with command. "I’m going to take everything. Every breath, every moan, every last drop of sanity until all you know is me."I tried to respond, tried to form words, but all that came out was a desperate moan as his fingers drove deeper, fucking me with a pace that made my back arch. The slick, obscene sound of his fingers moving inside me filled the office, blending with the wet
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His cock thrust into my cunt without warning, stretching me wide, and I moaned—loud, needy. He started slow, painfully slow, dragging out every inch of friction. I let out a strangled moan, my body arching in response."Needy little thing," Dontrell mused, his tone dripping with mockery as he slid deeper inside me. His hand cracked down against my ass, the sharp slap making me gasp. The sting melted into heat as his fingers kneaded the flesh, his grip punishing, possessive.I whimpered as his fingers trailed lower, teasing my clit from behind as he banged me."Look at you," he murmured, voice dark with satisfaction. "So fucking wet. You love this, don’t you? Love it when I put you in your place.” "Yes," I gasped, my fingers gripping the edges of the desk."Say it," he ordered, his pace faster, drawing out my desperation."I love it," I whimpered, rocking back against his hand, chasing more. "I love it when you ruin me." He chuckled, dark and knowing. "Good girl." Then, without war
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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room. Outside, the evening sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and gold.I was still in bed. Still staring at my phone.Still waiting. Dontrell never came home last night.I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my phone as I reread the only thing he’d left me with. A text. One damn text. Dove, I know I should’ve been there. I’m sorry. Something came up.I’ll explain when we meet. Talk to you later. I love you.The words were cold comfort. A lousy excuse wrapped in affection.I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and sat up, pressing my palms against my face. I wanted to be angry. Maybe I was. But more than anything, I was restless. Unsettled. Because it wasn’t just Dontrell who had gone silent. Andrew too.He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single update since yesterday’s chilling revelation. I swallowed hard, pushing back the gnawing anxiety creeping through my c
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The soft hum of the air conditioner was the only sound in the room. Outside, the evening sun bled into the horizon, painting the sky in deep shades of crimson and gold.I was still in bed. Still staring at my phone.Still waiting. Dontrell never came home last night.I exhaled sharply, my fingers tightening around my phone as I reread the only thing he’d left me with. A text. One damn text. Dove, I know I should’ve been there. I’m sorry. Something came up.I’ll explain when we meet. Talk to you later. I love you.The words were cold comfort. A lousy excuse wrapped in affection.I tossed my phone onto the nightstand and sat up, pressing my palms against my face. I wanted to be angry. Maybe I was. But more than anything, I was restless. Unsettled. Because it wasn’t just Dontrell who had gone silent. Andrew too.He hadn’t called. Hadn’t texted. Hadn’t sent a single update since yesterday’s chilling revelation. I swallowed hard, pushing back the gnawing anxiety creeping through my c
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Silence thickened between us, heavy as his cologne. The limo slid through the night, its black leather seats curving around a mahogany bar stocked with whiskey. Crystal glasses sat steady despite the motion. Soft golden lights traced the ceiling, casting a sultry glow over the tinted windows and mirrored panels.I turned to him, searching his face. “Dontrell… What’s wrong?” His fingers flexed around his phone, his jaw clenched, but he didn’t look up. “Nothing.” A lie. A clean, effortless lie.I exhaled but didn’t push. Even if I asked again, his answer wouldn’t change.The limo rolled on for what felt like forever. Dontrell barely looked up from his phone, his attention locked on the screen. Every so often, he’d rub my lap, a brief reminder of his presence. “Stay close to my men tonight,” he murmured between texts.Eternity later, the driver’s voice cut through the silence. “We’ve arrived, sir.”Outside, a bodyguard in a black suit slid the door open. Dontrell’s dark gaze met mine—u
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Dontrell’s grip was firm against my back as he steered me forward. Every stare in the room burned into me, a silent accusation. My heart pounded, but I kept my face unreadable. The hall stretched wide, its harsh lights and towering ceilings pressing down on me.At the banquet table, a waiter yanked out a chair, and I sank into it.Clayton occupied the first seat. I was next. Dontrell took the third. Across from us, twelve men sat in utter silence, all dressed in black, red masks covering them from the nose down, with an X carved into each of their foreheads. A cold chill slid down my spine. None of them greeted me. They only spoke in unison."Welcome, Dontrell." And then, nothing. Their eyes followed my every move, but not a single one acknowledged me.The air hung thick. I could almost hear my own breathing when a man stepped onto the platform at the front of the hall. The Raven. His voice cut through the rowdiness like a blade."Silence." He barked, and not a murmur remained."To t
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The holidays were in full swing—lights, music, warmth. And he was gone. Again. Work always came first. He could have stayed. He should have. Instead, I stood alone in our closet, fastening my earrings and adjusting my necklace over a green skimpy sundress that fits just right. I stared at my reflection. Perfect and polished—but I still wished he was here to tell me how extraordinary I looked.I spritzed perfume and grabbed the three sleek gift boxes I had prepared for him, and I made my way out of the room and toward the elevator.I pressed the button. The doors didn’t slide open. I tapped again. Still nothing—strange. At this time of day, I was usually the only one around. Most of the threats had been neutralised, and it had been over three weeks since the last sign of trouble. The need for constant security had eased, giving me a sense of freedom I hadn’t felt in a long time.But as the silence stretched, unease crept in.Then, the screen above the panel flickered—the elevator was c
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 88: The Moment I Knew.
Dontrell’s steady tone sent a shiver down my spine. I turned to find him striding toward us, his lips twitching in amusement.He stopped in front of me, gaze dropping to my lips. "My sexy wife." The words were smooth, teasing. He kissed me, hard and possessed, and when I reached up to wipe my lipstick off his mouth, he smirked. "Leave it."Clayton exhaled sharply, then turned to me with a smooth but sharp remark before stepping away. “I have something to discuss with my men. Catch you both later.”He left, and it was just Dontrell and me.He leaned in, voice teasing. “Did you miss me, Dove?”I rolled my eyes. “You wish.”His chuckle was low, rough. “I always get what I wish.”Ignoring him, I faced the stage. “Celine. I’ve seen her before.”His amusement vanished. “Where?”“At your workplace.” I exhaled. “Andrew told me she was nobody.”Dontrell’s grip tightened around his glass. “Andrew talks too much.”I narrowed my eyes. “So you do know her.”He drained the rest of his whisky and se
The Mafia’s Angel Ordeal. Chapter 86: The Devil Wears an Italian Suit
The Blade’s 20th-anniversary party dripped with extravagance. Crystal chandeliers cast a golden glow over designer-clad elites, their champagne flutes clinking amid hushed gossip. Laughter and camera flashes filled the air as whispered secrets passed behind velvet-gloved hands.The model walkway stretched like a runway of power, flanked by high-profile guests in gold-trimmed chairs. Models glided in towering heels, their gowns shimmering under the spotlight.I sat, front row—of course. My presence commanded attention: a high-neck silk blouse with gold embroidery, wide-legged black trousers—no slits, no exposure. Just pure class and power.I watched the models command the stage, but the weight of the day pressed down on me. Needing space, I left my front-row seat and moved to the far left corner almost at the exit of the hall—but still inside, still with a perfect view, but away from the flashing cameras and prying eyes.A waiter passed, effortlessly balancing a tray. I grabbed a glass
