Dirty Moans With My Husband's Father

Episode6

OLIVIA

Antonio descended the stairs, the heavy thud of his leather shoes echoing over the persistent ringing in my ears.

He didn't even spare a glance at his son; instead, his hazel eyes locked onto me. "Come here, Olivia."

I scrambled to my feet, my knees shaking as the cold air from the ceiling vents hit my sweat-drenched skin.

Before I could move, Bruno stepped into my path and grabbed my upper arm, his fingers digging deep into my flesh. "She stays right here. She's my wife."

A hot rush of adrenaline spiked through my blood, giving me the strength to swing my free arm and slap his hand away with a loud, violent crack.

"Don't you ever touch me again!" my voice ripped through my sore throat.

Bruno blinked, his entire posture going completely stiff.

I pointed a trembling finger inches from his nose. "You stole my father's shares. You forged my name, and you gave my legacy to a street rat." I whipped my head toward Isabella, who cowered behind the leather sofa, her face as white as flour. "You can keep this pathetic excuse for a man. You deserve each other."

Bruno’s brow furrowed as his dark eyes darted from my face, up toward his father, and back to me. The muscles in his jaw twitched when a dark, terrifying realization dawned on his face. He saw it—the unnatural, possessive fury radiating from his father, coupled with my sudden, fearless defiance. The dots were connecting in real time.

Not giving a flying f**k, I turned my back on them both and walked up the stairs, the air growing icy cold as I reached Antonio.

The heavy mahogany bedroom door clicked shut behind us, completely blocking out the world.

My legs immediately gave out as the adrenaline evaporated, and breathless sobs tore from my raw throat.

"He took them," I choked out, hot tears burning my cheeks. "Bruno forged my signature. He took my shares."

Antonio stepped close, his large hands cupping my face while his rough thumbs gently wiped the wetness from my skin. "Shh, piccola. Hush."

He pulled me flush against his broad chest, his heart beating steady and slow beneath his shirt. Enveloped by the scent of his cedar and expensive tobacco cologne, I buried my face in his neck, desperately seeking the solid heat of his body.

His fingers stroked down my spine before he pulled back slightly, his gaze dropping to my throat. Instantly, the air in the room went completely dead.

His hazel eyes darkened to pitch black as his hands left my face to hover over the purple and black marks on my skin. "He did this."

I swallowed hard, the bruises throbbing with a dull pain.

Antonio's breathing turned ragged, his chest expanding against mine. "I am going to teach him. Lo giuro su Dio."

His thumb brushed the unbruised skin near my collarbone, and heat flared from his touch, melting away the cold dread in my stomach.

Slowly, the anger in his eyes shifted into something much hungrier, much darker.

"Antonio," I whispered.

He crashed his lips against mine in a kiss that was brutal and starving. Walking me backward until my spine hit the solid wood, he pinned me against the heavy oak dresser.

His hands shoved my robe off my shoulders, letting the silk pool at my feet, before he grabbed my bare hips, his thumbs digging hard into my hip bones. Dropping to his knees, his large hands gripped the back of my thighs to pull my legs apart.

"Please," I gasped.

He pressed his face into my wet core, his hot tongue dragging right up my slit. My hips jerked forward as fire erupted in my lower belly, and my fingers tangled into his thick hair. Pushing two thick fingers inside me, he thrust upward—hard.

My head fell back, and a loud, shameless moan escaped my lips.

He pulled his fingers out and stood, unbuckling his belt with a sharp snap of heavy leather. He shoved his dark pants down his thighs, letting his massive d**k spring free, thick, hard, and throbbing.

Grabbing my waist, he lifted me onto the top of the dresser, the polished wood feeling starkly cold against my bare ass. He stepped between my spread legs, grabbing his heavy length to guide the blunt tip to my wet entrance. With a forceful thrust of his hips, he buried himself inside me to the hilt.

Pain and pleasure ripped through my body; he was so big, so incredibly thick.

"You belong to me," he growled. "Only me."

He pulled back and slammed into me again, and again. The heavy dresser banged against the wall, joining the wet sound of slapping flesh that echoed loudly throughout the bedroom.

I wrapped my legs around his waist to ride his relentless thrusts, my nails digging deep into his broad shoulders and scratching his skin.

"Antonio, f**k!" My orgasm hit like a speeding train, my walls clamping down hard on his thick c**k as I convulsed wildly against him.

He grunted, his thrusts turning frantic with deep, punishing, rapid strokes until he groaned loudly, emptying his hot c*m deep inside me.

Later that evening, the grandfather clock ticked over the clinking of dinner plates. The dining room air felt thick and suffocating, amplified by the heavy rain battering the large windows outside and lashing against the glass.

Antonio cut his steak, the serrated knife slicing smoothly through the bloody meat. Wearing a crisp black shirt, he chewed slowly, his face completely blank.

Bruno glared at his plate, refusing to look at me, while Isabella picked at her salad, her leg bouncing nervously under the table.

I sipped my water, letting the cool liquid soothe my sore throat, grateful that my high-collared black dress hid the ugly bruises.

Suddenly, heavy, synced footsteps echoed in the hallway. Two towering men in black suits—Antonio's personal guards—marched into the dining room.

They stepped directly behind Isabella; one guard grabbed her arm, the other grabbed her shoulder, and together they yanked her violently up from the chair.

Isabella shrieked as her heavy wooden chair crashed to the floor. "Bruno! Help me!"

Tears immediately streaked down her heavily powdered face.

Bruno vaulted out of his seat, his fists clenching. "Get your f*****g hands off her!"

Antonio didn't even blink. Setting his steak knife down on the white tablecloth, he pulled a silver handgun from his waistband. He raised the barrel, aiming it dead at Bruno's chest.

"Sit down." Antonio's voice was low, calm, and absolutely lethal.

Bruno froze, all the blood draining from his face. His eyes locked onto the black hole of the barrel as he slowly raised his hands.

Picking up his wine glass with his free hand, Antonio took a sip of red wine, keeping the heavy gun perfectly steady.

"Olivia," Antonio started, his tone unnervingly casual as he glanced at me. "She has beautiful skin. Very pale. Very fragile."

My heart hammered against my ribs, and I completely stopped breathing.

Antonio looked back at Bruno, the casual facade vanishing as pure murder burned in his eyes. "So when I see ugly purple bruises on her neck... I get very angry."

Isabella sobbed loudly, prompting the guards to tighten their grip on her arms.

Antonio c****d the hammer of the gun, the metallic click silencing the entire room. "And you know what happens, Bruno, when someone ruins things that belong to me.”