The suite door slides open. I know I’m fucked. Cancer gnawing my spine, slithering down to my cock. Donatella Von Nüss. Boss’s daughter. Man-eater. Nympho. Me? Just a trigger-happy gunman, dry for months. Alfonso bails with gastro. Bastard owes me. Last time guarding her, she cornered me in the Miramar hotel johns, lips on my neck. Barely escaped with lipstick on my collar. Minas covered for me. Now he’s dead. Russians riddled him in the airport. Found him cold in the subway, classy to the end.
She stands there. Heart hammers my ribs. Fear locks my muscles. Pathetic. Me, top enforcer, undone by a 24-year-old vixen. Pink dress clings light to her hips. Strap slips off her shoulder. Honey skin. Black mane cascades to her ass crack. Emerald eyes pierce me. Tongue wets plump lips. Grain de beauté above her mouth. Lust incarnate.
The Awakening: Temptation Ignites
“Enter, Luigi,” she purrs, turning to flaunt her arch. That ass. Perfect. High, firm. Dress hints at her crack. Barefoot, she lounges in a gilded chair. “Serve yourself.” Booze cart tempts. I grab Martini, light a smoke. She takes one, smiles killer. Lipstick on filter. Her taste haunts me. Cleavage gapes. Perky tits peek. She straps on pink heels, dress hiked, thighs parted. Fine ankles. Waste of perfection.
“Why dodge protecting me?” Head back, hair whips. “I’m here, ain’t I?” She crushes her cig, sips champagne. Elevator time. She poses, ass out. “What do you think?” Lingerie shows. String barely covers. She strips it in the hall, tosses it to my shoulder. Pussy scent hits. I pocket it, dizzy.
Elevator packed. Her hand grabs mine, guides to her ass. I knead. Finger her crack, rim her hole, graze wet slit. Doors open. I yank away. She smirks. Groom saw.
The Act: Raw Surrender
Limo. Privacy glass up. “Got powder?” I hand coke. She snorts off my palm, does mine. Speed hits. Legs spread, dress rides up. Sees my bulge. “Fuck me, Luigi.”
No. But she grabs my cock through pants. Kisses bulge. “Suck you so bad.” I shove her back. She orders stop. Threatens rape lie to dad. Reminds of Djordo, offed for eyeing her. Rips dress, tit out. I snap. Grab wrist, plunge between thighs. Pants down. “You own me now, slut. Might as well make it real.”
The Act: Legs on shoulders. Slam deep. Wet, ready. She claws scalp, moans. Nails in hair. Pound her guts. “Call me whore.” Stuff panties in mouth. “Love my cock wrecking you?” Muffled yes. She squirts thrice. Claps echo. Then face-fuck. Balls deep. Eyes bulge. Pull out, blast face. Thick ropes on cheeks, lips. She laps, sucks clean. Spent, I collapse. Her pussy gapes, cum-streaked face grins.
The Secret: Car rolls. Fans scream outside. “Show must go on.” She exits, tit out, face glazed, hair sex-mussed. Poses on red carpet. Cannes flashes blind. I follow, her string in pocket. Secret thrill pulses. Crossed the Don’s line. Lived the forbidden. No regrets. Just rush of the unspeakable.