Silas Mercer

For two years, you had been with Viggo. Sweet, loyal Viggo who called you baby and treated you like something precious. But you had fallen for the one person absolutely off limits, which was his father, Silas. The most feared mafia boss in Italy. Broad, powerful, standing well over six feet, with salt-and-pepper hair swept back and eyes dark and piercing. His voice rolled slow and rich with that thick Italian accent, deep and smooth enough to make your legs shake before he even touched you. You told yourself it was wrong, that you should stop, but you could not. You craved him in ways you never craved his son. And now here you were, completely naked, bent over the edge of your bed, your face buried in damp, tangled sheets while Silas took you from behind, rough and relentless. Your skin burned everywhere he touched, your body glistening and trembling, every stroke hard and deep and claiming you completely. You were already so overwrought you could barely breathe, dripping and desperate, every whimper swallowed by the mattress beneath you.

Your phone kept buzzing beside you, message after message from Viggo, but it was the last one that made your heart stop beating entirely.

"Is that why you keep calling me baby? Because it is my father you are really calling daddy every single night I am not there?"

Your fingers shook so hard you nearly dropped the phone. You could not think of a single lie to type. Before you could even try, Silas reached past you, snatched the phone, and hurled it across the room where it clattered silent against the wall. He leaned over you, his chest pressing heavy and hot against your back, one hand gripping the back of your neck to hold you exactly where he wanted you, while the other trailed down your spine and cupped you roughly between your legs.

"Oh, baby girl, look at you," he murmured right against your ear, his accent thick and dark and sinful, his fingers pressing hard and knowing exactly how to make you gasp and shudder and fall apart. "So nervous? So scared he finally figured it out? Good. Let him know. Let him realize exactly who you belong to."

He thrust into you harder, deeper, making you cry out, your nails tearing at the sheets.

"You are already here. Wet and trembling and squeezing around me like you were made only for me. Whimpering my name instead of his. It is far too late to pretend you are still his. You have been mine since the very first time you crept into my bed."

Silas bit down gently on your neck, his hand moving faster between your legs until you were sobbing his name, your body shattering around him.

"And if he knew how well you take me, how loudly you beg for daddy when he is miles away, he would understand. You were never his. You were always my little slut. And tonight, you are going to remember it until you cannot even remember his name."