Alessandro Romano

So this was what it had come to.

You and Alessandro, husband and wife. Something he hated. Something he never asked for. His father Vittorio had already written Declan off as useless, so the weight of the Romano Crime Family fell on Alessandro’s shoulders. Marriage to you was the price. Power. Influence. An alliance sealed in blood and paper. It could’ve been anyone, but Vittorio picked you — the ex who walked out on him years ago without a word. The one he still wanted to punish for it.

He stood fully clothed behind the woman bent over the edge of the bed. Only his cock was out, thick and hard, the head already wet. He dragged it up and down her soaked folds, smearing her arousal all over the tip before slamming in with one brutal thrust. She moaned like a paid whore, loud and shameless. This was part of the job now — breed you, put an heir in that cunt as fast as possible. Marriage wasn’t enough for Vittorio. He wanted proof. A swollen belly. A Romano bloodline locked in.

“Move,” Alessandro ordered, voice flat.

She started rocking back on him, fucking herself on his cock while he just stood there and watched. When he got bored of that, he gripped her hips and took over, pounding into her hard enough that the wet slap of skin filled the room. Her cunt stretched wide around him, glossy and dripping, her juices coating his shaft and dripping down onto the sheets with every thrust. She moaned and gasped, looking over at you the whole time.

You were right there beside her. Naked. Bent over the same way. Ass up, legs spread, both holes on full display like a piece of meat waiting for use. Her eyes said everything: pathetic little wife, can’t even get your own husband to fuck you. Just watches while I take his cock.

Alessandro didn’t look at you. He kept his eyes on the way her pussy stretched and fluttered around him, the way it milked him every time he drove deep. When he felt himself getting close he fucked her harder, faster, chasing his own pleasure with zero care for hers. Then, right on the edge, he pulled out with a wet sound and stepped behind you instead.

No warning. No touching. No preparation.

He lined up and shoved into your hole in one rough thrust just to dump. It wasn’t fucking. It was nothing but a place to unload. He rutted into you a few short, hard times — just enough to bury himself deep — and then came with a low grunt, flooding you with thick ropes of cum. He held himself there until every last drop was pumped inside you, making sure it stayed where it belonged. Breeding stock. That’s all you were.

When he was finished he pulled out, still half-hard, cum already starting to leak down your thighs. He didn’t look at the mess he’d made of you. He just turned back to the other woman.

“You can go. Same time tomorrow.”

She smiled, fixed her clothes like nothing had happened, and walked out without a second glance at you.

Alessandro finally looked at you then. Eyes cold. Disgusted.

“Get dressed. You look like a pathetic slut like that.”

Alessandro came home late, reeking of whiskey and smoke. The door slammed behind him harder than he meant it to. He didn’t bother with the lights. Just kicked his shoes off and dropped onto the couch like the weight of the day finally caught up with him.

His cock was already half-hard from muscle memory alone. The same dull, automatic need that had been drilled into him since the wedding — breed the wife, put an heir in her, don’t waste it. He unzipped his pants with clumsy fingers and pulled himself out, stroking once, twice, just enough to get fully hard. Thick, heavy, the tip already leaking.

He didn’t look for you. Didn’t call out soft. Just sat there with his legs spread and his cock standing up against his stomach, voice rough and slurred when he finally spoke.

“Get over here.”

A pause. Then, colder:

“Sit on it. Now.”

He didn’t reach for you. Didn’t help. Just leaned back against the cushions, eyes half-lidded, watching the empty space in front of him like he was already bored of whatever was about to happen.

“Fuck yourself on it.” His tone stayed flat, almost irritated. “It’s too late to call for a whore, and I’m not wasting the energy fucking you myself. So get on and make me cum. That’s the only thing you’re good for anyway.”

Alessandro pulled out of you with a wet sound, his cock still twitching as the last of his cum dripped onto your thighs. He didn’t bother fixing his clothes. Just sat back in the chair like the job was done, watching the thick white mess start to leak from your used hole.

You were crying.

He noticed. Of course he did. The quiet, broken little sounds. The way your shoulders shook. He knew exactly what it was. You wanted to be fucked. Properly. Wanted hands on you, wanted him to stay inside and move, wanted something that felt like more than a breeding dump. He almost laughed.

“Still not enough for you?” he said flatly. “Even after I filled you up?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just raised his voice toward the door.

“Marco. Get in here.”

One of his men stepped in a moment later, already knowing better than to ask questions. Alessandro gestured at you with two fingers, still half-hard and shiny with your mess.

“Fuck her. Use that hole I just filled. But you don’t finish inside. Pull out when you’re close. Understand?”

Marco nodded and moved behind you without a word. The second his cock pushed into you, Alessandro’s cum was forced out around the thick shaft, white streaks spilling down your thighs and onto the sheets. Wet, filthy sounds filled the room as the man started thrusting, each stroke making more of Alessandro’s load leak out and drip.

Across from you, the hired whore was already on her knees between Alessandro’s legs. She took his cock into her mouth without being told, sucking him clean while he watched. His eyes never left the place where Marco’s cock was stretching you open, pushing his cum out with every thrust.

Alessandro leaned back, one hand resting lightly on the back of the whore’s head as she worked. A cold little smirk tugged at his mouth.

“Look at that,” he said, voice low and almost amused. “My cum inside you... at least you’re getting fucked, right?”

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