Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅She pressed her lower body against my throbbing cock and I forced my tongue into her mouth. Her fingers clenched my jacket in a desperate grip. My hand ventured downward, caressing the curves of her shapely ass, giving it a firm squeeze.Tonight, she was wearing a stunning black dress that accentuated her beauty. Sarah was undeniably breathtaking, a fact that even I couldn't deny. Her looks were the only thing that attracted me to her in the first place along with her sense of style. I roughly pushed her back into the leather seats, the air in the car growing thick with tension. Sarah positioned herself next to me, her lithe form bending forward, her ass provocatively raised in the air. With a swift motion, she gathered her long hair into one hand and tossed it to the side, revealing the tempting curve of her neck.Our hands collided, fingers moving with urgency as we worked to unzip my pants and free my aching cock. Sarah wasted no time, her warm, inviting mouth

Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Vincenzo Capone - Thirteen Year Old.I was just thirteen years old, but I had already learned that in the world of the Chicago Outfit, innocence was a luxury few could afford. My father, Salvatore Capone, was a powerful man, a figure to be reckoned with in the criminal underworld. A man whose name sent shivers down the spines of his rivals. As his firstborn son, I was destined to inherit not just his name but also the responsibilities and rules that came with it.Within the complex web of our criminal empire, there was no room for errors. I was being groomed to become the future face of the Capone dynasty, a role that demanded a firm commitment to ruthless efficiency, cunning strategy, raw power, and surgical precision. The path I was on was of darkness, where sentimentality had no place, and emotions were discarded like expendable assets.My daily routine was far from typical for a thirteen-year-old. While other kids my age worried about school, friends, and ga

Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅We were given a list of activities... couple's activities that Marco's fiancée had planned. She wasn't from our world, she didn't care what anyone said. She was hardwired to get everyone involved in the couple's activities and Marco supported her in everything even Evangeline and Delilah convinced their husbands to join and they both were the most difficult ones. Although, Marco and Amy met under a very awkward arranged marriage kind of situation but they both had the best out of it and anyone could truly see that Marco adored her. Amy Sterling was probably the kindest It girl I had ever had the pleasure of meeting in my life. She was like a shining star in her family and appeared to be the favorite child of her parents. Her warmth and grace left an indelible impression on everyone she encountered.We all sat in a circle around the bonfire. Evangeline was sitting between Capo's legs as he whispered something in her ears making her smile. Delilah sat in Lorenzo's

Claire⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅"Well then, I have a proposition for you," the devilish hint in his voice was not lost on me. He had pinned me against the wall just beside the racks and now he was standing just a step away from me, even if I wanted to get out, I couldn't move this brick wall of a man at all. I squinted my eyes at him, "What?" He gave me a sinister smile, "There are still five nights left here on this island, right?" I simply stared at him, waiting for him to continue. "You spend the next five nights with me..." My senses were thrown into disarray, and I blinked, unsure if he had just uttered what I thought I heard.A sardonic chuckle escaped my lips, my grip on the towel tightening over my chest as if it could shield me from him. "And why on earth would I do that?" I questioned, though there was an underlying uncertainty in my voice, a hint that his words had struck a chord within me.With a casual, self-assured demeanor, he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it back,

Vincenzo⋅•⋅⊰∙∘∘∙⊱⋅•⋅Vincenzo Capone - Thirteen Year Old. In the basement of one of the Outfit's hideouts, Dad presented me with a polished silver Colt .45. The gun felt heavy, its metal surface cold in my hands. It was both terrifying and exhilarating because this was the first time he had handed me a real gun, I have always practiced with the fake one but there was no turning back from this moment.Dad watched my every move with a piercing gaze. He showed no signs of tenderness; this was not a father-son bonding moment. It was a lesson, a crucial part of my grooming to become the future Capo of our family.He gestured for me to step closer to the target he had set up at the far end of the basement. A beaten-up, terribly injured man was propped up on a wooden stand. His mouth was clamped shut, tears stained his bloodied cheeks and his eyes pleaded with me to put him out of his misery. I could feel the weight of the gun in my hand as I brought it to eye level, my fingers trembling