Step Bride:A Bad Boy Mob Romance

By: B. B. Hamel



I imagined letting her ride my face as I jerked myself off. After I got her nice and fucking wet, on the verge of coming again, I’d slide my cock deep into her slick cunt and fuck her so rough but slow.

I wanted her to beg for it, after all. When she finally came a second time, I wanted it to completely take over her body, make her have the shakes. My job wouldn’t be done until she came so hard she practically forgot her own name.

That would happen, like it always happened. I’d work her sweet fucking body over and over again, make her sweat, make her beg. She’d never been with a man like me before, insatiable, always fucking hard, and always ready to make her come.

I wanted to see that ass back up against my cock. I wanted her to beg me to finally come. She’d want me to fill her tight little pussy up.

Natalie seemed so fucking innocent, but she’d be my slut in the sheets. I felt myself getting close as I jerked my cock, thinking about fucking her hard from behind, slapping her thick ass, making her mine.

Finally, I finished, shooting my cum into a tissue.

Fucking tissues. That would have been much better if it were Natalie’s tight, warm little pussy.

I cleaned up and rolled out of bed, heading into the shower.

I had Natalie’s number, but why bother? She had made it clear that she wasn’t interested the night before. I wasn’t the type to give second chances, anyway. Plus, I had gotten what I needed out of her. No reason to push it any further.

I climbed into the shower, still thinking about the way she came in the back of the limo. Maybe I was missing out on something, too, if I never got a chance to fuck her.

But oh well. You couldn’t fix the past. You could only move forward.

Hours later, the Barone mansion was practically empty. It was about eight at night, and most of the guys had left already. Staff still lingered around, plus the usual armed guards, but they practically blended into the background.

I felt fucking good. Sure, I didn’t get to fuck Natalie, but who cared? There were plenty of other women in Chicago that I could sleep with. It wasn’t like I ever had a problem finding a willing and attractive partner to suck me off.

Best of all, I had my marriage license to shove in my father’s face. He’d be forced to back off based on his own absurd logic.

Just because he finally married one of his many whores didn’t mean we all needed to get married. He was simply obsolete, and I just needed to play along with his silly games for long enough to make my move and finally take control of the family.

I walked down the dimly-lit hallways, idly looking around. The Barone house was huge, three wings, three floors, and filled with all the gilding and opulence that came with having way too much fucking money.

We were old-school mafia. Maybe we didn’t call ourselves the mob anymore, or at least not openly, but we were. And we’d been one of the most successful families in history. We were definitely the oldest still-operating family left in the Chicago area, and we had control of the most profitable turf all throughout the city and the suburbs.

I didn’t necessarily have expensive taste, but I understood the reason for it.

We needed to exude power. And nothing said power like an absurd use of wealth. Everything about the Baron mansion screamed money, sex, and power.

I fully intended to uphold that tradition when I was in power.

My father’s study was in the east wing, second floor, all the way in the back. I stopped and knocked on the door.

“Enter,” I heard him call out.

I pushed open the door. “Evening, Father.”

“Lucas. To what do I owe the pleasure?” he said, distracted. He was looking at something on his desk and didn’t even bother to look up.

I shut the door behind me as I walked inside. I sat down in one of the armchairs and crossed my legs, relishing the moment.

“Nothing special,” I said. “Just thought I’d pay you a visit.”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Good. I’m glad you’re here.”

That had me curious. “Why?”

“Your stepmother and new stepsister are moving in tomorrow,” he said. “Have I told you about them?”

“You mentioned the new wife,” I said, annoyed. Had he already fucking forgotten our conversation?

He glanced up. “Yes, I did.” He paused. “Well, I expect you to be respectful of her as she is part of the family now. She has full privileges of the estate, as does your new stepsister.”

“Stepsister,” I said, laughing. “What’s she like?”

“Can’t say I know for sure,” he said. “Her name is Natalie. Cute girl, goes to college.” He grabbed his phone and pulled up a picture. “Here. This is her and her mother.”

My heart nearly fucking stopped in my chest as I took the phone from him.

Staring back at me was a picture of my wife.

The picture was probably a year or two old, but it was definitely her. I could hardly believe it. The Natalie I had met the night before certainly was nothing like her infamous mother. Where Camille Taylor was brash and loud, Natalie had been quiet and demure, almost shy.

“Lucas?” my father asked. “What’s wrong with you, boy?”

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