
Satin Sinner - A Mafia Romance
I walked in on my fiancé sleeping with my maid of honor...
On the day of our wedding.
I did what anyone would do:
Threw my ring in his face and found somewhere quiet to cry.
But then something else happened.
Something unexpected.
In that quiet place...
Someone found me.
Anton Stepanov is like something out of a dream.
Scratch that: out of a nightmare.
He's rich as sin, arrogant as heck, and way too handsome for his own good.
He's also way too handsome for mine.
So when he offers me his hand and a way out of the worst day of my life, I do the only thing I can do:
I say yes.
That's how I ended up on his yacht.
That's how I ended up in his bed.
That's how I ended up pregnant with his baby.
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Chapter 5
"I disagree," he says. "In fact, I might be almost as interested in you as you seem to be in me."
This time, I do actually choke. "What makes you say that?" I ask when I regain my composure.
"For starters, you've spent most of the night thus far staring at me through the kitchen windows."
At this point, there's no way I can stop the embarrassed blush from ravaging my cheeks. I hand the champagne back to him only because I think I might break the glass if I hold on to it any longer.
"No, that was... That was just absent daydreaming."
He smiles. "Why deny it, Jessa? Why deny yourself what you want?"
I look down and fidget. "I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."
"You couldn't if you tried," he demurs. "But I should warn you: staring at me too long will get girls like you into trouble."
My heart thunders frantically against my chest. "What kind of trouble?"
"The kind of trouble that involves moonlight and champagne," he says with a smile that makes my insides clench. "The kind that swallows you up before you even know it's happening."
He dangles his hand over the edge of the yacht. I watch as he releases the half-empty flute. The glass falls into the ocean. A few thousand dollars' worth of champagne guzzled greedily by the black waves.
"Why did you do that?" I gasp.
He smiles. "I wanted my hands free."
"For what?" "For this."
He turns and grabs me. And before I can make sense of what is happening, I'm being kissed.
Anton's hand falls to the small of my back and he pulls me against his body. His body is rock hard underneath the thin fabric between us.
And it's not the only part of him that's rock hard.
The cautious side of my brain starts blaring with a thousand alarm bells. But I can barely hear any of it over the scream of my desires. Desires I never even knew I had.
When his tongue slashes across my lower lip, I shudder and part my mouth for him.
When his hand lands between my legs, I melt instinctively.
He pulls back just enough so that he can speak. "Do you want me to stop, kotyonok?"
"No," I say, the word wrenching itself breathlessly from my lips. "Never."
4
JESSA
At some point, I'm kissing him back. The cold wind whips around us, but I'm on fire.
"Anyone could see," I whisper, looking around the bow of the yacht in alarm.
"Let them fucking see," he growls in my ear before his lips leave a scorching trail down my neck.
He rips open the jacket of my chef's whites and circles my right nipple through the flimsy material of the blue slip he dressed me in. I press my body closer into his warmth and am rewarded with the hardness of his cock against my thigh.
He twists me around suddenly so I'm facing the ocean. I have no choice but to grip the railings as his hands rip my pants down to my knees.
"You're a work of art, do you know that?"
"I bet you say that to every woman you seduce," I say breathlessly.
I can hear his chuckle in my ear. "Never out loud."
Then I feel his cock against my ass and I lose all sense of self-consciousness or wariness. Suddenly, it doesn't matter that we're out in the open and anyone can catch us.
It doesn't matter that I've known this man for less than twelve hours.
It doesn't even matter that I lost my fiancé and my best friend in one fell swoop today.
All that matters is the distraction he offers me and the intense pleasure that comes with it.
His hand slaps my ass cheek and I double over with a gasp, the cold metal railing biting into my stomach. I grip the railing and spread my legs.
"Eager, eager," he whispers in my ear.
"Would you rather I tease you more?" I threaten with a laugh.
He nips at my neck. "Just walking around like you do is a tease."
Then he pulls down my panties and I feel his cock against my bare ass. I hold my breath, wondering if this is going to be a decision I regret later.
Then I think about how this day started. And about how this day was supposed to end. I think about Dane and Salma.
And I realize there is nothing to regret.
"Fuck me, Anton," I gasp. "Please... just fuck me."
I've never asked a man to fuck me before. But I've also never had my fiancé cheat on the day of my wedding before.
It's time for a change.
I deserve to have a man like Anton fuck the sadness right out of me. He seems inclined to agree.
He pushes into me a second later, and I gasp. It's so different than it ever was with Dane. He's so much bigger. He fills me up, knows exactly how to use the hammer between his legs.
"Fuck..." I moan.
"Breathe, kotyonok," he croons in my ear. "It takes a moment to get used to."
I bite down on the inside of my cheek as the pressure builds. He pushes deeper inside me and I scream. He wraps one arm around my waist and with his free hand, he massages my breasts.
He rocks against me gently, easing into me as he nips at my neck and ear. I wanted to be more of an active participant, but the sensations coursing through my body are too overwhelming. I'm forced to stand there, bracing myself for the onslaught I know is coming.
Because I know instinctively that Anton is not the kind of man to go slow and gentle indefinitely.
It only takes seconds more for him to prove me right.
He pinches my nipples and starts thrusting into me harder. I cry out as he fills me, pushing me to the brink and then pulling me back just before I crash.
As he fucks me, his hand slides down my stomach and cups my pussy. He starts playing with my clit as he slams into me.
I can only stare up at the star-speckled sky as a delirious tear squeezes from the corner of my eye. I can't even wipe it away because I'm holding the railing for dear life.
Pleasure builds in my center, a raging inferno I can't control. I try to stave it off, try to swallow the scream that is rising in my throat. But I'm helpless against the force of it.
The orgasm roars through me, destroying everything in its path.
I've never had an orgasm so intense before. I'm so lost to the sensation that I don't even notice Anton is coming with me.
My body is still shaking and clenching when he slips out of me. My dress falls back down over my hips, giving me some small amount of modesty. I turn around slowly, but I make sure to keep a tight grip on the railing so I don't fall. My legs are pure jelly.
Anton gives me a knowing smile as he pulls his pants up, but I look down and catch sight of the massive cock between his legs.
"Jesus," I exclaim, unable to hold it in.
He laughs. "Why do you think I took you from behind? Women tend to get nervous."
Fresh tingles run up my spine, but I manage to hold off the blush. "Oh. Uh... thanks, I guess."
Chuckling, he gestures to the reclining chairs off in the corner of the yacht. "You need to sit down." "I really should be getting back."
"Why?" he asks with a smirk. "The boss won't mind."
I bite my lower lip, realizing that for the first time in my life, I'd rather stay here than head back to the kitchens. And since it is a first, I decide to live in the moment. To savor this new feeling.
I walk over to him, embarrassed about the fact that my legs are still wobbly, and take the chair on the right. He sits down next to me, all confidence and ease.
I glance around the deck, realizing that my chef's whites are on the wooden deck, flapping around in the wind.
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7.3
I was tracing the gold paint on my own tombstone when a hand tapped me on the shoulder.
It was Clayton.
The same man who, five years ago, had left me bleeding out in a ditch because he didn't want to be late for my sister's engagement party.
"Die quietly, Ivy," he had said over the phone before hanging up.
Now, standing over my grave, he dropped his cheap plastic flowers in shock.
"Ivy? You're... we buried you."
They hadn't buried me.
They had buried an empty box to save face, mourning a "troubled" daughter they had actually discarded like broken trash the moment I became a liability.
Clayton's shock quickly turned to that familiar, arrogant anger.
He accused me of faking my death for attention.
He told me I was sick for putting the family through such pain.
He even reached out to grab my arm, intending to drag me back to my father to apologize.
"You're coming with me," he spat. "You owe us an explanation."
But he made a fatal mistake.
He thought he was talking to Ivy Dillard, the soft girl who cried when she skinned her knees.
He didn't notice the town car waiting at the curb, or the man stepping out of it.
Before Clayton's fingers could graze my coat, a hand made of steel caught his wrist.
Collin Richardson, the most feared Capo in Chicago, stepped between us.
"Touch my wife again," Collin whispered, his voice promising violence. "And you lose the hand."
I smiled at the terror draining the color from Clayton's face.
I didn't come back from the dead to explain myself.
I came back to bury them.

7.9
Rose was so naive that she didn't know Jonah, her ex-fiancé, was cheating on her even before her wedding day. On the night before her wedding, she caught him cheating on her with the last person she would ever expect him to be with, Rebecca.
Out of anger and spite, she cursed at them and left, then went and got herself drunk and made out with a mafia don, who, oblivious to her, was her fiancé's stepbrother and his boss.
On the day of the wedding, she stormed in and canceled it, calling Jonah out. After the embarrassment, Jonah vowed to make her life miserable. She tried to get a job, but it was almost impossible because of the influence Jonah had.
So she went to the greatest mafia don that her friend Lucy recommended to her. When she went to ask for his help, the don turned out to be the mysterious man who had been showing interest in her, but she had kept declining. Unbeknownst to her, he was her ex-fiancé's boss and stepbrother.
She asked for his help, and he offered it, of course, but on one condition.that she would be his mistress !.

8.7
"You're leaving," Lorenzo said softly.
Ivy straightened her spine and raised her chin. "I am. I'm getting out of this place even if it means climbing over the front gates. I can't stay here anymore. I'm leaving!"
"You can't," Lorenzo said flatly. "Not now."
"Watch me," Ivy hissed, brushing past him.
Lorenzo stepped in her way and grabbed her by the arms-not roughly, but firmly.
"I mean it, Ivy. You can't leave," he said tightly.
She struggled against his grip, her bag falling to the floor with a thud.
"Let me go, Lorenzo! I don't belong here. This place is insane. Your family is insane!"
"You belong to me," he said sharply, eyes burning into hers. "And it's my job to protect what's mine."
"I don't want to be yours," Ivy cried. "I want to be free! I want to live!"
Something shifted in Lorenzo's face. He looked at her then, not as an obligation, not as a pawn, but as a person. A frightened, strong, beautiful woman who had been caught in a storm she never asked for. And something in him cracked.
Lorenzo reached down and cupped her face with both hands. Ivy flinched at first but didn't pull away. His thumbs wiped away the tears rolling down her cheeks.
"I never wanted to hurt you," he said quietly.
Her lower lip trembled. "Then let me go..."
"I can't," he whispered.
And then, without thinking, he leaned in and kissed her.
***************
Ivy Wesley believed that marrying a wealthy stranger would be her golden escape from a life of struggle. Lorenzo Martinelli was supposed to be her way out: her fresh start, her answer to every prayer whispered in the dark.
But the moment the mansion doors shut behind her, Ivy understood the truth. She hadn't stepped into a fairy tale. She had walked straight into the lion's den.
The whispers about the Martinelli family's ties to the Mafia aren't just rumors; they're real, and now Ivy is bound to them by a ring on her finger and secrets she can never unlearn. There is no undoing this choice. No clean exit. Not after what she's seen. Not after what she knows.
Surrounded by dangerous alliances, ruthless power plays, and truths sharp enough to draw blood, Ivy finds herself caught in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty can be lethal. Yet in the middle of the chaos, something even more unexpected takes root: a love she never planned for, never prepared for, and may not survive.
Now Ivy faces an impossible choice: run while she still can, or stand her ground beside the man who could destroy her as easily as he protects her. In a world where betrayal lurks behind every polished smile and devotion can cost a life, can their love endure... or will it be the very thing that brings everything crashing down?

8.1
I'd lived as a mafia queen, ruling with quiet strength, only to discover my entire life was a lie. My husband, Dante, secretly divorced me three years ago, then married our timid nanny. I wasn't just betrayed; I was a dead ex-wife walking, a ghost in my own home.
A mafia daughter, I expected routine at Rossi's law firm. But Rossi, pale and sweating, handed me an envelope: Dante's divorce judgment, signed three years ago, and his marriage certificate to Gia, our nanny.
Truth slammed me: Gia poisoned me for years, causing infertility, making her bastard son the sole heir. Hidden, I watched her force Dante, the Underboss, to kneel, drink hallucinogenic tea, and profess devotion. She smirked.
This was calculated murder: my existence, my legacy. Rage burned, but clarity struck: disappear, or vanish into the Long Island Sound.
From a hidden phone, I called Luca, the underworld's elite cleaner. "I need a top-tier scrub. Target is myself," I commanded. "Get me out of this hell. I'd rather die than be his taxidermy specimen."

8.1
**WARNING: VERY EXPLICIT 21+**
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My name doesn't matter. My filthy urges do. I came home from work. The bedroom door was half open. My husband was there, pounding into some woman on our bed, his c**k slamming in and out, deep and rough.
I should have screamed. Instead my p**sy clenched hard. I stood frozen, watching every thrust. My hand slipped under my skirt on its own. Fingers circled my cl*t as he f**ked her right in front of me.
He glanced over. "You like watching my c**k stretch her?" I rubbed faster.
"Don't stop," I whispered. Then I came shaking, eyes locked on him pounding her.
***
69 Dripping Fantasies is sixty-nine raw taboo stories. Wives catching husbands cheating and getting soaked instead of angry. Step-family secrets whispered in quiet. Glory holes that fill fast. Honeymoon wife swaps sparked by one dumb dare. Older rich men taking total control. Professors crossing every forbidden line. Husband's best friends sneaking in. Strangers who follow, then f**k hard. Group nights in dark clubs. Cucks cleaning up every last drop.
***
I'm on my knees. One thick c**k buried deep in my throat, making me gag. The woman behind me squeezes my t*ts until it hurts so good. Her tongue between my ass, teasing, no c**k has filled my p**sy or a*s yet. But I'm trembling, dripping, seconds from squirting everywhere. Two massive black c**ks wait their turn, and her presence makes it filthier... hotter.
I never knew I craved this so badly.
***
No soft romance. Just dirty yeses where no should be. Sixty-nine stories. Sixty-nine surrenders. Read if you're brave. These pages might leave you wet, jealous, horny... or secretly think of your own filthy fantasies when nobody's watching. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

7.1
"I didn't ask for any of this."
"Neither did I... but you walked into my world anyway."
Melissa Grant believed in love the way fairy tales promised it, gentle, loyal, and safe. Until the night everything shattered. Betrayed by the boy she trusted and the friend she defended, she walks away from the life she knew straight into darkness she was never meant to survive, then she meets him.
Adriano Rossi.
Feared across the city as The Devil, a mafia king who built his empire on blood, power, and silence. Cold, untouchable, and dangerously precise, he was never supposed to notice someone like her, let alone want her, but one night changes everything, and a truth that refuses to stay buried.
Because Melissa isn't just an innocent girl caught in the wrong place... she is the key to secrets powerful enough to burn empires to the ground. Her past is tied to a hidden crime legacy, her future entangled in a war she never chose, and her heart trapped between the life she lost and the man who could destroy her or save her completely.
In a world where love is a weapon and trust is a weakness, one question remains:
When the Devil wants you... do you run, or do you fall?