Made Men 2: Forbidden Love

By: Dixie Lynn Dwyer


When the second set of hands landed on her shoulders, she felt her pussy cream.

“Ours. You belong with us. Between us, with our cocks buried deep inside of this body, claiming you, fucking every inch of you.” Sunny’s words undid her, and she came. Just like that. With their hands and mouths exploring her body and Sunny’s deep, commanding voice destroying the last bit of fight in her.

It was heaven. It was perfect until the gun went off, ending it all and killing Sunny in front of her.

“No!”

Adalina screamed out, startled awake in bed. She was gasping for breath, sweating and crying, with thoughts that the dream was real. The pleasure she felt, the connection, hell, the desire and love for Vinny and Sunny Costanza when someone shot Sunny and killed him. Tears stung her eyes, and she used her forearm to wipe them away. Her chest was tight. So tight she was still unable to catch a full breath. Sunny, Vinny, oh God, we can never be together.

She threw back the covers and sat on the edge of the bed, placing her bare feet on the hardwood floors. The T-shirt she wore to bed was high against her waist. Now that she was fully awake, she absorbed how her body felt. Her pussy throbbed, and her nipples were still hard, and a need for sex, for Vinny and Sunny to fill her body with cock, flashed through her mind. Oh, how she wanted them, was so attracted to them she thought about them all the time. She couldn’t place them in danger. She couldn’t lie to them or withhold the truth of who she really was. It wouldn’t be fair to them, to learn about her true identity sometime later when her life was threatened because someone had found out who her father was.

She couldn’t live a normal life. She knew she couldn’t use them either. The feelings she had for them, the attraction, the desire, was strong, hell, lethal. She had known them all her life. Felt comfortable around them. Safe. Perhaps that was really the pull toward Vinny and Sunny.

She’d practically grown up with them, like brothers. She shook her head. No, not like brothers. God, she didn’t think of them like brothers. She thought of them as sex gods. Lethal men who hid their connections to a somewhat underground world of hidden crimes, money laundering, importing and exporting for high-profile businessmen within the same connected families.

They thought she didn’t know. She revealed a bit of her capabilities when helping to rescue Bella. Now here she was desiring something, two men, she knew she shouldn’t desire or have. Plus Tudoro, her cousin, had forbidden her from getting even remotely close to them. It could cause problems. They were associates of the Fiorre family, and they would be an even greater part of that family now that their sister, Bella, was romantically involved with Mateus and Major Fiorre.

She pushed herself up from bed and pulled her long blonde hair back into a makeshift ponytail. She walked past the mirror, noting her flushed cheeks, feeling how swollen her pussy was. She’d come in her sleep. Fantasized about Vinny and Sunny holding her, kissing her, demanding that she let them fuck her, and she’d come. That was not normal. That had nothing to do with her inexperience with sex either. Her one lover through college had been Andre, an international exchange student from Germany. He was super sexy, six feet three, muscular, and wealthy. His family owned multiple businesses, and he was set to be married to a young woman from another family in Germany, forming some great empire of sorts. Her relationship with Andre had been perfect with no long-lasting commitments, but the desire, the lust, was there, and their friendship and love affair worked out for both of them.

She smiled when she thought of him. They’d stayed in touch. It was crazy how such a bond, a long-lasting friendship had formed between them. Whenever she was in Germany, he would help her to arrange the best accommodations and provide personal escorts and security for her throughout her stay. Completely unnecessary but he said he felt better knowing she was safe when in his country.

She headed toward the kitchen, her large apartment way too big for her. She’d been smart not to accept Tudoro’s insistence on the penthouse. It would be a waste of money, and she would hardly ever entertain. She put a pod into the brewer and waited for the coffee mug to fill. Glancing toward the living room and a great view of the Hudson River and New Jersey, she exhaled. She had the life here. Worked hard in the corporate world and could easily hide amongst the normal civilians of society, but apparently, organized crime was in her blood. The instincts, the business sense, the ability to talk, persuade, entice investors into supporting a venture or trade was a gift. She made most of her money solo, didn’t ever touch what had been left for her in an account that Tudoro monitored, which her father fed into from God knew where. No one ever knew where he was or what business he was conducting. The man was a legend. Sometimes, hell, times like this, when she wanted what she couldn’t have, she wished she could disappear and live in hiding with him.