My Neighbor's Wife

Author: E_STEVANIA

Chapter 1 Prologue

Word Count: 729 | Released on: 29/01/2025

color and sweat, grey doe eyes crossed. . . and on some occasions, rolled back in her head, her back arched, her nipples hard and glistening with saliva, and mo

k his dick in her mouth-like a good girl, but I wondered if he saw the hate that flashed in her eyes sometimes. I wonder

in her room daily, only let out when he wanted to fuck her in a different place-say the sitting room with ceiling to floor windows that I could see through without even trying. Too many t

he curtains back is that of her naked body as she exits the shower. Wet. Dripping. There are days when I wonder if she knows I live her

ely drank until she passed out. But. . . there were times she laid in her bed, bunched up her favorite nightdress-an ivory, translucent material that barely covered her plump ass-parts her le

And when I woke, I went straight to th

about her, but I've nev

ngs to. Her legs kicked back and forth and she would often toss the books, covering her lips as she squealed excitedly, bouncing up and down her bed before she resumed

out in her pantie

for her. She keeps a bottle of pills on her nightstand. I don't know what they are, but too many times, after a terrible fight with her husband that ended w

ne day wake and she would no

he isn't mine. She is my ne

Chapter End

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My Neighbor's Wife

E_STEVANIA Mafia

“"You're a creepy bastard." His eyes smolder me and his answering grin is nothing short of beautiful. Deadly. "Yet you hunger for me. Tell me, this appetite of yours, does it always tend toward 'creepy bastards'?" **** Widower and ex-boss to the Mafia, Zefiro Della Rocca, has an unhealthy fixation on the woman nextdoor. It began as a coincidence, growing into mere curiosity, and soon, it was an itch he couldn't ignore, like a quick fix of crack for an addict. He didn't know her name, but he knew every inch of her skin, how it flushed when she climaxed, her favourite novel and that every night she contemplated suicide. He didn't want to care, despising his rapt fascination of the woman. She was in love with her abusive husband. She was married, bound by a contract to the Bratva's hitman. She was off-limits. But when Zefiro wanted something, it was with an intensity that bordered on madness. He obsessed, possessed, owned. There'd be bloodshed if he touched her, but the sight of blood always did fascinate him. * When Susanna flees from her husband, she stumbles right into the arms of her devilishly handsome neighbour with a brooding glare. He couldn't stand her, but she needed him, if she was ever going to escape her husband who now wanted her dead. Better the devil you know than the angel you don't. She should have recalled that before hopping into Zefiro's car and letting him whisk her away to Italy. Maybe then, she wouldn't have started an affair with him. He was the only man who touched her right, and the crazy man took no small pains in ensuring he would be the last.”