All I Need Is You

All I Need Is You

  • WpView
    Reads 768
  • WpVote
    Votes 2
  • WpPart
    Parts 40
WpMetadataReadMatureOngoing2h 10m
WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Sep 13, 2021
Lucia and Domenico they think they're very different, but as soon as they spend more time together and fight for their families and their love, they realize they're similar in a lot of ways. This story isn't about a simple love, it's not about two people who are married voluntarily because they're in love. It's a story about a much more difficult and complicated relationship. I'm sorry for the grammar mistakes. I will try to correct them as soon as it's possible. English is not my first language, but i hope you guys can enjoy this story.
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
Illustration

You may also like

  • HIS DOLL | 18+ ✓
  • Underneath His Rule
  • Her Unexpected Destiny |18+
  • 𝒟𝒶𝓃𝒸𝒾𝓃ℊ 𝒻ℴ𝓇 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒟ℯ𝓋𝒾𝓁
  • Book 5 ✔️ My Possesive Mafia
  • The King Wanting His Queen
  • His Kitten
  • 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐏𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 | OLD VERSION
  • Her Saviour

"What are you?" the older man questioned, his voice a chilling blend of authority and amusement, like a knife wrapped in silk. "Your wife," I replied softly, my tone laced with the submission he seemed to crave. "No," he murmured, his lips brushing mine, the words a dark caress that sent shivers through me. "You are my doll, milaya." He towered over me, his intimidating presence both suffocating and intoxicating. The nickname, spoken in that deep, accented voice, wrapped around me like a chain I couldn't help but love. "You are the only woman who is allowed to warm my bed at night," he said, his voice a dark melody, smooth but unnerving. "The only woman who's allowed to step into my office and bend over my desk, waiting for me to come home so I can fuck you." A cold, low chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound as sinister as it was intoxicating, sending shivers down my spine. ♡ Dimitri Mikhailov, the russian mobster. His presence filled the room like a storm. He didn't have to move or speak to dominate the room. Broad-shouldered and imposing, his scarred face told a thousand stories that he'd never waste words on. He was my husband and I was his precious doll.

More details
WpActionLinkContent Guidelines