Harry finished his meeting with Alexei, and something about the man felt familiar.He had the sense he had crossed paths with him before, and with his total recall, he was able to sift through his memory to figure out where he knew him from.It hit him. This man looked like the one he had seen with Osaka that night."It can't be!" Harry began to wonder whether there truly was a mole inside the Mafia and whether he had just been sitting across from him.Harry knew better than to trust anyone, and if Osaka had a mole embedded that deep, it would mean everything Harry had shared with him was already in Osaka's hands before the conversation even ended."That sneaky bastard," Harry muttered under his breath, though he was more impressed than anything else.Harry had no idea what Osaka was working toward, but something deep in his gut told him that going after their girl might end up being the worst call he had ever made.He didn't know what his next move should be because he was stuck righ

Harry wasn't surprised when he heard the news because their relationship had already been heading downhill, and there was one common thread running through it all.Harry blamed himself, because if he had just refused when she asked him for a ride, none of this would have happened.He knew they would have ended up fighting about something else regardless, but at least he wouldn't have been pulled directly into the middle of it.Harry did what he could to comfort Brandon, but he could sense something had broken in him, and instinct told him his friend was too far gone to pull back from this.Clara had lost whatever respect she once held for him, and that kind of loss didn't come back.Harry glanced over his shoulder and realized there was nothing he could really do about it right now.This marriage might already be beyond saving, because Brandon had genuinely tried everything within his power.But then something occurred to him. There was no question Clara was drawn to him, that much ha

They remained seated together in that position for quite some time, their fingers laced together intimately, while the atmosphere surrounding them felt noticeably lighter and filled with a growing sense of ease. Harry took a quick look at the clock and realized it was still early in the evening. He gave her hand a firm, affectionate squeeze full of warmth."How about we order some takeout right now? We could continue talking more if that is what you desire, or we could simply stay quiet if silence feels better in this moment. Whatever feels right for you," Harry suggested in a gentle tone. Rhiannon nodded her head in agreement and leaned her head softly against his shoulder, seeking closeness."Yeah. Takeout sounds really good. And... thanks, Harry. For preventing me from ruining everything between us," Rhiannon responded promptly, her voice overflowing with sincere gratitude and appreciation."Anytime," he murmured in a low, soothing voice, leaning closer to place a tender kiss on he

Rhiannon’s chest still glistened with Harry’s thick cum, long streaks of the warm, sticky fluid smeared across her heavy tits like erotic war paint. She licked the final drop slowly from her bottom lip, her eyes wild and feral with unquenched hunger, then shoved him flat onto his back once more with dominant force. The couch creaked loudly under his weight as she climbed over him, her knees spreading wide to bracket his hips possessively. Her soaked shorts had already been kicked away to the floor, leaving her completely naked and dripping. She hovered teasingly above his cock, which remained rock-hard and slick with a messy mixture of her spit and his earlier release, and dragged the fat, swollen head through her soaked pussy lips, coating him thoroughly with her hot juices. "Look at you," Rhiannon rasped, her voice thick and husky with overwhelming lust. "Still so fucking hard for me. You greedy bastard." Rhiannon felt a deep thrill knowing he stayed this aroused for her. It

Harry lay there under the dim glow of the bedside lamp, his body slick with sweat, his heart still racing from the intensity of what had just happened. Rhiannon's red hair spread across the pillow like a fiery halo, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. The room carried the mixed scent of both of them, musk, desire, and something sweeter, like the vanilla lotion she'd put on earlier. He hadn't planned on this happening today, but the tension between them had been building like a storm cloud, something that felt unavoidable, charged with static. It started simply enough, or at least that's what Harry told himself. Rhiannon had been teasing him for days, her silk shorts riding up as she moved through the apartment, her laugh a little too pointed, her glances lingering a little too long. He'd found her in the kitchen stirring something on the stove, and when she turned to face him, the air between them practically sparked. Words went back and forth, playful at first, then