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Heir: A Dark Mafia Romance by Jaye Peaches

I don’t call him sir because he outranks me. I call him sir because he owns me.

The day Zayne Demiri arrived here I realized it isn’t the commander who really runs this base.

It’s Zayne.

He’s chosen me to satisfy his needs and desires while he’s busy establishing his control over this turf, and the heir to one of the most powerful mob syndicates in the world gets what he wants.

That’s why I’m naked, bound, and at his mercy. But it isn’t the thought of being ravaged over and over with my bottom still burning from a spanking that has left me quivering with shame.

It’s the fact that he’s going to make me beg for it.


Publisher’s Note: Heir includes spankings and rough, intense sexual scenes. If such material offends you, please don’t buy this book.

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Author: Jaye Peaches

eBook Price: Kindle Unlimited/$4.95

Length: 74,000 words


He continues telling me what he wants, what he desires, and I see what he describes vividly in a stream of moving pictures that fuel my lust.

He teases and torments. The former is pleasurable, the other is diabolically not. I need both working in tandem for me to tolerate the latter. Pain on its own is pure punishment, and he knows this, so I’m grateful he works hard on finding that balance.

I’m woken from my dazed state by him tickling my anus. He’s targeting his preference with infernal persistence. Do I want him to truly take me there? It’s too soon, surely. I raise my head and mewl a warning.

“Baby, don’t interfere,” he admonishes.


“Gabby, it’s just my thumb.”

“I’m not sure,” I whine.

Zayne resumes fucking my pussy, pounding and pummeling the length of it with unceasing movement, all the while toying with my asshole, but never quite penetrating it.

Wicked man!

“When this goes in, you’ll wish it was my cock,” he says breathlessly.

He’ll come soon, won’t he?

I try to squeeze his erection, but his thrusts are far too quick for me. I’m back on that brink of bliss, drifting there, surfing the waves and never quite tumbling over the crests into an orgasm. I’m stuck on the familiar and frustrating plateau of readiness.

The pressure of his devious thumb, which I react to tempestuously, provokes me into opening my eyes.

“Zayne,” I squeal.

The fucking slows, as if he’s concentrating. He groans then.

The blur of real life and imagination fuses once again. My puckered hole yields and something firm slips inside my ass.

A finger? A thumb? His cock?

It’s not his cock, but it doesn’t matter that he’s still using his thumb. I come, hard.

There’s a roaring in my ears, like thunder, and my limbs go rigid fighting the spasms. Rammed against the beam by his pounding hips, my hammered clitoris is pained, hot-wired into my brain. As far as my fantasy is concerned, he’s just thrust his gigantic cock in my tiny asshole. In this dreamworld, I’m no longer a virgin, and to add to the illusion, he’s using me remorselessly and without consideration. It’s heavenly, this place in my mind, because I’m safe in it. Reality is where the danger lies. Reality is about raw feelings and passion, making lasting connections with lovers. It’s not about hanging out in the erotic daydreams of a frivolous fun-loving girl who fears romance might cripple her.

It’s always been hard to explain—even to myself—where I go when I’m fucked, and why I stay there.

Zayne cries out then, just once, and the air stills, the vibrations ceasing.

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