Chapter 1

Monique’s breath hitched as Jake’s thick cock slammed into her, filling her pussy with a delicious stretch that made her moan loud enough to echo off the bedroom’s gilded walls. The king-sized bed creaked beneath them, silk sheets tangled around her thighs as she arched her back, her auburn hair splayed across the pillow. Jake’s hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging into her flesh, and she loved the way he fucked her—hard, relentless, exactly how she’d taught him. “Fuck, baby, give it to me,” she growled, her voice thick with lust. “Pound your mommy’s cunt.”

Jake’s blue eyes glinted with hunger as he thrust deeper, his massive shaft stretching her walls. “You love this big dick, don’t you, you filthy slut?” he shot back, his voice low and rough. His hips snapped forward, each stroke sending a jolt of pleasure through her core. Monique’s nails raked down his chest, leaving red trails, and she smirked at his hiss of pain. She was in charge, always had been, and Jake knew it.

Her mind drifted briefly as she savored the moment. For years, she’d been fucking her son, ever since he was old enough to learn how to please her properly. Her husband, Jake’s stepfather, that rich old bastard upstairs, could barely get it up anymore, his limp attempts at sex a pathetic contrast to Jake’s raw power. Jake was her creation—her stud, her secret, molded to fuck her rough and dirty, just the way she craved. The thought made her pussy clench tighter around him, and she moaned louder, her voice a symphony of depravity.

“God, you’re so fucking deep,” she panted, locking eyes with him. “But listen, baby, I’ve got a treat for you.” She licked her lips, her hips rolling to meet his thrusts. “My friend Zahra. You know her—gorgeous Persian MILF, early forties, just divorced. She’s been moping, and I want you to take her to her niece’s wedding. Show her a good time.”

Jake’s thrusts slowed slightly, curiosity flickering in his gaze, but he didn’t stop. “Zahra, huh? She hot?” His cock slid in and out, slick with her juices, and Monique groaned at the sensation.

“Hot? Oh, fuck, she’s a goddess,” Monique purred, her hands roaming to her own breasts, pinching her nipples. “Long, dark hair you wanna wrap around your fist. Curves that’ll make your mouth water. Big, sultry eyes that scream ‘fuck me.’ She’s dying for a real man, Jake, and you’re gonna give her that cock of yours.” Her words came between gasps as Jake picked up his pace again, clearly intrigued.

“Sounds like my kind of date,” he grunted, slamming into her hard enough to make her cry out. “You want me to fuck her brains out, don’t you, Mommy?”

“Damn right,” Monique hissed, her pussy throbbing at the thought. “She’s lonely, ripe for it. You’ll have her screaming your name.” She pushed at his chest, her voice commanding. “Now flip me over. Fuck me from behind.”

Jake obeyed instantly, pulling out with a wet sound that made her shiver. Monique rolled onto her knees, ass high, and glanced back at him, smirking. “Come on, stud, don’t keep me waiting.” He didn’t hesitate, gripping her hips and plunging his cock back into her pussy, the new angle hitting deeper, making her scream. “Fuck, yes, just like that!” she cried, her body rocking with each brutal thrust.

As Jake pounded her, Monique’s mind raced with images of Zahra—her friend’s lush lips, her hourglass figure in a tight dress, the way men stared at her. “Zahra’s gonna lose her mind when she sees you,” she gasped, her voice ragged. “She’s been stuck with that limp-dick ex of hers for years. You’re gonna fuck her so good, baby, make her forget him. I want you to ruin her at that wedding.”

Jake’s hands tightened on her hips, his thrusts growing erratic. “Shit, I’m in,” he growled. “I’ll fuck her wherever you want, Mommy. Gardens, bathroom, wherever. She’ll be begging for this dick.” His dirty talk sent a thrill through Monique, and she pushed back against him, meeting every stroke.

“That’s my boy,” she moaned, her pussy clenching as she neared her peak. “Fuck her like you fuck me—hard, nasty, no mercy.” Her words dissolved into a scream as Jake’s cock hit just the right spot, her orgasm crashing over her. She shuddered, her walls pulsing around him, and Jake followed, his hot release filling her as he groaned her name.

Panting, Monique collapsed onto the bed, Jake’s weight settling beside her. She turned her head, smirking at him. “You’re gonna love Zahra, baby. And she’s gonna love you.” Her voice was smug, satisfied, already plotting the scandal she’d set in motion. She was the one in control, and she fucking loved it.

Zahra’s heart pounded as she stepped into the grand hotel ballroom, her arm looped tightly through Jake’s. The space glittered with opulence—crystal chandeliers casting golden light, tables draped in ivory linens, and waitstaff weaving through the crowd with trays of champagne. Her powder-blue, sleeveless, strapless dress hugged her curves, the slit up one leg revealing a flash of thigh with each step. She’d chosen it to feel powerful, sexy, but now, as heads turned, she wondered if it was too much. Her thick black hair cascaded in elegant tresses over her shoulders, brushing the small of her back, and her diamond earrings and necklace—gifts from happier times—sparkled subtly. She clung to Jake, her anchor in the sea of judgment.

Jake looked devastating in his tuxedo, the crisp black fabric molding to his muscular frame, his pocket square a perfect match to her dress. His blond hair was tousled just enough to make her pulse quicken, and his blue eyes held a wicked glint that promised trouble. Zahra felt the weight of every stare, the whispers rippling through the crowd like a breeze. “Divorced and already with a boy toy,” she imagined them saying. The older generation—her parents’ friends, aunts, uncles—shot her icy glares, their lips pursed in disapproval. She caught her ex-husband Reza’s eye across the room, his arm around his new secretary, a leggy blonde barely out of her twenties. His scowl deepened, but Zahra’s lips curved slightly. In the battle of dates, she’d won—Jake’s raw charisma outshone Reza’s arm candy by miles.

Her grip tightened on Jake’s arm, his bicep solid beneath the tux. He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “You’re fucking gorgeous, Zahra. They’re just jealous,” he murmured, his voice low and reassuring. She shivered, her nerves sparking with a mix of fear and desire. The ballroom felt like a minefield, but Jake’s presence grounded her, his confidence a shield against the gossip.

The bride, her niece Layla, approached with the groom, Amir, their smiles nervous. Layla’s white gown shimmered, but her eyes darted between Zahra and Jake, betraying her unease. Amir’s posture was stiff, his tie slightly askew. Zahra forced a smile, her stomach twisting. “Layla, Amir, you both look wonderful,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. “This is Jake, my date.”

Jake flashed a charming grin, extending a hand. “Congrats, you two. Beautiful wedding.”

Layla shook his hand, her smile faltering. “Thank you, Jake. Aunt Zahra, it’s ... good to see you. We weren’t sure you’d come.”

Zahra’s cheeks warmed, the subtext stinging. “I wouldn’t miss your day, Layla,” she said, her tone firm. “It’s been a tough year, but I’m here to celebrate.”

Amir cleared his throat, his eyes flickering to Jake. “Right, well, glad you could make it. Quite the ... entrance.” His words carried a hint of judgment, and Zahra’s spine stiffened.

Jake’s hand slid around her waist, his touch bold yet discreet, his fingers settling on the curve of her ass through the thin fabric of her dress. The contact sent a jolt of heat through her, and she leaned back slightly, craving more. “Zahra’s the star of the show,” Jake said smoothly, his thumb grazing her subtly. “I’m just lucky to be here with her.”

Layla’s eyes widened, but she nodded. “Sure, yeah. Um, we should check on the cake. Enjoy the night, Aunt Zahra.” They hurried off, leaving Zahra’s pulse racing, Jake’s hand still warm on her ass. She glanced at him, her lips parting in a shy smile. His touch was reckless, thrilling, and she didn’t want him to stop.

Before she could catch her breath, an older couple approached—Amir’s parents, Mr. and Mrs. Hosseini, their expressions carved from stone. Mrs. Hosseini’s silver hair was pinned tightly, her emerald dress immaculate, while Mr. Hosseini’s suit screamed old money. Zahra’s stomach sank. They’d always been close with Reza’s family, and their disapproval was palpable.

“Zahra, you’re here,” Mrs. Hosseini said, her voice clipped. “We heard about ... everything. Quite a change.”

Zahra swallowed, her fingers tightening on Jake’s arm. “Yes, it’s been a year of changes,” she said, forcing calm. “This is Jake, my date.”

Jake offered a polite nod, his charm unshaken. “Pleasure to meet you both. Gorgeous venue.”

Mr. Hosseini’s eyes narrowed, scanning Jake like he was an intruder. “Jake, is it? You’re ... young. What do you do, son?”

“I’m finishing up college, sir,” Jake replied, unfazed. “Finance major, but tonight I’m just here to keep Zahra company.”

Mrs. Hosseini’s lips thinned. “Company, hmm. Zahra, your parents must be ... surprised by your choice of companion. After Reza, we expected ... well, something different.”

Zahra’s chest tightened, the jab landing hard. She felt Jake’s hand press firmer against her ass, a silent encouragement. “I’m happy with my choices,” she said, her voice sharp. “Jake’s been wonderful. Excuse us, I need a drink.”

She steered Jake away, her heart hammering. The older couple’s stares burned into her back, but Jake’s touch kept her grounded. “You handled that like a queen,” he whispered, his lips brushing her ear. “Fuck ‘em, Zahra. You’re the hottest woman here.”

Zahra’s nerves buzzed like live wires as she clung to Jake’s arm, the ballroom’s judgmental stares still burning in her mind. The whispers, the glares, Reza’s scowl—they swirled in her head, threatening to unravel her. Jake’s presence, solid and warm beside her, was the only thing keeping her steady. Then he leaned down, his lips brushing her ear, his voice a low, wicked promise. “I know what’ll settle your nerves, Zahra,” he murmured, his breath sending a shiver down her spine.

Before she could respond, he took her hand, his grip firm, and led her toward a side door of the ballroom. Zahra’s heart raced as they slipped out into the cool night air, the hotel’s manicured gardens stretching before them. Moonlight bathed the neatly trimmed hedges and blooming roses, casting long shadows. Jake moved with purpose, guiding her down a winding path, his tuxedo blending into the darkness. “Where are we going?” she asked, her voice trembling with a mix of nerves and curiosity.

He glanced back, his blue eyes glinting. “Shh, you’ll see,” he said, a playful edge to his tone that made her pulse quicken. She followed, her powder-blue dress catching the moonlight, the slit exposing her thigh with each step. Her heels clicked softly on the stone path, and she felt exposed, reckless, but Jake’s confidence pulled her forward.

They veered off the main path, slipping behind an elegant gazebo draped in climbing roses. The structure shielded them from the hotel’s glow, its far side a pocket of privacy amid the sprawling gardens. Zahra barely had time to catch her breath before Jake spun her around, pressing her back against the gazebo’s wooden lattice. His mouth crashed onto hers, hot and demanding, his tongue spearing into her mouth with a hunger that stole her breath.

Zahra froze, shocked by his forwardness. They’d only met once before—a coffee date arranged by Monique, where his charm had disarmed her but nothing physical had happened. This was bold, brazen, and yet her body responded before her mind could catch up. Her lips parted, kissing him back, a soft moan escaping as his tongue tangled with hers. Jake’s hands roamed her body, one squeezing her breast through the thin fabric of her dress, the other kneading her ass, pulling her closer. The heat of his touch seared through her, igniting a fire she hadn’t felt in years.

Her fingers pressed against his chest, feeling the hard muscle beneath his tuxedo. She kissed him hungrily, sucking on his tongue, her shock melting into desire. Jake’s lips were relentless, his kisses deep and possessive, and Zahra’s body arched into him, craving more. Her nipples hardened against the strapless bodice, and a throbbing ache pulsed between her thighs. She’d forgotten how it felt to be wanted like this—raw, urgent, unapologetic.

Jake broke the kiss for a moment, his lips grazing her jaw, then her neck, nipping at the sensitive skin. “Fuck, Zahra, you taste so good,” he whispered, his voice rough with lust. His hand on her breast squeezed harder, thumb brushing her nipple through the fabric, sending a jolt straight to her core. She gasped, her head tipping back against the gazebo, her thick black hair catching on the lattice.

“Jake,” she breathed, her voice shaky but thick with need. “We ... we barely know each other.” It was a weak protest, her body betraying her as she pressed her hips closer, feeling the hard bulge in his pants.