Mafia Mom

Cherie gets the call. Biggie's in cuffs. She stares at her reflection, wipes lipstick from her teeth, and decides the crown fits. Downstairs, Samantha Rone hears the same news and crawls into bed with Alex. "She's taking it," Samantha whispers. "My coke, my cut, my name on every drop." They agree to meet. Cherie sits like she already owns the room. Samantha tries first. Bold, loud, talking percentages and territory. Cherie smiles thin. "You don't fuck with Italians, sweetheart. Not when they hold the passports your father needs." The smirk dies on Samantha's face. Cherie stands, crosses the rug, cups Alex's chin and kisses her slow and deep, tongue tasting the surprise. She wants Samantha to watch. Wants her to feel it. When Alex parts her legs, Cherie hikes the skirt, slides two fingers straight in, knuckle-deep, working her until the moans turn ragged. Alex comes hard, body folding, legs shaking. Cherie doesn't stop. She drags her onto the cushions, spreads wide, pulls Alex's mouth to her wet cunt and rides the tongue like she rides the city. Samantha watches, breathing through her teeth. Cherie drags her down too, tongue in her stepdaughter's mouth while both their fingers sink back into Alex—pussy and ass, relentless. They change angles every time someone breaks. Cherie ends on her back, grinding Samantha's face until her stepdaughter squirts, until the couch is soaked and the girl is empty. The queen stays on top.