Shadows protection

Ana faces an impossible choice but she must protect her son

This is my story and it got rejected in literotica.
This story isnt real and all characters are above 18

Characters ID:
Ana: Mother of George, married to Pedro. She's 50 years old, white but with a nice tan, she is short, only 1,59, and of average build, weight of 60kg, she has a B cup that really shines on her body, she is brunette, she works as a beautician.

Pedro: Father of George, married to Ana. He is 52 years old, white, height of 1,78, weight of 98kg, he as a beer belly, works as a hotel manager and has to travel a lot

George: Son of Pedro and Ana. He is 22 years old, white, height of 1,68, weight of 63kg, studies in college and is bullied by Jaime and his friends

Jaime: George schoolmate, Black, he is 24 years old, height of 1,92, weight of 90kg, muscular build

The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the manicured lawn, but inside the quiet, suburban home, a different kind of darkness was gathering. Ana stood in the center of her pristine living room, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. The scent of lemon and lavender, a smell she usually found comforting, now did little to soothe the knot of dread tightening in her stomach. Jaime, her son George’s bully, stood opposite her, a smirk playing on his lips. He was a large man, tall and powerfully built, his dark skin a stark contrast to the carefully curated decor.

“You know why I’m here, Ana,” Jaime said, his voice a low, confident rumble. He took a step closer, his expensive sneakers squeaking softly on the hardwood. “Georgie boy messed up a big account at work. A very big account. And the boss is looking for someone to blame.”
Ana’s heart hammered against her ribs. “It wasn’t George’s fault! You’re the one who’s supposed to be his senior, you’re the one who made him do all the work while you took the credit.” Her voice, though meant to be firm, came out as a trembling whisper.
Jaime chuckled, a deep, dismissive sound. “Is that what he told you? That poor little George is a victim? Please. He’s incompetent. He’s about to get fired, and with his record, he’ll be lucky to get a job flipping burgers. But…” He let the word hang in the air, thick with implication. “I can make this all go away. I can tell the boss it was my fault, that I misjudged the client. I’ll take the hit. George keeps his job.”

Ana looked up at him, a flicker of desperate hope in her eyes. “You would do that? Why?”
The smirk on Jaime’s face widened, revealing perfect, white teeth. He closed the remaining distance between them until his chest was nearly touching her folded arms. He was so much larger than her, his sheer size overwhelming. He reached out and, with a slow, deliberate movement, untucked her cream-colored silk blouse from her beige skirt. His fingers were warm against the skin of her stomach, and she flinched as if burned.

“Because you and I are going to come to a new arrangement,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her body. Ana was fifty, but she took care of herself. Her figure was still full and womanly, with generous hips and breasts that strained against the fabric of her blouse. “You’re a beautiful woman, Ana. A real classic. It’s a shame a man your husband’s age probably isn’t taking care of you right.”

“That’s none of your business!” she snapped, swatting his hand away. But the protest was weak, her resolve crumbling under the weight of her son’s future. The image of George, dejected and jobless, flashed in her mind. Pedro, her husband, would be so disappointed. He worked so hard to provide for them, and the thought of George failing was unbearable.
Jaime just laughed again. “Oh, but it is my business now. Either we go upstairs to your nice, big marital bed, or I walk out that door and make a few phone calls. Your choice.”

Tears of shame and anger pricked at the corners of her eyes. This was blackmail. It was vile and disgusting. But as she looked into Jaime’s cold, determined eyes, she knew she had no choice. Her shoulders slumped in defeat. “Okay,” she breathed, the word tasting like ash in her mouth. “Just… don’t hurt George.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it” Jaime said, his triumphant grin returning. He followed her up the carpeted stairs, his heavy footsteps echoing behind her like a drumbeat of doom. She could feel his eyes on her backside, appraising her, claiming her before he had even touched her again.

In the master bedroom, the room she shared with Pedro. Ana stood frozen beside the king-sized bed, its duvet a calming shade of navy blue. This was her sanctuary, the place where she and her husband had shared decades of intimacy. The thought of defiling it with this… this animal… made her sick.

“Take your clothes off,” Jaime commanded, leaning against the doorframe and crossing his arms. His tone was casual, as if he were asking for a glass of water.

With trembling fingers, Ana unbuttoned her blouse. Her skin felt cold and clammy. She let the silk slide from her shoulders and pool on the floor. Next came her skirt, then her simple white bra and panties. Soon, she stood before him, completely naked, vulnerable and exposed. She instinctively covered her breasts with one arm and her crotch with the other, a futile gesture of modesty.

Jaime pushed himself off the doorframe and approached her. He closed on her slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. “Damn,” he whistled appreciatively. “For an old lady, you’re built. Pedro’s a lucky man.” He stopped in front of her and roughly grabbed her wrist, pulling her arm away from her chest. He palmed one of her breasts, his dark hand a stark contrast against her skin. He kneaded the flesh, his thumb brushing over her nipple, which betrayed her by hardening instantly. A jolt, unwanted and confusing, shot through her.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, his voice thickening with lust. Ana obeyed, lying back on the cool sheets. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to pretend this wasn’t happening. She heard the sound of a zipper, the rustle of clothes being discarded. Then the mattress dipped under his weight as he climbed on top of her. He settled between her legs, his body heavy and solid, pinning her down. He smelled of expensive cologne and raw masculinity.

“Look at me,” he demanded. When she didn’t, he gripped her chin, forcing her to face him. His eyes were dark, intense, and filled with a primal hunger she had never seen in her husband’s gentle gaze. “I want you to see who’s fucking you.”

He positioned his thick, dark cock at the entrance to her dry, unready sex. Ana braced herself, expecting pain. But instead of a brutal thrust, he began to rub the head of his penis against her clit. Her body, treacherous and separate from her mind, began to respond. A warmth spread through her pelvis, and moisture started to coat her inner thighs.
“See? Your body knows what it wants,” Jaime grunted, a smug satisfaction in his voice. He continued his teasing assault until she was writhing beneath him, a soft moan escaping her lips despite her best efforts to remain silent.

Then, with one powerful, smooth stroke, he pushed inside her. He was bigger than Pedro, stretching her in a way that was both alarming and undeniably pleasurable. A choked gasp tore from her throat. He didn’t move for a moment, letting her adjust to his size, his weight pressing her into the mattress.
“Tell me you want it,” he growled, his face inches from hers.

“No,” she whimpered, turning her head away.
He chuckled and began to move, pulling out almost completely before slamming back into her. The force of his thrusts stole her breath. He set a punishing rhythm, his hips pistoning against hers. The bed creaked in protest, the sound mingling with the slap of skin on skin and Ana’s ragged pants. The initial pain had melted away, replaced by a deep, throbbing pleasure that built with every stroke. Her resistance was crumbling, washed away by waves of sensation. Her hands, which had been clenched into fists at her sides, now flew to his broad back, her nails digging into his sweat-slicked skin.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunted. “Take this black dick. You love it, don’t you?”
She couldn’t answer. She could only moan as he drove into her, hitting a spot deep inside that Pedro had never reached. The shame was still there, a bitter taste in her mouth, but it was being drowned by a tidal wave of raw, carnal need. She was no longer just a mother trying to save her son; she was a woman being thoroughly fucked.

Jaime shifted his weight, hooking his arms under her knees and pushing them back towards her chest. The new angle allowed him to penetrate even deeper, and Ana cried out, a sound of pure, unadulterated ecstasy. Her orgasm crashed over her without warning, a violent, shuddering convulsion that wracked her body from head to toe. Her vision went white, and for a moment, she forgot everything—her husband, her son, the blackmail. There was only the overwhelming pleasure of the man on top of her.

He rode out her climax, his own release building. With a final, guttural roar, he buried himself to the hilt inside her. She felt him pulse, a hot flood of his cum filling her, marking her as his. He collapsed on top of her, his heavy body pinning her, their combined breathing the only sound in the room.
After a long moment, he pushed himself up and looked down at her. A slow, possessive smile spread across his face. He had broken her. He had taken her, not just by force, but by making her body betray her mind.

“You know, Ana, my boys are gonna be really jealous when I tell them about this. Next time, maybe I’ll bring them along. I bet a fine woman like you could handle all of us.” he said before leaving her.