Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

He reached around, found her clit, and circled it with brutal efficiency.

Isabella’s body jerked, torn between the pain in her ass and the pleasure from his fingers.

”Please....I thought I heard.....”

”You heard nothing.” Dante pinched her clit hard. ”The only thing you should be focused on is how full you are. How used you are. How desperate you are.”

More sounds from the apartment.....drawers opening, equipment being placed.

His men were working fast, but they still needed another few minutes.

Dante pulled out of Isabella’s ass suddenly, flipped her onto her back, and before she could catch her breath, drove back into her pussy.

”Oh God....” Isabella’s eyes rolled back. ”Dimitri....yes....”

”Wrong name,” Dante said coldly, but didn’t correct her.

He wanted her saying Dimitri’s name. Wanted it recorded on the devices his men were installing.

Wanted proof that Isabella Russo was so obsessed with Dimitri Valentino that she screamed his name while fucking other men.

That information would be useful. Eventually.

Dante lifted Isabella’s legs, pushed them back toward her chest, and pounded into her at an angle that made her scream.

”Touch yourself,” he commanded. ”Make yourself come while I fuck you.”

Isabella’s hand flew to her clit, worked frantically.

Dante felt her tightening around him, close to orgasm, and timed his thrusts to keep her right on the edge without letting her tip over.

Torture.

Exquisite torture.

From the hallway, he heard his men moving to the bedroom next.

They’d need access to her bathroom, her closet, her nightstand.

All while she was in here.

Dante pulled out again, ignored Isabella’s whimper of protest, and stood.

”Up,” he commanded. ”I’m not done with you yet.”

Isabella struggled to sit up, her legs shaking, her entire body marked with his hands.

”I can’t....I’m too sore....”

”I don’t care.” Dante grabbed her arms, pulled her to standing, then lifted her completely off the ground.

Isabella gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist.

”Hold on,” Dante said.

Then he slammed her down onto his cock.

***

POV: ISABELLA

Isabella had never been fucked like this before.

Suspended in the air, impaled on his cock, completely at his mercy.

Every thrust lifted her, then dropped her back down with gravity adding to the force.

Deep. So fucking deep.

”Dimitri....” she screamed, her hands fisted in his hair. ”Dimitri....oh God....yes.....”

He walked her backward until her back hit the wall, then used it for leverage to pound into her even harder.

The position was brutal. Overwhelming. Made her feel small and used and completely owned.

Isabella’s head fell back against the wall, her vision blurring.

She thought she heard something....movement in her apartment, doors opening....but the pleasure was too intense to focus.

”Did you hear that?” she gasped.

”Hear what?” He thrust particularly hard. ”The sound of you being a desperate whore?”

”No, I thought....something in the apartment....”

”You’re imagining things.” He shifted the angle, hit that spot inside her that made coherent thought impossible. ”The only thing here is me. Fucking you. Using you. Reminding you that Dimitri Valentino will never want you this much.”

The words should have devastated her.

Instead, they pushed her over the edge.

Isabella came with a scream....Dimitri’s name on her lips, her body convulsing, tears streaming down her face.

The man didn’t stop. Didn’t slow down. Just kept pounding through her orgasm until she was sobbing.

Finally....finally.....he pulled out, set her down roughly.

Isabella’s legs gave out. She collapsed to the floor, trembling and used and destroyed.

The man stood over her, stroked himself twice, and came all over her face and breasts.

Marking her. Degrading her. Reminding her exactly what she’d become.

Isabella knelt there, covered in his cum, and felt nothing.

No shame. No regret. No satisfaction.

Just emptiness.

The man tucked himself back into his jeans, zipped up, and looked down at her with cold eyes.

”Clean yourself up,” he said. ”You look pathetic.”

Then he walked out.

Isabella heard her apartment door open and close.

He was gone.

Again.

She sat on her bedroom floor for a long moment, too exhausted to move.

Then, slowly, she dragged herself to her feet and stumbled to the bathroom.

Turned on the shower. Washed away the evidence of what she’d just done.

And tried not to think about the fact that she’d do it all again.

Would beg for it again.

Would degrade herself again.

Because those few hours of feeling wanted, even by someone who treated her like garbage....were better than the endless loneliness of being unwanted by the only man she’d ever loved.

Isabella dressed in silk pajamas, walked through her apartment in a daze, and didn’t notice anything different.

Didn’t notice the tiny cameras hidden in smoke detectors and picture frames.

Didn’t notice the listening devices planted in lamps and behind furniture.

Didn’t notice that her private sanctuary had just been completely compromised.

She just climbed into bed, curled into a ball, and fell asleep alone.

While in Naples, Dante Romano sat in his office, watching the feeds go live one by one.

Isabella’s living room. Her bedroom. Her bathroom. Her office.

Every angle. Every room. Every private moment.

All streamed directly to him.

”Perfect,” Dante said quietly, watching Isabella sleep on one of the screens. ”Absolutely perfect.”

His phone buzzed. A text from Luca: All devices installed. Full coverage. Zero detection.

Dante smiled.

Phase two was complete.

Now he just had to wait for Isabella to lead him to everything he needed to destroy Dimitri Valentino.

And judging by how broken she already was, how desperate for connection....

It wouldn’t take long at all.

***

POV: EVE

Eve pushed through the penthouse door at 6:47 PM, exhausted from a day of back-to-back client meetings and contract negotiations.

The smell of Nonna’s cooking hit her immediately, something with garlic and tomatoes, rich and comforting.

She found Nonna in the kitchen, stirring a pot of sauce, humming softly to herself.

”Buonasera, cara,” Nonna said without turning around. ”You look tired.”

”Long day.” Eve dropped her bag on one of the kitchen chairs, rolled her shoulders. ”Where’s Dimitri?”

”In your room. He has been restless all day, tired of bed rest, tired of not working, tired of being treated like an invalid.” Nonna smiled slightly. ”I told him if he does not rest properly, his wounds will not heal properly. He told me I worry too much.”