Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

By the time actual sunlight started streaming through the glass walls, painting everything in shades of gold and orange, they’d moved positions.

Dimitri had pulled her up onto her hands and knees, and he was fucking her from behind with a pace that was faster now, more intense. His hand was gripping her hip while his other hand wrapped around her breast, kneading it, his thumb finding her nipple and rolling it between his fingers.

”Fuck,” Eve gasped, her arms shaking slightly. ”Dimitri, you’re so deep.”

”I know, piccola,” he said, his voice rough. ”I’m going to be inside you all morning. Going to make you come so many times you lose count.”

He was true to his word.

In the shower, he took her against the marble wall while hot water cascaded over them both. He controlled her movements by gripping her ass, lifting her and lowering her onto his cock while she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on for dear life.

”That’s it,” he said, watching her face as pleasure washed across it. ”Take it. Take all of me.”

She came hard, her entire body convulsing, water mixing with sweat mixing with arousal. When she was done, she could barely stand, and he held her upright while she recovered.

Back in the bedroom, he laid her on her back and took his time. He started at her breasts, sucking each nipple until she was whimpering, then moved lower. He ate her pussy like he was tasting the finest thing he’d ever had, his tongue working her clit while his fingers were inside her, finding that perfect spot that made her vision white out.

She came on his mouth, her thighs clamping around his head, and he let her, didn’t move away until her orgasm had completely subsided.

Then he was inside her again, fucking her with deep, measured strokes while looking into her eyes.

”Tell me something,” he said as he moved inside her, his pace deliberate and controlled. ”Tell me something you’ve never told anyone else. Something real. Something vulnerable.”

Eve’s breath hitched. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails leaving marks that he knew he’d feel later.

”Like what?” she asked.

”Anything,” he said. ”Something from your past. Something that shaped you. I want to know you completely. Every part of you.”

He kept the pace slow while she thought, his cock moving inside her with steady, measured strokes. The intensity was building, but it was different from their usual dynamic. This wasn’t about possession. This wasn’t about claiming her or marking her as his. This was about genuine intimacy. About knowing another person so completely that you couldn’t imagine existing without them.

”When I was younger,” Eve finally said, her voice soft and vulnerable in a way he rarely heard, ”I used to have nightmares about being trapped. About being locked away. That’s why I’ve always needed my independence so badly. Why I fought you so hard about the partnership thing at first. Why I needed to know that I had a choice.”

Dimitri listened while he moved inside her, understanding the weight of what she was sharing. Understanding why she’d demanded to be treated as an equal instead of an asset.

”But now,” she continued, her eyes filling with tears that might have been from emotion or from the pleasure, ”being with you... it doesn’t feel like being trapped. It feels like finally being safe. Like I can let go because I know you’ll catch me. Like I can trust you completely.”

He kissed her deeply, his pace increasing slightly. His movement was still controlled, still purposeful, but with more urgency now. He was close, his body demanding release, but he held on. Held on until she was coming again, her orgasm hitting and washing over her in waves.

Only then did he let himself go. He came deep inside her, groaning her name against her neck, his body shaking with the force of it.

When it was over, they lay tangled together as the sun climbed higher in the sky.

By the time they finally left the bedroom around noon, they’d made love four separate times in four different positions.

The staff had prepared breakfast on the terrace, fresh fruit, pastries that were still warm, coffee so strong it could wake the dead, everything arranged with perfect precision. Dimitri watched Eve eat while sitting across from her, completely transfixed.

She was wearing one of his shirts, the fabric hanging off one shoulder, the hem hitting mid-thigh. Her hair was damp from a final shower. Her lips were slightly swollen from kissing. There were dark marks visible on her neck, her shoulders, her breasts where the shirt gaped open.

She looked claimed. She looked his.

”You’re staring,” she said, laughing around a bite of pastry.

”You’re beautiful,” he said simply. ”I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at you.”

”Even after we leave the island?” she asked, the question carrying weight. Because they both knew that eventually, this would end. That in eleven days, they’d have to go back to the real world.

”Especially after we leave the island,” he said. ”Because reality makes you real, Eve. This is perfect, but real is better.”

She reached across the table and took his hand. ”I don’t want to think about that yet.”

”Then we won’t,” he said. ”We’ll just live in this moment.”

***

They spent the afternoon exploring a different part of the island....a trail that led through ancient olive groves and past stone structures that had been there for hundreds of years.

They held hands and talked about books they loved. About places they wanted to visit someday. About dreams that felt possible now in a way they hadn’t before. About a future that wasn’t defined by war or empire or legacy.

Eve talked about wanting to travel. About wanting to experience different art scenes in different cities. About maybe taking a break from the gallery for a few months to just breathe.

Dimitri listened and made mental notes, already planning how to make it happen. How to give her everything she wanted.