Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

He grabbed her wrists and pinned them to her sides.

”No,” he said. ”I control this. I control you. You don’t touch me unless I say you can touch me. Do you understand?”

”Yes,” she whispered.

”Yes, what?”

”Yes... sir.”

The submission in her voice, the way she gave him control so completely, made something feral rise up inside him.

He picked her up, carried her to the bed, and laid her down on her back.

”Two months,” he said, looking down at her naked body spread before him. ”Two months since I’ve had you. Do you know what I’ve been thinking about every day? Every single fucking day?”

”What?” she asked, her voice barely audible.

”This,” he said, running his hand down her body. From her collarbone to her ribs to her waist to the apex of her thighs. ”Your body. Your pussy. The way you scream my name. The way you come on my cock.”

His fingers found her clit, and she gasped, her hips immediately arching toward his touch.

”You’re already wet,” he observed coldly. ”You missed me too, didn’t you?”

”Yes,” Isabella moaned. ”God, yes, I missed you so much.”

He pushed two fingers inside her, and she cried out.

”That’s right,” he said. ”No one makes you feel like I do. No one knows your body the way I know it. No one owns you the way I own you.”

He worked his fingers inside her, building her arousal, watching her face as pleasure overtook her. Her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open. Her entire body was responding to his touch with the kind of desperation that came from two months of separation.

”Please,” she begged. ”Please, I need....”

”You need my cock,” he finished for her. ”You need me to fuck you until you forget how to think. Until the only thing that exists is me and you and the feeling of me being inside you.”

He pulled his fingers out and stood, and stripped off his clothes.

His cock sprang free, and Isabella’s eyes went wide.

”How are you so big?” she whispered, as if seeing him for the first time, even though she’d had him inside her countless times.

”For you,” he said. ”My cock is this big for you. Because you need a man who can fill you completely. A man who can make you feel things no one else ever will.”

He positioned himself between her legs, his cock at her entrance.

”Tell me who you belong to,” he commanded.

”You,” Isabella said immediately. ”I belong to you, Dante.”

”Who owns your body?”

”You do.”

”Who owns your pussy?”

”You,” she moaned. ”You own everything, Dante. All of me. Completely.”

He pushed inside her in one smooth stroke, and Isabella screamed.

Not in pain. In pleasure. In relief. In the desperate satisfaction of finally having what she’d been waiting for.

”Oh God,” she cried. ”Oh my God, yes. Yes. YES.”

He set a brutal pace, driving into her with the full force of two months of separation and obsession and need.

Her hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white. Her body arched beneath him. Her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts.

”Dante, I’m going to....”

”Not yet,” he said, adjusting the angle, driving deeper. ”You come when I tell you to come. You understand me?”

”Yes,” she gasped. ”Yes, sir. I understand.”

He loved that about her. The absolute submission. The way she gave him control without question or hesitation.

With other women, he had to fight for dominance. Had to establish control through force.

With Isabella, she wanted to submit. Needed to submit.

”You’re mine,” he said, fucking her harder. ”Say it. Tell me you’re mine.”

”I’m yours!” Isabella screamed. ”I’m yours, Dante! Completely yours! Forever yours!”

”Even if Dimitri tried to take you back, you wouldn’t go to him, would you?”

”Never,” Isabella sobbed. ”Never. I don’t want him. I only want you. Only you, Dante. Please.”

Something dark and satisfied settled in his chest at those words.

Because she was right. She was his. Dimitri could go to hell. Isabella belonged to Dante now, completely and irrevocably.

He fucked her faster, his own orgasm building, his body demanding release.

”Come,” he commanded. ”Come on my cock. Show me how much you love belonging to me.”

Isabella came hard, her entire body convulsing, her pussy clenching around him so tightly he almost came with her.

But he held back. Held on. Kept thrusting even as she shook and screamed and fell apart beneath him.

When she was done, when she’d collapsed completely against the bed, he pulled out and stroked his cock, finishing on her stomach.

The visual of his cum covering her skin was almost as satisfying as the orgasm itself.

Almost.

He collapsed beside her, pulling her against him, their bodies cooling in the air-conditioned room.

For a long moment, they just lay there, breathing.

Then Isabella said quietly: ”Dante, I need to tell you something.”

”Not now,” he said, pulling her closer. ”Don’t talk. Just be here. Just exist with me.”

”But....”

”Later,” he said, his voice brooking no argument. ”We’ll talk about everything later. Right now, I just need to hold you.”

Isabella settled against him, her head on his chest, her hand over his heart.

And Dante lay awake, staring at the ceiling, thinking about everything that was about to happen.

Tomorrow, Eve would be extracted.

Tomorrow, Dimitri would become desperate.

And tomorrow, everything would change.

But tonight, he had Isabella. Had her body and her submission and her absolute devotion.

And that was enough.

For now, it was more than enough.

***

LATER THAT EVENING

Isabella woke as the sun was setting, painting the bedroom in shades of orange and gold.

Dante was watching her from the chair beside the bed, fully dressed.

”How long have you been sitting there?” she asked, her voice rough from sleep.

”An hour,” he said. ”Maybe more. I like watching you sleep. You look peaceful when you’re asleep. Like the world hasn’t hurt you yet.”

Isabella sat up slowly, pulling the sheet around her body.

”Dante, I need to tell you something important. About what happened in Rome. About my father.”

”I know about your father,” Dante said. ”He tried to keep you confined. Threatened you into submission.”

Isabella blinked. ”How did you....”