Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

POV: EVE

Three weeks.

Three weeks of living with Dimitri Valentino. Three weeks of submission and denial and pleasure that never quite satisfied. Three weeks of him making her come in every way imaginable except the one she was desperate for.

Eve sat at her desk at Phoenix Talent Agency, staring blankly at her computer screen, the words blurring together until they meant nothing.

She’d read the same contract three times and still couldn’t tell anyone what it said. Her mind was elsewhere.

Always elsewhere these days.

Specifically, her mind was focused on the constant, maddening ache between her thighs that had become as much a part of her as breathing. Permanent. Inescapable.

A low throb that pulsed through her body every second of every day, reminding her of what she wanted, what she needed, what he refused to give her.

She shifted in her chair, trying to find relief, but there was none. The movement only made it worse, made her more aware of how empty she felt, how desperately she needed to be filled. Her phone buzzed on the desk, and her heart jumped.

DIMITRI: What are you wearing?

Her breath caught. She looked down at her outfit, though she already knew the answer. The navy dress he’d picked out this morning while she stood naked in his closet, watching him select each piece with the same care he applied to everything. The lace underwear that barely covered anything, more decoration than function. The heels that made her legs look endless and made her think about wrapping those legs around his waist. Everything she wore, he’d chosen. Everything she put on her body was an extension of his control.

EVE: The navy dress. The lace set. You know what I’m wearing. You dressed me.

His response came immediately.

DIMITRI: Take off your panties.

Her breath caught in her throat. She glanced at her office door. Closed.

Melissa had gone to lunch ten minutes ago. The floor was quiet. She was alone. But still. This was her office. Her company. The place she’d built from nothing, and he was asking her to.....No. Not asking. Commanding.

EVE: Now?

DIMITRI: Now.

Then send me a picture. Her hands shook as she stood from her chair. Her legs felt weak, unsteady, as she reached under her dress and hooked her fingers in the delicate lace.

She pulled them down slowly, feeling the fabric slide against her thighs, her calves, until they pooled at her feet. She stepped out of them, picked them up, and set them on her desk like evidence of her submission. Then she sat back down in her leather chair, the cool surface a shock against her bare skin.

She spread her legs slightly, just enough, and with trembling fingers, she lifted her phone and took the photo. The sound of the camera shutter seemed impossibly loud in the quiet office.

She stared at the image for a moment. Her thighs. The hem of her dress pushed up. The hint of what lay between. Evidence of her arousal already visible. She hit send before she could overthink it.

Three dots appeared immediately, and she imagined him in his office across town, looking at the photo, that wicked smile spreading across his face.

DIMITRI: Beautiful. Now touch yourself. I want you thinking about me all afternoon.

Her core clenched at the command.

EVE: Dimitri, I can’t. I have meetings.

DIMITRI: I don’t recall asking if you could. I told you what to do. Obey.

The word sent a shiver down her spine.

Obey.

Such a simple command. Such absolute power. She bit her lip, glanced at the door again, then slid her hand between her legs. She was already wet. She was always wet these days. It was embarrassing how quickly her body responded to him, how completely he’d trained it to crave him.

Her fingers found her clit, circled it gently, and pleasure sparked through her like electricity.

DIMITRI: Good girl. Now stop. Don’t make yourself come. Just edge. Stay desperate for me.

She whimpered, pulling her hand away just as the pleasure was building.

The denial was immediate and brutal. Her body screamed for release, for completion, but she obeyed. Because disobeying Dimitri came with consequences she’d learned to avoid.

EVE: This is torture.

DIMITRI: Yes. And you love it. Six o’clock. Don’t be late. I have plans for you.

He always had plans. Plans that left her trembling and begging and empty.

Plans that involved toys and restraints and his hands and his mouth and everything except what she actually needed. His cock. Inside her. Claiming her completely.

The rest of the day dragged by in agonizing slow motion. Every meeting felt like an eternity.

The budget review with her CFO took an hour that felt like six.

The conference call with a potential client required her to sound professional and engaged while her pussy throbbed with need and her panties sat on her desk like a secret.

Every phone call was background noise. Every email might as well have been written in a foreign language. All she could think about was going home to him.

Home.

When had she started thinking of his penthouse as home?

When had her own apartment....the one she still owned but hadn’t visited in two weeks....become just a place she used to live?

When had he become her entire world?

She knew the answer. She just didn’t want to admit it.

By five-thirty, she’d given up any pretense of working. She touched up her makeup, reapplied her lipstick, and stared at the clock on her computer screen, willing it to move faster.

At exactly six o’clock, Marco appeared at her door. ”Ready, Ms. Thorne?” She grabbed her purse, left her panties in her desk drawer.....she’d retrieve them tomorrow, maybe.....and followed him to the elevator.

The ride down felt interminable. The walk through the lobby took forever. And when she finally slid into the back seat of the SUV, she had to resist the urge to tell Marco to drive faster.

The drive felt longer than usual. Traffic was heavy, the city moving in slow motion like it was deliberately keeping her from what she needed.

And all Eve could think about was what Dimitri would do to her tonight. Would he use the toys again?

The vibrators that made her scream but left her empty?

Would he edge her for hours like he had last weekend, making her beg and cry and promise anything?

Would he finally....finally....give her what she’d been begging for?

Or would he deny her again, that wicked smile on his face as he watched her break?

When they finally pulled into the garage of his building, she practically ran to the elevator.

Her heels clicked against the concrete, echoing in the empty space, and she jabbed the button for his floor with more force than necessary.

The elevator ride up felt like ascending into heaven or descending into hell.

She couldn’t tell which anymore. The doors opened directly into his penthouse, and she stepped out into the quiet space. No Nonna. No staff. No sounds of life. Just Dimitri, standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows in dark slacks and a black shirt, watching the sun set over his city. Over the empire he controlled with an iron fist. He didn’t turn when she entered. Didn’t acknowledge her presence at all. Just stood there, silhouetted against the dying light, looking like every dark fantasy she’d ever had made flesh.

”You’re late,” he said, his voice calm. Conversational. Dangerous.

”Traffic. I’m sorry.”

”Are you?” He still didn’t turn. ”Or did you make Marco drive slowly because you wanted to make me wait?”

”No! I would never....”

”Come here.”

It wasn’t a request. She walked to him on shaking legs, her heels sinking slightly into the plush carpet, and when she was close enough that she could smell his cologne, he finally turned.

Those storm-gray eyes locked onto hers, and she forgot how to breathe.

”Strip,”

he commanded. She obeyed immediately, her fingers fumbling with the zipper of her dress, desperate to get the clothes off, desperate to feel his hands on her skin, desperate for any touch at all.

The dress slid down her body and pooled at her feet. Her bra followed.

And then she stood naked before him, trembling with need and anticipation and the overwhelming desire to please him.

He circled her slowly, like a predator assessing prey, and she felt his gaze like a physical touch.

”Three weeks,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate.

”Three weeks of training your body. Teaching it to crave me. Making you so desperate that you’d do anything for my cock. Tell me, cara mia. How desperate are you?”

”So desperate,” she breathed, her voice breaking.

”Please, Dimitri. I need you. I can’t take anymore. I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Just please....”

”Anything?” His hand slid down her spine, over the curve of her ass, possessive and claiming.

”I think you can take a lot more than you realize.”

”Please.” Real tears burned her eyes now. Tears from frustration and need and the overwhelming ache that never went away. ”Please, I’m begging you. I’ll do anything. Anything you want. Just please fuck me.”

He turned her to face him, cupped her face in his large hands, forced her to look up at him.

”Anything?” he asked softly, his thumb stroking her cheekbone.

”Anything,” she confirmed, meaning it with every fiber of her being.

”Then prove it.” He stepped back, started unbuttoning his shirt with methodical precision.

”Get on your knees.” She dropped immediately, her knees hitting the cold floor with a soft thud that she barely felt.

All she could focus on was him. On the way his hands moved as he freed himself from his pants. On the way his cock sprang free....massive and hard and already leaking.

She opened her mouth without being told, and his smile was pure satisfaction.

”Good girl,” he praised as he guided himself past her lips.

”Show me how desperate you are. Show me how much you want it.”

She sucked him like her life depended on it. Deep and hungry and worshipful.

Her hands gripped his thighs, her nails digging into his skin as she took him as far as she could, which wasn’t even half. He was too big. Too thick. Too everything. But she tried. God, she tried.

He groaned above her, his hand fisting in her hair, controlling the pace, pushing deeper.

”That’s it, cara mia. Take it. Choke on it. Show me you can handle me.”