Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

POV: DIMITRI

Marco stood in front of the desk, tablet in hand, running through the security protocols one final time.

”The jet is ready,” Marco said. ”Security sweep on the villa completed twice. Staff has been vetted. Locations flagged on the route. Two-hour intervals for communication checkpoints.”

Dimitri listened, his mind already three steps ahead. The island was secure. His men were in place. The security apparatus Marco had built was airtight, the kind of network that had kept him alive through wars, through betrayals, through the kinds of situations that killed lesser men.

”Two hours,” Dimitri said, cutting through Marco’s final update.

Marco blinked. ”Sir?”

”We leave in two hours.” Dimitri stood, already moving toward the door. ”Complete the checking. Coordinate with the crew. I want wheels up at 1400 hours.”

”Understood.” Marco followed him to the elevator. ”I’ll ensure....”

The elevator doors closed before Marco could finish.

Dimitri rode it up to the penthouse level, his body already shifting into a different mode. Two weeks stretched ahead....two weeks where he didn’t have to be strategic, didn’t have to calculate, didn’t have to think about his father’s next move or the networks he’d spent months building.

Two weeks that belonged only to Eve.

The elevator opened directly into the penthouse. The living room was exactly as he’d left it....clean, ordered, every surface reflecting the kind of control he exercised over his environment. But he could hear water running from the master bathroom.

She was in the shower.

He smiled for the first time all morning.

Dimitri walked through the bedroom without bothering with the lights. The bathroom door was open slightly, steam spilling out into the cooler bedroom air. He could see her silhouette through the frosted glass....the curve of her waist, the line of her spine, her arms raised as she worked shampoo through her dark hair.

He stripped quietly. Suit jacket. Dress shirt. Trousers. Everything hitting the floor as he moved. His boxer briefs followed, and then he was naked, his body already responding to what was coming, what he wanted.

The bathroom tile was warm under his feet as he stepped inside the cloud of steam.

Eve had her eyes closed, face tilted up into the spray, her breasts glistening with water and soap. Her body was a landscape he’d memorized but never stopped wanting to explore. Every freckle. Every scar. Every place that made her gasp.

He moved to her back without announcing himself.

His hands found her breasts from behind....cupping them, feeling their weight in his palms. Her nipples were already hard from the water, and he pinched them, rolling the sensitive peaks between his thumbs and forefingers.

Eve gasped, her eyes snapping open.

”Dimitri....”

”Quiet,” he said against her ear. ”You know what happens when you shower without telling me.”

Her body went rigid for a moment, anticipation or fear, maybe both....before she leaned back against his chest. The water cascaded over both of them, steam wrapping around their bodies like something alive.

”I was just....”

”I guess i have to remind you again then.”

His hands stayed on her breasts, massaging, squeezing, working her nipples until she was making small sounds low in her throat. Her head fell back against his shoulder, and he turned it, catching her mouth with his own.

The kiss was possessive. Deep. His tongue dominated hers as his hands continued their assault on her breasts. She pressed her ass against his hardening cock, seeking friction, and he groaned against her mouth.

”Greedy,” he murmured, breaking the kiss just enough to speak. ”We have two hours, piccola, and I’m going to use every fucking second.”

He spun her to face him, water streaming down her face, her dark hair plastered to her shoulders. Her eyes were dark....pupils dilated, that hazel color almost completely black.

”On your knees Eve,” he commanded.

She hesitated for just a beat, that moment where she always checked herself, where the good girl in her warred with what she actually wanted...and then she sank down in front of him, the tile hard against her knees.

His cock was fully hard now, standing between them, and Eve looked up at him with that expression that never got old. That mix of desire and defiance and need.

”Put it in your mouth,” he said. ”Slowly.”

She wrapped her hand around him, stroking once, twice, then leaned in. Her mouth opened and she took him inside, and the sensation of her warm, wet mouth around his cock nearly made him lose it right there.

”Fuck,” he breathed. ”Exactly like that.”

She sucked him slowly at first, working him with her mouth and her hand in tandem. The water from the shower spray hit his chest, his shoulders, both of them soaked and slick. His hand came up and threaded into her wet hair, guiding her rhythm but not forcing it. Not yet.

”You’re so fucking good at this,” he said, watching her mouth work him. ”So eager to please your man.”

She made a sound around his cock...not quite words...and he felt the vibration of it all the way down his spine.

His hips began to move, fucking her mouth slowly, watching her take him deeper. Her eyes stayed on his the whole time...never looking away, never breaking that connection. It was intimate in a way that had nothing to do with tenderness and everything to do with dominance and submission and the kind of trust that only came from knowing someone completely.

”That’s it,” he growled. ”Take it deeper.”

She gagged slightly when he pushed deeper, and he felt his control fracture. He pulled out, his hand gripping her jaw, tilting her face up to his.

”Stand up.”

She stood, water streaming down her body, her skin flushed from exertion and desire.

He kissed her, tasting himself on her, and then he turned her to face the tile wall of the shower.

”Hands on the wall,” he commanded.