MY MAFIA MATE

THE PRICE OF DESIRE 💋

Elena barely remembered the drive back to the apartment. Her body still tingled with the aftershocks of Dante’s touch sore in the most delicious places, marked by invisible fingerprints she could still feel on her skin. The taste of him lingered on her lips. Every time she shifted in the taxi seat, a fresh wave of heat reminded her of how thoroughly he had claimed her on his desk, then again in his penthouse.

Marcus was snoring loudly when she slipped through the door just after midnight. She stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching him. Guilt should have crushed her. Instead, she felt only a strange, buzzing aliveness she hadn’t experienced in years.

She showered in silence, watching the water wash away the evidence smeared lipstick, the scent of Dante’s cologne, the faint bruises blooming on her hips. But no amount of soap could erase the memory of his voice growling, “You belong to me now.”

Sleep refused to come. She lay beside her husband, staring at the ceiling, thighs pressed together as she replayed every thrust, every filthy word. When her phone lit up on the nightstand, she knew who it was before reading the message.

Dante: Sleep well, Elena. Dream of my c**k inside you. Tomorrow night. My penthouse. 9 PM. Wear nothing under the coat.

Her breath hitched. She should have deleted the thread. Blocked him. Instead, she typed back with trembling fingers.

Elena: This is dangerous.

Dante: You like dangerous. I saw it in your eyes when you came for me.

The next day passed in a haze of nervous energy. Marcus left early, excited about his upcoming meeting with “the boss.” He kissed her cheek without really seeing her. “Wish me luck. Dante’s been in a good mood lately. Might be my big break.”

Elena forced a smile. “Good luck.”

By 8:45 PM, she stood in front of Moretti Tower wearing a long black coat over nothing but heels and bare skin, just as he had ordered. The private elevator carried her straight to the penthouse. When the doors opened, Dante was waiting.

He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled up, exposing powerful forearms. A glass of whiskey dangled from his fingers. His dark eyes raked over her like a physical caress.

“Open it,” he said, voice low and commanding.

Elena untied the belt. The coat fell open, revealing her naked body. Dante’s control visibly snapped. He crossed the room in two strides, shoving the coat off her shoulders and crashing his mouth against hers.

There was no slow seduction tonight. He lifted her, carrying her straight to the bedroom and tossing her onto the massive black silk bed. In seconds, he was on top of her, mouth devouring her breasts while his fingers found her already soaked.

“You’re dripping for me,” he growled. “Your husband has no idea what a needy little slut you are, does he?”

The degrading words only made her wetter. Dante flipped her onto her stomach, pulled her hips up, and thrust into her in one brutal stroke. Elena cried out at the sudden fullness. He f****d her hard and deep, one hand fisted in her hair, the other slapping her ass with sharp, possessive smacks.

“Say it,” he demanded, pounding into her. “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You,” she gasped between moans. “I belong to you, Dante.”

He reached around to rub her c**t, driving her over the edge. Elena came hard, muffling her scream in the pillow as her body shook. Dante followed with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spilled inside her.

They collapsed together. For a few moments, Dante held her against his chest, stroking her hair almost tenderly.

But as the pleasure faded, reality crept back in. Marcus would be meeting with Dante tomorrow. How long could she keep playing both sides before everything burned?

Dante kissed her forehead. “This is only the beginning, Elena. I’m not sharing you anymore.”

She wanted to believe him. She wanted to stay in this dangerous fantasy forever.

But deep down, she knew the price of this desire would be devastating.