MY MAFIA BOYFRIEND

Don't Look Away

Julian returned just before sunset.

Isabella heard the elevator and was already standing when he stepped into the penthouse. He looked tired, the kind of tired that went deeper than lack of sleep, but there was no blood on him this time. Dante came in behind him and then quietly made himself scarce.

“What happened?” Isabella asked.

Julian loosened his watch and set it on the table. For a moment he didn’t answer. Then he looked at her.

“I didn’t kill him.”

Relief hit her so hard her knees felt weak. She sat down on the arm of the couch.

“I needed you to hear that first,” Julian said. “Because the rest isn’t gentle.”

He walked over and stopped in front of her.

“I had a conversation with your father. A long one. He understands now what happens if he ever sends anyone near this building again. He understands what happens if he tries to involve police or anyone else. And he understands that the only reason he’s still breathing is because of you.”

Isabella searched his face. “What did you do?”

“I took things from him that matter more than his life.” Julian’s voice was calm, almost detached. “Certain accounts. Certain protections he’s been relying on. A few quiet arrangements that kept his business comfortable. He’s still alive. He’s still free. But he’s a lot smaller than he was this morning.”

She swallowed. “Is he going to come after you again?”

“He can try.” Julian reached out and brushed his thumb across her cheek. “But he won’t. Not after today. Men like him only push when they think there’s no real cost. I made the cost very clear.”

Isabella closed her eyes for a second. When she opened them, Julian was still watching her.

“I kept my word,” he said quietly. “He’s alive. But he doesn’t get to threaten you and walk away untouched. That’s the line.”

She nodded slowly.

Julian pulled her up from the couch and into his arms. He held her tightly, forehead resting against hers.

“It’s done,” he murmured. “He’s not going to touch you. No one he sends is going to touch you. Not anymore.”

Isabella let herself lean into him, the fear of the last twenty-four hours finally starting to loosen its grip. Julian saw the relief on her face when he said her father was still alive. It softened something in him for a moment. Then her eyes dropped to the bandage on his side and the relief mixed with worry.

“You’re still hurt,” she said quietly.

“I’ve had worse.”

She rested her hand lightly over the bandage. “I don’t like seeing you like this.”

The anger he had been holding since was still there, coiled tight under his skin. Talking to Richard had taken the edge off the worst of it, but not all. Isabella seemed to sense it. She leaned down and kissed him, slow at first, then deeper. When she pulled back, her voice was soft.

“Use me.”

Julian’s eyes darkened. “You don’t know what you’re offering.”

“I do.” She took his hand and led him toward the bathroom. “You’re angry. You’re hurt. You’re still carrying all of it. Let it out.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.

The bathroom was all black marble and glass. Julian turned the water on in the large tub, then pulled her shirt over her head and pushed her pants down. He stripped himself with the same efficiency, careful only with the bandage. When they stepped into the hot water, he sat first and pulled her down onto him in one smooth motion, sinking into her cunt in a single deep thrust.

Isabella’s head fell back against his shoulder with a broken sound. She was already wet, but the stretch still burned. Julian’s hands gripped her hips hard as he started moving her on his c**k, lifting her and pulling her back down in steady, forceful strokes. Water spilled over the edge of the tub with every movement.

“f**k,” he muttered against her neck. “How are you still so tight?”

He kept her there for a long time, f*****g her while the water slapped against the marble. When he wanted a different angle he stood, still inside her, and carried her out of the tub without pulling out. He laid her on the thick rug on the bathroom floor and drove back into her hard, one hand braced beside her head, the other under her knee to open her wider.

He f****d her on her back until her legs shook. Then he flipped her onto her hands and knees and took her from behind, deeper, one hand in her hair, the other spanning her hip. The sound of skin against skin filled the bathroom. Isabella’s arms gave out at one point and he followed her down, chest to her back, still thrusting, still filling her over and over.

Time blurred.

He moved her through position after position — on her side with one leg hooked over his arm, straddling him on the floor while he held her hips and f****d up into her, bent over the edge of the tub while he stood behind her. Every time she came he kept going, chasing the anger out of his body through hers. Sweat mixed with the water still dripping from their skin. His bandage darkened with fresh blood but he didn’t stop.

After what felt like hours, Isabella was trembling and oversensitive, cunt swollen and used, his c*m already leaking out of her from the first two times he had finished inside her. Julian was still hard. He pulled her back into his lap on the floor, sinking into her once more, and this time he didn’t move right away.

Isabella was breathing hard against his neck. She shifted higher, guiding his head to her chest the way she had before. Julian latched onto her breast without hesitation, sucking deep and slow while his c**k stayed buried inside her. The dual sensation made her whimper. He nursed from her while his hands stroked her back, the anger in him finally starting to loosen under the combination of her body and the quiet act of taking from her like this.

He was still inside her, still hard, still suckling, when the bathroom door opened.

Victor, Julian’s father, stepped in first. Behind him was Celeste, Julian’s mother, and two of Julian’s financial advisors who had apparently been brought along for an unannounced discussion. All four of them froze.

Isabella made a small, broken sound of pure humiliation and tried to cover herself. Julian’s head lifted from her breast, c**k still buried to the hilt inside her, and the expression that crossed his face was instantaneous and lethal.

He didn’t shout.

He reached for the gun he had left on the bathroom counter, raised it, and fired once past his father’s shoulder. The bullet took the nearest advisor in the thigh. The man screamed and went down hard.

“Get out,” Julian said, voice flat and deadly calm. His arm stayed locked around Isabella’s waist, keeping her on his c**k even as she trembled with shame. “All of you. Now.”

Victor’s face was carved from stone. Celeste looked away. The remaining advisor scrambled to help his bleeding colleague. They left without another word. The door shut hard behind them.

Only then did Julian set the gun down. His hand returned to Isabella’s back, steadying her as she hid her face against his neck, mortified and still impaled on him.

“They’re gone,” he said quietly. The anger in his voice had shifted into something colder and more controlled. “No one walks in on what’s mine. Not even them.”

He didn’t pull out of her.

Instead he held her there on the bathroom floor, still buried deep, and waited until her shaking started to ease before he began to move inside her again — slower this time, but no less certain.