MY MAFIA BOYFRIEND

Keep It In

Julian carried her straight into the master suite and set her down on the edge of the bed. The black sheets were still tangled from earlier. He didn’t turn on any lights. The city glow through the windows was enough.

He pulled the oversized shirt over her head and tossed it aside, leaving her completely bare. His eyes moved over her slowly — the flush on her chest, the bruises on her neck and thighs, the wet shine of his c*m still coating her.

“Lie back.”

Isabella obeyed. The moment her shoulders touched the mattress, Julian caught both of her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. His other hand slid between her legs again, two fingers pushing into the messy heat of her cunt without warning.

She gasped.

“Still full of me,” he murmured, working his fingers in slow, deep strokes. “Good.”

He watched her face the entire time. Every flicker of overstimulation, every small twitch of her hips, every time her lips parted around a shaky breath. He didn’t rush. He just kept f*****g her open with his fingers until her thighs started to tremble again and soft, helpless sounds began spilling out of her.

“Julian— I can’t—”

“You can.” His voice was calm. Absolute. “You’re going to take it.”

He added a third finger. The stretch burned in the best way. Isabella’s back arched, wrists twisting violently in his grip. He curled his fingers and pressed firmly against the swollen spot inside her until her whole body seized up and she came again with a broken cry, cunt clamping down hard around his hand.

Julian didn’t stop until she was shaking and oversensitive, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. Only then did he ease his fingers out, lift them to her mouth, and push them past her lips.

“Clean them.”

She did. Her tongue dragged over his fingers slowly, tasting both of them. His eyes stayed locked on hers the entire time, dark with approval.

When he pulled his hand away, he finally undressed. The black shirt, the jeans, everything. Naked, he was even more imposing — broad chest, hard stomach, the heavy length of his c**k already thickening again as he looked at her.

He climbed onto the bed and settled between her thighs, but he didn’t enter her right away. Instead he dragged the head of his c**k through the mess between her legs, coating himself in it, then tapped it lightly against her swollen c**t.

Isabella whimpered.

“You’re staying in this bed tonight,” he said quietly. “You’re going to sleep with my c*m inside you and my hand on your throat. And when you wake up, I’m going to f**k you again before you even open your eyes.”

He pushed into her in one slow, relentless thrust, burying himself to the hilt. A low sound left his chest. She was soaked and soft and still fluttering from the last orgasm, taking him easily now.

Julian braced himself over her, one hand returning to her wrists, the other wrapping lightly around her throat. He didn’t squeeze. He just held her there as he started to move — deep, measured strokes that filled her completely every time.

“Say it,” he ordered, voice rough now. “Tell me you’re not going anywhere.”

Isabella’s eyes were glassy. Her voice came out wrecked.

“I’m not… going anywhere.”

“Again.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Julian’s rhythm stayed controlled, but his eyes burned. He f****d her like he was sealing something in place. Every thrust pushed another wet sound into the quiet room. The city lights painted silver lines across their bodies.

He lasted longer this time. When he finally came, it was with a deep, guttural sound, grinding into her as he spilled another thick load of c*m as deep as he could. He stayed buried afterward, breathing hard against her mouth, hand still around her throat.

Minutes passed before he finally eased out. c*m leaked out of her immediately. He watched it for a moment, then reached down and pushed it back inside with two fingers, slow and thorough.

“Keep it in,” he said.

Then he stretched out beside her, pulled her back against his chest, and settled his hand around her throat again — not tight, just present. His other arm locked around her waist.

“Sleep.”

Isabella’s body was heavy and used and still pulsing. She could feel him pressed against her back, solid and warm and inescapable.

Outside the windows, the city kept glittering.

Inside the penthouse, everything was quiet.

And for the first time, she didn’t try to imagine leaving.

Isabella woke slowly, body heavy and sore in the best way. The first thing she registered was the heat of Julian behind her, the solid weight of his arm locked around her waist, and the unmistakable thick pressure of his c**k already buried inside her.

He was f*****g her in slow, shallow strokes, like he had been for some time. The wet sound of it was soft in the quiet room. His hand rested loosely around her throat, thumb stroking absently over the bruises he’d left the night before.

“You’re awake,” he murmured against the back of her neck. Not a question.

Isabella’s breath hitched as he pushed deeper. Her body was still sensitive, still swollen from everything he had done to her. Every slow thrust sent a dull, sweet ache through her core. She tried to shift her hips and his arm tightened immediately, holding her exactly where he wanted her.

“Stay still.”

He kept the pace deliberate. Not chasing anything yet. Just using her body the way he wanted to — deep, controlled, possessive. His mouth brushed the side of her neck, then opened over one of the darker marks and bit down just hard enough to make her gasp.

“I told you I was going to f**k you before you even opened your eyes,” he said quietly. “You took me so well while you were still half-asleep. Didn’t even fight it.”

Isabella’s fingers curled into the sheets. “Julian…”

“I know.” He sounded almost pleased. “You’re sore. You’re going to be sorer.”

He rolled his hips harder, burying himself to the hilt and staying there for a long moment, letting her feel every inch. Then he started moving again — longer strokes now, pulling almost all the way out before sinking back in with steady force. The wet sound grew louder. His hand on her throat remained gentle but present, a constant reminder.

When she came it was with a broken, shaky cry, cunt fluttering helplessly around him. Julian f****d her through it without mercy, dragging the orgasm out until she was trembling and oversensitive. Only then did he push as deep as he could and finish with a low, rough sound, filling her again.

He stayed inside her afterward, breathing against her neck.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I want to feel it leak out of you when I finally pull out.”

Minutes passed before he eased back. Thick c*m followed immediately, slipping down her thighs. Julian watched it for a moment, then reached down and pushed two fingers into her, slow and thorough, pushing his release back inside.

“Keep it,” he ordered quietly. “You’re going to sit through breakfast like this.”