Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

No, sex with monsters? That’s the way to go.

I’m addicted. Like a candle to a flame, I’m burning. I’m lit up bright. He fucks me faster and I move my hips. I have no idea what I’m doing and I don’t care.

His smell permeates everything. His growls and groans of delight drive me wild with lust. I want to make him feel good and I want him to fuck me until I’m screaming. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure—it’s all mixed up and I’m lost in him.

He grabs my arm and takes me. He fucks me rough and fast and I think I’m going to explode as he rubs my clit again. I scream out his name—“Fuck, Maxim, please,”—and he keeps going with a guttural suck of air. I’m sweating, and taking him deep, and I come like a lightning bolt, my entire body twisting and writhing, and he fucks me through it, savage and growling, a beast and a nightmare.

He pulls me from the wall. I’m kissing him, my body wrapped against his. God, how wet am I? I’ve never been this aroused in my life. We stumble back, through the living room, until he throws me on the bed.

His eyes are burning. He stares at me as I crawl back. My hair splays all around as he comes to me, cock pulsing. I don’t know if I can handle more.

He spreads my legs. I’ll find out.

He pushes himself deep inside and leans forward, gripping my hair, his belly against mine.

“I want to fill you, Siena,” he whispers in my ear. Hot and deep. He fucks me slow. “I want to come between your pretty legs. But I need to know. Are you on birth control?”

“I hope so,” I say, digging my fingers into his back. “A little too late for that one.”

He chuckles drily. “God, that mouth of yours.” He fucks me hard once, twice. Deep thrusts. It hurts and sends a blast of pleasure into my brain. “You don’t talk back when I’m fucking you though. I like that.”

“I bet you do,” I say, scratching his back. He goes faster, taking me deep and rough, and I moan into his ear.

I don’t know how long we’re there. Time loses meaning. He spreads my legs wide and fucks me, and I grind my hips against him, my clit rubbing against his belly. I’m so wet it’s like the ocean, and I gasp, panting in his ear. “Make me come again, sir,” I moan. “Please, Maxim.”

“Beg,” he growls.

“Please, sir. Please, I’ll be good. I promise.”

He moans and goes faster. I come in a torrent, in a blast. He grunts and this time, he doesn’t stop or slow down.

This time I feel him fill me. His orgasm is a miracle between my legs. We come like that, together but also lost in our own pleasure, until the ringing in my ears begins to lessen and he slides to the side.

I expect him to get out of bed. Instead, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me tight. He slips the sheets back, and snuggles up close.

Maxim, the Russian bratva heir, holds me tight and seems to like it. Good to know.

He breathes like a bear, his lips hot against my neck.

“Princess,” he says in my ear. “I will dig up a thousand treasures for a woman that can fuck like you do.”

“And I’d gladly kill a thousand evil grandmothers for a man with a tongue like yours.”

He chuckles and nuzzles my neck. “Do you have anywhere to be?”

“No, I don’t.”

“Good.” He kisses me gently “I’m not finished with you yet. For tonight, you’re mine.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Just for tonight.”

I close my eyes. Tomorrow’s coming faster than I wanted. I replay what we just did and try to exist in each moment for as long as I can, but soon he’s kissing me again and his cock’s stiffening, and I don’t know how I’m going to take more—but I’ll find out.

The light’s harsh in the morning.

Arms and legs. I blink at the bedside table. A clock with red letters.

Six twenty-three in the morning.

Oh, fucking fuck.

I stayed out all night.

Maxim’s still asleep. He’s breathing like a bear in hibernation. His body’s still smothering mine, but I manage to slip away without waking him. I sneak into the adjacent room and get my clothes back on. I don’t bother with the panties. I leave them on the coffee table. They can be my parting gift.

The last bit of me left in the world: a pair of soaked and destroyed panties.

Not exactly the memorial I’d hoped for, but oh, well.

I linger in the doorway. For a killer, he sleeps peacefully. I wonder if he dreams about his victims.

I wonder if my papa will sleep so soundly after he kills me later.

“Goodbye, Maxim. Thank you.” I whisper the words. Once they leave my mouth, they disappear into noting.