Promised to the Killer: A Dark Mafia Romance

She moans like she’s desperately trying to keep quiet. Her top button pops open, and I find her panties soaking wet already, sopping with need for me. I slip a hand over her wet mound and tease apart her lips until I find her pulsing, hot clit. I roll my fingertips along it, teasing, teasing, and she moans into my insistent kiss. I take one of her wrists and pin it behind her back, dominating and taking her, making her mine.

“You’re not going to stop, are you?” she groans as my fingers slide inside and back out, dripping wet with her.

“Not until I get what I want.”

“And what do you want, Maxim?” I roll my fingers faster around her clit. “Oh, fuck, that feels good. What more can I give to you?”

“Everything,” I whisper in her ear. I fuck her with my fingers and thumb her clit, and her moans devolve into whimpers and grunts of ecstasy. Her free hand pulls my hair and I growl with the pleasure and pain of it, and I keep going, faster and faster until she comes in a beautiful back-arching display of pure lust, exploding all over my fingers. Her skin flushes pink and she stares at me with those beautiful eyes, and when she’s through, I clean her off with my mouth, sucking her from my fingers.

She tugs down her tank top and fixes her bra. “Are you happy now?”

“Not remotely,” I say, my cock so hard it could burst. “I want to understand why you’re so afraid.”

“And I can’t tell you.” She adjusts herself, breathing hard. “I look like I just got ravished, don’t I?”

I smile and kiss her softly. She shakes her head and pushes me away.

“Don’t,” she says quietly. “This was a mistake. A stupid backslide.”

“Maybe, but it was a mistake you very much enjoyed.”

She blushes slightly. “Okay, yes, I like this. You get me off. Are you happy? It’s not rocket science, asshole.”

“What, are you going to pretend like you hate me now?”

“I don’t know how I feel about you.” She pushes past me and moves toward the stairs. “I thought that one night was all there’d be. But here you are anyway.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is a bad thing.” She rubs at her face and brushes her hair with her fingertips. “You’re a mafia guy.”

“Bratva,” I correct gently.

“Whatever. Mafia, bratva, it’s all the same criminal bullshit. I don’t want that in my life, okay?” She looks away, down at the ground. “I’ve had enough of it already.”

Interesting. Enough of it already? I’m not sure what that means. “You know the wrong men then.”

She laughs. “You’re the right one?”

“I told you already. I’ll slay dragons if you ask me to.”

“There are no dragons, Maxim,” she says, her gaze flat. “There’s just a whole lot of violent assholes that want to hurt me and the people I care about. Can’t you just go away?”

“The problem is, I plan on doing business with this establishment. I’ll be back here, whether you like it or not.”

“Then pretend like you don’t know me. For both our sakes.”

“I’m not sure I can do that.”

She sighs, frustrated. I like the little twist of her mouth when she gets frustrated. “You do your job and I’ll do mine, okay? Just forget about this.”

I step toward her, eyebrows raised. “And what is your job?”

She stares and bursts out laughing. I clench my jaw, glaring at her.

“God, you’re crazy. Are you seriously jealous? I work at a whorehouse. What do you think I do?”

I close the distance between us. She gasps in surprise as I grab her hair and pull her tight against me. She stares into my eyes and I glare back, letting her know that I’m not playing around. That this isn’t some kind of game to me.

“I think you’re hiding something from me,” I say softly. “But I don’t think you’re one of the girls.”

“Let me go.” She doesn’t move, and her face is impassive.

I release her. She steps back, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Don’t fuck with me, Siena,” I say quietly, my gaze burning into hers. “We’re intertwined, whether you like it or not. And believe me, I don’t like it.”

She sighs and shakes her head. “Just don’t get me in trouble, okay? I’m not the only one they’ll hurt.” She turns and begins up the stairs.

“What do you mean?” I ask, but she only waves at me.

I watch her go, heart racing.

I can still taste her on my lips. The second I touched her, it was like my entire world came alive again. Smells, colors, sounds—it was all more vibrant somehow, like I’m drifting with a veil over my eyes except for when she’s near me.

But that didn’t sate me, not even close. More questions burn through my veins, and now I worry she’s in danger. What is she so afraid of? And who are they? The madam, Bastone, both and more?