Undressed By The Mafia God novel Chapter 47

Chapter 47: He Kissed Me

Vee swallowed hard, her throat dry and raw. "He kissed... he kissed me," she admitted. Her pulse was hammering in her ears, her body simultaneously on fire and frozen, knowing she had crossed a line in his eyes.

"What else?"

"Nothing," she whispered.

Luca clicked the remote again. The vibration returned with a vengeance, insistent and impossible to ignore. Vee’s thighs tightened reflexively, a futile attempt to regain control. She dropped her forehead to her palms, letting out a frustrated gasp, feeling the fire ripple through her body in ways she couldn’t tame.

Why did he have to make his punishment feel like this? Why was pleasure the weapon he chose? She was helpless.

"I swear... nothing!" she gasped. Her breath came in sharp bursts, each inhale a little victory over the sensation that seemed to consume her entirely. Her core was throbbing in a way that made her fingers curl against the floor instinctively.

He clicked the remote off again. "Then how," he asked, "did he find the bug in your shirt?"

She closed her eyes, biting the inside of her cheek. "He... unbuttoned my shirt."

Luca’s jaw tightened.

"You were going to let him fuck you," Luca asserted.

"No! No!" she cried, desperation lacing her voice.

"Don’t fucking lie to me!" Luca roared, his face tilting dangerously close to hers.

"I swear! I swear!" Vee gasped. "I was just trying to convince him to stop going to the police!"

"By letting him touch you?" he snarled. "I told you, you are mine. Did I not? I keep Cassidy alive because you begged me to. But that ends. My generosity towards you—and your boyfriend—ends tonight."

"Luca, please! Please don’t hurt him," she pleaded.

"You want to feel pleasure so badly?" he said suddenly. "You will feel it. All night."

He straightened, his broad shoulders flexing beneath his shirt. "Put on your robe," he commanded, "and come down for dinner."

She moved mechanically, letting the silk slip over her shoulders, feeling both shielded and exposed in the same breath.

Luca didn’t look at her as she adjusted the robe. He moved past her, still holding the remote in his hand, a constant reminder of the power he wielded and the tension between them. He exited the room, down the stairs.

Downstairs, the table was immaculately set. Nonnina moved quietly.

"Julian’s here to see you," Nonnina informed him.

"Nonni," Luca said as he leaned slightly over the edge of the table. "Send him away. Now is not the time."

Vee’s legs shook as she moved toward the table, every fiber of her body taut with anticipation, embarrassment, and the unspoken desire that had been building since earlier.

Vee lowered herself into her chair. Her hands rested on her lap.

Luca’s gaze softened fractionally, but only for a heartbeat. He leaned back slightly, fingers flexing against the table as he watched her. Every inhale, every blink, every tremor was a language he read fluently.

The remote sat on the table between them, a quiet reminder that tonight, her punishment—and her surrender—were far from over. And Vee, cheeks still flushed, body still humming from the earlier tease, realized with a shiver that she had never felt more seen, more claimed, or more alive.

"You’re sweating!" Nonnina exclaimed, her hands hovering near Vee’s shoulders.

Vee tried to swallow, her throat dry, cheeks flushing hotter. She felt trapped in her own body.

"What is the ruckus in here?" Julian’s voice sliced through the tension as he strolled into the dining room, all casual confidence, tall frame relaxed but polished in the sharp suit that made him look effortlessly dominant.

Luca’s dark eyes narrowed, the storm inside him gathering. He rolled his eyes, irritation curling in his chest. "I’m beginning to think you do not have your own home. Why are you visiting me so frequently?"

"Don’t flatter yourself," Julian replied smoothly, oblivious—or unwilling to acknowledge—the tension radiating from Luca. "Father asked me to discuss something with you. He doesn’t want to discuss it over the phone. So I spent the last two days flying back and forth from Italy."

"I don’t talk business at home." There was no room for negotiation, for argument. This was his sanctuary, and he would not have it invaded.

"Well, then," Julian said smoothly, ignoring the tension entirely, "Nonnina? Be a dear and give me a plate. I am famished."