Indebted to the Mafia King
Good to Be Queen

Eleni

In the car on the way back to the apartment, I'm practically vibrating. I hadn't even realized how much hanging around with Mama and Gianna, constantly being worried over and interrupted, was affecting me. Leave it to Dante to see what I can't and give me a chance to feel powerful again. I run my hand over his thigh.

"I don't suppose you got rid of the two of them?" I ask.

He smirks. "Why? Do you want something?"

"I might." I smile. "But I asked you first."

Dante meets my gaze, his dark eyes burning. "I absolutely did not."

I throw my head back against the seat. "Fuck!"

He laughs, very meanly, I might say. For the rest of the car ride, I pout. I'm an adult with a fiancé who has more money than anyone I've ever met. I should be able to have sex whenever I want. Dante takes this grumbling with a teasing smile, like it's all the funnier for him how much I want it. Asshole.

Amando pulls the car into the parking lot, and we get out. My phone vibrates. A text from Gianna.

Your mom had an idea for dinner, but we don't have the ingredients. Neither does anywhere nearby. We're headed to Little Greece, return ETA like, an hour.

A few kiss emojis finish the message, and I grin before tucking it into my pocket. Dante doesn't need to know. Yet.

We climb into an elevator, just the two of us, and he hits the button for our floor. As soon as the elevator starts moving, I throw myself at him. My lips meet his like a thunderclap, and despite all his teasing, his hands are on me before his brain seems to catch up.

"They might be waiting for us," he hisses against my mouth.

"Fuck 'em," I say with all the confidence of someone who knows we have nothing to fear. In an hour, I'll be a pregnant twenty-three-year-old with homework to finish again. Right now, I just want to be Queen of the Saints, powerful and sexy. I cup Dante's cock through his pants.

He reacts almost instantly, stiffening with a groan. I drag my teeth over his lips and palm him rhythmically.

"S not a private elevator," he manages.

"Good." I grab one of his hands and shove it up under my shirt. I'm still just wearing the casual T-shirt bra I picked for school, but he responds like it's my laciest lingerie. He's already so hard.

"Do you touch yourself on Staten Island, thinking of me?" I whisper.

"I'd rather touch you." He fits his hand inside my bra and plucks at my nipple. I arch against him.

The elevator dings. I pray it's our floor and spin away.

A haggard-looking businessman steps on. He glances at us briefly, turns red, and whips his gaze away before hitting his button, a few floors up. My heart pounds. This complete stranger nearly caught us. After all this time being worried about, coddled, fussed over, that is electric. I set myself up for this and Dante let me. I slide my hand over the front of his pants to his still achingly hard cock, and he inhales sharply through his nose. He meets my gaze, a silent request for my color. I mouth, "Green," and squeeze him. He drops his head back against the wall of the elevator.

Three floors. That's how long I play with Dante through his pants while he tries not to make a noise. The wash of control is intoxicating. I'm not just a fragile baby factory. I am Eleni Calimeris, a name known and feared in New York City. The elevator stops again, and the businessman leaves.

"Finish what you started." Dante's voice is hoarse. "Use your mouth."

That is an easy command to follow. I drop to my knees on the floor of the elevator and open his pants. His cock springs free, the head shining, and I barely take a breath before Dante threads his hands into my hair and forces me onto it. "You little slut," he mutters. "Couldn't wait. Needed me so goddamn bad. Making a mess of me like I don't know just how to make a mess of you."

I moan around his shaft, and he thrusts his hips forward sharply. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I grin. He can say what he wants, but he's the one falling apart. His taste is rich on my tongue already.

The elevator dings again, and this time, there's no hiding. Part of me hopes it's our floor. The rest doesn't matter.

"Gianna?" Dante calls. "Maria?"

I don't stop moving. I know what silence will answer him.

"They're gone." He groans. "Out of the elevator and take your shirt off."

I release him, a thin string of saliva connecting his cock to my mouth, and scramble backward on my knees. Once I'm properly in the apartment, I begin shedding clothes. Jacket, camisole, bra. Dante watches me for a long moment, then steps forward. I open my mouth to accept him once more.

He grabs my hair and yanks me back. "No, you don't deserve that." He takes his cock in hand, jerks it a few times, and hot strings of come splatter on my face and chest.

I lap up the little that lands in my mouth with a smile. "We have an hour."

Confusion mars Dante's face, followed by realization, followed by a thrillingly dangerous darkness. "You knew they weren't here."

I nod.

"You hid that from me."

I lift my breasts to my mouth and begin cleaning them. "Aren't I the queen?"

Dante takes a step closer. "A queen listens to her king."

I look up at him, my tongue coated in his taste. "Make me."

Something sparks in his gaze, and he yanks me up off the floor, then grabs one of my sticky nipples. I expect him to toy with me, but he drags me to the bedroom by that slim, sensitive flesh. I whimper and stumble after him. When we reach the bedroom, he throws me down onto the bed and turns away.

"Strip." He shuts the door. "I won't be interrupted by their impromptu arrival."

I shimmy out of my pants and underwear, that rush of control still sparkling in my veins. I made him do this. There is control in obedience, in submission too.

"Hands and knees." A familiar drawer rattles. Our toys. I assume the position.

The first smack of the riding crop lands hot against my ass without warning. I rock forward, yelping.

"Count," he growls. "When you reach ten-correctly-I'll stop."

"One." My voice rings out, strong and certain.

By four, this is no longer true. More tears bead in my eyes. Dante is an expert at hitting the same spot over and over again, pushing the relatively easy to handle pain of the riding crop as high as the paddles and belts he says he won't use on me until I give birth.

The next hit lands somewhere new. "Six!"

Dante tsks. "Five. Again."

By my counter, we're around twenty-five by the time I manage to mumble "ten" correctly. Tears sheet down my face. My ass burns. My whole body aches with want.

Dante swipes a finger between my legs, gathering the wetness there. "You really are a slut. You were this wet on the elevator, weren't you? When that man walked in?"

I nod, beyond words.

"You wanted me to bend you over and fuck you right there, huh?" His voice moves behind me.

I am beyond wondering what he's doing. I nod again.

He hums, palms the white-hot skin of my ass. "Poor little pet. But I don't share."

Just like my mouth, he grabs my hips and yanks me onto his cock. My arms give out, and I topple onto my elbows with something like a scream. I don't know how long it's been. I don't care. I just know I need him exactly where he is, pounding into me like he knows I can take anything he dishes out. I sob into the comforter.

"Come for me, pet," he murmurs. "Just me."

Pleasure explodes through me. Dante fucks me through it, into a second orgasm, a third, each so close on the heels of the last I barely know my own name by the time he pulls out and I slump, boneless, to the bed. He kisses me softly on the shoulder. "We've got about fifteen minutes. How about I run you a bath, and when they get home, they won't be able to say anything until you're out?" It's good to be the queen.