Page 18 of Mafia Daddy

Instead, his face flashes behind my eyelids.

Those piercing eyes.

The way he towered over me earlier.

His low, commanding voice saying good boy.

The heavy warmth of his hands around my throat…

My hips jerk forward as I wank myself faster and faster, almost totally out of control at this point. A sharp, leg-trembling orgasm crashes through me so fast I have to slap a hand over my mouth again to keep from crying out.

In the most sudden of moments, my knees buckle. I slide down the shower wall until I’m sitting on the tiled floor, water still beating against my oversensitive skin, chest heaving.

I can’t believe I just did that.

Worse… I can’t believe the man I was thinking about while I climaxed was Maxim.

I stay there until the water starts to cool, then force myself up, shut everything off, and towel dry on autopilot. Back in the bedroom I pull on fresh sleep shorts, and a clean tank top. Zoop is waiting on the pillow. I hug him tight, bury my face in his fur, and whisper, “Hey, what happens in the shower stays in the shower…”

Sleep comes eventually, but it’s restless.

Still, at least there are no more nightmares.

Yet.

Morning light filters through the huge windows when I finally drag myself out of bed. My hair is a mess, but I don’t bother fixing it.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” I grumble to myself, the prospect of a first morning in my supposed new home not exactly lighting a fire beneath me.

I pad barefoot down the corridor toward the kitchen, following the rich smell of coffee.

Maxim is already there, leaning against the marble island in a crisp black button-down and tailored trousers, reading an actual physical newspaper. The sight is so comically old-school I can’t help myself…

“Wow,” I say, voice still scratchy from sleep. “Didn’t realize I was living with a grandpa. Who still reads print media these days? You got a flip phone too?”

Maxim doesn’t even look up right away. Just turns the page with deliberate calm. “There is a lot to be said for the old ways, Milo. Some things still feel better in your hands. More real. More visceral. You should try it.”

I roll my eyes and head straight for the espresso machine.

I’ve already memorized where everything is, which isn’t difficult given how sparsely the whole apartment is furnished. While the espresso hisses and gurgles I glance over at him again.

Even first thing in the morning Maxim looks annoyingly put-together. Sharp jaw, faint stubble, those silver threads at his temples catching the light. The memory of last night’s shower fantasy flashes through my mind and I feel my cheeks heat.

Stop it.

“So,” I ask, trying to sound casual as I sip my coffee, “what are we doing today? Any thrilling underworld activities on the schedule, or am I just supposed to sit here and look pretty?”

Maxim finally folds the newspaper and sets it aside. His gaze lands on me: steady, assessing. “Today is about you getting comfortable in the house. I’ve arranged for my nephew Yuri to come over with supplies. Clothes, toiletries, anything else you might need. He’ll be here within the hour.”

My ears perk up at the mention of another person. Supplies mean opportunities. Yuri is family, but still… fresh blood. Someone I might be able to work.

“And my phone?” I ask, keeping my tone light even though frustration is already bubbling.

Maxim shakes his head once.

“Not yet, boy,” he says. “I’ll be back in the late afternoon. We can talk then about how you will communicate with the outside world. Under supervision, of course.”

Of course.