Undressed By The Mafia God-Chapter 131: On Your Knees

"Yes ma’am." He watched her turn as she left, and he allowed himself a slow exhale, a rare release. She was acting all tough now—but he knew her, knew her too well. All it would take was five minutes in the right space, and she would be trembling in his arms, surrendering without question.

She had won the battle by shutting him out, controlling the narrative of their fractured connection—but now, the tide was turning. She had given him a flicker of hope, a single thread to follow back into her orbit. And he would not let it go to waste.

He moved through his usual night routine with a little more ease than normal, the ritual of shower, and dinner.

Finally, he made his way to her annex. He pushed the door open. The living room was empty.

He strolled into the bedroom, anticipation tightening every muscle in his body, and there she was. A vision, a dream, every line of her figure accentuated by the stunning lingerie she wore. The way the fabric clung to her, the delicate interplay of shadow and light across her skin, left him momentarily breathless.

In one hand, she held a crop, an extension of the authority she planned to wield.

His lips lifted in a dangerous smile. Well, seems like she wanted to draw blood. Blood it is.

"I was hoping you would be using the pocket knife I got you, Quite sharper than that and could do more damage." He gestured lazily toward the crop in her hand, his eyes dark, calculating, studying her reaction the way he would assess a rival across a negotiation table.

"Stop talking." She commanded.

He saw it then. The way her fingers tightened around the handle of the crop. The deliberate squaring of her shoulders. She was building a fortress around herself tonight, daring him to test its strength. He could also see the flicker underneath.

She knew he wasn’t fully taking her seriously. She knew he was indulging her. But indulgence was still participation, and participation meant he was here.

"How are we supposed to resolve our issues if I stop talking?" he arched a brow.

The crop in her hand looked delicate against her wrist, but the intention behind it was not.

"You really have issues taking orders. But this is only going to work out tonight if you do exactly as I say. Now keep your fucking mouth shut and take off your clothes." She affirmed, untangling the crop.

Luca stepped further into the room. He shrugged his robe off without breaking eye contact, the silk sliding down his shoulders before he tossed it carelessly onto the bed. There was something shameless in the way he moved. Just deliberate exposure. Like he was proud of his anatomy.

His fingers hooked into his waistband, tugging his pants down before kicking them aside. Each motion was a challenge. You want control? Take it.

But beneath the arrogance, beneath the smirk that hovered at the edge of his mouth, there was hope. Hope that this was not punishment alone. That this was not the beginning of the end, but a method of repair.

"On your knees." Vee ordered.

His pride flared. He was Luca. Men kneeled to him.

And yet.

He held her gaze. Saw the demand there. The dare. The vulnerability she was disguising as command.

Then, slowly, he lowered himself. One knee first, then the other, until he was before her.

Luca smiled slowly, pride flickering behind his eyes.

His eyes stayed locked on hers, a silent acknowledgment that this was not submission born of weakness. It was chosen. Controlled. Intentional.

"Place your hands behind you."

She walked around him slowly. He felt her move behind him then she crouched near the bag she had brought.

Metal clicked softly as she pulled out the cuffs. He heard the faint jingle before he felt the cold circle wrap around one wrist. Then the other. She snapped them locked with a decisive motion.

"Now, you pick a safe word."

Amusement tugged at him again. He flexed his wrists experimentally. Yes, he could get out of them. Easily. The mechanism functional, but not foolproof. He really would have to teach her proper restraint techniques one day. For her own safety. But tonight was not about correcting her method.

Tonight was about letting her believe she held the reins entirely.

"Veronica."

"Yeah?" she asked from behind him.

"That’s my safe word...Veronica."

There was a beat of silence.

"Fine. Now we can have a conversation."

She stepped back in front of him, reclaiming her position. The crop was gone now, discarded somewhere behind her, replaced by a cock ring.

His eyes dropped briefly before lifting again to her face. He masked the flicker of excitement with a lazy remark. "That’s quite the shopping you did."

But his pulse had already begun to climb.

She lowered herself to her knees in front of him. The lingerie she wore framed her body like artwork in a private gallery. Every line of her was curated. She reached for his cock with steady fingers.

When she slid the ring down his length while he was still only half-hard, the contact was clinical at first. Her fingers were warm as they adjusted and secured it into place, snapping his balls within the band.

His jaw tightened.

By the time she finished, he was fully hard, blood thick and heavy beneath the confinement. His breathing deepened.

Still, he kept his eyes on her.

"You sure you can go through with this?" he asked.

The cuffs pressed into his wrists when he shifted slightly. The ring tightened as his arousal intensified, trapping the sensation in a maddening loop of pressure and heat. Every nerve ending felt sharpened.

Her fingers brushed over his chest, tracing the warm plane of muscle beneath her palm. The touch was tender. He felt it everywhere. In his throat. In his spine. In the tight, restrained pulse between his legs.

Then she did what she had been holding back since the second she walked into his room earlier.

****okay people, how much do y’all want Luca to suffer. I’ll wait for answers before editing the next Chapter.*****

(This is to 100 power stones. On to the next: 200! Lets go yall)