I BITE THE MAFIA DON’S LIP WHILE HE TRIES TO KISS ME

The chains rattle every time I pull against them. I’m spread on his massive bed, wrists cuffed to the headboard, ankles free but useless. The collar feels heavier now, a constant pressure around my throat. My slip is torn in places from my struggling.

The door opens. Luciano enters, shedding his jacket, rolling up his sleeves to reveal powerful forearms covered in tattoos — skulls, guns, roses dripping blood.

He looks at me like I’m a meal.

“Still fighting?” he asks, voice rough.

“Always,” I snap. “You bought a slave, not a whore. I’ll make you kill me...