Tinu_Ebun

He was my childhood best friend—my protector, my secret crush. Now he's the most feared mafia boss in Italy… and I’m his favorite possession.

Luca Moretti is cold, calculating, and devastatingly beautiful—a billionaire crime lord who owns Milan’s underground. When Elio Romano, the soft-spoken artist he once protected as a boy, returns to Italy broken and alone, Luca claims him—not with words, but with chains, kisses, and bruised devotion.

What starts as protection becomes obsession.
What was once friendship becomes a deadly, irresistible game.
Because toys don’t get to say no… especially not to the Mafia King.


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The Mafia Toy

> "I don't give gifts. I take. But for you, I'll make an exception."

He was still in my lap when I asked, "Do you know what day it is?"

Elio stirred slightly. Naked, boneless, his lashes heavy from the aftermath of surrender.

"No," he mumbled against my chest.

His fingers brushed the edge of the silk ribbon still tied loosely around his wrist. "So why are you telling me?"

I tilted his chin up. "Because this year, I gave myself a gift."

His eyes narrowed. "What kind of gift?"

I stood and carried him through the hall—nude, unashamed, and dripping with my claim between his thighs. His legs curled instinctively around me.

He tensed the moment I set him down.

It was all black and gold. No windows. No softness. Just power.

At the foot of the bed sat a box. Flat. Long. Black velvet ribbon.

He opened it with cautious fingers.

Inside: a delicate collar. Pure black leather with a silver tag engraved in Italian.

He ran a thumb over the tag, then looked at me. "You're serious."

"You said you didn't want to be owned."

"Because I want you to choose it," I cut in. "Not because I asked. Because you want to wear it."

He took the collar out of the box.

With slow fingers. With reverence. With hunger.

And once it was locked in place—

Hands spread above his head, cuffed to the frame in soft black leather.

"I want you to come," I said, "without me touching your cock."

"Don't whine." I traced a finger down his chest. "You're my gift tonight. And I intend to unwrap you slowly."

I licked my way down his stomach. Bit his hip. Ignored his hard, leaking cock.

I grabbed his thighs, spread him wider, and buried my face between his legs.

My tongue was merciless—teasing his rim, licking circles, pushing inside slowly while he writhed.

His cock dripped onto his stomach. Unattended. Untouched.

"You'll thank me for every orgasm I deny," I growled.

I added a finger. Then two. Slow thrusts.

When he was shaking, on the edge, I pulled back.

"Luca—no—please—don't stop—"

I slapped his thigh once. "That's not how you beg."

I moved up his body and kissed him again—deep and wet, letting him taste himself.

"I'm going to fuck you," I whispered, cock rubbing against his entrance. "But you won't come."

"I'll edge you until you scream. Until you cry for it."

He choked on a moan. "Oh fuck—yes—"

I pounded into him, hands gripping his hips, bodies slapping in rhythm. He was tight, hot, perfect.

Until he was sobbing, cock swollen and red, shaking under me.

"Do you want to come, my gift?" I asked.

"Yes—please—I'll do anything—"

"I'm yours—your property—your toy—your everything—"

So hard he sobbed, chest heaving, come splashing across his stomach and chest. So raw it broke me.

I came seconds later, buried deep, growling against his throat.

"You don't belong to a monster," I whispered.

Chapter 11: The Birthday Gift