Chapter 153 Chapter 153 Confessions of a Mafia Prince
Ivan pulls back, panting hard, chest rising and falling against mine.
“Open your eyes,” he mutters, voice rough, commanding. “Look at me when you grip my cock.”
My eyes flutter open, heavy and unfocused, but I force them to meet his. The intensity there nearly undoes me. His hands tighten on my hips, rocking me back and forth, setting a relentless rhythm. The pressure builds fast—too fast—coiling tight inside me until it snaps.
Another orgasm tears through me.
I gasp, body jerking, fingers digging into his shoulders. Ivan’s hand comes up, wrapping around my neck—not squeezing, just holding me steady, grounding me as I fall apart on top of him. His lips crash into mine again, swallowing every sound, every broken breath. I can barely breathe, barely think. My body feels like it belongs to him, like he can do whatever the fuck he wants with it.
And the worst part?
I let him.
The walls I built crumble piece by piece. I feel exposed, raw, like I’m handing him every fragile part of me again—giving him the chance to break me all over.
“Don’t hurt me again,” I whisper, my voice low, rough, almost unrecognizable.
The words scrape on the way out.
They burn.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes back instantly, just as raw, just as broken. His knees shift under the water, pressing up, trapping me against his chest, holding me there.
Something inside me snaps.
Emotion floods in so fast it’s overwhelming. Don’t cry, I chant in my head. Don’t fucking cry.
But his apology… it sounds real.
Too real.
I feel him pulse inside me, swelling, stretching me in a way that’s almost too much—but I cling to it anyway. Something solid. Something physical to anchor me. Ivan grunts, deep and guttural, the sound vibrating through his chest into mine. I’ve always loved that sound.
My whole body hums, heat spreading through my veins—not anger this time, but something far more dangerous.
Love.
I don’t want to admit it. I’m still too fucking scared.
His head falls back as he finishes, a low groan ripping out of him. He grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together tightly as he thrusts through it, riding it out. When he finally stills, catching his breath, his hands come up to cup my face.
The water shifts beside us.
Dimitri is getting out.
“I’ll give you two a minute,” he says quietly, wrapping a towel around his waist before stepping out into the bedroom.
The door clicks softly behind him.
Ivan doesn’t look away from me.
“I’m an idiot,” he says, voice steadier now but still thick with emotion. “You are more than enough. You’re too much, actually… and that’s why Dimitri is here. I can’t handle you alone.”
His thumb brushes over my cheek.
“And you know that. You’re feisty, mouthy, wild… so fucking wild.” A faint, broken smile touches his lips. “It broke me to hurt you. You hurt me, and I’m dumb, okay? I wanted to hurt you back.”
He pauses, letting the weight of that settle.
I’ve never seen him like this.
Never.
Vulnerable. Open. Completely fucking exposed.
“You started talking about us like we were some kind of deal,” he continues, shaking his head. “Like something to negotiate. I just wanted to marry you. To love you. Only you.” His jaw tightens. “And if I ever stepped out… I’d give it all to you. Because I’m not worthy.”
That lands harder than anything else.
“I know what I look like,” he goes on, voice quieter now. “I go through women like they’re nothing. But not one of them compares to you. Not even close.”
He exhales slowly, shaking his head again.
“For some sick reason, you can’t have kids… and in a fucked-up way, that’s good, because imagining you pregnant…” He cuts himself off with a sharp inhale, not finishing the thought.
Silence settles between us, heavy and thick.
Ivan shifts slightly, dropping his knees back under the water, but he doesn’t pull out. He’s still inside me, still hard, still connected. His gaze drops, lost in thought.
Then something changes.
He looks back up at me.
“I did something stupid,” he admits. “Really fucking stupid. You got engaged to that dick, and I lost it.” His jaw clenches. “I let her in. Like I’ve only ever let you in. I did things with her… the same things I do with you.”
Something dark flickers across his face.
“And all I felt was empty. Fucking disgusting. It felt unnatural. Made me hate myself even more.”
He runs a hand through his hair, frustrated.
“She…” He pauses, like he’s about to say more—like he’s about to tell me everything.
But instead—
“She was sleeping with my dad the whole time.”
Ivan actually gags.
And I can’t help it.
I burst out laughing.
It hits me all at once, sharp and uncontrollable. I try to suppress it, but it spills out anyway, loud and ridiculous.
Because I already knew.
“I know,” I manage between laughs. “I saw them in Italy. She was the terrible blowjob.”
Ivan stares at me for a second—then he starts laughing too.
The tension cracks.
From the bedroom, Dimitri’s laugh joins ours, echoing back into the bathroom. He’s definitely been listening the whole time.
Ivan doesn’t even react to that.
But the laughter fades quickly, replaced by something heavier.
Because there’s still something he didn’t say.
The baby.
He didn’t mention it.
Maybe he’s not ready.
My mind spins. What happens when that baby is here? Where does that leave us? And then a darker thought hits me out of nowhere—
What if it’s not even his?
What if it’s his father’s?
My stomach drops.
No. That would change everything. There’s no way Illia Sr. would ever allow that situation to play out quietly. And there’s no way I could step into that mess blindly.
I need to talk to her.
I need confirmation.
Ivan shifts slightly, studying my face.
“Please tell me there’s nothing between you and Jax,” he says, wincing slightly, like he already hates the question.
That pulls me right back.
I laugh again—this time louder.
From the doorway, Dimitri steps back in, leaning casually against the counter, clearly interested in the answer.
“God, no,” I say, still laughing. “He’s way too old. Gag.” I wave a hand dismissively. “Don’t get me wrong, he’s beautiful—but only because he reminds me of you. Stupid ass.”
Ivan huffs at that.
“When he took me out, nothing happened,” I continue. “He scolded me for an hour, then gave me advice. Yeah, he flirts—but it’s nothing.”
I pause, knowing I probably shouldn’t say the next part—but I do anyway.
“I think I’ve fucked enough Pavlovs,” I mutter. “My max is two brothers.”
Dimitri smirks slightly.
“Have you been with the Federov brothers like you have with us?” he asks.
“NO,” I snap immediately, louder than necessary. “You two are my only weirdos.”