Page 62 of Kidnapped By the Mafia

His words spur me on, a breathy moan slipping from my lips as I pick up the pace, rolling my hips in a way that makes him hiss through his teeth.

I can feel the tension building inside me, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust, every delicious grind of my hips against his. My hands splay across his chest for balance, my fingers digging into his skin as I ride him harder, faster.

“Lucas,” I breathe, my voice trembling with a mix of pleasure and urgency. “I’m close, so close…”

“I know,” he replies, his voice strained, and I can feel him getting closer too, his control unraveling beneath me. “Come for me.”

His words are my undoing. I slam my hips down one last time, grinding against him as the wave of pleasure crashes over me. My body tenses, muscles clenching around him as I cry out his name, my climax ripping through me with a force that leaves me breathless, trembling.

He doesn’t give me a moment to recover. He flips us over in one swift, fluid motion, pinning me beneath him as he thrusts into me with a new urgency, chasing his own release.

His lips are on mine again, swallowing my moans, his movements rough and desperate now. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper, needing to feel him as close as possible.

“Fuck, you’re incredible,” he growls against my lips, his thrusts becoming erratic, his breath hot and heavy against my mouth. “I’m gonna?—”

“Yes,” I whisper, encouraging him, my nails scraping down his back as I meet his thrusts, my body still trembling in the aftershocks of my orgasm. “Let go, Lucas. I want to feel you come in me.”

He buries his face in the crook of my neck, and I feel him shudder against me as he reaches his peak, his hips snapping forward one last time.

His groan is deep and primal, vibrating through me as he reaches his climax, spilling into me with a force that makes my own body clench around him again.

For a moment, the world is still, the only sounds in the room are our ragged breaths and the wild beating of our hearts. Lucas’s weight is heavy on top of me, but it feels grounding, anchoring me to this moment, this feeling of utter completeness.

When he finally lifts his head, his eyes find mine, and there’s a softness there that wasn’t there before, a raw vulnerability that takes my breath away.

He doesn’t say anything, just brushes a damp strand of hair away from my face and leans in to kiss me. That’s all I need.

46

EMILY

Ichoose a sleek, tailored dress that makes me feel both powerful and composed, something that reflects the confidence I’m trying to embody.

When I look at myself in the mirror, I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me. She looks poised, in control, ready for anything. I take a deep breath, steadying myself, and then I leave the room to join Lucas.

He’s waiting for me in the living room, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit that only enhances his commanding presence. When he sees me, his eyes light up with pride, and for a moment, the tension in the air eases. He crosses the room to me, taking my hand and pulling me close.

“You look incredible,” he murmurs, his voice low and intimate.

“Thank you,” I reply, my heart swelling at the admiration in his eyes. “I wanted to look the part.”

“You do,” he says, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead. “You’re perfect. Poured those curves into that outfit. Might have to tear it off you later.”

Together, we walk to the meeting room, where everything is set for the arrival of Peter. Tying up the last relics of Albrecht’s empire needs his support. The question is, will we get it?

A chessboard is set on the table, a relic from a past where such games were used to settle disputes, to broker deals.

I’ve heard stories about how Jake and his school friends used to play chess, long before they were on opposite sides of a war. It feels fitting, somehow, that today’s peace might be brokered over the same game.

The door opens, and Peter walks in. He’s an older man, sharp-featured with a calculating gaze that misses nothing. He carries himself with an air of authority, but there’s also a tension in his posture, like he knows this meeting could go either way. Like he thinks he might not leave here alive.

Lucas greets him with a nod, his expression calm and unreadable, and I do the same, my heart pounding in my chest. I can feel Peter’s eyes on me, assessing, weighing, but I hold my ground, refusing to be intimidated.

“We have a lot to discuss,” Lucas says, his voice steady and controlled. “But before we get into it, there’s someone I want you to hear from.”

Peter’s gaze shifts to me, his expression curious. I take a deep breath, drawing on the strength Lucas has given me, and step forward. My voice doesn’t waver as I speak, though inside, my nerves are buzzing.

“The trafficking stopped,” I say. “The brothels closed. We’re cleaning things up. More violence, more revenge—it’s not going to solve anything. What if, instead of endless war, we found a way to work together? To build something better?”

---