Page 99 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

She’s still trembling, her legs unsteady as she holds onto Matteo for support. Her hair, shorter now, clings to her damp skin in messy strands, framing a face that looks like sin incarnate. That short cut suits her, making her look like she was made to break rules, to shatter expectations.

She’s thinner now, though. Leaner. It’s noticeable even under the sheen of sweat and the shadows cast by the overhead lights. The curvier build she used to have, all soft muscle and enticing dips and curves, has been sharpened by time and chaos.

But it doesn’t make her less. God, no. If anything, she’s hotter now—sexier in a way that feels untouchable. Dangerous. Like she’s become something forged by fire and violence, and all I want to do is feel that heat burn me alive.

My mind drifts to the last time I had her. Back then, she was mine for a moment, in a way that was messy and passionate and ultimately fleeting. She wasn’t this version of herself yet, not fully. There were flashes of it, sure—a glimpse of the tempest she would become. But she hadn’t quite stepped into the storm yet.

Now, looking at her, seeing the way she owns every breath, every movement, I feel like I’m staring at the culmination of something inevitable. Like she was always meant to be this: fierce, wild, untamed.

She glances at me suddenly, and our eyes lock. Her gaze is heavy, like a weight settling on my chest, and it feels like she’s peeled me open, seeing the hunger I’m trying—and failing—to mask. Her lips part, just slightly, as if she’s about to say something, but the moment is interrupted when Matteo leans in to kiss the side of her neck.

I watch, transfixed, as his lips graze her damp skin, his mouth soft and unhurried. His hand slides to her hip, steadying her as he pulls out of her. My jaw tightens, my hands clenching into fists on my thighs as I take in the way she trembles under him, her body visibly slick with sweat and… more.

My chest tightens when I see it—Matteo’s release dripping from her thighs, a stark, obscene contrast against her flushed skin. My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and I bite my bottom lip hard enough to almost draw blood as I fight to keep my composure.

But then her eyes find mine again.

This time, there’s no mistaking the heat there. It’s deliberate, her gaze lingering a moment too long, her expression something between defiance and invitation. My throat feels dry, and I swallow hard, the sound deafening in my ears as the tension thickens between us.

Matteo straightens, his posture loose and confident as he turns to follow her gaze. His eyes flick to me, and I know—*he knows*.

The bastard smirks, that infuriating curve of his lips that always carries a hint of danger. He steps away from Gem, his movements unhurried, deliberate, as he starts unwrapping one of his fists. The black silk wrap unfurls slowly, a ribbon of darkness slipping from his hand.

He doesn’t bother putting on anything to cover himself. His cock, still glistening and half-hard, hangs between his thighs as he moves toward me. My breath catches, my pulse hammering as I take him in. Matteo’s the kind of man who makes you feel small without even trying—dangerous and commanding in a way that’s infuriatingly natural. And now, with his body on full display, all I can think is how deceptively lethal he looks beneath all those tailored suits.

He stops in front of me, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating off him. His dark eyes hold mine, and I’m struck by the sheerpresenceof him, the way he seems to fill every inch of space without even trying.

“Wanna play a game, Hudson?” His voice is low, smooth like velvet but carrying an edge that sets my nerves alight.

I try to scoff, to act like I’m not affected, but the sound comes out rough, uneven. Matteo’s lips twitch, and he takes another step closer, close enough that I can smell the sweat and musk on him, a potent mix that makes my head swim.

“Game?” I manage, my voice tighter than I’d like. “You’re always playing games, Matteo.”

His smirk deepens. “Not like this.”

Before I can ask what the hell he means, he moves behind me, the silk wrap trailing in his hand. I stiffen slightly, my shoulders squaring, but I don’t stop him when he leans down, his breath warm against my ear.

“You never got an initiation, Hudson,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper that sends shivers down my spine. “Maybe it’s time we change that.”

The silk wrap brushes against my cheek, soft and cool, before he slides it over my eyes, tying it firmly but not uncomfortably. The world goes dark, and my senses sharpen in response, every sound and touch magnified. I can feel the heat of his body behind me, the faint rustle of fabric as he adjusts the knot.

“You trust me?” Matteo asks, his voice low and smooth, like a dare.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “Not even a little.”

His chuckle is dark and amused, and I feel his hands grip my shoulders, squeezing once before moving away. The absence of his touch is almost jarring, and I realize how tense I’ve become.

“Relax,” he says, his tone maddeningly calm. “You’ll enjoy this.”

I hear him step away, the sound of his bare feet against the floor growing fainter. My hands flex against my thighs, my body coiled tight as I sit in the weighted bench, blindfolded and completely at their mercy.

“Gemini,” Matteo’s voice cuts through the silence, and I can hear the faint smile in his words. “Crawl to him.”

My breath hitches, my mind conjuring an image of her on her hands and knees, moving toward me with that wild, defiant glint in her eyes. I grip the edges of the bench, fighting the urge to reach for the blindfold, to tear it off and see for myself.

Matteo’s voice drops lower, almost a growl. “Why don’t we try it?”

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken promise, and I take a slow, deliberate breath, steeling myself for whatever comes next.

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