Page 97 of Ruthless Kings of Obsession

Sweat continues to roll down his chest, catching light with every measured breath. I want to trace each drop with my tongue, want to taste the salt of his skin, want to feel exactly what that carefully contained power can do when properly motivated.

His hands tighten further, whether to keep me still or himself in check, I'm not sure. Probably both. Because that's what we are, aren't we? Two predators recognizing something equally dangerous in each other.

The sports bra suddenly feels too restrictive as my breathing quickens, matching his rhythm like our bodies are already moving together. His thumbs press harder into my hipbones, creating anchor points of exquisite pressure that make me want to beg for more.

"Is that what you want?" he asks, voice dropping even lower. "To feel that kind of power? To know what it's like when your life depends on being stronger, faster, more ruthless than the person trying to end you?"

The question hangs between us like smoke, heavy with implications neither of us is quite ready to voice. Because this isn't just about cage fighting anymore. This is about somethingdarker, more primal – the kind of hunger that can only be satisfied with blood and victory and complete surrender.

His gaze drops to my lips, lingering on the way I can't quite catch my breath. Every point of contact between us feels electric now, charged with potential violence that could transform into something else entirely at any moment.

"Or maybe," he continues, that dangerous hand sliding higher beneath my sports bra, "you just wanted an excuse to get me all sweaty and bothered?" His smirk carries equal parts promise and warning. "So which one is it, Sweet Precious Gem?”

"Or maybe," he continues, that dangerous hand sliding higher beneath my sports bra, "you just wanted an excuse to get me all sweaty and bothered?" His smirk carries equal parts promise and warning. "So which one is it, Sweet Precious Gem?"

"Do I have to choose?" The words emerge breathless, charged with everything building between us.

His answering chuckle rumbles through his chest, the vibration making every point of contact between us feel electric. "My wife," he whispers against my lips, "doesn't have to choose anything. You get everything you want. Always."

The kiss that follows carries none of his usual control. His hands find my hips, gripping hard enough to bruise as he claims my mouth with devastating thoroughness. I respond immediately, letting him feel my own desperation as I arch into him, eliminating any remaining space between our bodies.

A groan escapes him as I deepen the kiss, the sound swallowed by my mouth but felt through every inch of contact. His skin burns against mine, still slick with sweat from training, making every slide of muscle feel dangerously sensual.

Some distant part of my brain registers that we're still in the training room, that Ren is probably watching this display with his usual amused interest, that anyone could walk in at anymoment. But those concerns feel meaningless compared to the need burning through my veins.

Maybe it's the recent brush with death that makes me care less about propriety. When you've faced mortality – felt its cold breath on your neck, tasted its bitter promise on your tongue – wasting time with social niceties seems absurd.

Life's too short to deny what we both want.

Matteo's hands slide lower, gripping my ass and pulling me impossibly closer. The new angle makes his intentions absolutely clear, and the sound that escapes me is hardly dignified. But dignity seems like a small price to pay for the way he's looking at me – like he wants to devour every inch, claim every breath, own every heartbeat.

"Tell me what you want," he growls against my lips, the words carrying that edge of command that makes my knees weak. "Fast or slow, Sweet Precious Gem?"

"Fast," I breathe between desperate kisses. "Hard."

His answering laugh holds dark promises as his eyes hood with pure possession. The look transforms his features into something almost primal – a predator who's caught his prey and plans to take his time savoring the feast.

"As you wish, Sweet Precious Gem." The words fall like stones into still water, creating ripples of anticipation that spread through every nerve ending. His hand delivers a sharp slap to my ass that makes me gasp. "Bend over for me."

The command hangs in the air like smoke, heavy with promise and dark intent. Training room cameras be damned – some hunger transcends propriety.

Sometimes survival means taking what you want while you still can.

Bend Me Over

~GEMINI~

Matteo’s words linger in the air, dark and edged with heat. He radiates authority, but I’ve never been one to simply obey, not anymore. Not after everything that’s changed. Everything *he* changed in me.

I hum in defiance, the sound low and laced with challenge as I straighten instead of bending over. My lips curve into a smirk as I meet his gaze. “Make me.”

The muscles in Matteo’s jaw tense, his restraint thinning into a dangerous thread. His dark eyes gleam with unrestrained desire and something else—pride, perhaps. Pride in the feral creature I’ve become under his watch, forged in the fires of chaos and obsession.

He moves faster than I expect, his hands gripping my hips and spinning me around until my back is flush against his chest. The hard ridge of his arousal presses against my ass, igniting a surge of heat between my thighs. His hand cups the back of my neck, not harshly, but firm enough to send a shiver down my spine. The air between us feels combustible.

“Precious Gem,” he rasps, his voice a low growl that seems to resonate in my bones. “You’re playing with fire.”

“And you love it,” I counter, my voice breathless but unwavering.

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