Page 106 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

Suddenly she throws her head back, fucking up and down my erection, demanding my complete surrender. As her hips come down, she rocks with an almost brutal ferocity. With each passing second, her body tightens like a coiled spring and her pussy clenches around me.

Then she slams down one final time, choking on a cry, and shatters around me.

I keep thrusting slowly until her spasm stops, waiting to take control. When she finally falls limp against my chest, panting, I wrap my arms around her back, holding her body to mine. I lock my mouth around her nipple, sucking it deep and slow, making her whimper.

This time, I flip her over to her stomach, forcing her to get on her knees. Then, without warning, I pull her back by the waist, nudging her core with my cock. Without letting go, I lift her torso, holding her pressed against me.

Sliding my hand across her chest, I snake the other down between her legs, toward the mouth of her wet heat. As she moans in pleasure, I sink my fingers deep into her dripping cunt. “God, Vasiliy!” she screams.

Inserting another finger inside her, I pull her closer still, burying myself deep inside her core. With my other hand, I pinch her nipples in the way I know she likes it.

“That feels so good,” Galina sighs, pleasure rippling through her skin as she surrenders to me.

Lost in the sheer indulgence of her flesh, I bury my cock into her again and pump faster and faster, my hands gripping her hips with bruising force as I thrust in and out of her in wild abandon. Her muscles clench around me like a vice, and as her body seizes and shudders, waves of pleasure crash through us both as the power of her climax racks through my dick. I let go, pounding harder, my grip on her tightening.

“Vasiliy! God!”

With a groan, I plant my seed deep inside her with one last, brutal thrust, and she whimpers in response. Shuddering in violent pleasure, her body nearly collapses in my arms. I hold her tightly, slipping out of her and making both of us whimper in the process.

As we lie beside each other, catching our breaths, neither of us is inclined to speak, too caught up in the aftermath. In the knowledge that yet again, our bond remains unbroken.

“We haven’t been here even one hour, and we’ve already left destruction in our wake.” Galina laughs. The sound is so light and carefree that it makes my heart sing.

“That?” I glance over to the broken headboard. “I wouldn’t call that destruction. I’d say it’s…redecorating.”

She smiles again, brushing a soft, sweet kiss against my lips.

After a moment, I curl myself behind her and wrap her in my embrace. We can talk about the future tomorrow. Right now, this. This is perfect.

Galina nuzzles against my chest, and I let my eyes close. Every moment we spend together is one more we take away from a world filled with darkness and blood. One more we spend as two halves of the same soul. Together, no matter what. Forever.

Chapter 32

The Wolf in the Crowd

Galina

The Velvet Echo hums with anticipation, every beat of the music vibrating through the floor like a pulse. Models pace behind the curtain, nerves jangling in silks and stilettos. That energy is contagious—it crackles in the air, thick and electric. I stand near the bar, adjusting the drape of a silk wrap from the debut collection. One of mine. My fingers smooth over the fabric I’ve agonized over for weeks, stitched for seduction, designed to conceal and reveal in the same breath.

The club doesn’t just look different tonight—itfeelsdifferent. Strategic lighting carves shadow and gold across the newly renovated space. Amber pools cast warmth on intimate tables, while darkness curls in the corners, preserving anonymity. A raised runway slices through the room, its polished surface catching the low light in flashes of movement and reflection. It’s a stage, but also a statement. Every inch whispers:You’re not just watching a show. You’re part of something forbidden.

Upstairs, the private rooms have been reimagined in velvet and low light, designed for whispered propositions and high-priced secrets. This isn’t just a club anymore. It’s a world I built from fantasy and ash.

“Five minutes to showtime,” Oksana calls, striding past with clipboard in hand. She’s ditched her usual barely-there look for a sleek black pantsuit and bloodred lipstick that saysdon’t cross me. When I made her the showcase coordinator, people doubted me. They’re not doubting anymore.

“The guest list’s at capacity,” she adds, voice low. “Three girls have special requests waiting.” Her tone makes it clear—those requests are exactly the kind we don’t print on fliers. Discreet. Voluntary. Lucrative.

I scan the room, noting the precise blend of power and hunger. Old money and new. Senators and socialites, CEOs and silent investors, all dressed to dazzle and pretending not to notice the undercurrent of danger that gives the Echo its edge. This is what I promised Vasiliy—respectable on the surface, seductive underneath. We’ve given the place teeth.

Then I see him.

A man alone at a corner table. Sharp suit, sharper posture. Something about him tugs at my memory, though I can’t place why. He doesn’t fit, and yet...he belongs. When he lifts his glass to me, I nod, polite but guarded.

The lights drop.

Music rises.

A spotlight hits the runway, and the first model emerges—black silk, red lips, killer heels. One of mine. The crowd leans forward. She walks like temptation incarnate, and when she reaches the edge of the light, she pauses, undoes the clasps at her shoulder, and lets the gown fall.

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