Page 88 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“N-No,” I manage to whimper, pushing back against his movements. “That’s too much.”

With an agonized groan, he buries his face in the curve of my neck, kissing me there. He shudders, emptying himself deep within me.

He moves slowly, so slowly. My hips jerk up, and suddenly, I’m able to take a deep breath. Now, at this exact moment, I feel nothing but a blissful elation. Then the bastard has to move and break the spell.

“Fuck!” I try to bat his hand away, but Vasiliy’s laugh lets me know he has no intention of stopping any time soon.

“Come for me,lisichka. Come again.” He rests a palm on the small of my back, keeping me in place as he continues his task.

Stars form behind my eyelids, and my fingers find purchase in the fabric below them. This wave is warmer, flooding every last inch of my body, my flesh feeling like molten lava.

Finally, he relents, and I fall forward with a satisfied sigh. My climax seems never-ending, aftershocks sparking across my flesh.

“Mm.” I barely register the fingers combing through my hair, or the soft kisses Vasiliy presses along my shoulder. The afterglow hasn’t fully worn off, but the tension I’ve carried since the night Matvei tried to rip my world apart finally begins to loosen. For a moment, wrapped in the tangle of warm sheets and Vasiliy’s arms, it feels like nothing can reach us.

Then the world shifts.

A sharp pop splits the air, muffled and distant, like fireworks heard through glass. Followed by another. Vasiliy stiffens beneath me.

His breath stills.

Then, sharply: ”Get down!”

He doesn’t wait. One arm sweeps around my waist, the other grabs the edge of the duvet. He half-drags, half-rolls me off the bed, shielding my body with his as we land behind the thickest piece of furniture in the room.

The first window explodes.

Glass rains like hail, glittering and violent, scattering across the hardwood floor as bullets shred through the penthouse. Wood splinters, lamps crash to the ground. Shards tear through pillows and books and picture frames—anything that isn’t nailed down becomes debris.

I can’t breathe.

Vasiliy covers me with his body, every muscle coiled, eyes scanning, mind already calculating. The acrid stench of gunpowder fills the room, mixing with the sharp scent of sweat and the copper tang of blood—though I can’t tell if it’s his or mine.

I curl instinctively; one arm thrown across my stomach.

The baby.

Our baby.

More shots. Rapid-fire now. The bedframe takes the worst of it—splintering above us, chunks of wood crashing down like shrapnel. Somewhere across the room, a painting rips in half. A wine glass explodes near the bar. The wall near the entrance caves in slightly with the force of a close-range blast.

Then—silence.

Heavy. Suffocating.

Boots crunch slowly across broken glass, each step deliberate. Closer. Closer.

Vasiliy grabs my hand, squeezing once. No words. Just pressure. I’m still pressed against the cool floor, naked under the covers we dragged with us, heart hammering against his side.

And then I hear the voice.

Familiar. Cruel. Mocking.

“Did you really think you could hide from me?”

Matvei.

Chapter 26

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