Page 101 of Mafia King's Broken Vow
“How’s this?” His breath comes in hard gasps, the strain in his voice revealing just how close he is to losing control.
“Good. Keep going,” I reply, bending my knees to change the angle, the shift making us both groan.
He starts moving, slowly at first, then fast and hard, bringing me closer to the edge with every thrust.
I dig my fingernails into his back, unable to do anything but hold on for the ride. It’s as though his need is filling me, pushing and pressing and pulsing. Before long, he’s pounding so deep inside me, it’s as though he’s part of me.
I wrap my legs around his waist, urging him, and he obliges, his breath coming hard and fast, little pants on my neck.
“Fuck, Mila.”
He continues sliding in and out of me, watching my eyes closely.
“Come for me again,milaya.” His voice is raw in my ear. As if in agreement, my pussy tightens around his cock. He hisses, eyes closing as his hips pick up even more speed, almost as if he’s competing with himself. I explode around him while he continues to pound into me. Feeling me convulse, he groans as he reaches his climax, then he stills and collapses on top of me.
In this moment, I realize I would do anything for him. I am his. Body and soul.
He leans up on his elbows and stares into my eyes. “We are good together, little doctor.” I stare up at him, grasping for rational thought.
I rake my fingers down his back, pressing against his hip with one hand as the other tangles in his hair, tugging his head toward mine as I rise up to meet his lips. The kiss is quick and intense.
“Yakov…” My voice is hoarse as the orgasm finally subsides. “Fuck, that was…”
“That was everything, Mila,” he replies. “You’re amazing.”
His eyes meet mine, and the moment suspends. I hear the echo of his last words. Everything. This, what we have, has become…everything.
Yakov cradles me close, keeping his thick, pulsating cock inside me for a while longer. And I know that nothing will ever be the same again.
We have entered entirely new territory, both literally and figuratively.
A territory where monsters can be redeemed.
The knowledge should terrify me. Instead, I wrap myself even tighter around him, unwilling and unready to relinquish whatever this connection between us is.
26
THE LANGUAGE OF SILENCE
YAKOV
Ilean forward, studying the satellite images scattered across the conference table. Tension hums through the room, thick, expectant. After months of captivity, the promise of action tastes sharp on my tongue.
My finger traces the property line of an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. “Central command,” I say, tapping a specific section. “Regular patrols with deliberate gaps. They’re trying to look abandoned while maintaining security.”
Nikolai nods grimly. “Our informant confirms Pablo’s been operating from here. Planning something big.”
Every eye tracks my movement—Nikolai, Igor, Aleksander, half a dozen operatives I’ve learned to read. All calculating the same question: can they trust the monster they’ve kept caged?
I shift to the thermal imaging. “Too many bodies for simple surveillance. He’s gathering forces.”
“The question is for what,” Aleksander observes, ice-blue eyes dissecting each detail with surgical precision.
“Not what.” Igor’s voice cuts like winter. “Who.”
The room goes dead silent.
I don’t need to look up to feel every gaze shift to the same inevitable conclusion. The same name hanging unspoken in the air between us.
