Page 31 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
“Why not?” I challenged, not pulling away despite his grip. “We both know you want this as much as I do. Your cock’s not exactly being subtle about it. It’s practically waving hello.”
“What I want doesn’t matter,” he said, his eyes locked on mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “This isn’t just about relief anymore. If I take you, if we take you, it changes everything.”
The implication hung in the air between us, heavy with meaning. He wasn’t just talking about sex; he was talking about claiming, about something deeper and more permanent than a simple knotting.
“I don’t care,” I said, the words coming from somewhere deep and desperate inside me. “I need this. I need you. And honestly? I’m dying here, so your alpha existential crisis is going to have to take a back seat to my imminent heat toxicity.”
His jaw clenched, the muscle jumping beneath his skin as he fought for control. “You don’t know what you’re asking for.”
“Then show me,” I whispered, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
The kiss was clumsy at first, I had limited experience, and none with someone like him. Our noses bumped, our lips clashed, and for one heart-stopping moment, he remained perfectly still, his lips unyielding beneath mine. Great, my first real kiss and I’m botching it spectacularly. Add it to my list of omega failures.
Then something inside him broke.
With a growl that vibrated through his chest and into mine, he took control of the kiss. His free hand came up to tangle in my hair, tilting my head to the angle he wanted. His lips moved against mine with bruising intensity, demanding rather than asking for response. When his tongue swept across the seam of my lips, I opened for him without hesitation, allowing him to deepen the kiss.
The sensation was overwhelming, wet heat and demanding pressure, his tongue exploring my mouth with a thoroughness that left me dizzy and gasping. He tasted of power and desire and something uniquely alpha that made my omega instincts purr with satisfaction.
His grip on my wrist loosened, allowing me to continue my exploration. My fingers wrapped around his length, drawing a groan from him that I swallowed with our kiss. He was burning hot against my palm, hard as steel beneath velvet skin, the size of him making my hand look almost delicate in comparison. Jesus, no wonder he was so arrogant. With equipment like this, he had reason to be.
I stroked him experimentally, clumsy at first but gaining confidence as he responded with another deep growl. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, and I used my thumb to spread it over the head, creating a smooth glide that pulled a muffled groan from him.
“Fuck,” he gasped against my lips, breaking the kiss to draw a ragged breath. “Your hand…”
“Do you like it?” I asked, continuing my exploration, learning what made his breath hitch, what drew those delicious sounds from his throat. “Not bad for an amateur, huh?”
“You know I do,” he growled, his hips jerking upward into my grip. “But this isn’t just about me.”
“No,” I agreed, increasing my pace slightly. “It’s about both of us. About what we both need.”
His eyes darkened further, something primal and possessive flashing in their depths. “And what exactly do you need, little mouse?”
“You. What I need is you inside me before I literally die of horniness, which would be the most embarrassing cause of death ever,” I said, rising up on my knees to position myself over him. The blunt head of his cock pressed against my entrance, not yet breaching but promising everything I craved. “I need this. Inside me. All of you. Please.”
I began to lower myself, desperate to feel him stretch me open, to take him deep inside where the emptiness ached the worst. But just as the tip of him started to push into me, his hands gripped my hips with bruising force, stopping my descent.
“No,” he said, his voice strained with the effort of control.
Confusion and hurt flashed through me. “What? No? Why not?” After everything—the kissing, the touching, the clear desire on both sides—he was still refusing me? “Please, I need this. I need you.”
“No,” he said, his jaw clenched tight, muscles straining with the effort of restraint.
nine
. . .
I stared at him in disbelief, heat and desperation making my voice crack. “Please. I’m dying here. You can feel it, can’t you? How hot my skin is? How wet I am? This isn’t just discomfort anymore, it’s heat toxicity.”
His eyes softened for a moment, something like regret flickering in their icy depths, but his grip on my hips remained firm. “No.”
I bit my lip, fighting back tears of frustration. This wasn’t working. Mr. Iceflare, the most dominant of the three, was going to be the hardest to break; I should have known that. His self-control stood impenetrable, while I had nothing but desperation and omega pheromones at my disposal.
“I hate you,” I told him, though there was no heat in it, just desperate frustration.
“Perhaps you’d prefer someone with fewer inhibitions?” a smooth voice called from across the room.
I turned to find Mr. Enigma lounging on his bed, propped up on one elbow in a pose that somehow managed to be both casual and deliberately seductive despite his nakedness. His green eyesgleamed with predatory interest, his cock hard and ready against his thigh. He looked like some Renaissance painting of a fallen angel—beautiful, dangerous, and utterly confident.
