Page 18 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
My hands trembled as I untied the silk belt, letting the robe fall open. I heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the sudden tension that radiated from him. Behind me, Mr. Enigma and Mr. Storm made similar sounds of appreciation, the weight of their gazes on my exposed skin making me shiver despite the heat coursing through me.
Mr. Iceflare’s eyes raked over my body, lingering on the places that made me want to squirm—my hardened nipples, the slight curve of my stomach, the place between my thighs where I was utterly wet. His expression shifted from calculated control to something hungrier, more primal.
“How old are you?” Mr. Enigma asked suddenly, his voice husky as he leaned forward on his bed for a better view.
“Twenty-two,” I replied, confused by the question. “Why? Need to check if this violates some mafia code of ethics? Because I think that ship has sailed, crashed, and sunk to the bottom of the ocean.”
“Just curious,” he said, though his eyes never left my body. “You look otherworldly. Your skin is so flawless.” The hunger in his gaze made it clear he appreciated what he saw.
“I get that a lot,” I said, self-consciousness briefly overriding my heat-driven need. “Blessed with delicate features and skin that practically glows in the dark. Makes me look like some designer omega bred in a lab. The DMV thinks my ID is fake every damn time.”
Mr. Storm’s eyes took in my body with an intensity that made me shiver. “Smooth,” he said quietly, the single word carrying more weight than a lengthy observation.
I shifted uncomfortably under their combined scrutiny, acutely aware of how exposed I was, straddling Mr. Iceflare’s lap with my robe hanging open while two other alphas devoured me with their eyes. “Yeah, well, I drew the short straw in the omega lottery. Got all the ‘pretty and delicate’ traits and none of the ‘blend in with normal society’ features. Just another way biology decided to screw me over—literally and figuratively. Can we not discuss my dermatological peculiarities right now? I’m kind of dying here. My omega biology is staging a coup, and you three are doing a documentary on my lack of body hair.”
A low chuckle rumbled from Mr. Iceflare’s chest, the sound vibrating through me where our bodies touched. “Impatient little mouse.” His eyes met mine, suddenly serious, though his hands came to rest lightly on my hips, his touch burning through the thin silk. “Last chance to back out. Once I touch you, there’s no going back. You understand that, don’t you?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, all too aware of the three sets of alpha eyes fixed on me, of the hardness pressing against me through the sheet, of the emptiness inside me demanding to be filled.
“Say it,” he insisted, his thumbs tracing small circles on my hip bones. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Please, Mr. Iceflare,” I said, the words barely audible as I struggled not to rock against him, seeking friction. “Iwantyou to touch me.”
Something flashed in his eyes—triumph, hunger, something darker I couldn’t name. Then his hands moved, one sliding up my back to tangle in my hair, the other trailing down my stomach toward where I needed him most.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, his voice a rough caress as his fingers traced patterns on my skin, each touch sending sparks of pleasure racing through me.
I couldn’t hold back a moan as his hand dipped lower, brushing teasingly against my inner thigh. My head fell back, exposing my throat in an instinctive submission that made all three alphas growl in unison, a primal sound that reverberated through the room and straight to my core.
“Look at him,” Mr. Enigma said, his voice strained as he watched from his bed, making no attempt to hide his own hardened state as he palmed himself through the sheet. “So eager for you.”
I shot him a glare over my shoulder. “I’m right here, you know. Commentary not necessary.”
“Jasmine,” Mr. Storm said, his quiet voice rough with desire as he watched, his eyes dark with hunger. He inhaled deeply. “And honey.”
I should have been mortified by their commentary, by the way they discussed me as if I weren’t there, but their obvious desire only fueled my own. I whimpered, pressing closer to Mr. Iceflare, seeking more contact. My body was officially in charge now, my brain relegated to the back seat, screaming ineffectually about danger and bad decisions.
“Please,” I whispered, not even caring how pathetic I sounded. “Please, Mr. Iceflare.”
“Please what, little omega?” he asked, his voice a rough caress as his fingers traced higher, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Tell me exactly what you want.”
“Inside,” I managed, my hips tilting forward in silent plea. “I need you inside me. Like, five minutes ago.”
His eyes, now dark as midnight, held mine as his fingers finally, finally reached their destination. He circled my entrance slowly, teasingly, gathering the evidence of my body’s readiness.
“So wet,” he murmured, his voice tinged with wonder as he explored me. “I’ve never seen an omega respond so intensely to such little stimulation. Did De Luca give you something?”
“No,” I gasped, struggling to maintain some semblance of dignity. “This is just me. Apparently, I’m overachieving in all the wrong categories.”
“He’s practically begging for more than just your fingers,” Mr. Enigma purred, suddenly much closer. I hadn’t even noticed him moving from his bed, but now he stood beside us, his cinnamon and vanilla scent surrounding me with its warmth. “And I’ve never been good at resisting such sweet temptation.”
Unlike Mr. Iceflare’s cool calculation, Mr. Enigma’s approach was all charm and heat. He trailed his fingers along my thigh with deliberate slowness.
“I bet you taste as sweet as you smell,” he murmured, his green eyes gleaming with mischief and desire. “What do you think, little omega? Would you like a second pair of hands to ease your suffering?”
“I—” My words caught in my throat as his fingers traced higher, skimming dangerously close to where Mr. Iceflare’s fingers were still teasing my entrance. The dual sensation made my body respond even more eagerly.
“That looks like a yes to me.” Mr. Enigma chuckled, his touch growing bolder as he trailed his fingers up my side, then around to cup my jaw. His thumb brushed across my lower lip in a gesture that was somehow both playful and possessive. “Such pretty lips. I bet they’d look even prettier wrapped around my cock.”
