Page 74 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
And to my horror, I answered that unspoken question, something in my own expression softening as the walls around my heart developed hairline fractures. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was supposed to be immune to alpha charm, especially the mafia variety with a side of kidnapping. Yet here I was, feeling things that went way beyond the “how to survive captivity” manual.
Mr. Iceflare’s hand came up to stroke my cheek with a tenderness that made my chest ache in ways I couldn’t blame on physical exertion. “Mine,” he murmured, the word both claim and promise. “Ours.”
And God help me, I nodded. No witty comeback. No sarcastic deflection. Just a simple acknowledgment of a truth I wasn’t ready to voice but couldn’t deny. In that moment of silent honesty, I felt more exposed than I had with his cock inside me.
The realization hit me with crushing force. This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t just biology or circumstance or necessity. This was something real, something that made the walls around my heart feel suddenly inadequate and fragile.
What the hell am I doing? I can’t be falling for them. Not like this. Not when they could break free any day and decide I’d make a lovely decorative rug for their criminal headquarters.
“What is happening to me?” I whispered, the question escaping before I could strangle it back. My voice sounded strange to my own ears—raw, vulnerable, stripped of its usual protective layer of snark. “This isn’t— I don’t— I’m not supposed to?—”
“Shh,” Mr. Enigma soothed, his fingers combing through my hair with gentle strokes that made my scalp tingle. His green eyes, usually dancing with mischief, had gone soft around theedges as he looked at me. “Don’t overthink it, little mouse. Just feel.”
How could I explain that “just feeling” was exactly the problem? That the emotions swirling through my chest were more terrifying than any physical threat they could pose? That I’d built my entire personality around not feeling too deeply, not connecting too completely?
Mr. Iceflare shifted slightly, his knot tugging at my sensitive rim and sending another wave of pleasure-pain through my system. The movement reminded me of our physical connection, but it was the emotional tether forming between us that truly terrified me.
“My turn next,” Mr. Enigma announced, his voice lighter than the charged moment called for, though his eyes remained serious as they studied my face. “Once our ice king here decides to release you from his clutches.”
“Patience,” Mr. Iceflare replied, though there was no heat in the word. His thumb continued to trace patterns on my cheekbone, each touch feeling like it was imprinting on more than just my skin. “Some things can’t be rushed.”
I wasn’t sure if he meant his knot or the fragile connection forming between us, but either way, the words sent another shiver racing down my spine. This was dangerous territory, not just physically, but emotionally. I was already in too deep, already caring too much about men who had every reason to hate me.
“Just so we’re clear,” I managed, trying to inject some semblance of my usual snark into my voice, “this doesn’t mean I’m joining your mafia book club or whatever. I still have a healthy sense of self-preservation despite current evidence to the contrary.”
Mr. Storm’s laugh was unexpected, the sound rusty as though rarely used. “Defiant even now,” he said, his stormy eyes warming slightly as they met mine. “Impressive.”
“It’s not defiance, it’s common sense,” I retorted, though the effect was somewhat undermined by the fact that I was quite literally locked on Mr. Iceflare’s knot, filled with his seed, and surrounded by all three alphas. “Just because my body’s made some questionable decisions doesn’t mean my brain has completely abandoned ship. It’s just taking a brief vacation. Probably went to Tahiti. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”
“Your body knows what it wants,” Mr. Iceflare said, his voice dropping to that register that made my insides do somersaults. “What it needs. Who it belongs to.”
“My body also craves burgers at two a.m. and thinks sleep is optional during stressful times,” I shot back, though my heart wasn’t really in the argument. Not when his knot was still pulsing inside me, not when he was looking at me with such intense care. “I don’t think we should trust its judgment on life-altering decisions.”
After what felt like an eternity but was probably closer to nine minutes, Mr. Iceflare’s knot finally began to subside. The sensation of him slowly pulling out was almost as overwhelming as the initial penetration—leaving me feeling strangely empty, as though something essential had been removed.
Before I could even catch my breath, Mr. Enigma was moving into position, his green eyes dark with hunger but with something else flickering beneath the surface, something that made my stomach flip in a way that had nothing to do with physical desire.
“My turn,” he announced, but instead of positioning himself between my legs as I expected, he moved to sit against the headboard, patting his thighs with a smile that was softer thanhis usual mischievous grin. “Come here, little mouse. I want to try something.”
“Let me guess,” I said, trying to maintain my usual snark despite the way my heart was still racing from my encounter with Mr. Iceflare. “You want me to ride you in some acrobatic position? Because I should warn you, I’m terrible at multitasking.”
His laugh was warm, genuine in a way that made something flutter in my chest. “Nothing so complicated. Just come here.”
I moved toward him on shaky legs, still marked by Mr. Iceflare’s claim. Mr. Enigma guided me to straddle his lap, facing him, my knees on either side of his hips. The position was unexpectedly intimate—face-to-face, chest to chest, his cock pressing against my entrance without yet breaching.
“This is…” I swallowed, finding it difficult to maintain my usual defensive humor with him looking at me with such intensity. “This is very up close and personal. Extremely intimate.”
“That’s the idea,” he replied, his hands coming up to cradle my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with a tenderness that made my throat tight. “I want to see your eyes while I’m inside you.”
And then he was kissing me—not the demanding invasion I’d expected, but something slower, deeper, more deliberate. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, requesting rather than demanding entry, and when I opened to him, he explored my mouth with the same thoroughness he’d shown my body.
While our mouths were occupied in what was rapidly becoming one of the most intense kisses of my life, he positioned himself at my entrance, the blunt head of his cock pressing against me without yet pushing inside. His hands remained on my face, holding me in place, ensuring I couldn’t look away as he slowly, carefully lowered me onto his length.
“Fuck,” I gasped against his lips as he filled me inch by excruciating inch. The angle was completely different from Mr. Iceflare’s claiming—deeper somehow, more intimate, his cock reaching places inside me that made stars explode behind my eyelids. “That’s— You’re?—”
“I know,” he murmured, his green eyes never leaving mine as he seated himself fully inside me. “I feel it too.”
He established a rhythm that was nothing like Mr. Iceflare’s controlled dominance—slow, deep thrusts that seemed focused more on connection than simple pleasure. His hands never left my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones, fingers tangled in my hair, keeping me anchored to the moment, to him.
