Page 42 of The Mafia's Omega Queen

My father raised me better than that. Dad trained me from a young age to stand on my own two feet in a man-dominated world, and he would be disappointed if I just sat back while they—my mates—put themselves in danger to protect me.

Plus, I think I’ve shown I can handle myself during the times the compound has been attacked.

I don’t relent, staring each one of them down to show I’m serious about playing my own part in capturing the traitor. Arden said I could kill the bastard, and I plan on him dying by my hands.

Not that Hunter knows that yet. He’s just going to have to share.

“Yes,” Vinny bites out, obviously seeing that I’m not going to play the helpless woman who needs men to handle her business. “Once Trevor lets his guard down after a few drinks, you’ll go in and dose him. Then, when he’s knocked out, we’ll move him to the torture chamber.”

“That’s when I’ll take over and make him squeal like the little fucking pig he is,” Hunter rumbles menacingly, picking his nails with his knife. I clear my throat and raise a pointed brow in his direction. “We,” he coughs, amending his statement and making me smile.

“Once we have all the information out of him, Arden will crosscheck it all to see if there’s anything new we don’t know. In the meantime, I’ll start gathering our allies and pick a date for the attack. We can’t wait too long because it’s already been a handful of weeks since Archie came after us, and they’ve had ample enough time to replenish their numbers. Any longer, and they might come after us again before we’re ready.” Vinny rests his hands on the table, his eyes darting over the layout again.

“I’m sure Trevor’s already relayed that we’ve all healed, and all of our major players are still in the game,” Arden pipes up. “Though, it’s surprising, they didn’t try to hit us while we were down. They had ample enough opportunity to come at us while we were healing and dealing with the aftermath.”

Arden makes a good point. They’ve had plenty of time to do it unless we made a bigger dent in their forces than we originally thought. Body count wise, there were forty unknowns, meaning they weren’t any of ours. We lost thirty ourselves between the guards outside and the few we had inside the compound at the time. So have they recouped their losses already, or are they still scrambling for more bodies to come after us again? The only person that would know the answer is the traitor.

Fucking Trevor.

I can’t wait to kill the fuck.

Visions of my Haylee in the throes of passion as she rides my cock flash behind my closed eyes. This dream is nothing new to me. Every night since we met, it's always been her in various positions indulging herself on my offering.

Except there's something different about this dream. It's so damn vivid compared to the others. I can almost feel her wet heat wrapped around my steel erection, her slick dripping onto my balls.

Even her scent penetrates my dream, her vanilla and buttercream cupcake smell so damn strong I can almost taste it.

My hips start thrusting up into her. She makes the most beautiful face when she comes, and I want to see it before I wake up. A low moan is what I get in response, but for some reason, it doesn't add up with what I'm seeing. I thrust again, harder this time, but the Haylee in my dream doesn't open her mouth when her cry hits my ears.

"Fuck, Gavin, do that again," she pants between heavy breaths.

My eyes flutter in confusion, but when I open them again, I realize I'm no longer dreaming. Hell, I never was. My girl is bouncing on my cock, taking what she wants unapologetically.

I remember what she said and thrust up, bottoming out on her cervix. She tightens around me as she claws at the blanket pooling around her waist, pulling it up to cover her mouth so she doesn't wake the whole house.

She's completely naked, Arden's shirt she fell asleep in discarded on the side of the bed.

The second the blanket drops back down, I switch our positions and pull out, flipping her onto her hands and knees. My hand plants firmly between her shoulder blades, forcing her arms to give out. Her upper half is flat against the mattress, with her ass high in the air.

She wiggles her hips, mewling at the empty ache left behind without me inside of her. My palm cracks her ass cheek, turning her delicate skin pink, and I thrust in, pumping my hips with a wild abandon.

She screams into the mattress but doesn't stop me. This is what she wanted, I realize. She wanted to be fucked six ways from Sunday, and I'm the lucky bastard she chose to accomplish that.

Looks like I'll just have to make sure she doesn't regret that choice.

My free hand fists her hair, holding her head immobile as I dig my fingers into her hip so damn hard, there’ll be bruises left behind come morning.

But my girl doesn’t complain. She never does. She wears the sexual bruises with pride.

“Gav, I’m going to come,” she whimpers, meeting me thrust for thrust.

Thank fuck. There’s no telling how long I’d be able to hold out. Not after the dream combined with the real thing.

“Come for me, baby girl.”

And fuck, does she. She comes with a hoarse scream, her throat sounding shredded as her pussy grips me tightly, milking me like she does one of the guy’s knots. My lack thereof not a hindrance nor a turn-off.

I curl over her bent form, burying my face in her hair as I come with a long, drawn-out groan. Haylee doesn’t move or make a move to get me off her. She seems content with my weight holding her down.

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