Page 45 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

I fondle my cock over my underwear, never losing eye contact. Watching her expression shift, knowing I control that shiver of anticipation. Let her imagine all the different ways I’m about to deliver her pleasure.

Without her saying a word, Galina rolls over, rising to her knees and turning to present her delicious ass. A wicked invitation to fuck her from behind. She turns her face to peer over her shoulder at me, and fuck, if she doesn’t look a damn sight more desperate than I’ve ever seen her. Her jaw tightens,the tiny hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. Oh, she needs this, and every inch of her wants me to go for the kill.

Gripping her knee, I push her thighs apart and use my free hand to cup her pussy, squeezing and warming her center. To say she’s ready is an understatement. The silk of her panties is soaked, ready to be torn right off.

So I do.

With a strong pull, the fabric tears away. Palming her, I squeeze her clit, the pressure driving her closer to the edge. She moans and arches her spine in invitation.

Fuck, I’ll take her. I’ll fuck her without mercy. She’s mine to do with as I please after all. But still, I need to watch her when she comes. The flush that steals up her neck, her back arched, and the quiver in her lips as she struggles to hang on a second longer... I want that mental image. I need it.

I draw away and reposition myself, wrapping an arm around her chest and tugging her onto the floor, gently putting her on all fours and spreading her thighs. With both hands, I smack her ass, marking the territory I intend to own once and for all.

“F-fuck,” she pants.

Another strong spank, bringing blood to the surface and painting her creamy skin pink. I massage her flesh, pressing the blood deep into her nerve endings. She ruts and cries out, desperate for release.

“Beg.” My command is sharp and controlled. “I’m waiting.”

She hangs there, suspended on the edge. She’s stubborn, her prideful side taking over her yearning instinct. I keep her there, holding my own orgasm at bay as I wait.

“Fuck me.” It’s breathy, wispy, completely unlike the woman she usually shows. Not as confident, more uncertain. Prey caught in a trap that can’t escape.

I pull her down and thrust her pussy over the tip of my cock, driving deep and splitting her open. Galina’s harsh cry makesme feel like a caveman, savage and uncivilized in my urges. It triggers something deep within me.

I grab her hips with one hand, using the other to grasp her wrist. The dominance, the need, the ache for release makes me manic with lust. Every heartbeat, every flash of need, it’s torture. Teetering on the edge, just a stroke more...

I snatch a handful of her hair and force her chin up. I slam into her again and again. My eyes fix on hers as our bodies meld, the energy rushing up and out of her mouth in desperate shrieks, while her walls pulse and milk my throbbing cock. With a shuddering moan, she explodes and collapses beneath me, splayed open and gasping for breath. I groan, thrusting harder and faster.

No mercy.

Nothing left but the brutal thrusts, her moans, and the tight spiral around the base of my cock. My balls draw up, cum rising to spill deep into her pussy. One more drive, and I empty myself. Completely. Irrevocably. I have never felt this sensation with any other woman.

Somehow, her presence demands a passion unique and raw, threatening to consume all and render me useless to the rest of the world. Or it could be the fact that I haven’t fucked anyone in a year. It’s not like hordes of women were waiting to enter the Siberian prison walls to warm us up.

The memory awakens a different kind of need in me. With a gentleness that surprises even me, I take my cock out of Galina’s pussy and sit on the sofa, pulling her in my arms. She hesitates but then wraps her arms around me and settles into the nook of my shoulder. I lay my head on top of hers, stroking her auburn locks.

Minutes pass in silence. I should tell her to get out, but my arms refuse to let her go.

I can’t explain what’s happening to me. I’ve never bothered holding anyone after sex. I’ve never sat with any woman like this, letting the post-sex bliss keep us warm.

Galina shifts, craning her head up to meet my gaze. “Do we have a deal?”

The spell shatters. I push her away and stand up, going for my clothes. Before she rises, I yank her by the hair and thrust my mouth against hers. She tastes like mine too—salty and potent. I kiss her savagely, needing the heat, the sparks, the electricity. I kiss her until we’re breathless, and I have to let her go.

“Consider me persuaded.”

Chapter 14

Don’t Call Me Weak

Galina

The heels click down the makeshift runway—sharp, rhythmic, commanding attention. Models slink past in barely-there lingerie and glittering couture, the air thick with their perfume: sugary florals masking sweat and ambition. It turns my stomach.

I’ve been fighting this nausea since dawn, brushing it off as stress, dehydration, maybe the ghost of last night still clinging to my skin. But when another model breezes by in a fog of Chanel Mademoiselle, something in me rebels.

Nope. Not today.

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