Page 66 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

The ache. The fear. The impossible hope.

Even if it’s all a lie.

The tenderness shatters me more completely than any threat ever could. I melt into him, my spine softening, breath hitching, as the last pieces of armor I’ve held onto clatter to the floor between us. His hands slide up my back—no restraint, no command. Just warmth. Just want. Just him.

“Let me show you,” he breathes against my lips, voice rough with need, “that not everything between us has to hurt.”

Then he kisses me again, and the world goes silent.

It’s not dominance. It’s devotion. His mouth moves over mine like he’s tasting something forbidden, something sacred. His tongue teases, coaxes, claims—slow and devastating. And when his hand curves possessively over my stomach, I break. A moan slips free, helpless and raw, because this isn’t control.

This is surrender.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t snarl or snap or drag. He leads me through the penthouse with the kind of reverence I didn’t know he possessed. The bedroom is shadowed in dark wood and quietluxury, but I barely notice. Because he’s looking at me like I’m something he’s afraid to ruin. And that look on his face undoes me.

When he lays me down on his bed, it’s with a care that borders on worship. The zipper of my dress slides down like a secret, his fingertips skimming fire across my skin. But there’s no greed in his touch tonight. Just heat. Hunger wrapped in silk.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice almost broken.

I tremble under his gaze. Not from fear, but from the way he sees me. As if I’m more than a woman carrying his child. As if I’m something he never thought he’d be allowed to touch without ruining. The memory of his roughness lingers in my bones, but it’s fading now, chased away by every brush of his lips, every stroke of his fingers.

“Now spread your legs,” he rasps, mouth tracing the line of my throat, breath hot and ragged. “I want to taste you.”

His hair brushes my bare chest as he lowers himself, and my whole body arches toward him, hungry and unguarded.

This isn’t a beast taking.

This is a man learning how to love.

And I don’t know if it’ll destroy me—or save him.

But right now?

I need it like I need air.

When his mouth finds the spot between my thighs, it’s slow and deliberate, seeking more than a way to sate us. Tongue and fingers draw intoxicating pleasure from my throbbing pussy, demanding nothing except my release. I surrender, shuddering beneath the slow, torturous rush of sensation.

I tangle my fingers in his thick blond hair, gasping. “Take off your clothes.”

With a grunt, Vasiliy lifts himself and pulls his shirt over his head. My hands trace the path of his tattoos, following themdown the contours of his sculpted chest and abs. When my fingers linger at his belt buckle, his pupils dilate.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, moving my hand to the small strip of exposed skin above his belt. “I want to take care of you first.”

It’s new to be seen and recognized like this. But I know that Vasiliy can’t see past the baby in my belly, isn’t capable of loving beyond his claim. I can’t allow myself to embrace him fully. He can’t hurt me without hurting his own child, so we’re evenly matched. For now.

Even half naked, Vasiliy still looks formidable, his fists closed by his side, his brow furrowed with desire, and— Is that fear? He always feels most in control when he’s stripped me bare and vulnerable. But now, it’s the opposite.

“Don’t hide from me.” My words land somewhere on the far shore of his guarded expression.

There’s fierceness in his eyes. “How could I?”

With that, his touch takes over again, a whirlwind of feeling, even as the pace stays slow and steady. His mouth slides down my naked body, finding my center again, acting like a man starved. But also for the first time, there’s gentleness. Those usually rough touches smooth over my skin, holding my hips in place as I writhe under him. I gasp, my nails dragging across his skin as his tongue strokes over my opening, pausing at my clit and sucking on it. My body arches off the bed, but he’s keeping me firmly in place, and all I can do is hold on to his head as he drinks me in. He strokes me until it’s impossible to hold the sensation any longer, my trembling need consuming me. His fingers find their way inside me, his movements controlled, but firm.

And in the darkness, with my legs parted, vulnerable against the hard, scarred body of my enemy, I feel safe. Protected. Shielded from a world where violence is the only currency. For a moment, there’s no other world beyond these four walls.

When the waves finally crash over me, it’s with such intensity that it steals the air from my lungs. The pleasure is shattering, the sharp release slicing through everything in its path. I ride the waves in a daze, savoring every point of contact between us. It lasts forever and not long enough.

“Now you,” I breathe as he slides up, suddenly aware of the rock-hard press of his cock against my thigh. My need blooms anew, hot and insistent, pushing against the edge of reality.

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