Page 67 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“How do you want me?” he asks. It’s his way of giving me control and taking it back all at once. I squirm beneath him, my hands roaming up his chest.

“Like this,” I whisper, pushing at his shoulder.

He lies back on the bed, heavy lidded and strong. I follow him, drawing slow lines down his chest and abs, unbuckling his pants and sliding it down his legs. Circling his thick length, I gather up the wetness dripping from my opening, stroking my slick arousal over his cock. I feel dizzy with sensation. Without another word, I line him up with my entrance and sink down. He groans, the sound becoming a low rumble of approval as I rock my hips, taking him deeper. Slow and teasing, I ride him, exploring every reaction. We don’t speak beyond low murmurs of need and encouragement. His large hands find my hips, fingers digging into my soft flesh, but it’s not the punishing grip of possession I’ve come to expect. It’s something softer. Gentler.

I bring myself to the brink of another orgasm and hold there, savoring the new sensation of being in control. The heavy haze of pleasure expands until it engulfs us both. I struggle to maintain my rhythm, desperate to prolong this new realization. I never dreamed it could be this way.

“Let me,” Vasiliy demands, urging me to lie back. He climbs on top of me, fucking me with steady purpose. Drawing out each stroke of his cock, making the pleasure last and last. He kisses me as he moves, his broad body a weight to ground me, to keepme tethered. When he growls his release, it’s accompanied by a tenderness that makes my own orgasm coil and release all at once, until the only thing I can feel is the exquisite sensation of him filling me up with more than just cum. With something tender. Something sweet. Something unexpected.

Afterward, he holds me close, his hand splaying protectively over my stomach. Through the windows, the city stretches out below us like a sea of stars. The silence between us feels different now—charged with possibility rather than restriction. He draws me closer, his body spooning mine.

My traitorous heart kicks in my chest. In that moment, I’d give anything to make this real. To see past our differences and separate lies from truth.

Tomorrow, we’ll go back to hating each other. Back to the fight.

But for now, Vasiliy’s closeness lets me forget. And right now, there’s no one I’d rather be with.

“I won’t call you that name again,” he says, surprising me, his voice rough with emotion. “And I’ll try—” His voice catches. “I’ll try to give you the freedom you need. But you have to understand, the thought of losing either of you...”

“You have to trust me to protect myself.”

He hugs me tighter, cradling me like he’s trying to hold back the darkness. I feel him nod against my hair. It’s not a solution to everything, but it’s a start. Whatever this is between us—this dangerous, beautiful thing we’re building—it’s about more than just ownership or control. It’s a partnership forged in fire, tempered by understanding.

It’s a promise.

A vow.

As sleep claims me, I let myself believe that maybe we can find a balance between protection and freedom, between his need to possess and my need to be my own person. Our childdeserves parents who can work together, who can love without destroying each other.

For the first time since learning about my pregnancy, I allow myself to hope for something more than just survival. Something that feels dangerously like a future. The city lights flicker beyond the windows like distant stars, each one a possibility I never dared imagine. Maybe even with the person I thought was the monster from my darkest nightmares. His steady breathing beside me whispers of change, of walls crumbling stone by stone. Maybe Vasiliy and I can change. Not in grand gestures or dramatic declarations, but in these quiet moments between breaths. For our child, we must try.

Chapter 20

Where the Monsters Sleep

Vasiliyi

The city sprawls beneath my penthouse windows, a glittering tangle of light and shadow. Dawn creeps across the skyline, smearing the horizon in strokes of gold and bloodred. It should look beautiful. Instead, it feels like a warning.

Galina sleeps beside me, her auburn hair fanned across my pillow like spilled flame. One hand rests over her stomach, always that quiet, unconscious act of protection. It guts me more than I want to admit.

A father.

The word still tastes foreign. Heavy. Like a title that doesn’t belong to a man with blood on his hands and ghosts in his closet. But watching her now, breathing slow and even, I can almost picture a life that isn’t soaked in violence. Almost.

Doesn’t mean I deserve it.

My own father taught me what not to be. He destroyed everything he touched. I used to think Katya and I escaped that legacy, that only Nikolai carried the weight of our bloodline. But maybe he was just the only one honest enough to face what we really are. What we were born into.

The phone buzzes on the nightstand, vibrating like a warning shot. Jaromir.

I slide out of bed without waking her and answer as I cross into the living room.

“What’s the status?”

“The police finished their sweep. Left a couple inspectors behind. Detective Rong’s still hanging around.”

I drop into the armchair and drag a hand down my face. “They find anything?”

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