Page 1 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
ONE
18 MONTHS AGO
“Yes,good, breathe. Just breathe, dear one, you’re doing so well.”
Malori Cann released a long, harsh breath through clenched teeth as the latest contraction eased off. Not a lot, only a fraction, because he was close. So close to finally being able to push. He remembered the signs from his first birth last year, and Dr. Luther had returned to the bedroom a few contractions ago. She was monitoring his progress with a portable ultrasound and her fingers, which should have been embarrassing, but Malori had no shame left.
Not after everything he’d endured as a sex slave at the Farm. Not after his first child was taken away ten days after Malori gave birth. Not when every millimeter of his naked body had been exposed in one way or another for dozens (possibly hundreds) of men and women since he’d ended up in this godforsaken place.
He leaned back against the heavy, solid chest of Aleks Yovenko, whose strong arms remained looped around his waist from behind. The constant, intense pressure in Malori’s distended belly was almost bearable with the added pressureof Aleks’s hands below Malori’s swollen chest. Swollen in preparation for his baby’s nourishment.
Ghosts from the past nipped at Malori’s conscious thoughts, trying to drag him into old hurts where his body provided milk, but he had no child. Where sick fucks paid Malori’s Master for the privilege of two hours with an exhausted, sore, lactating omega man, for whatever use they saw fit.
No. Malori groaned and slammed his eyelids shut, shoving at those ghosts. They weren’t allowed in the room today. Not today, not ever. Aleks whispered his unwavering support into Malori’s left ear, encouraging him like a good birth coach should. Malori hadn’t had this with his daughter, but he had it with his son. Aleks was the father of Malori’s second child, and he promised he was almost finished paying for Malori’s freedom.
Soon they’d be a family.
He might never see his daughter again, but Malori would finally have a loving family of his very own—the only thing he’d ever wanted in his short, twenty-three years on Earth.
The only thing that was constantly snatched away from him.
Dr. Luther squatted between Malori’s spread legs and poked cold, gloved fingers into his swollen anus. Malori grunted at the added pressure on his already tender hole, prepared to push as soon as she gave the word. He’d been in labor for close to twelve hours this time, and he was ready to meet his son. So ready to finally be able to keep his baby and raise him with a man who cared about them both.
“It’s nearly time,” Dr. Luther said in familiar, monotone voice. “On the next contraction, you need to push, Omega.”
“Okay, finally.”
Aleks kissed the side of his neck. “I can’t wait to meet our son, Mal. I hope he has your blond hair.”
“I don’t care, as long as he’s healthy.” Malori gulped in air while he could get it, saturating his lungs for when he’d inevitably be gasping for it. “I’m so glad you’re here with us.”
“I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”
Time ticked by on the small alarm clock Dr. Luther had brought with her, and would likely take away with her when this was finished. Malori wasn’t allowed a clock anywhere in his two-bedroom apartment, the passage of time measured by the delivery of his meals three times a day on the secure dumbwaiter. He watched the slender second hand move around the clock face, mesmerized by something he hadn’t seen in what felt like forever. Surprised something as small as a clock could feel like a luxury larger than a cruise ship.
The constant ache in his back and belly increased, heavier and sharper, as did the incredible need to?—
“Push now, Omega,” Dr. Luther said. “Push.”
Malori pushed. Maybe because this was his second birth, and he wasn’t as scared of the unknown. Maybe because he had Aleks there with him, holding him, welcoming their child with Malori. Something about this birth was different, the pain less acute, the sensation of something humongous sliding through his passage, out of his body, almost spiritual in its simplicity.
Agony flashed. Something gushed. The pressure finally eased, and Malori began sobbing in earnest when he realized he’d done it. His baby was out. Dr. Luther was busy between his legs, and Malori tried to look but his back ached, and sitting up took too much energy. Aleks had a better view, and he was grinning ear-to-ear.
A beautiful, piercing squall filled the small bedroom. Dr. Luther finally raised a white-wrapped bundle, stained all over with red and rust, and placed it on Malori’s chest. He could barely see the flushed, wrinkled face of his son, all chubby cheeks and plump, button nose. Malori laughed and admiredthe baby, astonished his body had created his little miracle—something only a tiny fraction of men could do.
Something only an omega male could do.
I will protect you, little one, I promise. Your father and I will protect you.
“Look, Aleks, he’s here,” Malori whispered. He ignored whatever Dr. Luther was doing down below, unconcerned with the afterbirth in this moment. Not yet. He needed this precious time with his family first.
“He’s lovely,” Aleks said. “I’m so proud of you, Mal.”
“We should name him.”
“We will, darling. Remember our promise? We’ll name our son together once we have secured your freedom.”
Malori remembered their promise, of course, but he still pouted. “We have to call him something until then. How about simply Junior?”
