Page 55 of The Kingpin's Omega Lover
This would end soon.
“Suit yourself,” Aleks said. He shoved Malori forward, and Malori hit the bed on his stomach and elbows. Aleks gave him no time, and the instant rough hands were pawing at his pants, yanking at his briefs, panic rose. Old terror and hatred and an all-encompassing sense of despair. He didn’t want to be touched.
His only saving grace, the one thing that allowed him to remain above the panic and to think, was knowing his body was not betraying him. No medication was forcing him to get hard, to get wet, to fake wanting the sex about to happen. This time, Malori wanted the penetration—because it was going to fucking hurt.
Not him.
Aleks.
Malori did fight. His body knew this wasn’t King, this wasn’t the man he cared about, not who made his body sing. This washis enemy, someone who wanted to harm him, and his fight instinct was in charge. But Aleks was bigger, stronger, and he had all the leverage to keep Malori restrained while he bared Malori’s ass. Got his own suit trousers down and his cock out. Malori heard him spit. Felt the head of Aleks’s cock between his cheeks.
“Missed this pretty little hole of yours,” Aleks sneered.
Malori closed his eyes and locked his hips.
Aleks shoved, a single, powerful thrust forward. Malori gasped at the sudden pressure and fullness, but that was drowned out by the high-pitched shriek of pure agony Aleks released, once his brain caught up to his dick. Aleks screamed again and yanked away. Malori yelped at the fast, painful exit of the special surprise from his ass, and he rolled onto his back.
Aleks was staring dumbly at his penis, which was ensnared in what, on the outside, looked like an opaque plastic sheath. But blood was dripping down his pubes, onto his upper thighs, and his hands hovered over the thing, as if unsure if he should try to pull it off or not. He’d gone pale and was panting through a wide-open mouth.
Malori didn’t gloat, didn’t wait for Aleks to figure out he’d put his own dick into what was essentially an anti-rape device. Based on a kind of Chinese finger trap, the interior of the sheath was lined with sharp plastic spikes facing the end of the device. Once a dick went in, it wasn’t coming back out without medical intervention.
“What the fucking fuck?” Aleks wailed.
Malori lurched for the lamp, happy he’d been right in assessing it had a heavy, brass base. Knocked the shade off. Climbed off the bed and swung the lamp in a solid arc toward Aleks’s head. It connected with a sickening crack. Aleks jerked sideways, crashed into the desk chair, and then hit the floor. He didn’t move, but Malori wasn’t taking any chances.
He slammed the lamp into Aleks’s head again. Then he grabbed the cell off the bed and punched in King’s number.
Eight minutes and forty-six seconds.
The longest eight minutes and forty-six seconds of King’s entire life, and they began the moment the tracking dot started moving. Over, up, over again. Then it stayed put in a room on the third floor.
King desperately wanted to pace, but he couldn’t pace in the backseat of a car. He needed to get into that room, to stop Yovenko before he seriously hurt Malori. King abhorred the part of Malori’s plan that required Yovenko to penetrate Malori, in order to shock and impair him with the anti-rape device. King had no idea they existed, but Malori had ordered it off a website that specialized in personal safety.
The fact that such a thing had even been invented said way too much about the state of their society, but that was a sociology lesson for another day.
More seconds ticked by.
Nine minutes and twelve seconds. Thirteen. Fourteen.
His cell rang with an unknown caller. “Yes?”
“He’s out fucking cold,” Malori said. “It worked, and then I hit him twice with a lamp.”
Some of the icy fear gripping King’s heart loosened and allowed him to breathe more easily. “Thank fuck. What room?”
“Three-forty-seven.”
“We’ll be there shortly. Are you all right?”
“Yeah. See you in a minute.”
“Don’t hang up, Mal.”
“Okay.”
They didn’t speak again over the phone. King had no patience for the elevator, so he led Garvey and Patch up the stairs to the third floor. The room was directly outside. He only managed a single, sharp knock before the door swung open. Garvey and Patch went in first and crossed straight to Yovenko’s crumpled body.
King pulled Malori into his arms, savoring the heat and shape of the brave man he treasured. Malori clung to him hard, his chest heaving, shaking all over. Then Malori started laughing. “I can’t believe it fucking worked,” Malori said. “He’s such an arrogant prick.”
