Page 65 of Ruined By the Mafia Kings
Mr. Storm moved with surprising speed for someone so controlled, positioning me on my back with my legs over his shoulders. The position left me completely open to him, more vulnerable than I’d been with Mr. Enigma.
“Need you now,” he said simply, his voice rough with restrained desire, the scent of his rut heavy in the air around us.
The blunt declaration, coupled with the intensity in his stormy eyes, sent another wave of heat through me despite my recent release. This wasn’t the playful seduction of Mr. Enigma or the cold dominance of Mr. Iceflare. This was something else entirely—raw, primal need that had been contained for too long.
“I’m all yours, Mr. Storm,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
Something flashed in his eyes at my words—satisfaction, hunger, and something deeper I couldn’t quite name. He pushed forward, entering me in one smooth thrust that had me gasping. The angle was different, deeper somehow, hitting spots inside me that Mr. Enigma hadn’t reached.
“Fuck,” I breathed, my hands clutching at his shoulders as my body struggled to accommodate him. “That’s— You’re?—”
“Deep,” he supplied, his voice rough with desire. “Taking all of me.”
He was right. In this position, with my legs over his shoulders, he was able to penetrate deeper than should have been physically possible. The sensation walked the fine line between pleasure and pain, my body yielding to him with an eagerness that would have been embarrassing if I’d had any shame left.
Mr. Enigma moved to sit beside Mr. Iceflare, both watching with undisguised hunger as Mr. Storm claimed me. There was no jealousy in their observation, only satisfaction at seeing their brother take what they all considered theirs. The knowledge should have disturbed me, that they saw me as shared property, but in that moment, it felt right. Like I belonged to all of them, with all of them, in a way that transcended our circumstances.
Mr. Storm established a rhythm that was neither as playful as Mr. Enigma’s nor as punishing as Mr. Iceflare’s, something uniquely his own, measured and deliberate, each thrust calculated for maximum impact. His eyes never left mine, holding me captive with their intensity as surely as his body pinned me to the bed.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, the word barely audible over the sound of our combined breathing. “Perfect for us.”
The praise, simple as it was, sent another wave of heat through me. I arched into his touch, seeking more of that connection, more of that approval.
“Look at him,” Mr. Enigma said to Mr. Iceflare, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Taking our brother so perfectly. He was made for us.”
Mr. Storm’s control suddenly shattered. His hands dug into my thighs with bruising force, fingers leaving marks that would last for days as he began hammering into me with brutal efficiency. The chain at his wrist rattled violently with eachsavage thrust, the metallic sound punctuating my desperate cries as he fucked me with rut-driven intensity.
“Fuck!” I screamed as he drove into me so hard the bed frame slammed against the wall. “Oh God— You’re going to— I can’t?—”
“Take it,” he growled, the words barely recognizable through his clenched teeth. His cock felt impossibly larger, swelling with each punishing thrust as his rut pushed him toward knotting. “Take every fucking inch.”
My words dissolved into incoherent babbling as he pounded into me relentlessly, the sounds of our bodies joining filling the room alongside my desperate moans. Each brutal thrust sent shock waves of pleasure-pain radiating through my system, my nerve endings firing in chaotic patterns that short-circuited my rational thought.
“Say it,” he commanded, his voice rough as he slammed into me hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs.
“Mr. Storm,” I gasped, the name falling from my lips like a prayer as he hit a spot inside me that made my vision blur. “Alpha— Fuck— Please!”
The title, spoken without my usual sarcasm or defiance, unleashed something primal in him. With a growl that sounded more beast than human, he increased his pace to something savage, each brutal thrust driving me closer to insanity. The slap of skin against skin echoed through the room, my body jerking with each powerful impact as he used me with single-minded determination.
My second orgasm built more slowly than the first, a coiling tension that wound tighter with each punishing drive of his hips. Mr. Storm sensed it, one hand moving between us to find my hard cock, calloused fingers rubbing with merciless precision that had me thrashing beneath him.
“Come for me,” he commanded, his stormy eyes holding mine with hypnotic intensity as he continued his relentless assault. “Fucking now.”
My body obeyed as if it had been hardwired to respond to his voice. My back arched violently off the bed, a scream tearing from my raw throat as pleasure exploded through me. My inner muscles clenched frantically around his cock, milking him as waves of pleasure crashed through me with devastating force.
“Fuck—taking my knot so good,” he snarled, his hips jerking erratically as his knot swelled to full size, locking us together as his release flooded me in hot, pulsing waves. The sensation of being stretched so completely, filled so thoroughly, triggered another orgasm that had me sobbing his title, my nails drawing blood as they raked down his back.
For what felt like an eternity, we remained locked together, both breathing heavily. His forehead rested against mine, our sweat-dampened skin sliding together as aftershocks of pleasure rippled through both our bodies.
When his knot finally subsided enough for him to withdraw, I felt empty, a flood of our combined releases gushing from me in a lewd display of how thoroughly I’d been claimed. Before I could process the feeling, Mr. Iceflare was stalking toward me, his ice-blue eyes nearly black with rut-driven hunger.
“Come here, little mouse,” he growled, his voice a predatory rumble that sent shivers racing down my spine. He stretched his powerful body across the mattress with commanding presence. His cock stood at attention, looking even more intimidating than before.
sixteen
. . .
I moved toward him on legs that felt unstable and weak, cursing my omega biology for the thousandth time as my body responded to his commanding presence despite my brain’s better judgment. To my surprise, he lay flat on his back, those ice-blue eyes tracking me with predatory intent.
