Page 23 of Brutal Union (Ruthless Mafia Kings #8)

Because I do want him. Desperately. In a way that terrifies me.

In a way that makes me feel like I’m falling through the floor of my own control.

It’s not just lust—it’s something deeper, messier.

A craving that coils inside me like a sickness, like an addiction I’ve fed for too long without admitting it was there.

But I can’t be his. That’s the part he doesn’t understand. I wasn’t made to be anyone’s. I’ve had to be sharp in every room, deadly in every silence. I’ve had to kill parts of myself just to survive .

To belong to him—even someone like Sho—would mean unraveling all of that.

It would mean trusting someone else with pieces of me I’ve never let anyone touch.

And I can’t trust anyone anymore. Not even him, especially when he shouldn’t trust me.

Any day now I have to give him over to the Yakuza.

Any day now they will see I am dragging my feet and demand me to choose war with the Yakuza, or give up the man who makes me feel like I can breathe for the first time.

If he’s mine then the deal is off. I am no longer Queen.

I will give up my revenge for Boris, because I can’t have him and do what it takes to take the crown.

My vengeance only softens around him, and a weak queen can’t live in this world.

I move to push him away, but he inhales. He breathes me in carefully, and I do the worst thing I could have possibly done. I close my eyes for half a second too long, and that’s all it takes. He feels it—the weakness, the tremor beneath my skin. He knows I am so broken for him.

“On your knees,” I whisper.

Sho doesn’t hesitate. His hands slide down my thighs as he lowers himself to the floor, his eyes locked on mine, dark and hungry.

The coffee table is cold against my back, but the heat radiating from him is enough to make me forget everything else.

His breath is warm against my inner thigh, and I shiver, my fingers tangling in his hair.

“You’re going to do exactly what I say,” I murmur, my voice low and commanding. “And if you can follow instructions well, then I will consider being your girlfriend.”

Sho nods, his eyes locked on my boy shorts. The wetness from my pussy spreading with each second. “What do you want me to do, Hime?”

“Take off your shirt.”

His hands move instantly, reaching behind his neck as he pulls the dark fabric over his head in one smooth motion. The muscles in his shoulders flex with the movement, the deep grooves of his torso catching the dim light like something sculpted and sinful.

Tattoos cover him—ink in rich blacks and soft grays crawling across his chest and wrapping around his ribs.

Mythology, violence, devotion. Dragons coiled in mid-battle, kanji script across his heart, a snake curled around a katana.

It’s not just body art—it’s a language of survival etched in skin, and I find myself reading every stroke like it’s meant for me.

I spread my thighs slowly, letting him see what he’s done to me—what his presence alone does to me. The thin fabric of my boy shorts is soaked, clinging to my folds like a secret I’m daring him to uncover.

His mouth parts, but he doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move. He just stares —like he’s found the fountain of youth and is too memorized to look away.

I lean back, keeping my eyes locked on his, and run my fingertips down my own chest, stopping at the waistband of my shorts. “Do you like looking at your meal?”

Sho groans, his mouth parting as he leans forward. My arousal slicks the air, and a moan rolls over my lips. Sho, my soon to be man, looks at me like he is starving, and the darkening of his eyes to that sickly moss does enough to make my clit quiver with need.

“Take off my panties,” I whisper.

He doesn’t waste any time as I push up my hips, and his fingertips curl around the waistband of my underwear.

He begins to peel the underwear down my hips.

His thumbs press into the curve of my pelvis as he slides them lower, dragging the heat of his hands along every inch of skin he reveals.

My thighs tense around his wrists, and he doesn’t flinch—just looks up at me through heavy lashes.

Once I am exposed to him, the cold air only making me more aware of how turned on I am, watching a man— this powerful, murderous man—between my thighs like it's an altar to a goddess.

“Shit, Hime…” he groans, voice raw, breath shaking. “Please let me taste you.”

A slow smile curves across my lips as I watch him, helpless in his desire, worshipful in his need. I tilt my hips slightly, teasing him with just the barest movement, letting my wetness glisten under the low light.

“Mmmm…” I moan, dragging the sound out, savoring his restraint. “You can beg better than that.”

His hands clench on my thighs, not enough to bruise—but close. He leans in, lips a breath from my skin, voice lower than sin.

“Please, Nadia,” he whispers. “Let me worship you. Let me ruin my mouth on you. Please Nadia, I need to taste you.”

I lean forward slowly, savoring the way his body tenses beneath my touch. My fingers slide into his thick, wavy black hair, and I grip the roots tight, jerking his head back until his eyes meet mine. There’s no fight in them—only surrender.

“Aww,” I purr, my voice dripping with condescension and heat. “Since you asked me so nicely…”

I guide his face toward the wet heat between my legs, dragging him down with control and purpose. His lips brush my inner thigh first, soft and trembling with restraint, before he shifts and finally presses his mouth where I’m aching for him.

The first touch is electric.

I gasp, the shock of it racing up my spine like a live wire. His mouth is hot, reverent, hungry, but still tentative—like he’s savoring the taste of me before devouring it. I tighten my grip in his hair, yanking him closer, wordlessly demanding more.

His tongue flicks out, slow and teasing, dragging along my slick folds with the kind of focus that makes it feel like a prayer. I bite my lip hard, swallowing the moan rising in my throat, determined not to give him the satisfaction— yet.

“Awe,,” I purr, my other hand moving to his face, my thumb tracing his jawline. “I know you can do better than that.”

He growls into my pussy. His tongue working in long, purposeful strokes that make my head spin.

I arch my back, pressing myself against him, my breath coming in short, shallow gasps.

His hands grip my hips, holding me in place as he devours me, his tongue exploring every inch of me with a hunger that leaves me trembling.

“Fuck,” I moan, my fingers tightening in his hair. “Just like that.”

He hums against me, the vibration sending waves of pleasure coursing through my body. I can feel myself getting closer, the tension building inside me with every stroke of his tongue. But I’m not ready yet. I want more.

“Tap my leg if you absolutely need to breathe, okay baby?” I whisper.

He nods, his tongue swirling around my clit in small figure eights.

I release his hair and reach down, my hand finding his nose. I pinch it shut, cutting off his air supply. His eyes snap up to meet mine, wide with surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he presses his face harder against me, his tongue working even faster.

“Would you die for me?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.

He nods, his eyes meeting mine, and I feel a thrill run through me. I release his nose, and he gasps for air, but he doesn’t stop. His tongue is relentless, driving me closer and closer to the edge.

“Good boy. Do it again,” I command, my hand moving back to his nose.

He pushes himself even harder against me, his tongue delving deeper. I can feel myself teetering on the edge, the pleasure threatening to overwhelm me.

“Sho,” I gasp, my fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’m so close.”

He growls against me, the sound vibrating through my core and dragging a violent shiver up my spine.

The deep, guttural rumble is primal—possessive—and it only fuels the molten pressure already coiling low in my belly.

His grip on my hips tightens, fingers digging into flesh as he dives into me, chasing my taste.

And then he devours me.

His mouth moves with precision and hunger, his tongue relentless as he licks, sucks, and drags every ounce of control from my body.

I cry out—loud, wrecked—my voice breaking into the kind of sound only he can tear from me.

My thighs clamp around his head, but he doesn’t falter.

He groans again, low and filthy, like the taste of me is driving him insane.

But he doesn’t stop. His tongue continues to work, drawing out every last bit of pleasure until I’m trembling and gasping for air. Finally, his breath coming in ragged gasps just as I release his nose, my body spent and trembling.

“Fucking hell,” I roar, throwing my head back as he cleans up the mess between my thighs.

I grip his jaw, drawing his face up, my arousal smeared across his lips. “You really want me to be yours, don’t you?”

“You are mine,” he groans. “I am yours.”

I grip his jaw tighter, my nails digging into his skin as I pull him closer. His dark, intense eyes lock onto mine, and I can see the raw hunger in them, the way he’s completely surrendered to me. “Almost,” I tease.

He nods, his breath hitching as I release his face and stand up, my legs still trembling from the intensity of what he just did to me. I glance down at him, kneeling there, his chest rising and falling rapidly, his lips still glistening with me. “Get on the coffee table,” I order.

Sho moves quickly, his muscular frame shifting as he climbs onto the low table, his body sprawled out in front of me. I step closer, my fingers trailing down his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath my touch. His breath catches again, and I can see the way his body tenses in anticipation.

“You’re going to let me take what I want,” I murmur, my voice dripping with dominance. “And you’re not going to move until I tell you to. ”

“Yes,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper. “Anything for you.”

I climb onto the table, straddling him, my thighs pressing against his sides as I position myself over him.

His hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t move them, obeying my command without question.

I reach down, guiding him inside me, and we both groan as I sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he’s fully sheathed within me.

“Fuck,” I hiss, my head falling back as I adjust to the feeling of him, so deep and thick inside me. I can feel every ridge, every pulse of him, and it’s almost too much. But I don’t stop. I start to move, rocking my hips slowly at first, savoring the way he fills me completely.

Sho’s hands clench into fists at his sides, his muscles taut as he struggles to stay still.

His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and I can see the way his jaw clenches as he fights to keep control.

But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t touch me.

He just lies there, letting me take what I need from him.

I lean forward, my hands resting on his chest as I pick up the pace, my hips moving faster now, grinding down on him with every thrust. The pleasure builds quickly, a fire igniting deep within me as I ride him, my body taking everything he has to give.

His eyes are locked on mine, dark and intense, and I can see the way he’s holding back, waiting for me to give him permission.

“Touch me,” I command, my voice trembling with need.

His hands move immediately, gripping my hips as he thrusts up into me, meeting my movements with his own.

The sensation is overwhelming, and I cry out as he fills me even deeper, his hands guiding me as I ride him harder and faster.

The sound of our bodies slapping together fills the room, mingling with our moans and gasps as we lose ourselves in each other.

I reach down, my fingers wrapping around his throat as I lean in close, my lips brushing against his ear. “Fuck me like you mean it.” I whisper.

He growls against me, his hips slamming into mine as he drives me over the edge.

My body convulses around him, waves of pleasure crashing over me as I come hard, my nails raking down his chest as I scream his name.

He follows me over the edge moments later, his body tensing as he spills himself inside me, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I know there will be bruises tomorrow.

We collapse together, our bodies tangled and spent, our breaths coming in ragged gasps as we try to recover.

I can feel his heart pounding beneath me, and I know mine is racing just as fast. I lift my head, looking down at him, and I can see the way he’s completely undone, his eyes dark and hooded as he looks up at me.

I look into his face, and it’s right there that I see what heaven looks like. That the flames of my hell have vanquished for the first time, and I know I am screwed, because all of this power can’t be mine as long as I want him.

“Nadia,” he hums like a prayer.

Fuck it. Nik was right. I was never raised to be queen. I never really wanted that anyway. I’ve never wanted anything, but this.

“You’re mine,” I whisper, my voice soft but firm. “Boyfriend.”

“Fucking hell,” he replies, his voice hoarse with a small twinge of humor. “Now tell me what I have to do for you to be my wife.”